Yandere.Id

[[Prologue]] It was 4 in the morning; an eerie hour [[even the creatures of night anticipated the daybreak.]] In a single room, static electricity hummed from ([[the various monitors]]) reflective surfaces of phones, glass, windows. Paper and ink were scattered all over the floor [[hiding in the dark.]]

Fairly free of dust, unlike everything else on the desk. It too, displayed fine etches of spidery line art. In the corner flashed a software request, asking it to be updated. Eye glinted [[moving the tablet pen like a guillotine.]]

It rang for a few minutes, the figure did not seem aware of ([[the call.]]) <img src ="Images/Phone call From Cherri.jpg"> <audio src = "Ringing_Phone short.mp3" autoplay></Audio>

Feverishly working in disciplined strokes, they looked just as tired as the [[eyes.]]

Brightly illuminated with the screen light, flickering with every pen stroke that brought a line to existence on the monitor screen. Heavy with dark circles that spoke of many sleepless nights; hiding underneath [[messy hair.]]

That streak of red was another thing that hinted as a sign of life. Such a warm, bright color.

Can you hear them? Oozing, blinking in the inky black darkness... What do you think they waiting for?

Covered in sketches from corner to corner, in a jumbled density like sleeve tattoos.

Aside from the atmospheric noise of silence, there was a faint squeaking coming from the [[main computer]] where the nib pressed against a tablet. A statue figure sat in the office chair, the only sign of movement coming from the [[fingers]] and [[eyes.]] In the corner of the desk ([[a phone rang.]]) Perhaps... ignoring it... ([[is the best answer.]]) <audio src = "Ringin_Phone short.mp3" autoplay></Audio>

Then, abruptly, the figure jutted her finger against the ([[receptor button]]) ramming it on and then scuttling back to drawing.

Garbled static played for a second before the line connected. Without missing a beat the person in the chair spoke in a quiet voice: "Hey you're finally up." A feminine voice sleepily yawned: //"Figured you'd be up at this ungodly hour... I can't sleep."// "You could get up. Technically it's morning." //"No. 4am. Is.... i... is... **yawn** night time."// [["..."]] //"I'd say it's bad for you skin to be pushing hours so much, but if you weren't a habitual weirdo... I wouldn't be able to call my friend and hear a human voice right before my trip~~"// "..." //"~~redacted~~?"// [[she jumped]] "Uh, Yeah, I'm here. Um... listen. I'm glad you're going out ok?" her voice punctuated with distractions. "I can hear you pouting over the phone... look, I'm really busy, so I'm sorry if I'm not ([[that]]) attentive."

The figure only noticed it had rung multiple times once it was dead silent. Glancing at the phone, she noticed the [["10 missed calls"]] time ([["5 am"]])

//"Oh? Right... You're still doing that... webcomic illustrator thingy right? How much work you got?"// She sighed, dropped her tablet pen and reached for a sticky note ([[marked with multiple calculations.]]) "too much." She mumbled.

"I have a deadline today. I need to submit both story updates online and have it in the mail today." Her voice became shakily animated as she spilled out the calculations to her friend. "If I work non-stop all day, at the speed that I can produce, 2 cuts per hour, deadline is 6pm this afternoon, total of 14 hours, I can finish and edit 24 more cuts, 3 pages for traditional, 6 cuts each, 18 cuts, 6 cuts for the digital, finish the next update, while optimizing my time so that I could work on traditional in the day hours, completing before mail man gets here at 5 in the evening, if I skip breakfast, and eat lunch and dinner in 15 minutes then-" ([[A high pitched flailing broke her monologue.]])

//"Jeebus, enough. You're gonna make me fall asleep again. You know I don't do numbers."// "Ah... sorry." She blinked blankly, trying to reshift her mind into drawing gear. //([["...."]])//

//"Anyhow, couldn't you like... Idon'tknow get one of those secretaries or sumthin? Hire someone to help you with that hobby of yours?"// Her eyebrows knitted slightly, and paced her words "It's my job. And you mean "webcomic //assistants//"... No." ([["I CAN DO THIS BY MYSELF"]])

The phone rang again... and again... and again... It rang multiple times ([[in a row...]]) <audio src = "Ringin_Phone short.mp3" autoplay></Audio>

For the 3rd consecutive time in a row, she hit the "remind me 24 hours later" option.

For god's sake you can almost hear the "uwu" in her voice.

Missed calls from Cherri. Kinda hypocritical for her to be up at this hour, since she's always boasting about getting enough "beauty sleep." ... Hopefully it wasn't an emergency... <img src = "Images/Graduates Cherri Clear.png">

One hour down. 13 hours left. I can make it easily. Soon... it was ([[Daylight]])

She almost retorted [[it]] back into the phone. But Cherri was already yawning again in sleepy boredom. //"Ahh okie have funnnnn."// **there was a slight noise of fabric [[like a half-hearted fist pump]]** //"You can do ittt I believeee in youuuuu."// "Kay thanks. Bye." ([[She killed the call.]])

"How did we manage to stay as friends for 6 years...?" she thought to herself. <img src= "Images/Phone call From Cherri 2.jpg"> <img src= "Images/Graduates Cherri.jpg" width = 500>

She noticed the time and a twinge of adreniline shot through her face in panic. "Shit... I wasted my time..." ([[Clock read 5am]])

One hour down. 13 more to go. If she cut time out of her lunch, she might make it... Natural light started to compete with the harsh screen glare. ([[Daylight]])

The nightcritters were gone, as sunrays pierced them; quickly taking residence in the dark corners of the room. The curtains cut down the increasing daytime glare, leaving a moody twilight atmosphere. She stepped outside for coffee, and sat down at another table, working with ([[traditional]]) ink and pen. She touched the paper gently, her fingertips feeling the textured paper, almost snagging and incurring a papercut. <audio src ="Audio/Fast Drawing.mp3" autoplay></audio>

It was pleasant. Peaceful... Ink glided on the textured paper, hot steam wisping off her [[7 o'clock]] coffee. Twice, she almost dipped the pen nip into her drink. Twice, she almost took a sip out of the ink well. She felt calm as the pen methodically etched out a girl that was shaping molted glass into a figure. She was on her second cup of coffee. She picked it up -double checking before drinking this time- and the pen glided smoothly as it drew the ([[red hot]]) liquidous glass out of ink on paper... <img src = "Images/Coffee.jpg"> <audio src = "Audio/Kettle Whistle.mp3" autoplay></audio>

"~~REDACTED~~!!" Her hand shook from shock as she dropped her coffee on the table. It spilled on the side, the liquid surging towards her papers. She needed to do something ([[quickly.]]) She moved ([[impulsively.]])

She didn't like hearing her name.

She yanked the papers away in a nick of time. Coffee flowed onto the carpet. Whatever. The papers are safe. Her heart was pounding. "~~REDACTED~~!!!!" She shot a furious glare ([[ignoring]]) her father's call from the kitchen before ([[storming up from her seat.]])

Without thinking, she used her arm to stop the coffee from touching her work. She had on a [[long sleeve]] hoodie, which soaked up some of the hot coffee. It still burned her skin, ([[ignoring]]) the tears pricking in her eye.

It was black. No? Ah, it was dark red. Well... now it was black with coffee. Skin is now a burning red... oh well, color doesn't matter does it.

"~~REDACTED~~!!!!!!" He had a loud voice. For someone so early in the morning, he certainly did not care what the neighbors thought. Mostly out of wishful thinking, she though if she ignored him long enough, he might give up. With a twist in her stomach, she took note of her father's tone. He sounded a bit... too scary. Maybe something was wrong... "Oh for crying out loud..." she thought ([[storming up from her seat.]])

She headed into the kitchen, stomping down the stairs. Her father was standing in front of an open cupboard. He looked at her [[and smiled]] "~~Redacted~~, do you know where the coffee grounds are? I tried but I can't find it." She looked at him disgusted, before walking up to the opened cupboard and turning a container 180 degrees around, revealing the label "Premium Coffee" right before his nose. He laughed embarrassed. "Sorry about that. You know I'm not good with where things are ([[in the kitchen."]]) "Want a cup, ~~Redacted~~? I don't think it's healthy for you [[to be pushing so many hours.]]... ~~Redacted~~?!!" <img src ="Images/Father Interactive Fiction.jpg">

Sometimes she liked it strong and black. Sometimes she poured enough sugar and cream to match the color of her paper. Black and White. Black and White. Always hot. Steam wisps from the gray cat-shaped cup. It made shapes, lingering and convulsing in painful escape. Freedom of dissipation into nothingness. 8 o'clock. 10 hours left. She must keep working. <img src="Images/Coffinated Thoughts.jpg"/ width = 400 alt = "Coffee Thoughts">

His voice was loud and angry. But that did not always meant that he felt that way. Old habits die hard. For a very long time, the bark had the paddling stick waiting at the end of it.

She was already gone. She had spotted the oven clock ([[and it was 9 am.]]) More time wasted.

How many hours left?? 11?? No, wait, 9??!!! She really needed to get back ([[to work.]]) Time will be gone before she knew it. [[She closed her door]]

Couple of hours slipped by. A panel was done. And another. Same with another. She glanced up and down as she realized a whole traditional page was done. She scanned the final image and collected the scattered pages, setting the original page in a pile ([[binding it up in a silver ribbon.]])

Ah, no that was no ribbon. It was her cat's collar. She looked at it for a moment and wondered how the cat had managed to remove it this time. Speaking of which, where was she? She checked ([[under]]) her bed Then she checked her desk ([[top.]])

Nothing but cobwebs, forgotten dreams and discarded ideas. She did find the cat's name tag there, however. She grabbed the metal plate "May", ([[binding it up in a silver ribbon.]])

There she was. Curled up in a fat ball, a silver bundle of contentment, enjoying the back heat emitted from her computer. How she squeezed in there is hard to tell. She has gotten ([[too]]) fat..

Way too fat. For once, the computer shut down, even if it was involuntary. The charging cable was loose, causing the computer to be running on battery for a while. How did it get loose?? She did not realize this was a problem until pulling the cat out from behind the computer caused the power to shut off. Her mind went blank as the power went out, then scrambled to analyize what just happened. Did she save everything?? She's a habitual saver. But still... Her gut felt like it was being ripped open ([[in panic]]) There was no way to check until it came back online. The system decided now was a good time to update the software program. <audio src "Audio/Power Failure.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Before the computer shut off, the time had read ([[noon.]]) May was [[meowing]] uncomfortably held in her arms. She looked at her cat and shook her head. "You've never made me question my love for you as you are right now."

She tried collecting her thoughts. Noon. 6 hours left. I can finish the traditional pages in the meantime. No need to panic. Calm down. ([[Have lunch.]] )

She had an odd meow. It sounded very much like "mah" or "may". She thought "May" would have been a cute name. She thought it was clever.

She was planning on cutting her lunch short due to the earlier set backs. Better safe than sorry. Nutritional drinks were convienent and didn't require wasting time with dishes. Pen was no longer gliding, but making scratching noises, catching against the paper as she tried to hurry. She scanned the last page and waited for her computer to finish updating, so she could edit the scanned image and send it to her editor. She tied the original pages with an ivory ribbon, then placed it in a box. She glanced [[at the computer]] at the clock Trying to stay calm, she looked over her box filled with original manuscripts ([[forcing herself to read methodically and slowly to calm down]]) for safe keeping. Maybe that's a bad idea. Work will only remind her how little time she has to complete the update. Perhaps... ([[walking would be a better option.]])

It was 2 o'clock. It has been updating for a couple hours. How many panels did she have to complete digitally? 6 right..? That's a doable number... right? 4 hours. 2 panels per hour. I have an hour left to edit.

Her story "Ashes", was a monthly graphic novel about a girl, named "Ashe" who was constantly abused by her older half-brother. Somewhat similar to the Cinderella classic, except there was no happy ending. [[There was no prince.]] There was no break from the brutality that the half-brother thinks up for Ashe [[in his cruel amusement.]] Ashe enjoys making glass sculptures. It's the only thing she's good at. Tiny trinkets, key chains, paperweights, sold for pennies on a dollar, as she tries to make ends meet, to pay off the debt her half-brother relentlessly adds on to. For each step forward, she seemed to fall deeper into his cruel games. His cronies causing mishap in her dangerous line of work, with each hospital visit adding to the debt he places on her back. For the first time, the girl "Ashe" was commissioned to work on a large design. For the first time, there was no sign of her half-brother or his accomplices. She worked the molted glass into intricate shapes, never more content ([[never more scared.]]) <audio src="Audio/Page Turn.mp3" autoplay></audio>

To be completely honest, her editor was sometimes disgusted with what she was able to think up of. She didn't really mind. It was hard not to sympathize for the main character, and she loved hearing her readers furiously hate on the half-brother, begging for Ashe to have a break, to finally be loved and have a decent life. "A slow train wreck" her editor told her. "People have a strange fascination with that kind of thing." Her editor [[paused and]] looked at her "... You have a strange fascination with this kind of thing."

Her cat purred aloof in the sunny patch on the coffee spilled carpet. Afternoon light was stretching out. Updating was still notoriously at 75% Maybe she should just resign ([[that she'll never make the deadline.]]) <audio src = "Audio/Purring Cat.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Deadline... She looked at her work again and lost her heart in shock. There was one page missing that she did not complete. ([[HOw dID sHe LeT ThIS HaPPeN???]])

At this point, who gave a damn about the time. She feverishly whipped out her tools, and continued working. Her poor character Ashe did not get to assemble the shimmering glass pieces, or stand and admire her completed work. Ink almost sputtered ([[each mistake would be costly now.]]) The masterpiece had to be portrayed accurately if the scene were to have any effect. Ashe's hometown, made in a miniture replica, halographic in color and encapsulated in a golden overhanging moon, was complete. Hundreds of pieces, represented by dozens of strokes, decorated the page. Glimpse of light reflecting off the glass pieces splattered along Ashes' workshop walls.

The page was completed, and scanned. And fortunately the computer was done updating as well. Akane felt a slight wave of [[dizzying]] relief. ([[4'oclock.]]) It's zero hour.

Was her head dizzy from relief? Or from staring at minute details for so long, crouched in one position? Her hands felt sore and cramped. It was shaking from drawing so long without rest. Her eyes felt shot, but there were still those 6 panels to go. They weren't that many... right?

She will push through this no matter what. She's too close to give up now. Her eyes felt like crying ([[returning back to the computer glare.]]) One panel was done. 5 left. Another was completed. 4 left. She finished yet another; thank goodness it was a simple illustration. 3 left. Another simple illustration. She might make it. 2 left. Slab color everywhere; lines snapped into place. 1 left.

One line after another and the webcomic ([[Grim Reaper]]) character appeared on screen. A slab of color, a brush of shadow, as the handsome face was sculpted. Her legs were cramping from sitting so long, her back tense. <img src = "Images/Unlucky Death.jpg" width=500> <img src ="Images/Unlucky Death 1.jpg" width = 500>

Finally, the series "Unlucky Death" was ready to be published! She opened the publishing platform, fingers fumbling to type in the proper title and description, submitting it in the comedy section. She looked at the clock... it read only 5...? No... ([[5:55]])

Or was it... 55:55? 5:05? 5:50? Her eyes felt blurry, she did not realize how tight [[her chest]] felt from being so tense. [[Her fingers]] tried to type [[a light-hearted description]] making errors like "shot" to [["shit"]] pressing enter [[way too]] prematurely, incorrect tags [[labeled the update]] WAIT was the file the [[wrong]] size?? Why was it [[taking so long]] to upload?? It took her a while to realize ([[something felt wet...]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay loop></audio> <audio src="Audio/keyboard typing.mp3" autoplay loop></audio>

it felt tight, making things hard to breathe. Did she forget to breathe? Breathe! Breathe! <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

It was so sore in some places, so numb in others. That break didn't do it any good. It relaxed and then cramped in the wrong places. Was that ink stain always there? How did she not notice? Her fingernails looked black. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Her stories are under a separate pseudonym, dammit! She had was known to her audience as "Mare Bird"; she had to put on a different personality. Carefully choose her words. Her fans are volatile. Each dark humor comedy is a risky bet. Forget it, make it short. We can edit it post-update. Short is good. Short has no character. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio> <audio src="Audio/keyboard typing.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Autocorrect isn't helping her right now. Technically both make sense in the sentence. It just isn't the right word to convey. The series is dark humor, and curse words have a place, but not here. Not now. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Why are there so many steps to this?? No wait... did she do this correctly the first time? Her eyes hurt from looking at the screen for so long... <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

"Give me a break. This can't be happening." "Ok, calm down. Edit the file size one more time... no wait, I did edit it correctly! I just didn't upload the correct file." "My head hurts so much..." <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Why did I agree to have such a strick update... no, why did my computer have to update its software today?!!! I SWEAR TO GOD My face feels like it's burning. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

In the side of her eye, she notices a spot of something ([[RED]]) on the desk, then on the keyboard. <audio src= "Audio/faster heartbeat.mp3" autoplay></audio>

"Dang it! Go back!" She's not done fulfilling all the requirements needed for publishing. Considering that the platform will not let her work be uploaded online until all the requirements are met, why does it the platform even allow her to continue to the next page of specifications? This is so stupid... <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

It's Blood. From her nose. ([[From exhaustion.]]) <audio src="Audio/Water-drops.mp3" autoplay></audio>

She ([[Ignores it]]) Must... ([[Do something]])

"Hell with it." "I'm so close to being done. Couple more keystrokes." ([[0 hours left]])

The hoodie now has coffee stains and blood stains. She types with one hand, slowing her process. Almost there... ([[0 hours left]])

No... **Head pounds, like her heart swapped places with her brain.** ([[No...]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

**The world was tilting, spinning** **Her head's pressure felt like it was going to explode** **She saw two figures [[spinning like steam]] twisting like dark night, approaching her** **Things start to blurr into white, then black** ([[....]]) <audio src= "Audio/faster heartbeat.mp3" autoplay></audio> <audio src="Audio/Kettle Whistle.mp3" autoplay></audio>

([[I can't.]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

**She feels her consciousness fading, and a slight blinding of ([[red]]) color as her face hits her desk.** <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

And then she saw nothing. ([[.....]])

Is it just steam from her coffee cup? ... They're too big for that The coffee cup is on the other table behind me... They have white eyes like sunlight...

She ([[slowly]]) gets up.

Her head doesn't feel as bad. She looks down ([[on the desk.]])

There's some spots of blood. ([[Not much.]]) No where as near as much as she thought she saw when she blacked out.

She looks at her computer. 6:30. She gasps in realization, and snaps her eyes on the screen. She doesn't remember pressing the ([[publish]]) button!

The series has been published. That's... a relief. There's a blinking light on the next tab; her editor had seen her email with the scanned images. Her heart jolts as she double checks ([[what she sent.]])

Remember the page she forgot to finish? She scanned it but ([[did not send it]])...

Files 1 and 2 were attached to the email No... She blinked. Something looked different. She counts... 1, 2... 3 files... She slumps back in her seat ([[shaken with relief.]])

Maybe she really was losing her mind. She looks outside at the sunset, and decides some fresh air would be nice. ([[Just before the night crawlers come out.]])

She walks along the neighborhood and sits in a bench. Fresh iodine air, brushed with the sun cleared her lungs and mind. Her mind spun with how close a call she had today. ([[She laughed at her own stubbornness]])

"Perhaps... No. They were right. I really do need assistants." She thought of all the advertisements she had sent out, trying to find one that would match her work. For some reason or another, no one was willing; those who seemed interested either ghosted or backed out of the deal last minute. At one point she scheduled to meet individuals in person... but they never showed up. It was an afternoon spent in nerves and ended in discouragement; fruitless labors that contributed to her breathtaking close deadline. "It's taking too much time to look for someone... It doesn't seem worth it at this point... [[I just...]] it'll be hard for me to do." She closed her eyes ([[soaking in the last bit of sun.]])

The air was turning cold, the sky was deepening in blue color. The sun was hovering over the horizon. "Ahh wouldn't it be nice if I could just skip the whole assistant search? Sending out emails, meeting people... it's such a pain." "I just wish the right people would just fall out of the sky and be able to start working for me." She smirked a smile. "Eh screw it. Why not go ahead and ask for the universe to send me a couple of good-looking assistents out of nowhere, right here, right now." Even though she was musing these things to herself, she cackled at the sheer absurdity of the thought, embarrassed for even thinking that way. ([["That seriously sounds like a cringy teen romance plot."]])

Dark shadows were stretching accross the horizon, slipping over trees, accompanying the walkway with sounds of footsteps. A couple of voices broke the still silence. "Excuse me?" She opened an eye and nearly kicked herself out of her exhausted sprawl. There were two people standing before her. One was tall ([[and dark.]]) The other was shorter, but ([[sweet.]]) <audio src "Audio/Footsteps on Cement.mp3" autoplay></audio> <img src = "Images/prologuetogether.jpg" width = 500>

Dark hair, and a sullen expression, with eyebrows seemingly permanently knitted in a annoyance. There was a playful expression around the corners of the mouth, and fire burning in the eyes. Such long fingers. They would make great references for drawing hands. There was something ([[errie]]) about this person that shook her off guard... <img src = "Images/prologuekuro.jpg" width = 500>

There was a red scarf, loosely tied around the neck. Ombre silver white hair, that looked like a fluffy, melancholy cloud signaling a snowy day. There was something strange about this person ([[that made her take a double look.]]) <img src = "Images/prologueshiro.jpg" width = 500>

She barely heard what was being said; like an animal hearing a gunshot, she felt the urge to evacuate the area. What was said could be the instigator for an angry tirade, couple hours long. She knew what he meant. In spite of what he said, he was more "concerned" that she wasn't "free" enough to be at his disposal. Like a tool, or like a pen. "Responsibility" he had said "is being RESPONSIVE." Constantly ready on command, like a puppy waiting on his master. She hated it; sitting around waiting to do tasks that proved to be futile; a waste of time except as an exercise of authority. "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO"

([[......]])

She wakes up ([[the afternoon sun hits her directly on the face]]) Golden hour. It feels nice.

"Maybe... I'm just not good enough..." Her work wasn't erotic or gory in nature. There was no real reason she could think of why no one wanted to help her. She had so many caring and loving fans devoted to her work, but people of actual creative and artistic calibre seemed to shun her, for some reason. She didn't like the thought that perhaps her following was a niche of an already niche division in entertainment... Perhaps other creators thought she was too boring or weird. Her heart pained and she felt urges to shun the help she was searching for.

Why bother changing clothes. She wouldn't dare go far. Just to the backyard to pace and collect her thoughts. She went out to escape work, but now that she's here, alone in the garden, work followed and invaded her thoughts. Maybe that was a good thing. Like a leash, she wouldn't get carried away. ([[Or, like a ball and chain.]]) <audio src = "Audio/Sunny Day.mp3" autoplay></audio>

A neighbor spoke up. A dark red hoodie wasn't the best to camoflague in the green and pink garden. "Excuse me dearie, could you help me ([[water my yard]])...?"

Mrs. Ebony was a quiet mouse of smile wrinkles and crinkles. She felt a twinge of annoyance, but quickly relaxed. Eh, why not. That damned computer was probably still inching along at 5% an hour. "Sure thing, Mrs. Ebony." She staggered over to the side and took the hose from Ebony's small, delicate hand. Her right hand shook as she turned on the water sprinkler ([[to max power.]])

Holding the garden hose in her non-dominate hand, she attempted to aim at the flowers and bushes. Her hand shook, wasting water as it splashed messily on the curb. She took her drawing hand and steadied her grasp. Time passed... perhaps 3o minutes elapsed? She shot water across the yard, allowing the mighty stream to gently drizzle on tomato plants several yards away. She didn't attempt to make conversation. But Mrs. Ebony spoke up. More wrinkles caked on her face ([[as she smiled.]])

"You've got sumthin on your mind dearie." "What was that?" She lowered the pressure of the hose. Mrs. Ebony had a very small voice. Mrs. Ebony's expression gleefully looked up as she gestured [[with her hands.]] "You look very serious today. I can tell you have a lot on your mind." "You usually do [[when you look like you want to... murder a chicken."]] "Ah..." She replied. "...Yeah. I have a deadline today." She swelled a bit ([[as her voice boasted,]]) "I've been working on a couple of webcomics. Graphic Novels. You know... picture books for adults."

They seemed uncertain and awkward in attempts of friendly communication.

Cherri would have said something similar. Her editor, her contemporary, told her [[directly]] what she had. The "Resting Bitch Face" syndrome. But Mrs. Ebony was trying to express herself, not trying to be hip with the younger generation.

No wonder. Her editor had it as well. RBF. They could be having the more serene time of their lives and still look like they've just spent their weekend at half-a-dozen daycare centers. With screaming children. That were biologically spawned to not shut up.

"It's a full time job. With hours spent for each cut, or each panel, it takes a lot to just keep up with one serialized series. Most successful creators *only* do one at a time. My editor told me that I truly am a talented creator... At the same time, he's putting me through the meat grinder. I have to push out at least 20 pages; [[or 120 cuts,]] a month. Not only that, I have a popular series online as well. That demands a lot of work. I've been burning midnight oil for the past few weeks just to make ends meet." "Oh... that's unusual isn't... it?" "What, burning midnight oil? Nah, it's the life all nearly all illustrators. We never get any sleep. OH! Did you mean making two stories? Yeah, it's very rare. That's why it's so great." Mrs. Ebony spoke ([["Dearie...]])

Seriously. No one was keeping track of numbers. But she liked to bring out the large numbers to impress.

"I don't know much about what you're talking about, but it sounds like you're trying to bite off more than you can chew." She stopped abruptly. Mrs. Ebony did not seem impressed [[but more worried.]] "Maybe you could talk to your editer and ask him to help you? Maybe draw some for you?" She felt her lips press together tightly [[and clenched teeth as thoughts tumbled into her mind.]] "Thank you for your concern. ([[I can handle it."]])

That irritated her. That wasn't what she was going for.

//"Editors don't draw. Jeez Mrs. Ebony really doesn't know anything."// //"I know she's trying to help, but she isn't."// //**"I dOn'T NeEd hELp."**//

The watering was done. She turned off the spiget and smiled tautly. "It was nice seeing you Mrs. Ebony. I better get back to work now." "O...oohhh, ooh, ok... take care then..." Mrs. Ebony still looked worried. She swiftly marched inside and took a glance at the clock ([[to see how much time she wasted.]])

She clenched her teeth, walking to her studio glaring at her computer. It was still. Updating. She picked up the traditional pages, and with an irritated sigh, she thought ([[that she'll never make the deadline.]])

The Grim Reaper; her title character in the webcomic series! The unfortunate soul that was sent to clean up the living world from roaming spirits, and transport them to the underworld. In this comedy series, his title was janitor-equivalent; an overworked butler, an errand boy. Stuck in the kingdom of the deceased, plagued by miserable luck as he ends up in all sorts of strange situations. While the outfit, obviously, was not the same, this person could cosplay as her character and would match to a T. Their face had a sort of tired mischieviousness to it, that aligned with the Grim Reaper's perfectly. She stared, scrutinizing their appearance, then rapidly blinked at looked away, realizing how uncomfortable they might feel. She took a peak at the companion who appeared.... ([[sweet.]]) They ([[then]]) spoke.

This person looked very much like the antagonist of the series "Ashe"; the horrible, manipulative half-brother. In spite of their similar features, however, this person had a very gentle, calm look in their eye. The smile was very unarming and docile. Their expression held a level of familiarity that looked like someone who was meeting an old friend. This person did actually seem quite familar... but from where? She looked away, not being able to recollect, eyes taking a glimpse at the other, so tall ([[and dark.]]) They ([[then]]) spoke.

"You're Mare Bird, right?" "You're Hecate, right?" They both spoke at once, interrupting each other, before glaring at the other.. and then startling in surprise [[at what was said.]] "I'm... both." She tilted her head slowly, eyeing them in suspicion. How did they get here, and know what she looked like? "I'm assuming you're... followers of my work?" she projected cautiously. They both nodded, and after a few more interrupted attempts, the small one spoke up: "I don't know about that guy, but I was here to assist you. I was hoping I'd be able to... be your assistant. For your ongoing series of 3 years and winner of several comic awards, 'Ashes.'" The dark one scoffed, "That... was my idea as well. I may not look it, but I'm pretty good at illustrating and software. If you'd give me a shot, I promise you'll be interested in what I have to offer. I can help with your *SUPERIOR* series, Unlucky Death." That last sentence was directed at the small one, who scowled. She sat, contemplating ([[on the situation.]])

//"Just what is happening?? There is no way. No way that the universe heard me and just... There had to be a catch."// //"NOTHING. Comes for free."// She felt a strange contortion in her stomach. "Well..." she glanced at the two, //"Certainly fulfilled the good-looking part of the deal. But... if they can't draw..."// Her pride stiffled at the thought she even put their appearance into consideration. She felt a sting of desperation at all the previous rejections, but she wasn't going to hire just anyone for mere consolation. ([[Screw them. They're out.]])

She stood up. "There's only one thing I actually care about. And that is... can you two actually //DRAW//" Because otherwise... ([[She smiled.]]) "I may have to call the police because you two seened to have stalked me to my hometown."

The small one laughed nervously, "Oh, please don't do that. I swear it was just a concidence that I was in your general location." "Nah, you had your hometown tagged in several ocassions on your social media." the dark one said flatly. "I'm not gonna beat around the bush [[like this shady ass."]] "Look," the tall one said curtly, "If it's really true that you're working on... whatever series the other one was, then I don't think you'll have much problem at least entertaining the thought of our help." The dark one whipped out a portable tablet. "See for yourself." Detailed images scrolled ([[down]]) the surface. The smaller one sighed in frustration, not taking the pointed jabs at the series "To Rise From Ashes" well. There was no plans to be stood up like this. The satchel bag was removed, and produced a sketchbook that was humbly offered ([[to her.]]) She made her decision. She looked at them ([[both.]])

That condemning glare was tangible. Wasn't sure if he actually thought that would help his case. It still sounded like stalking.

Abstract in work, with bold strokes and colors, reminiscent of street graffiti. She hummed in approval. They certainly did have a firm grasp on anatomy, color and perspective. It had a comical style that was exaggerated in dramatic ways. She kept scrolling, the light from the tablet screen glowing brighter as the sun fell out of sight. She tried uploading more of these examples, only realizing she had seen all of their work. She looked up at the dark one, expressing confidence that she liked it. Which wasn't wrong... ([["So."]]) "What's your name?"

"I know you work in traditional. So I've been honing my skills ever since." She raised an eyebrow, appreciating what the words meant. Then she lifted up the front cover, and her mouth parted, impressed. They were not only detailed, but balanced as well. No image was cluttered or distracting. The background... they were incredibly realistic. This person was a master with various shading techniques; the pen lines varied in width and depth, that showed years of dedication. ([[She handed the sketchbook back.]]) <audio src = "Audio/Page Turn.mp3" autoplay></audio>

And extended her hand. "Thank you for letting me see it. It was an honor." "Pleased to meet you ([[... ?"]])

"Kuro." "That's what you can call me. ([["Kuro."]])

"Shiro." They shook hands, and she could see the proud smile glint in those gray eyes. "Ah..." She wasn't sure why she wasn't expecting that. It suited this person. "Shiro" meant "White" in Japanese. Perhaps it was just his online name, a psudeonym. Considering that she had no inclination to reveal her name, she had no reason to complain. She turned to the tablet, and continued scrolling ([[down]]) through the images. She looked pleased. ([[She smiled.]])

"Kuro..." She repeated, weighing it in her mouth. Kuro meant "Black" in Japanese. Perhaps it meant something different in another language. It was... certainly fitting, but not very creative. Perhaps that wasn't their real name. But if they wanted to keep anonomous, that was fine with her. She turned back and finally took the sketchbook that was patiently offered [[to her.]] She looked through it. Finished, [[She smiled.]]

[["I'm Akane.]] You can call me "Akane"." She folded her arms, widening her stance as she looked then in all seriousness. "I have to say I'm impressed with what you've shown me so far. Obviously, becoming an assistent is more than just being able to draw in your own free time. You have to have descipline, and be able to work with me whenever I have deadlines. In order to measure that, I'll need to test you both live. But for now I'm willing to consider your proposal. If you can give me your contact information, we'll meet again here, or make an appointment elsewhere." They agreed willingly, and after some discussion, concluded to meet at this bench tomorrow at 4. She nodded in agreement and walked contentedly, if wearily, away. It was ([[past]]) dinner. [[Someone kept watch]] [[Such silence spoke.]]

//"Akane. It meant "Red" in Japanese. Since we were playing this game, we might as well abide by these new rules?"//

The elderly neighbor Mrs. Ebony looked out her window; she had noticed Akane resting outside, staying motionless as the sun went down. Keeping a concerned eye on her the whole while, she watched as Akane returned home alone. She shook her head. "Working by herself so hard... Such a strange young lady, all alone" she thought to herself.

The creatures of the night smiled, as inky darkness felt palable again. "That went smoothly, didn't it?" Shiro remarked softly. Kuro said nothing and just kept a watchful heavy side-eye on Shiro. "Don't you dare think you can celebrate. I'd suggest not showing up tomorrow, if you want to live." Shiro laughed into the darkness; eyes betraying the slightest unease. The height and size difference were obvious. "Always so aggressive aren't you? Trust me, I know what you want. And I know we both want it. I don't intend to converse with someone so brute... so I'll just make you this one promise." The red scarf fluttered slightly as Shiro smiled. "I don't intend to lose." Kuro said nothing, then suddenly had a wearied expression. "Ah..." Shiro thought, and then strained to look up at the moon. "She's... [[Asleep]] now... isn't she?" Kuro looked down, fingertip withering as strength disapated like steam. "Don't come tomorrow." Kuro barked in a strained, warped voice. With an exhausted shrug, Shiro gave the tall one a look that expressed how stupid and futile that remark was. In moments, the night moon kept watch over the empty streets. The creatures of the night would just have to wait just a bit more... Just until 4 tomorrow. <audio src = "Audio/waterphone.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Akane ate her cold plate of food, scrolling through the comments on her latest work. She smiled; it was always welcoming to see the fans count down to the update's release, and then hear their thoughts. Exhausted, she didn't bother changing clothes, and crawled into bed. She was truly exhausted; every fiber of her needed rest. She barely pulled the covers over herself, barely crawled into bed before she lost consciousness. [[Asleep]] End of [[Prologue]] Yes, this was just the [[Beginning]] Return to [[Title Page]] Read Chapter 1: [[Conversations]]

With her mind closed, they disappeared, waiting until 4 tomorrow.

This is the ([[Beginning]]) story that I've been working on since pre-college. "Yandere.I.D.", or "I.D." or "Yandere.id" [[(title pending)]] is a [[yandere]] story that involves psychological drama, some horror, interdiscovery and adventure. Perhaps some mystery, and some romance. I would mostly categorize it under "Drama" although, since this is one my very first attempts to actually fleshing the story out, I'm certain I will miss a lot of marks in character, creativity and emotion. Regardless, I hope you find it [[in some way]] enjoyable. In time I plan to add some audio, some personal-drawn images, some effects and visuals. If I've already added those things to the mix, well, I hope you still enjoy them. Here's to hoping you discovered new things and enjoyed the journey! <img src="Images/Rei's New Icon.jpg"/ width = 300 alt = "Rachel's Online Profile Picture"> -Rachel Return to ([[Title Page]])

A "yandere" (Yandere (ヤンデレ)) is a Japanese term for a person who is initially very loving and gentle to someone (or at least innocent) before their devotion becomes destructive in nature, often through violence and/or brutality. "Yandere (ヤンデレ) is a portmanteau of two Japanese words yanderu (病んでる), meaning to be sick, and deredere (デレデレ), which is defined as strongly and deeply exhausted, infatuated, moonstruck, head-over-heels, or lovestruck, but in this case used for "lovestruck." While the typical troupes for a Yandere would be that of "Yuno Gasai" (for Eastern Audiences) and "You" (the American Television Series for Western Audiences), I always wanted to explore the nature of those who are psychologically disturbing. In eastern audiences Yanderes are seen almost as a sort of hero, or person to be desired or craved because of their intense ability for affection, protection and loyalty. I always wanted to go with a more realistic (...?) approach, a more... what's going on in the mind approach. There's a mention of blood in this series, yes. Nothing serious or violent, but this is a slightly thriller game after all. Armed with that knowledge, are you ready to return [[Prologue]]? <img src="Images/Akane Original 300.png"; alt="Akane"> -Rachel Kim

Beginning are always tough for me. I know that in stories, one normally has the set up "It was a normal day/routine/time, and then...." The issue for me is how much of that "Normal" do I display? It has to be enough for the audience to get a sense that what is coming down the line is NOT normal, and thus, give the adventure some weight and interest. But too much normal makes it boring. *laughs* These are just some private ramblings of the creator. They help me think. Sorry to sidetrack you for so long! Please do enjoy the story. Return to [[Prologue]] <img src="Images/Akane Mermaid 940 ver.jpg"; width="500"/ alt="Concept art Mermay Akane with her Muses"> -Rachel Kim

"Romances are stupid. While the genre could have well crafted stories, more often than not they're cheaply told. They're filled with easy solutions, like the damsel in distress troupe, and it makes me gag." Or she told those who interviewed her work. However, she seemed less insistent on this perspective when conversing with her editor. For some reason, she always felt uncertain of her stance on any topic when talking with him. She never knew why this was the case. Perhaps the editor knew more about her than she liked to admit.

The creator of Unlucky Death went by the online username of MareBird. A combination of the word NightMare; in Middle English, it denoting a female evil spirit thought to lie upon and suffocate sleepers, combinding from night + Old English mære ‘incubus’. The bird was always present in her profile image. It resembled the winged companion of the Grim Reaper. HEKATE (Hecate), on the other hand... was the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts and necromancy. A goddesss of darkness, daughter of the goddess of night... a befitting name of a creator who made a living out of tormenting her character Ashe. To find out that they were one in the same person was astonishing. She was a talented creator indeed; each story had radicially different art styles and storytelling skills... Her editor was right. She was a rare talent.

I.D. could mean Identity. What is an identity? Especially concerning the identity of individuals in a fictional story? I think part of the fun is solving that mystery. Id could also mean the Freudian portion of the unconscious; the one that works solely on the "pleasure principle", controling the impulses and desires to survive. My Psychology Professor once said that Id could be personified by the cartoon "devil on the shoulder." [[Prologue]]

Select where to start: Prologue: ([[Beginning]]) | Chapter 1: ([[Conversations]]) | Chapter 2: ([[Orange Haze]]) | Chapter 3: ([[Yellow]]) Special Thanks ([[Credits]]) | How to Play ([[Directions]]) <video src = "Images/Interactive Fiction Cover.mp4" autoplay loop width= 500>

<img src = "Images/Akane Interactive Fiction Cover credits.jpg", width = 400> Special Thanks to Professor Galm, who showed me an outlet to be creative during the troubling plague of 2020. Also, heart-felt thanks to my brother, the coder, who helped me with the technical hiccups of this project. Love to my family and friends, my cat and my bb. As well as everyone who played this Interactive Fiction; thank you truly. I hope you enjoyed the journey. **Credits:** Yandere.Id Story and Art by Rachel Kim copyright 2020, All Rights Reserved Images drawn by Rachel Kim Sounds from www.soundbible.com Used underneath Liscence of Attributions 3.0 (Creative Commons) As well as Personal Use only. Credit music: "Nightcore No Friends" by Artist(s) ▸ Cadmium (feat. Rosendale) The stories, characters and incidents mentioned in this publication are entirely fictional. You may not reshare or use with work while passing it off as your own. Feel free to share with proper credit to my various social media handles: @nekoreichan22 on Instagram @ReiandHana on Deviantart @Neko22Reichan on Twitter <audio src= "Audio/Nightcore No Friends.mp3" autoplay loop></audio>

She didn't forget to lock it. The door never had a lock. Even into adulthood, the only excuse to demand privacy was for changing clothes. "If you're ashamed of doing what ever you're doing in front of your whole family, don't do it." That was one of the many family mantras. This idea ruptured when she had different ideas of what was "acceptable"; things she knew went against the family ideals.

What could she say? "Unlucky Death", and "To Become Ashes"... regardless of the comedy and drama content, the titles sounded dark and dubious. To those who didn't know her, they would say she was an edgy teenager. To her fans, they speculated that she was a hardcore emo. Her family... were deeply obsessed with the concept of "purity." The style of teaching embraced heavy helpings of fire and brimstone. To her family, [[if they ever saw her work...]] the words they would use would be "condemnation", "shameful", "wicked" and "evil." . . . To her, this was "coping."

They haven't pried much. The cash spoke, and she fervently reassured them she wasn't getting the money from illicit actions. They believed her, doggedly. Each pay check was a struggle, as her father often "suggested" "giving 10% to the ministry". Sure. He hardly worked himself. And she couldn't bring herself to call the rest of what she earned as something under her own name. It was a struggle, trying to save up for a place of her own, where she didn't have to abide by these invisible rules.

[[Chapter 1]] It was dark. Pitch black in silence. Akane looked around her as a ([[black]]) void filled as far as she could see. She did not fear it; like a moonless night on a summer day, this darkness felt warm and comforting. Light pooled through a window; ([[there were streetlights outside]]) streaming in filaments through blinds. <img src = "Images/dreamsequence.jpg" height = 600>

The floor was patterned in a pool of light; [[it looked like it was made of the dust of diamonds.]] particles; gray shimmering sand freckled with the light. Akane felt something move across her face. It was the headlights of a car passing from outside, a dampened white as it filtered through the blinders, dancing across the walls, onto her face and then disappearing like a shooting star. Headlights... ([[they also felt comforting to her.]]) <audio src = "Audio/car-drive-by.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

During her long nightly watches, it always felt nice to know that another human was about. [[She would muse that]] perhaps some worker on late night shift was finally returning home. The white light danced as a few waltzed over her, then for a brief moment, she could see the red tail lights; a red burst of brilliant butterflies. One headlight felt brighter, stronger, like a search beam. It too, slowly moved through the air, like a gentle giant whale crusing in water. This one did not pass by, but turned ([[and came closer and closer.]]) <audio src = "Audio/alien-spaceship.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

The two headlights looked like eyes, staring at her as it phased through the supposed window; the vehicle in her small room of night. Akane blinked, and found herself in the passenger seat of a truck. She saw her editor sitting in the driver's seat. He looked different. He said something; his voice had a slight ([[audio]]) garble to it. <audio src = "Audio/alien-spaceship.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

Sun was beginning to rise in the dark expanse, and rapidly in seconds, in a warm glow it appeared like a sunset was being played in reverse. The whole sky screamed with a blinding red-orange color, as the truck skeleton dissipated, and trees became red veins marking the sky. Only the sound and vibration of the truck's rumbling was left, as Akane was engulfed in this bright color. She remembered [[this color.]] Her eyes opened, she saw this. The bright light was getting to be too much; her chest felt heavy, the truck, although gone, was still idleing loudly, and she felt very warm, surrounded by ([[blankets of]]) stagnent, orange air.... <audio src = "Audio/truck-idle-and-drive.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

Akane woke up. It was full daylight; she had slept in a good part of the morning. The first thing she had noticed was that her fat cat was on her chest, purring [[loudly.]] Slowly, Akane's mind gathered their bearings. Ah, right. Yesterday was the deadline, and she made it. Too exhausted to do anything more, she ate dinner and collapsed in bed. She yawned [[and grimaced.]] Her hand still felt cramped. She unfurled her fist [[and tried to relax.]] She pulled the covers off; the only thing she did manage to do last night was to pull off her hoodie ([[crusty with coffee and blood stains.]]) <audio src = "Audio/Purring Cat.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

She grabbed off the floor ([[and then headed into the showers.]]) She heard live music playing downstairs. She ignored it. Fingers strumming guitars, her father singing the songs he made about the codex. The noise had implications and she didn't want to think about it.

For some reason, it did not feel like an abyss of darkness, stretching for eternity, but rather confined, cozy and comforting in some way. The darkness wasn't a stranger to her. But that comforting darkness started to ebb quickly, as uncomfortable light lit up the space. "Dawn..." she mouthed, ([[then spoke,]]) breaking the spell of silence.

Half-exposed, and some buried were old pens, dried ink staining the body. Some paper was in the mix as well. They were blank, like treasure waiting to be discovered in the pages. The light was still very quiet. <audio src = "Audio/tinkle.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

To her, street lights felt less lonely. Like another soul was keeping awake, keeping watch; like soldiers on night guard, protecting the people. And so long as someone was awake, the critters of the night would not harm anyone.

After washing off, she stood there, soaking in the water for a while longer. It was the day after the deadline. Which meant that another monthly deadline was coming up. She had to prepare. To be specific, she had to brainstorm with new ideas for the next update. Usually she would do this all morning in bed, as the world awakened and busied itself. She would lie awake in the privacy and comfort of her blankets [[visualizing what would happen next.]] Today however, she had slept through the whole morning. She tried making up for it, hoping the showers' atmosphere would mimic that of her bedroom. ([[However, nothing was coming to mind]])

Recollecting yesterday's events, she stood, eyes relaxed as the water dripped down her body. Her mind flooded with the images of Shiro and Kuro's art, so detailed and inspiring. True, there was a lot more to think about when [[it came to]] hiring assistants. However, after all the attempts she made and failed at hiring; she didn't feel like going through the details and decided rather abruptly that she would hire them. She'll figure out the details ([[later.]]) <audio src = "Audio/shower.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

He meant the cleansing. Every morning, there was a ritual meant to balance mental purity. Lately, the regulations have been lax as the deadlines worked as a decent excuse. But balance was not something she felt happening to her mind as her father ignored any semblence of time and ranted ([[heatedly about the faults of the world.]]) There was no conversation. Unless it was a voice of complete agreement, there was nothing to say that would not prolong the hours of tirade. If one struck a wrong cord, then it was no longer a lecture, but a verbal execution. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Perhaps this was her resting bitch face origin story. It would not be appropriate to ([[smile or]]) show anything aside from somberness as father dragged anyone and everyone- from neighbors to politicians- through the mud. Her eyes could not muster fire for this topic. Unless she thought too much of the hypocrasy of what was said verses what was done... then she felt heated anger.

Before, she would use this time to think about stories. It was her quiet mental cabnet to hide in. She did not want to join. ([[She looked away]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

She learned from past experience that anything said would only lengthen the time spent being lectured. Not arguing; being lectured. It was always a one-sided battle, as her words had very little meaning. He looked at her, and she braced herself [[how long will she be standing there, stiff and gut churning?]] It was a little like floating in the water. One should not fall asleep, or one would drown. Similarly, she must pay some attention to what was said, without utter loss of control ([[over her rage.]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

He then struck a cord. "Your series is to blame for your mentality, your tone of voice; your attitude. If you don't stop this right now, if you don't quit, then I will kick you out of the house. Do you hear me?" What a load of bullshit. She often thought about leaving. She was making plans to leave. But when she once offered to do so, she was met with outright indignation. How dare she think about leaving [[this house hold.]] Furious with this manipulative threat that she's heard many times before, she mustered all her strength ([[to speak.]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Do you want to die? Become unpure, like the rest of the people in this world? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Is that what it is? Suffer in hell forever? Why would you want to leave? What is wrong with you? You're unclean aren't you? Why aren't you repenting? You should be repenting. How dare you not repent. Take that back. You'd really do that to us? You're an ungrateful daughter for doing this to us. You'd be killing us all. Fine. You'll kill us all with this disobedience. Is that what you want? You're gonna kill us. Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? Do you want to die? You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. You're gonna kill us. It'll be all your fault.

"I'm sorry I missed it today. [[I was tired, and]] it's my fault I overslept. I won't quit; I have a solution. I.. I'm looking to find ways to fix my schedule." As much as she tried, her voice cracked, the forced calm showing disgust and anger. His face grew rock-hard, angry. "That's the incorrect attitude. You're supposed to be eager to join our meeting. Don't you want to live? It's like eating or drinking. It's essential!" She shifted her feet, angrily burning in disagreement as she tried not cry. "Your emotions are controlling you. You need to repent and love. And I'm not talking about emotional love. That's bullshit. Love as in... forget it, I'm tired [[of explaining it to you.]]" he suddenly broke off. ([["I love you, you know" he said.]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

"I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't even want to hear you say you're sorry. I want you to repent." "And he wonders why I don't say anything." she thought.

His face softened, ever so slightly with condensending mercy. He tried to hug her and she stiffened at his touch. "You're not gonna hug me back?" His voice flared again. She awkardly put her arms around him, body tense as she became aware she was biting her lip hard enough to taste blood. She was shaking. "Poor daughter... I know, I know... I'll pray for you ok? You'll be forgiven. [[I already forgave you.]]" He began chanting, speaking breathy words of holy reverence, shifting from side to side, and she closed her eyes, ([[wishing for it to be over.]])

Forgiveness. Another loaded word. Another one of HIS words. It had nothing to do with the person that done wrong. It was a good way for the forgiver to stay pure. For him to stay pure. Like washing your hands off a person.

She tried to exit as "gracefully" as possible. Tried not to stink of hate for what had occurred. She wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Tried not to show how much she hated being there. ([[She closed the door behind her, not wanting his eyes to follow.]]) <audio src="Audio/close-door.mp3" autoplay></audio>

A breath of air. She could linger on negative thoughts. Or... she could channel it creatively. She huddled in her room, already exhausted. Was it her body that was tired? Or her mind? She felt oddly on fire, but burned out like ash. The dual nature of stifling a good cry and the aftermath was always a mystery she could never figure out. Her eyes stung, from holding back tears. They quickly dried as she thought about what she should write next. Nothing was coming to mind; nothing she wanted at least. Maybe she just needed to vent right now. It would've been nice to have someone to talk to. It was sunny and bright. She looked out the window. ([[There was a flicker of a red scarf]])

Ohh, how many times has he said that in the past. That was a lie. He's never tired of explaining it. He's just tired she won't give any response. "No one listens to me; it's like I'm not important!" she heard him complain once.

Ombre silvery hair... it was Shiro[[!]] It had such a light, pretty shimmer in the daytime... He looked up with friendly eyes as he stood on the streetwalk [[in front of her house.]] He waved cherrily. A little disorienated from her emotional struggle, Akane mechanically waved back with a blank stare. "Ah, right, I was supposed to meet him at 4..." She looked at her clock. 1:30 in the afternoon. She motioned with her hands, not sure what she message she was trying to convey. Shiro looked inquisitive, and after a confused look of uncertainty, walked into her lot and up to below her window. "Sorry, I didn't know if you were telling me to back off or come closer." He laughed ([[from across the glass panel]]) good-naturedly, slightly embarrassed.

Well isn't that... stalker-like...

She moved her hands around her mouth, shushing him, looking around frantically. He immediately shushed and looked around [[concerned.]] Akane didn't know what to do. If she wanted to go outside right then, she would have to go through the kitchen once more. Who knows if her parents were still there... The other way out of the house was through her father's office... Akane grabbed her phone, and made a motion to Shiro that was going to try type something. She searched for his contact information, and sent him a message. "See that tree next to my window? ([[There's a detachable ladder behind it.]]) You can come up to my studio that way." "Gotcha. Be there in a sec. ;D"

Jeesus like a knight in shining armour... How convenient.

He found it pretty quickly. He propped up the ladder while Akane opened the window and popped open the bug screen. [[He climbed up deftly.]] He rolled into the room with a forward roll, then looked at her with childish merriment. "Well... this is a very odd way to have a conversation." She couldn't disagree with that. She tried playing it off by closing the window abruptly. "You thought I was stuck here with you... but you're stuck here with me!" She spoke in banter, referencing a meme. He lifted up an eyebrow and spoke in all sincereness. "I wouldn't mind." Akane's brain short-circuited; her face conveyed an ellipses at the unexpected reply. "Sorry. I'm just... I don't know, I thought impulsively. I don't... usually have visitors." Her face felt more flushed as she realized she sounded defensive; she sounded ridiculous. He shared a ([[sympathetic]]) smile.

"Woah..." His eyes took in the room. "Nice set up you got here." He adjusted his satchel and explored the room, letting out a breathy "So this is what a real professional looks like..." Akane stood pertly, [[her heart skipping a beat,]] "ah... no, not really... I've been meaning to clean up..." She twisted her hair, following his eyes. Although everything was organized to her comfort, it was a room of madness. What was normal to her she now realized as chaotic; the papers scattered on the floor, and the shelves disheaveled. She picked up pages frantically. "I should really scan and put these away... store them online. Have less ideas exposed in print form." "Oh, but traditional references are always nice," he murmered through thoughtful eyes "I hate using digital [[means.]]" "Want me to help you clean up?" Without waiting for an answer, he started picking up the papers ([[from the floor.]])

Professional... it was nice to hear those words.

"Ah..." she started "those are all the stuff I kept for the "Ashes" series-" His eyes lit up. "Well..." He looked at the labels, studying them. "Some of them date back since... a couple years ago." He mused softly. "June 2016... [[that's over 3 years ago."]] Akane slightly smiled to herself, feeling a bit proud. She loved talking about her work, and it was a new sensation to see someone appreciative of her process in person. "Y,yeah... it has all my old sketches, concept illustrations, rough drafts... kinda like the ones I'm sorting through now." Shiro just nodded quietly, staring more and more at the boxes. "You've archieved them. I suppose that's common in the industry, but... it feels very personal don't you think?" "I... I guess I keep hoarding things more than I need to... Do... did you want to see them?" ([[Akane blurted out.]])

She hadn't mentioned to her parents that she was looking for assistants. Much less telling them they were coming over in person. Which, to be fair, she didn't plan, as the hiring process was still not set completely in stone. What would be the point when they just wanted results and not "What she thought" "Her plans" or "Her progress"? She was new at this, to be sure. But... Even if she did tell them, she doubted they'll approve. At the moment however, she knew they would certainly throw a fit that they didn't report this new information to them, dispite the contraditions it would imply.

If she just let him into her house, obviously privacy wasn't an issue. "Oh no, you don't have to!" Shiro looked a bit flustered. "It feels like I'd be impeding on a personal matter. I'm really honored, but I don't think it's my place." She coughed, slightly embarrassed, as she remembered that she kept some of the first drafts in this container, that now aged at least a couple years. [[She hadn't looked at it in a while.]] Probably it was for the best. "I would like to hear about them though." He pointed to a box at the bottom. It had signs of being new. [["That one." he said,]] "I am curious to know about your process ([[and what it's like."]])

In her enthusiasm she almost forgot how terrible they must have looked. Akane, like many artists, work so long and hard to push their skill to new boundaries. And like many artists, they are their own harshest critics, judging their past works in an instant. Akane's flip time was a couple hours. She'll draw, admire, be elated and then be disgusted at the same piece in less than a day. How much more cringe would she bare when she opens a box of stale, old drawings?

Her face felt a bit red for making embarrassing stomach noises. She awkwardly accepted the treat. They were single servings, kept in shape with hard plastics and delivered with a complimentary spork. She cracked the plastic open; the sun-warmed strawberry smelled delicious. And she was starving. She had meant to grab something to eat in the kitchen earlier and... Oh. Right. She got an earful instead. "It's... a bit too long to travel back where I came from, so I decided to stroll around the area downtown and then explore the neighborhood. Picked up something [[sweet]] along the way." Shiro patted the box, while opening his slice. "It's amazing really. Archiving all of these images. I can tell without even opening them, they say something about you." He paused, and then looked her in the eyes. "I'm... sorry ([[if I'm being too forward,]]) but I wanted to ask." <audio src="Audio/plastic.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Akane looked. It was the latest one she had updated. She noticed that he was quite quick about these things. The ladder, the box... he was very perceptive. She shook her head. "Ahh that one," she said, almost choking "That... actually has the latest installment of the story. It's not published for public viewing." He turned his head, and looked at her onfront. "Yet." He said. "Not yet." He tapped the box collectively. "I... suppose I could let you see it." She said after a second of realization. "Considering that from here on out you'll be helping me with the work. Spoilers won't mean much to you since you'll be part of the creative process." He smiled. "I know it'll be wonderful." "I feel very lucky, knowing that I'm the [[only]] one who gets to help you."

Akane woke up. It was was just daybreak. Habitual early hours were still in effect, even though her body ached for more sleep. Slowly, Akane's mind groggily gathered their bearings. Ah, right. Yesterday was the deadline, and she made it. Too exhausted to do anything more, she ate dinner and collapsed in bed. She yawned [[and grimaced.]] Her hand still felt cramped; more so as she felt like she had slept on top of it during the night. She unfurled her fist ([[and tried to relax it.]])

After washing off, she stood there, soaking in the water for a while longer. It was the day after the deadline. Which meant that the clock had reset, and another monthly deadline was approaching. [[She had to prepare.]] This meant she had to brainstorm with new ideas for the next update. Usually she would do this all morning in bed, as the world awakened and busied itself. Today however, she had not done so. She tried making up for it, hoping the shower atmosphere would mimic that of her bedroom. ([[No luck.]])

Suggests that she leaves as it's a toxic environment. Suggests that she leaves with him Kinda pushy. pets cat distantly, but as soon as Akane wasn't looking, grips its neckful and makes strangling motions, pulling out knife For Kuro, they talk about remediation, hyper mediation, and immediacy (including 4th wall breaks)

Grabbing her phone that was tossed next to her, she checked on her work again. She heard live music [[playing downstairs.]] She happily noticed that the numbers of likes and shares were in their normal range, and felt her mind clear and brighten as she read comments on her work, replying sparcely to a select few. She had spent a good amount of time in this lull, eventually noticing the music disappearing. She knew the chances of redemption had decreased significantly, and desired to delay the possible. She pulled the covers off; the only thing she did manage to do last night was to pull off her hoodie crusty with coffee and blood stains. She picked it up ([[and headed to the showers.]])

"Are you ok?" He asked softly. "What do you mean...?" Akane replied, her mouth full of cake. "Well, the general hush-hush and strange meeting arrangements tells me something. Also, you just look hungry and worn through." "Perhaps it's none of my business, and you don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with. And I'm aware that you don't know much about me... but..." he quickly added, his demeanor humble. "If you need someone to talk to, you can tell me." [[He added gently.]] She actually felt animated with the previous conversation, but the discomfort of her stomach was a reminder of what had occurred earlier. "I've... had a long day..." ([[She said at length.]])

He reached out his hand and gently soothed the top of her head. "I can tell... I just want you to know... that you're amazing and no one should make you feel like you did something wrong." He handed her his piece of cake and motioned her to have it. She ate, calming her emotion-wrecked body, and he continued petting her head. May was sitting in her lap, strangely close to her owner during the conversation. She pawed at Akane until she was given some cream, before she sat contentedly, momentarily baring teeth [[at Shiro.]] The atomsphere was very calming, and she felt sleepy... ([[Then, there was loud noise]])

Akane all of a sudden felt drained. Not out of annoyance or anger, but the way he spoke, she felt an urge to relax her stiff upper lip. His words made her feel safe. Trying to shrug off that she hadn't eaten all day with a carefree laugh, she dismissively mentioned about her family situation. He asked a few questions. Light prompts, short but insightful. Her answers became longer. Shiro sat and listened intently, giving great weight to every word she said. She felt akward, being this vulnerable, feeling a push to tell everything and yet tell nothing. He didn't mock her, but gave a look of admiration and empathy. She didn't feel like being strong, and her head drooped and quivered.

"Hey!!" a curt voice came from the window, slightly muffled behind the glass panel. May quickly bolted under the desk; Kuro had found the ladder and climbed up, his face clearly pissed as he pounded the window. Shiro gave a sigh of annoyance, as Akane got up to open the window. "What the f---??" was his first words, "Why the hell is he here??" he yanked the screen open the same time she had the glass panel raised. Kuro jumped into the room, promptly grabbed Akane by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Did he do anything?? Did he hurt you? He snuck in, didn't he the little bastard!" Akane tried conveying two messages at once, one for him to quiet down and another that Shiro didn't do anything, but the words jumbled out of her mouth in confusion. Kuro kept shooting questions, and she covered his mouth with her hands. "Enough." She said with alert worry. ([[She looked around and listened.]]) <audio src="Audio/banging.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Nothing. She sighed and looked him in the eye. "Nothing happened. We were just talking, and..." she looked at him with sudden realization. "It's none of your business. Why would you care? We don't even know each other. Why are you even here?" He blinked. "Dummy, it's almost 4, and you wrote in your email that I was supposed to meet up with you. [[I sent a bunch of messages!]] I was waiting at the park since 3 but you didn't show up." He shrugged his shoulders in exaggerated reenactment. "**Then** it hit me... //maybe// I should go to your office, so I went looking. Saw your red hair through the window and then banged at the door. Nobody answered." [[He explained curtly.]] He directed his glare at Shiro. "What the hell are you doing here? Did you try pressuring her to hire you?? ([[What were you guys talking about??"]])

Kuro looked sharply at the large shelf. He pointed "those for "Unlucky Death?"" "No, no they're not." she started before getting cut off; "If it's for the other series don't you think it's a waste of space?" "Excuse me??" Shiro retorted. "Girl clearly has issues with her dad. You really think keeping a big-ass stack of papers here is gonna make it any better? That's a whole load of evidence piled up against her." He looked at Akane "You have all the files for Unlucky Death up on digital don't you?" "Yes, I..." "See, smart girl." He ruffled her hair. It was difficult to get a word in between his retorts. "If you upload all of your work, then it's essentially indestructable, and untouchable. Not only is your series is putting her in danger, it's straight-up idiotic." ([[Shiro flared.]])

Banged at the door...? Strange no one heard anything...

"Online forever... indestructable?" He nudged Akane, avoiding talking to Kuro directly "Imagine if your electricty goes out, boom, it's gone! If the computer gets smashed, then there's very little recovering it." Shiro spoke through gritted teeth. "Honestly though, the possibility of a short-out is very low..." Akane quietly said, trying not to escalate the argument. She wanted to be fair at least... "You seriously wanna talk about being vulnerable?? You're the one to talk! One flame and I could toast that whole sucker! Water? It'll all be ruined! Even a god damn draft or sunshiny exposure will destory the whole deck!" Kuro's voice strained with passion, fingers loudly demonstrating how to destroy the boxes. Shiro shrugged, replying but not responding. Akane could see him get heated. "Strange, some guy doesn't realize that they don't even own or work with the platform "Unlucky Death" is published on! Now imagine if that platform decides to go belly up, you'd have to say farewell ([[to your audience!"]])

How to frame each action. What dialouge sounded most natural. What event should occur and how would that impact the character's future. Her father hated when she did that; to the common bystander, she just laid there trance-like in bed, not sleeping, blinking every so often in deep, frenzied creative thought.

She would lie awake in the privacy and comfort of her blankets, visualizing what happened next. How to frame each action. What dialouge sounded most natural. What event should occur and how would that impact the character's future. Her father hated when she did that; to the common bystander, she just laid there trance-like in bed, not sleeping, blinking every so often in deep, frenzied creative thought.

Recollecting yesterday's events, she stood, eyes relaxed as the water dripped down her body. Her mind flooded with the images of Shiro and Kuro's art, so detailed and inspiring. True, there was a lot more to think about when [[it came to]] hiring assistants. However, after all the attempts she made and failed at hiring; she didn't feel like going through the details and decided rather abruptly that she would hire them. She'll figure out the details ([[in a bit.]]) <audio src = "Audio/shower.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

"Don't you talk about the fans like that! We have a strong fanbase and they'll be willing to follow us whenever and where ever! YOUR series is the one sucking up to a corporate entity! You're the floating island! Your series would be wiped out from history thanks to your contracting copyright. You'll be lost [[in the black library]] forever!" "Not true, if I wanted to archive the series I could-" Akane tried correcting. "I wonder where he gets that idea. Just because we work with an actual printing company doesn't mean we don't have our works archieved, right Akane? That digital series is the one in trouble; if it disappears, well you better hope your fans have snapshot every single image because your platform sure won't have your work saved! Besides, not having a physical copy is foolish. With the data formats keep upgrading so old ones are obsolete faster than a seasonal change." She could tell that although he was facing her, his words were directed at Kuro. "Um... doesn't that... work both ways? Like, if copied work formats go obsolete wouldn't-" Akane questioned. "Blah blah blah, YOU'RE MISSING THE POINT! We're not at the mercy of one company. We don't need to rely on a mass corporation to keep a good back up copy and actually share the story. I mean, what can your fans do?? Scan weird copies that has all those black lines and slanted pages everytime you try to preserve it? Don't underestimate our fan base. We're the ones growing the content ([[I promise you that."]])

"That... sounds like a breach in copyright on it's own..." She asked in mild alarm. "Well you're forgetting one thing." Shiro said stoutly. "Akane, I've seen your work and you're not really getting paid. Your "loyal fans" don't even cover enough on Patreon to buy toilet paper. If they gave Akane enough money, maybe she could buy some privacy. That series is a waste of time and effort. "Ashes" actually gives you a job title!" "JOB TITLE?? That's arbitrary as f-!" He paused as Akane's was pinching him, eyes threatening him to tone it down. He smirked. "You know what gets the attention of big companies? BIG INTERACTIONS! AND we actually get to interact! Do you get to see what your fans say? Oh, no of course not, you're a book copy! Oh, maybe you don't want to see what they wrote BECAUSE DEEP INSIDE YOU KNOW THE STORY'S TRASH." Kuro had been towering over Shiro, yelling into his face. **Suddenly, there was a loud banging ([[on the door.]])** <audio src="Audio/door-knocking.mp3" autoplay loop></audio>

By this time they had both grown increasingly quiet. She had them both by the shirt and was talking in a stern, frantic voice. "NOT TO MENTION that I told you two to be quiet, and you've disregarded me completely. I agreed to give you a chance this morning; and that will be gone RIGHT NOW if you don't stop arguing this moment." Kuro mumbled beaten apologies, while Shiro refused to look at the other. Akane sighed. "If you're going to work for me, you have to work by my rules. I promise not to be harsh, but I do demand that you two. NEVER. Argue in front of me again." She let out another big sigh as offered nothing more to say. "I... I have to go soon. I was planning on seeing you two in action... but as artists rather than a debate club." She laughed a little, trying to hide her dread for the evening meeting. Honestly, their arguing was a little entertaining. A little. At least before the explosive ending. ([["Akane..."]])

It over powered the argument as they quickly hushed. "~~Redacted~~?? What are you doing in there??" It was her father. He still sounded angry and strict, like an unforgiving disciplinary officer. Akane's heart pounded. "I..I'm working! What is it?" "You're always "working"" he mumbled. She could feel that he was shifting his weight angrily. "... You coming down for the evening meeting? We already started." Akane felt a shot of a headache in her temple, as she meekly replied. "Yes, I'll be there in a few minutes." "... Good. That's good to hear. I better see you there." Akane sighed as she heard the sound of her father's footsteps quieting. Then she looked at Shiro and Kuro, who were quietly shooting harsh whispers of accusations. Her nostril flared and she spoke up: **([["THAT'S ENOUGH!!!"]])** <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay loop></audio>

Akane breathed deeply, she had wedged herself between the two and pushed them aside. "That's MY work, MY story you two are talking about. You both have valid arguments that I can appreciate, but for christsakes. You're still badmouthing the series, which in turn is insulting me, the creator. Not a smart move if you want the job! I have my reasons for using both digital and traditional means of creation and preservation. They both have unique aspects that can't be really emulated using other methods. I love both of my series and if you want to work for me, ([[RESPECT IT."]])

Shiro touched her arm gently. "I'm sorry for getting carried away. But... you don't look like you want to go." "Your face does look pinched." Kuro said bluntly. "Thanks, but I have to. If you could just leave the way you came I'll... come to think of it we didn't establish your qualifications. We'll have to reschedule. What time do you think you guys can come by again?" "I can be here same time tomorrow." Shiro spoke. Kuro glared. "If by "same time" you mean earlier than 4 then I'll be here then as well." "Alright... that sounds good. I can meet you here at 2. I'll see you then." "Akane... ([[just a sec,]]) do you have a bathroom I could use?" Shiro interjected.

The smell was teasingly inviting, and she need no futher prompting. Stuffing her face, the crust was light and warm, and the filling rich and creamy. The strawberry and glaze weren't as cold and crisp as they could be, indicating that they've been in the bag for a while.

"Uh, yeah." Akane quickly opened the door and pointed to a room adjacent. "Right next door. Try not to make any noise or get caught." Since the whole family will be at the meeting where no bathroom breaks were allowed, she figured it would be generally alright. He walked past her and whispered [["Good luck"]] gently into her ear. Akane also was leaving, picking up her codex for the meeting. He grabbed her arm as she walked past him. "Look... about that yelling..." He shook his head. "I'll be frank. I don't like that guy. He's too nice. I know I'm pretty rough and I don't look that friendly but..." He shook his head. "I'll just make it up to you alright?" She looked at him and just nodded. "See you later Kuro," she said. He waved back smartly. "Take care" he said quietly. [[The door clicked with a close.]] She would be away for a while, again, battling the psychological onslaught of the meeting... 5 minutes in and she already felt that she had ([[had enough.]]) <audio src="close-door.mp3" autoplay></audio>

"It's called the "Dark Library", you moron." "I know what it's called! And that's where your sorry ass will be heading!!"

Kuro's facial expression sullened into a deep thought. He turned around and stood next to the desk where the traditional tools were lying in a messy state. Pen handles, nibs, rulers and such like was scattered from yesterday's deadline. He glared at the thought that she was wasting her time with this project... If she had dropped it, then she would have had more time to make "Unlucky Death" into something truly amazing. He noticed a blob napkin smeared with inky finger prints. [[he placed it in his pocket.]] Walking over to the desk where the computer for digital drawing was created, and stood near it. He ran his fingers against the tablet, judging the size and feeling it with sensitive fingertips. He looked for the complimentary pen, and found it on it's stand next on the desk. He felt the smooth, worn surface, and poked his finger with the tip. Dull. She needs to change it soon, it's been used for a while... [[he sniffed it]] He placed it back. He jumped as May darted out. ([["Woah..."]])

Fingerprints might come in handy later. He saw that his emails did not get through to her. And he knew what that meant. No doubt, during their time together Shiro was able to meddle with her phone. He saw it. When she thought she had misplaced it, Shiro slid it back on the floor. Not slick enough to go by undetected. But it gave him an idea what kind of person he was dealing with. Not only did he slide up to Akane and got close somehow but...

Shiro quietly closed the bathroom door behind him, and then stood there, waiting. He didn't have to use the toilet... he asked to come here for other purposes. He didn't get to touch her hand, but her hair, while messy, was really soft. Her shampoo smelled like citrus and roses. He looked into the shower and inspected some of the bottles, figuring out which one she used. He found 3, and decided that the combination of them all created her scent. He poured small amounts into a tiny jar he had in his satchel. He looked around and saw a red toothbrush. The others were of different colors, but he was almost certain that was hers. He ran his thumb through the bristles, and noticed a few strands of cat fur. He bristled, [[his fingers grazed the knife he carried in his bag.]] <audio src="close-door.mp3" autoplay></audio>

As soon as May was at a distance, she looked at him and bore her teeth, hissing. Kuro looked in undisgised, bored, disgust as he said "Ugly pig." She sat up and looked at him through a side-eye. Then slowly approached him and sniffed his feet. "God, go away Pig." He gently pushed at her underbelly away, unfazed. She rolled over on her back and he lightly rubbed the exposed belly with his foot. "Dumbass pig." he mouthed. She purred. He picked her up and she licked his mouth. "You're Akane's pet huh." He said quietly. [[Then he rubbed at it's chin.]]

He smiled, remembering earlier. Playing dumb was a nice excuse to hold her by the shoulders. She felt very small and soft as he shook her. He would like to do that more often... He had watched through her window so he knew what had happened. He was angry that Shiro was touching her. He knew what they were talking about, [[but...]]

He knew more than he let on. He was no idiot. He headed out earlier than the meeting time and searched for Akane's location. Even though he didn't know the address, he felt a pull... He got there in time to see what her father was doing to her. His anger raged as she cried. He couldn't get to her first, but he did get to see what Shiro was up to. The sneaky bastard... maybe he wasn't as quick and sly, but he knew how to wait. More than one individual bested him time wise during the in-person interview, but he managed to get rid of them all before Akane could actually see them. A playful knife, neck hold and general scare made cleared the area ([[until he was up in the front.]])

It smelled like her hand, slightly damp with persperation. His cheek colored reddened as he remembered that Akane had covered his mouth with her hands. They were a little rough. Both the jesture and the texture, due to the situation and the craft she sustained herself with. He remembered how frantic her eyes looked as she panicked at his volume. He liked that.

He didn't like the cat. Obviously. How "May" sat in Akane's lap, how she demanded Akane for cream, and got to lick her face. He brought the knife, a 7 inch serrated blade, for a different person. But that cat... His brows creased as he remembered how Kuro had essentially called him the inferior series. No, time will have to wait. He can play this game with patience. He walked back [[to the studio.]]

He opened the door, and May darted out. Kuro was gone. Good thing, that filth. He breathed a sigh of relief. Honestly, he didn't want to ever be alone with him. The guy was tall, and last night was not an empty threat. Shiro had brought a knife for a reason. The window was open, and he had taken long enough in the bathroom. He looked around the place once more and listened. Aside from desks, there was a bed for resting, but it didn't look like the room Akane actually stayed in. He noticed a little while fabric sticking out next the pillows; he knew every inch of this room, and this was different. [[It was a hankerchief.]] He could hear the loud voice of the father from down below. He felt anger at the thought of Akane being miserable there. She looked so tired and sad when she spoke with him. He grimly smiled, glad he was able to get her to confide in him [[in such a short time.]] He left the room, not wanting to hear any more; he had [[had enough.]]

But she would have to sit through it for at least an hour. The lecture was relatively short; an hour and a half of ranting and daylight was gone. Akane felt mentally drained. But at the same time, felt like a goddess trapped in a cage. Furious, but at least creatively amped up with motivated after being stuck in her mental prison. She had something to write, and at last, "To Rise from Ashes" and "Unlucky Death" had some rough drafts in process well-underway. That night, another midnight oil was burning, and she jotted down various character [[Conversations]]. End of [[Chapter 1]] Return to [[Title Page]] Read Chapter 2: [[Orange Haze]]

"Did you ever try to make detailed descriptions about what you thought?" he asked. She paused thinking. "In the beginning..." she slowly said "No. I take that back. Never. I was too excited about what I wanted to create, and too certain that I would remember the context and details." "Once or twice I tried to type more contextual information when scanning my doodles, but... honestly, who has time for that?" she shrugged. She unfolded another note; this time it was a candy wrapper. It had the words "BIG SHATTER: TRAP DOG!!" and a small scribble of what looked like a butter knife. "Like this one," she said, letting him see "I must've been inspired at one point, but now I have no idea what it means. The idea has lost meaning." Shiro smiled in amusement. "So do you just throw those things away? Or do you look at them again?" "Oh, no. Like I said before, I'm a bit of a pack rat... I don't know when looking at these notes will perhaps trigger and inspire my consciousness something else... Although..." She looked at her shelves full of boxes. "I haven't found time to look at them ([[exactly]])..."

She coughed. "It's not that amazing of a process." She pulled the box down and opened the lid. "I just scan my images into a digital backup and then keep both copies in this box. Divide the box into files, the files into folders and give the box a date for further archiving and search ([[methods."]]) She pulled out a sketch from a folder [[neatly labled "Ch35, Images Rough";]] and showed it to Shiro. "It's a bit messy... sometimes I can't find what I'm looking for. When scanning even regular books the scanner does not always pick up information and text, nor do they form coherent sentences all the time." "You mean... like due to smudges or handwriting quirks?" He asked. She shook her head. "Yes, that too. It can also be frustrating because since a lot of my stuff is doodles and illustrations, they don't have descriptions that I could look up for..."

Her breath stank; she didn't brush her teeth after eating last night...

"Ish vel Ganopht Von Trappp" What? She looked behind her, and her head phased through the truck container, clipping through it like an error in a game asset. In a moment, it disappeared, and the truck looked like it was sawed neatly off; Akane, her editor and the truck front was neatly exposed to the outside world. She turned around, facing the front. Akane chest felt heavy; she rested her head against the back of the seat ([[the seatbelt tightening around her torso.]]) <audio src = "Audio/truck-drive.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

It was the same color as when one looked directly into the sun, but with eyes closed. One could see the skin of their eyelids; a pulsing peachy orange color, filled with blood vessels.

That accounted for the heavy warmth in her dream, as well as the truck idling sound. May, seeing that her owner was awake, promptly slid to the side off her body. Such a lazy, fat cat.

She felt like she had slept on top of it during the night.

She ignored it. Fingers strumming guitars; her father was singing the songs he made about the codex. The noise had implications and she didn't want to think about it, and she sleepily dismissed it.

She wasn't sure about sending out her address yet. She would have to, but it was also her home address. She decided to grab something to eat so before sending the message and tidying up her studio.

Perhaps it was only an hour's dose of how wicked she was. It felt like an eternity. Perhaps she could count the tiles again. She felt through his glare his demand for responses. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

"There's too much leeway, control-Z forgives so many errors. To me, it's not real art." It was softly spoken, but Akane was going try not taking offense to it. "Yeah, I personally can't get toning paper to look right in digital, so I understand that." Shiro smiled at her, "I knew you'd get what I mean. Of course, I do think you're a brilliant artist. I didn't mean any offense by my previous statement." She relaxed a little.

"I was there, you know. When you first published your work." he said. "Oh really??" she said surprised. "Yeah. I was a fan since your debute one-shot for "Ashes", submitted in the KPar Magazine. I was so happy it won first prize. I've followed it ever since, purchasing every volume in the first series "To become Ashes" and now the sequel series "To Rise from Ashes." I collected the magazines, and watched every interview and took all the trivia quizzes..." HIs face reddened. "I even started a blog. As much as I dislike digital art, I did want to preserve your work myself." Ah... so he's been a devoted fan for a very long time. That's such an honor...

Shiro's nose twitched as he flashed a snarl at May, then also cautiously got closer to Akane. He was very close. He smelled like candles, warm and scented like a forest campfire in the winter.

It sounded only slightly threatening, but Akane wasn't paying too much attention. She swallowed. "Pardon?" Instantly, he perked up a very disarming demeanor, and laughed brightly. "Nothing. I'm just excited to see what kind of pages I'll be helping you with. I'm sure we'll be working smoothly together. I can't tell you how excited I was to receive your email this morning. Not entirely surprised but..." He smiled hungrily "Very happy."

Oops. She forgot about that. "I'm so sorry let me check a sec..." It took her a while to find her phone. Shiro tapped her shoulder and gestured on the floor. Oh there it was. She unlocked it with her fingerprint and looked confused... oops. 7 messages from Kuro, and 12 more in text. Strange that the alarm was off. She always had it on.

Akane quickly explained that she had not YET hired Shiro [[but was considering him along with Kuro.]] He did not "pressure her" to do anything. Shiro, refusing to look at him, smiled at Akane and said "We had a lovely conversation about your studio weren't we?" "BRUH DON'T IGNORE ME!!" Kuro roared. Akane grimanced "Kuro, Kuro please, quiet down! My dad will hear you." "Why's that a problem?" he asked promptly. "He.. he doesn't like that I'm a creator. And he doesn't know you guys were coming today. Yes, we did talk about... ([[my studio...]])" (very briefly but...)

He slipped that into his satchel after placing it against his lips for a long while.

Thoughts went through his head. "It was a good thing no one else approached her like that before. She's too trusting... No..." He laughed to himself. "She's starved for company; and it wasn't like no one approached her before..." He let out a contented sigh "It's a good thing I was able to make myself the first one. Blackmailing, spamming, deleting, hacking... all those stupid other applications really had no chance." He looked around the room once more. "Smells the same as last time I visited. Poor girl. She really does need someone to save her... someone like me..." "That Kuro guy... How he managed to get through my hacking bewilders me. But at least I know a bit about what to look out for. He won't stick around long."

[[Chapter 2]] Akane felt hazy. The day was pretty normal; the morning Meeting was grueling, and the work was monotonous ([[in production.]]) But today, she was on the subway. Her body rattled as she stood in meditative silence, feeling sleepy during the ride. She pulled out a snack in an attempt to stay awake; the air tasted of orange spring glow; the oranges her mother brought her as a snack laced the subway ([[with its citrus perfume]]). It had been a few weeks since Shiro and Kuro had begun working at her studio, and so far, ([[neither had been caught.]]) <audio src = "Audio/subway.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

"YOU'RE INTERVIEWING HIM??" They both ejected.

Chapter 1 ([[Conversations]]) of the series! We're finally well on our way to continue the story of Akane and expound on her situation and life. Before I could actually get into the details of a yandere interaction, it was equally important to establish what being a webcomic creator actually means. For this chapter, I had the priviledge to use this story [[as my final project]] for a college class course. Throughout this whole series my goal is to balance the elements of academics, yandere elements and [[psychological]] drama. Hopefully this chapter fulfills all requirements in an engaging manner. Return to [[Title Page]] <img src = "Images/yandere.idch1title.jpg" height = 600> -Rachel

It tied in nicely to the technical side of a creator's life; the actual details of Scanning and Archiving, Remediation, Immediation and Hypermedia. How well I will be able to convey these topics will depend on how much mercy my wisdom tooth pain and menstration will give me. I will do my best. -Rachel

This will probably be one of the few times I tie in the cultish background Akane has suffered through on a basis. While I did not originally plan to infer or divulge this much information upfront, I thought that by showing the interaction between herself and her father would make a good set-up for the toxicity of yandere nature in the future. -Rachel

Time management skills and quick-turn around needed to be tested. Their salaries needed to be discussed. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was their art. Whatever it was, Akane's usually meticulous mind obsessing over details felt disinclined to do so.

The darkness twitched alive again, shocked into existance. Lazily shaking into form, they looked and pondered the message. No need for thought on acceptance. It was time to be on the move. At 4... it will all begin.

Her father was sitting in his seat, turning his head toward her. "~~Redacted~~... Finally. You decided to actually make an effort to show up ([[for our meeting.]]) His tone was serious, his usual angery pitch sounding applicable this time. Slightly dripping with blame and condensation. <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Immediately her heart groaned in fear. "~~Redacted~~" The name cracked through the air. "You're up late." His naturally angry voice accurately conveyed his intent this time. "You spend all this time, working odd hours, pushing your family around as we make sacrifices for you, and you can't even show up [[for our meeting.]]" She felt very uncomfortable. ([[She looked away]]) <audio src="Audio/Heartbeat 2.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Would neighbors think he was breaking in? This felt like Romeo and Juliet scene. My god, these romance cliche troupes are becoming alarmingly frequent.

Inbetween the desk for digital work, and a table for traditional, there were a few shelves, large and tall, filled with other graphic novels used for reference. He gazed over the titles; they were not organized. There were large boxes with dates on them, and the title spines were squeezed inbetween and set back, almost as if they were hiding. The boxes peaked over the shelves as they varied in sizes, and dust was collecting on the lids.

"That's May," Akane commented, picking her up in her arms and hugging her "I forgot to ask if you're allergic to cats." She quickly added apologetically. "Oh, don't worry about it, I'm not." His smile was reassuring, but betrayed some look of disgust. "Hey there kitty" he said sweetly, before ignoring her completely.

Silently, they plucked up papers of different shapes, sizes and subtle shades of cream, ivory, yellow and white. [[Gathering them like fallen leaves... ]] She looked up and noticed he was helping, his crouched figure picking up papers. She felt a bit like deja vu... she couldn't figure out where she met him before. He tapped the papers on the desk into a neat stack and handed them to her. "Thank you, really." she didn't look him in the eye; she was still a bit embarrassed for not thinking ahead. "I should have done this a while ago. If you'll give me a second, I'll organize them in just a bit." He reassured her to not mind him, and she sorted through the papers, trying to figure out what they meant. These were notes and off-hand ideas, mostly about the series "Ashes". Some were easy to deciper, others were not. He kept gazing at the [[shelves filled with]] boxes categorized in alphabetical order. "Ah!" He just noticed May. She was lazily looking at him with a judging expression [[lounging on an empty shelf space.]] ([[He gave her a curious look.]]) <audio src="Audio/Page Turn.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Creamy napkins, notecards, sticky notes and even a sheet of toilet paper was jumbled in the mix. Of course, there were many, many loose leaves with scribbles and designs on them.

"So you do remember your ideas." She nodded. "Vaguely. Sometimes I see something that I think I saw somewhere before. Somewhere in my notes. Sometimes what I thought would have been in my notes but turned out to just be in my dreams and visions. Sometimes I feel sure I have it; I just don't know where. It's a scattered mess. You know that struggle?" He shook his head in agreement "I'm sure everyone has done that sometimes. But when working on a large scale like this..." he waved his hand "It's a little like information disappearing down the dark library." "Dark Library...?" She questioned. "It's a place where printed works that cannot be touched due to copyright claims perish... their physical forms deteriorate, and their stories are forgotten ([[possibly forever...]])" he paused.

"As much as I dislike digital art, I have nothing against digital archiving. One could hope that they'll become immortal by becoming a classic like the Bible or Shakesphere. Then... their stories will live on through the public... " Akane nodded slowly, not having thought about that. "I... don't think I have the potential to be that great..." she said smiling softly to herself. He said nothing. "Just so long as... it... makes it to the shore of the public... then at least it has a chance. It would be asking too much for one person to remember all that information. But among a fandom... The odds to survive, and possibly... be free..." He trailed off. She felt a little lost. She was focusing and resonating well with the conversation until... just now. His eyes looked somber and quiet. Again, she felt like she had seen them ([[before...]])

After she stepped out of the kitchen, she sent a quick email to each, offering a starting price and asking them to reply if they wanted to meet up for the first day of trial work today [[at 4]]. They responded within 5 minutes [[accepting her offer.]] Feeling awake, like she was making some progress, she stepped out alert as her damp skin tickled, ([[greeted by the cold kitchen atmosphere.]]) Her father was not looking pleased. <audio src="Audio/keyboard typing.mp3" autoplay></audio>

She stepped out of the shower, and sat at her desk, not bothering toweling off. Sending a a quick email to each, asking them to reply if they wanted to meet up for the first day of trial work today [[at 4]]. They responded within 5 minutes [[accepting her offer.]] She headed into the kitchen, alert as her damp skin tickled, ([[greeted by the cold atmosphere.]]) <audio src="Audio/keyboard typing.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Her stomach growled. He jerked into his friendly demeanor at the noise. "But freedom doesn't mean much if they're going to remediate it into bad movies and adaptaions, right?" He smiled. "Forget what I said, I get lost in thought sometimes." He pulled out a couple slices of cheesecake from his satchel ([[and then offered one.]]) <img src = "Images/cheesecake.jpg" width=500> <audio src="Audio/stomach-growl.mp3" autoplay></audio>

Hover over hidden parts of the text to link to the next passage. Click the backwards arrow on the left of the text to go back if there is nothing more to discover, or to retrace the story. Parts of the story that moves through the plot are marked by parenthesis.

Coming Soon!

I'm very excited to be writing this chapter. These were one of the few original ideas that I had imagined pre-creation; one of the major "events" that would deeply expound on Shiro's and Kuro's yandere side. Before, there were hints, but never was it explicitly stated what they would do with a threat. Especially if the threat came in the form... of a little girl in a [[Yellow]] raincoat. There was a good amount [[of hiatus]] time between this chapter's developement and the last one.

The door opened, and Shiro's eyes lit up like a puppy. "Akane! Welcome bac-" Akane walked in, slightly damp from the drizzle, but also glowing with a very motherly light that they had never seen before. "..." She was holding someone's hand. A very small, pale hand, with feet that snuffled the floor and made plastic noises ([[with every movement.]])

Akane tilted her head proudly. "This little person here is a friend of mine. Honestly, I've known her... since she was born actually." She looked at the toddler, and nodded toward her assistants. "Say hello. They won't bite." The little girl make a slight gesture with her head, recoiling back into her large hoodie. She gripped Akane's hand slightly. Akane sighed. "She's going to be staying with us for a while. She doesn't have any other place to go, so I told her she could stay with us." She looked at her with a gentle reassuring smile with her eyes. "Not that I mind at all. You're always welcome ([[Buttercup."]])

"Live together? Heck no. Kids are gross." Kuro barked bluntly in the background. Shiro coughed to clear his throat and swiveled toward Buttercup. His gesture open, and smile kind. He didn't offer his hand, which seemed to hide in his lap. "Nice to meet you... Buttercup? [[Was it?]] I hope we become good friends." Then he looked at Akane and hastily commented. "Akane, I know you want to help her, ([[and I think that's wonderful,]]) but do you really think you have the time or energy to do so?"

A couple of days passed since Buttercup was introduced to the group, and as Shiro had expected, Akane was too busy ([[to take proper care of her.]]) Shiro looked outside; he noticed that it was raining again. May showers were frequent, but the sky seemed to wish to sprinkle more than shine. The girl with her sullen expression seemed to have brought the sleepy clouds with her. Shiro tensed to keep alert.

"Buttercup Mage." Akane sounded [[a bit]] like a proud mother. "It fits her. So cute and bright." "Sure." thought Shiro. "If you were referring to the raincoat, maybe."

Kuro picked up a dinner spoon with a hand spin before directing it toward her mouth. His other hand on her chin, half-gentle half-forceful, he kept focus on her and her alone. He expressed various words of digust and complaints while he fed her, but his face seemed a bit pleased when she finished her bowl. Akane walked in then, not taking note of the 3, and quickly filling her stomach with a bowl Shiro prepared, ([[disregarding the milk.]]) In one hand, she shoveled cereal into her mouth; the other occupied with more notes and unfinished papers.

After a few attempts, the Akane's offers for Buttercup to sit on her lap became less frequent, and neither pushed to repeat the action. Buttercup eventually resigned herself to sitting in the corner. To her credit, Buttercup was a pretty good kid. She ran errands for Akane, as she swiftly ran around the house and fetched items, her small bare feet pattering [[non stop]] on the carpet floor. Other times, she would sit quietly watching the 3 work [[with glassy eyes.]] It unnerved Shiro, just so slightly. Shiro was doing his best to not show it. Buttercup would sit quietly, except for little "Bu buu buu" noises, hardly audiable, when petting May ([[with wide-eyed fascination.]])

Shiro joined them, taking a bowl for himself, and prepping another for Akane, who would be joining any minute. He took a seat far away from across from Buttercup [[and spoke in butter-honey kindness.]] "You're a really good girl, Buttercup." Shiro praised her at various intervals. "I hope you're not bored, sitting by yourself all day." Buttercup wasn't paying attention to him. She was trying to pet May who was lurking under the table. She knocked over her cup, which was fortunately empty, while Kuro promptly caught it in fast reflex. ([[Completely ignoring Shiro,]]) he commanded "Come on, eat. The fatty" (refering to May) "will chow on your fingers if you keep trying to touch her."

And hurt. And alarmed at what was going on before his eyes; no matter what Kuro said, his actions spoke something different. Shiro was doing the same of course, but his words and kind words weren't being picked up by Akane in the slightest. His heart beat fast, almost wanting to puke as ([[he admitted to himself that]]) Akane, Buttercup and Kuro seemed like a mother, daughter and boyfriend... He glanced at Kuro, who seemed to be the only one to acknowledge his existence, if it was only to mock him. He gave him a side smirk, belittling his discomfort. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, ticking off like a bomb.

The next day, heavy black clouds threatened more than just a shower, cascading a heavy blanket of suspenseful darkness. Akane looked out the window. "Damn... looks like it's going to storm... I'm going to grab some coffee from the store before that happens." "I'll go with you." Kuro said. "I wanted to try that new dark flavor they had in shop." Akane shrugged. "Suit yourself... although..." She looked at Shiro. Shiro smiled. "Don't worry about Buttercup. I'll take care of her. Make sure you don't catch a cold." Akane smiled quietly, as she put on her red raincoat. "Thanks. I'll be back in a bit." Kuro went in front of her, mumbling to himself about bitter chocolate ([[and Akane followed]]) ([[closing the door behind her.]])

Buttercup found herself walking down the sidewalk. Her hand was gripped tightly in Shiro's, her small feet having to double step to match every one of Shiro's. His pace was relentless as they crossed streets and alleys, houses passing in a blur. She could not see much. With the pace they were walking, her hood was getting into her eyes; they had taken too many turns for her to acknowledge which way she was going. When she did take a peek, the world seemed to turn even more gray; ([[a darker, desolate void of color.]]) Like water slouching into crevaces of dirty drains, leaking into trash and sprouting into mold.

Shiro's smile deepened in thought, as he sat quietly for a few minutes. Then, he got out of his seat and walked up to Buttercup. He crouched down in front of her ([[his shadow looming over her.]]) "Buttercup..." he said gently. "Do you think you would like to go somewhere with me as well?"

Kuro was waiting outside, as Akane made sure the door was closed, checking her purse in case she forgot anything. "The kid." He said. "Huh?" she responded, her attention perked. "What was the story the kid wanted to tell?" ([[He asked curtly.]])

"Ahhhh. That." She promptly stepped onto the sidewalk, her boots clicking on the concrete. "Any reason why you're curious?" She said with a slight hair toss. He grabbed her arm, reeling her back to they would walk side by side. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, still locking hers in his, he grunted "I just want to know ok? Don't be a bitch ([[and just tell me."]])

Akane pursed her lips. "Ask nicely and I might-" "Please?" he barked out. Akane walked in silence for a bit. "It... it's a little personal to her. It's kind of based off of her past experience. That's kinda why I'm a little hesitant to tell you." Kuro shrugged. "I won't tell, if that makes you feel any better." He curtly added "I think it's more of a personal issue to you though." She looked at him, alert. "She talks to me you know." Kuro said. "oh, that's good-" Akane spoke. Kuro cut her off. "Just a bit. Tells me this story you told her." He made large sweeping gestures to the rain clouds "About this grand country that takes place in a storm hole." His voice rose, either in passion of some sort of mockery, or anger. Akane could not tell which ([[and she flinched.]])

The world seemed to tilt with nostalgic memory. A clear blue sky, contrasted with bright yellow Buttercups that flooded the field, knee high, with the darkest forrest, pitch black in the background. Nothing looked crisp, and yet everything did, the very air was wavy with dream-memory. It must have been summer vacation; the [[elementry]] school yard was empty, and Akane could barely clamber over the railings that interweived the walk ways. The adreniline was high; but invigorating. Someone was chasing her ([[in a lively tag.]])

There were small single-sized classrooms connected outdoors by a wooden walkway. They were fun, like a children's jungle gym. Even if it did not keep out the rain when it poured.

The Buttercups reached up to his knees, making him look like he was wading in a sea of gold. His hair was an ashy blonde, and his eyes different in color [[heterochromia]]. He was fast, but it was fun. At one point Akane reached the edge of the field, and he caught her hand. For some reason, she could not see his eyes; ([[they were blurred]]).

One was blue, another was brown. She knew this boy... she had a crush on him in 3rd grade; a fleeting, childish crush on an older boy she never talked to. She never saw him again once he graduated to middle school.

He said not to go beyond the field. "Old memories there will come back and haunt you like demons." he said cryptically. She shook her head and shrugged it off, wondering past the golden blanket of flowers, and walked curiously off ([[toward another area.]]) The flowers grew sparce. The hill steepened dramatically, both in color and depth. The forrest was growing darker, larger, caving into a peaceful river that tumbled below.

She had stepped past the last golden Buttercup when she saw them; she sensed that they were students, but not by appearance; they were large and scaly, reptilian in appearance and attitude, and taller than any adult. Brillantly colored in metalic blues and greens, they clambered after her, approaching from various sides of the hill. She tried escaping, ([[scaling a nearby tree]]) Her running felt heavy and weighed, as her dream tried keeping up with the vision, like a slow-rendering video game.

The monsters followed, the tree bending with their weight. The bark chipped off and revealed a buttery smooth interior. It easily bruised in a copper color, like caramel. She tried fending them off with a tree branch ridiculous to her size, but adequate in dream logic. They were getting closer. Their claws dented the exposed soft trunk of the tree. She looked back once to the glimmering field, breath quickening, and then... ([[woke up]])

Akane rubbed her eyes, pondering the dream. She prided herself in being able to remember so many; more often than not, her stories derived from the abstract thrill, as she tried to capture what she felt and turn it into a cohesive narrative, burning it into her mind through repetition. The golden field. Odd she found it so [[comforting and]] nostalgic; it was a field she cried often on, watching other children play during recess as she watched from afar, all alone. They boy had the same "aura" as her editor... always warning her and trying to hold her back. Her mouth smirked at the thought that she made that realization. She scratched her head. Golden sunny warmth, somehow paired well with the gloomy rain of outdoors. Like a cozy little blanket, the world was outfitted for silent thoughts ([[pattering in light beats.]])

It was a field the students technically were not allowed to spend their lunch hour on. And for that reason, she enjoyed staying near it's edge. She felt that it was hers. Of course, the field's density in flowers were no where near as exaggerated as in her dream, but the golden cup often reflected its glow on her skin during those warm sunny days.

Akane's dream during her nap hour was so melodic and lovely, even with the monsters in them. It rung a sense of adventure than horror. It was alluring; the whole place felt big and free to explore. The rain outside wasn't so bad. Rather than shutting her in, she felt a sudden urge to going out. Some rains were cold and bitter. This one was warm and welcoming. In some countries, where rain occurs more than half the year, the people would have different names for the downpour. Showers. Downpours. Sunny skies clashing with persistent showers. Storms, monsoons, heavy rain, light rain; ([[their vocabulary was much more expanse than that.]])

Akane remembered vaguely, a story she created before. There wasn't too much detail to it, but it was a country of rain. Gray was not a color of gloom, but quiet tranquill peace. Gray showered the country's city, made of complex and intricated storm pipes and drains; a city nestled in the heart of a cloud that always poured. Silver gray daytime turned to somber dusky grays at night, providing the perfect backdrop for street light magic to play on the paved roads in ([[rainbow]]) colors.

During the day, emerald greens of slightly muted hues in the form of plants lined the streets. Akane thought about this story and the dream she had this morning. The setting was different, but the emotions of comfort and adventure was the same. She thought that if the lizard people were tamer, they could [[be the jeweled civilians that would]] live happily in that world. However, there would be only one creature who was able to boast of the bright colors ([[of the field.]]) Details of the story poured into her mind as she tried not to be deluged by them. She stared at the rain pouring along side the concrete, into the gutters and tried to concentrate.

Quietly keeping tea shops, walking the streets as the water flick down the scales. They would be the peaceful guardian giants in that story. Sitting like giant statues guarding various shop's entrances, slowly clambering in peaceful strolls, up and down stairs on the vertical levels of the town.

A little girl. One small brave resident. Adventuring along the pipeworks. Barefoot. Pattering sounds of feet. The brightest yellow raincoat that boast of sunlight. Glinting here and there among the gray. ... ([[Akane looked up.]])

She had walked quite a distance in the rain; it was coming down in sheets of silver, slipping over foliage and slithering through alleys. She shuddered as the pull of the memory collided with her consciousness. She walked. ([[But not alone.]])

Some raindrops had fell on her face as Kuro waved his arms to the heavens. "Horrible place." He said. "Seems to me that the stuff the little girl goes through is boarder line abusive, disguised as adventure. Running multiple errands non stop like a little child slave. What kind of stories are you telling her?" "Wait, it-it's not horrible! It's supposed to be a calm, comforting place..." Kuro rolled his eyes. "Calm, comforting my ass. Maybe outside, but I know you. You wouldn't make a story like that without some kind of dark twist happening in the inside." "Now let's see... maybe a political struggle underneath the utopia? An uprising that will require bloodshed to cleanse the cloud. Or perhaps the cloud is running out of rain, the whole city will fall to its destruction. Maybe... the lizard people are really slaves, spell-bound, their souls being eaten by the cloud itself. Or the cloud is the only place where the people can survive, as the world below is tainted by poisonous pollution!" Akane looked at him; his face was serious, looking straight ahead towards the coffee shop. "How could you-" "GOTTA RUN!" Kuro interruped; the rain had begun to come down in earnest, and Kuro pulled Akane along as a wave of rain followed behind. They reached the coffee shop door. and he pulled her through it, lightly grunting for her to pay attention ([[to her surroundings.]])

The warm glow of the yellow lights was comforting, even if the tension was more uneasy. The rain heavily poured and battered against the walls, shaking it with each wave. Akane sat at a table, feeling the window panel shudder periodically. "Here." Kuro handed her a paper cup of coffee, black and hot. He sat across from her, stirring his own cup of coffee. He paused for a moment and then spoke "I know you." Akane looked at him. "You like to weave dark meaning into your stories because it reflects you as a person. No matter how pure, how childlike and "comforting" you want to make a story, you will always have some hidden bitterness in it. Because it's the way you vent. It's the way you rant. It's the way you cope with yourself." He took a sip, and sighed. ([["It's the way you are."]]) "You don't talk about how the story ends, thus, keeping information about the origin... the backstory... secret."

Akane's face was knitted, and then she rubbed her eyes, trying not to get emotional. She didn't like being called out like this. "I'm not here to change you, or tell you you're wrong." Kuro spoke again. "I... like you that way." Akane's eyes studied him for an intense moment, then gave out a huffy sigh. "Am I really that easy to read?" Kuro snorted. "Yes. You think you're doing all that with your resting bitch face, but girl... it's not hard." He gulped down a swig of coffee, then hissed out how good it was through chenched teeth. Akane took a sip. It was deep and rich in the bitterness; the flavor had strong notes of cherry, and the aftertaste had a smooth swollow. It was good. She looked at Kuro, and noted how his hair was almost the same color as the coffee in this warm ambient light. "So. What do you want in return for your analysis?" He smiled, and leaned closer. "Your honesty. ([[Tell me about the girl.]])"

"I didn't completely write the story." Akane admited foremost. Kuro looked up. "'Candle Maiden'... That was the name of the story. I created it along with a.... another student... ([[back in middle school]])"

They walked through more places; the rain was coming down fast and heavy. It was a colder, more bitter rain. Suddenly they were walking up some stairs, under a outwalk that had a roof. And even more abruptly, they stopped. Buttercup was panting, slumped as she tried catching her breath. She vaguely heard knocking over the pouring rain; after she swallowed ([[she took a look around.]])

They were on the 3rd floor of an apartment, the corner of the building. An iron fence lined the small porch, and she could see the sea of rain coming in all directions upon the neighboring buildings. She saw a flutter of red. Down below, Shiro... was walking away; his scarf flickering in the wind, his umbrella being held tautly upright. She was confused. Was she supposed to stay here? Where was Shiro going? She heard a loud creak behind her ([[and turned around.]])

The door that swung open looked heavy, giving away the person who pushed it open. Looming over her, was an adult man, overweight and in sloppy clothes. He had messy brown hair, and staggered slightly. He wasn't wearing much; a pair of boxers, and a loose sleeveless tee; both stained in multiple places. Fog was clouding up his glasses. He breathed heavily, scratching his thigh, looking at her small, tiny frame ([[as he towered above her]]).

The room was dark; from what Buttercup could tell, there was a low table, mess of opened chip bags, leftover food plates, and a general smell of muskiness. The floor was dirty, [[and littered]] Food wasn't the only thing the room had [[in abundance.]] A small flickering screen played scenes of a children's tv show [[over and over again.]] The blue light glanced over on the man's glasses, as he sat across the table, his weight sinking on dirty floor pillows, his hands folded and watching her. Buttercup crouched into the corner, sitting on the bare, cold wooden floor. She tried making herself as small as possible; his shadow dwarfed and intimidated her. Her glassy eyes stared back, ([[like a stray cat, alert]]) fearful but trying not to show it.

Small pieces of plastic and paper were scattered along with the food plates of microwavable tv dinners. A number of cans of beer were also highlighted in the mess.

It was a little eerie to hear a bright, happy show for little pre-teen girls play; the contrast between the sunny beaches in the tv and the heavy rain and suppressing atmosphere was ominous.

He stood up, and slowly moved in front of her. He adjusted his glasses, reaching out his greasy fingers. He lifted up her chin and squinted, scrutinizing her face, then glanced at her neck. His expression was hard to read. He let her face go and sat back down, shakily. "You really are from her... aren't you?" His voice, although slightly tipsy, seemed soft and gentle. "Akane... It's been a while, since... ([[since back in middle school]]) Buttercup stared resolutely, ([[not knowing what to make of it.]])

It was hard to see in detail, but Buttercup could see shelves and rows of... dolls? Not only dolls but figurines, collectables, a pillow plush and other memoranda of the same tv show that was airing on the television. Dvd collections, posters and many, many papers with sketches of the heroines [[in "Mew Mew Nya Chu!"]] Dozens and dozens, lined the walls, counters and bed. It was slightly unnerving. The eyes of all the dolls and figurines seemed to face her, watching her in a arena of judgement.

It was a popular series that featured triplets Cherry, Sunflower, and Lilac. They were orphans that lived on a tourist island with their beautiful guardian. The girls keep a secret; they are actually magical nekogirls that battle an evil scientist and his creations to keep their home, "Paw Island" safe.

His face was full of memories that Buttercup brought along with her. "You certainly have her mark around you... I wonder if this was a gesture that she's no longer angry at me... or if she doesn't want anything to do with me, not even our old stories." "4 years of serialization. Successful run of "Mew Mew Nya Chu" and I haven't thought about what I would do once the series was over." He looked around himself. "If she saw me now, she would say I haven't changed at all. Partying for the series finale, and being crushed under a writer's block for a week straight. Fat slob." He said softly, lightly smacking his belly. The rain had lightened up immensely. Light pattered in the windows, illuminating the place. "Akane..." Buttercup's eyes perked as Ari spoke. "She taught me a hard lesson back in the day." Buttercup softly got up and went to his side. She spoke softly, her voice sounding like chimes rung by raindrops on a quiet day. "So what about you?" ([["What are you going to do now?"]]) She said.

Akane cleared her throat, and looked around the cafe, thinking to back where it all began. "I spent most of my time drawing. Small doodles in the margins of my notes; I tried socializing but wasn't making much progress with friends. Until one day, ([[a guy noticed me.]])"

"Hey! Did you draw that??" Akane looked up. The rain was rattling on the school walls and quiet time for class had just begun. He was a little on the heavy side, with face full of acne, as teens his age was prome to have, wearing a polo shirt and glasses. "I'm Ari, by the way. You're ~~Redacted~~ right??" He jabbed his finger at himself then at Akane, causing her to flinch. "Y.. yeah" It could have been because he was large, but he truly invaded in her space. He leaned his belly on her desk and gawked at her sketches. "You can really draw you know! Although I personally prefer those classic anime styles, you seem to like shonen art." Akane didn't say anything, ([[as he kept speaking unprompted.]])

"Your style is good, but you could definitely work a bit more on it." He adjusted his glasses and smiled. "How about you try drawing anime girls?" "I, um.." "I know, it's a little weird for a guy to enjoy seeing anime girls but since you're a girl it should be fine. Besides, it's kinda weird that you're a girl and you like drawing gritty stuff. No offense." Perhaps he couldn't pick up on her physical cues, but she was feeling down that day. She was slightly annoyed, slightly taken aback from all his unprompted, unwarrented critism, but also... slightly glad he talked to her? "I like drawing this stuff because I have a story in mind.. well.. sorta." Akane said [[slightly defensively.]] "Oh that's cool." ([[he said dismissively.]]) "But how about we make a story together, huh? I can be the author and you can draw the story! I actually had this GREAT idea for a story and I know you're gonna love it!"

Akane breathed in her coffee; sharp and bitter. Kuro looked at her intensively. "He sounds like an idiot. And I don't like the way he shoved himself on you." She shrugged. "I don't think he knew he was coming off that way. But I was also to blame. I didn't stop him either." She gave her cup a swirl. "I was willing to make friends with anyone. Although what he said jarred me, I was willing to do a lot just to talk to someone." "He proposed a story. ([[And I agreed."]])

"We were only in middle school. Between studies there was only so much we could do, and considering how young we were, our passion wasn't that strong to keep us devoted to actually put thoughts to paper." "Eventually it became more of a reason to hang out, rather than work on the project. We didn't hang out that often, but he approached me like we were close friends. At the time, he had an interest in Indian history and mythology, as well as various other cultures. He definitely talked a lot about it, meeting up with me whenever he could in between classes." "He didn't have that many other friends. I think like me, he liked my company for the sake of having company. But... that was the problem. We were forcing our interests on each other, ([[or tearing each other down."]])

"He would suggest some things for our story, and I would try not to downright push it away. I think I was too soft with my rejections. I was uncomfortable, but I tried making it seem like it was not his fault. It was mine. On the other hand, he picked at my art a lot, trying to mold it to what his tastes were. Big eyes, cute kawaii shit. It was taxing... sometimes I felt like I was putting in more effort than he did, only to serve it up on a platter for him to judge, and toss away." "Eventually, we created ([[what was the early drafts of ]]) the "Candle Maiden.""

"It was a compromise of what we both wanted. I don't regret the story. I genuinely enjoyed what I had created by branching out. But for every inch of idea I wanted to put in, I had to fight for it." "He came up with the little girl being the main character. I came up with the pipe work way under the city. He liked my suggestion for a land of constant rain, even if he kept pecking at the realism of the suggestion. After a lot of back and forth, I came up with the title. He wasn't sold on it, and I had compromised on something he would agree to." Another wave of water smacked the cafe wall. Kuro sat, quietly listening. "I think I was too gentle. I tried so hard to appeal to what he wanted, because I thought so little of myself. I guess... the animosity was mostly on my side, because..." ([["He asked me out."]]) Kuro choked. "So.. you didn't realize he was developing feelings for you?" Akane shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "I guess the fact that I was so careful to not upset him; every thing I didn't like I covered up with nice words... made him think we had something. He literally was my only "Friend" at the time."

"~~Redacted~~!!" Ari was running down the hall, calling out. Akane groaned slightly; today had been a long day with her midterm test markings not as good as she had hoped. She wasn't in the mood to hear about his obscure interests and how she could draw better. She pretended that she didn't hear him and turned a corner down some stairs. "~~Redacted~~!! W-... wait up!!" He rushed down to the platform she was on, and Akane felt it would have been impossible to ignore him now. She turned abruptly, swishing her pony tail and looking at him with as pleasant a face she could muster. "'Sup Ari? How was your exam?" "oh... that? Eh, no big deal. So hey, what are you doing later today? Wanna work on the "Candle Maiden" again?" He was panting, then stretched his back in an effort to catch his breath. ([[She shifted her bag.]]) "Aren't you gonna ask me how I did with my scores? Midterms are kinda a big deal..."

"Oh ok, how'd you do?" Ari asked nonchalantly. "Not great." She barked. "But... I mean, could be better." She said trying to soften her snap. "I mean, I spent a lot of time helping you with yours." she mumbled slightly under her breath. "I'll be fine." "Sure, sure you will." he said distractedly. Akane could smell his sweat. The weather was warming up and running wasn't his strong suit. "Hey ~~Redacted~~ I wanted to ask you. Do you..." He shifted his feet a bit. "Do you think you would... go out with me?" ([[He asked a bit too bluntly.]])

He wasn't expecting the backlash. He honestly wasn't. Nor did he think that in the heat of the moment he would get so angry and ruin their friendship ([[so horribly...]])

Kuro sat back as he thought about what Akane said. "Ari... how did he get successful?" Akane shifted in her seat. "You know the children's TV show "Mew Mew Nya Chu"?" Kuro's face looked hazed for a second. "I... think... isn't that the shit you play for Buttercup sometimes? The one with the fucking annoying opening??" Akane smiled. "The word you're looking for is an earworm. And yeah, that's the one." "But that's like... literally everywhere on TV..." Kuro fell silent. "So... Ari is the creator? Or just an animator or something?" Akane turned her face to the storm. "Under a pseudonym, but yes." ([["He is the creator."]])

The rain had lightened up; waves smacked the walls but the sun started to peer through. "So Buttercup brings back a lot of bad memories then." Kuro said. "If that's the case, you really think you should keep her around?" "Not bad memories. Those days taught me something. I just hope... Ari doesn't hate me for what I said at the time..." "But I don't think it's fair for you to project those feelings onto Buttercup..." She mused after a while. "But I do... treasure her so much..." Kuro cleared his throat and stood up. "I know it doesn't seem like it... but I honestly like the kid." "I'd like to keep her with us... but it's up to you Akane." ([["What are you going to do now?"]])

Akane tensed. "That was the problem. I rejected him by being brutal. I... honestly was just as superficial as he was. He thought my art was below his standards. And I... honestly thought the same about his story ideas." She swallowed another sip. "I felt bad about that rejection for a while. He had a drive that I didn't... To top it off... he's doing really well right now. No... not just well... Internationally successful." She gripped her cup. "I feel like it would be petty to try being friends with him now. And I can't stop but feel petty at how well he's doing, financially, socially... ([[it's a very bitter pill to swallow."]])

It was only second year. She spent most of her time drawing; the girl with the black ponytail that bobbed in a bright red scrunchie. She wore it every day; it always showed up without fail. Just like the small doodles in the margins of her notes, and just like the absence of friends. She was seen trying to socialize but wasn't making much progress. Until one day, ([[a guy approached her.]])"

"Hey! Did you draw that??" Akane looked up. The rain was rattling on the school walls and quiet time for class had just begun. Her hoodie was down, rather than usually being pulled up, and he could see her bright red scrunchie. "I'm Ari, by the way. You're ~~Redacted~~ right??" He jabbed his finger at himself then at Akane friendily. "Y.. yeah" she answered awkwardly. He leaned his belly on her desk and gawked at her sketches. "You can really draw you know! Although I personally prefer those classic anime styles, you seem to like shonen art." Akane didn't say anything, ([[and he kept speaking so she wouldn't feel so uncomfortable.]])

"He was a classmate. Loud, opinionated with the odd perspectives of a developing teenager interested in niche topics. He often came off as somewhat obnoxious; didn't have much finess in how he carried himself or affected others. Looking back, he was also socially awkward... just trying harder to be heard and to fit in." "Anyhow one day he noticed my drawings..." ([["And complimented them."]])

"Your style is good, but you could definitely work a bit more on it." He adjusted his glasses and smiled. "How about you try drawing anime girls?" "I, um.." "I know, it's a little weird for a guy to enjoy seeing anime girls but since you're a girl it should be fine. Besides, it's kinda weird that you're a girl and you like drawing gritty stuff. No offense." "I like drawing this stuff because I have a story in mind.. well.. sorta." Akane said. She sounded unsure. "Oh that's cool." ([[he said brightly.]]) "But how about we make a story together, huh? I can be the author and you can draw the story! I actually had this GREAT idea for a story and I know you're gonna love it!"

He figured if she didn't have anything specific to draw, she might have fun working with him! He was happy that she agreed, and he thought it would have been smooth-sailing ([[from there.]])

She didn't mean to sound so snappish. She didn't want to make him upset or drive him away in a negative light. She did have a vague story idea, but it was more of a drive of feeling and emotion that she wanted to capture, rather than a concrete narrative. But even then, she most she could do was convey in dark scribbles of people, somberly poised. She was failing at connecting with others because of her niche interests. As much as there were emo students in the building, there weren't any that actually... wanted to talk about the type of sadness she wanted to convey. She didn't want him to actually see her story, because of these reasons.

"We were both lonely..." he murmered. "I didn't really think of it that way at the time. But looking back, that might have been the case. Especially for her..." And then the day came when he asked her out. Midterms was just finished, and he was waiting for them to be over so they wouldn't stress. He was very nervous. She was so nice to him helping him with some subjects, while he offered to help her with some of his. He remembered receiving his grades; they were not the best, but he was excited it was over. He made a beeline to Akane, ([[running down the hallway to catch up with her.]])

"~~Redacted~~!!" Ari was running down the hall, calling out. Akane was down the hall, some paces ahead, heading home. Her head was down, as she pretended that she didn't hear him and turned a corner down some stairs. "~~Redacted~~!! W-... wait up!!" He rushed down to the platform she was on, and with effort, was right by her side. She turned abruptly, swishing her pony tail and looking blankly at him. "'Sup Ari? How was your exam?" "oh... that? Eh, no big deal. So hey, what are you doing later today? Wanna work on the "Candle Maiden" again?" He was panting, then stretched his back in an effort to catch his breath, thinking of how to ask her out naturally. "Aren't you gonna ask me how I did with my scores? Midterms are kinda a big deal..." ([[She said abruptly.]])

"Oh ok, how'd you do?" Ari asked off-handedly. She was smart, so he didn't give a thought to ask. "Not great." She barked. "But... I mean, could be better." She said trying to soften her snap. "I mean, I spent a lot of time helping you with yours." she mumbled slightly under her breath. "I'll be fine." "Sure, sure you will." he said distractedly. He could feel himself sweat. The weather was warming up and running wasn't his strong suit. He was too preoccupied with what he wanted to say that he didn't realize she wasn't ok. I mean.... she's said stuff like this before, but she was always alright and never meant anything by it. He took a breath and decided to just out with what he had to say before he got cold feet. "Hey ~~Redacted~~ I wanted to ask you. Do you..." He shifted his feet a bit. "Do you think you would... go out with me?" ([[He asked bluntly.]])

She remembered being in complete shock. Ari kept talking, trying to fill in the silence and convince her futher. "You know the whole school kinda sees us together all the time, so.... it's not really a big deal to become exclusive y'know? I mean, it's a good thing! You can become my illustrator 24/7 and I'll be your author. And we'll be a couple! You've always been a pretty decent artist. So I think we should be a thing!" Akane's eyes squinted, "You want me to be your girlfriend... so I could continue to draw for you?" "I mean... yeah. Like, we're already so good with each other, you probably wouldn't get along with any other author or guy. Or people. You know, no offense. I kinda... helped you make something good for once. And we can make something great together." Akane felt her breathing shake, as she looked at this entitled, insensitive, short, FAT, acne-ridden boy who walked all over her and still doesn't acknowledge the effort she put in... She looked him straight in the face and said with stiffled anger. ([["No. Way."]])

"You think you can just... what... why would you..." She struggled to find words, looking around the stairway in disarray. "W... why not?" Ari stumbled out in shock. "WHY NOT??!!" Akane snapped. "You think I would date someone like you, a guy, who picks on everything I draw, making me feel stupid and worthless like so many pieces I draw isn't good enough for you. Do you have any idea how you made me feel like I wasn't enough and that you didn't care? How dense are you??" "Look, no, no I do care!! But geez you should have told me if you felt that way or something. I mean, you didn't act like that." His tone was stiffled; his expression was both of shock and annoyance. Clearly, she was the one to blame. For everything. "Why do you like me?" Akane cut him off. "W..why? Well..." He looked her over and stumbled out "Because you're pretty. And good at drawing, and I'm not. You're always so clean and smell nice and dress nice and smart and stuff, haha. You always put in a lot of effort, unlike me haha." ([["And you think I would like being with someone like that?"]])

"If I wasn't any of these things, you wouldn't even talk to me, is that it?" Akane felt tears come up her eyes as she couldn't even think straight any more. "Look at you! You don't even wash your face or change clothes, even when I suggested it before as a friend. I honestly can't stand the way you smell or look. You like me because I put in the effort? But you think I deserve someone that doesn't even try!" He curled up in anger. "I do try!! Who was the one who approached you when you didn't have any friends! I was the one putting in the effort!!" "Well you don't seem to appreciate my drawings and how much time I spent trying to make your stupid story! I don't even like it that much ok?? I did it because I thought it would make you happy. But now I feel like you're just asking for so much more." She walked past him, stomping down the stairs. "You know what, forget it. ([[Don't talk to me again."]])

Akane thought back to that day, eyes lost following raindrops. "I... will admit I wasn't kind with my rejection... To be honest, I lost it then and there. I stopped talking to him. And I was friendless for the rest of the year." Kuro was quiet for a minute, then swirled his cup, drinking the last swallow in a single shot. "So you rejected him and never hung out with him again. Good." he laughed slightly. ([["You were too good for him, even then."]])

He cringed at what he said to her afterwards, in attempt to fill in the awkward silence. He didn't remember word for word, mostly because he didn't prepare for what to say next. "You know the whole school kinda sees us together all the time, so.... it's not really a big deal to become exclusive y'know? I mean, it's a good thing! You can become my illustrator 24/7 and I'll be your author. And we'll be a couple! You've always been a pretty decent artist. So I think we should be a thing!" He could feel the hesitance in her voice. "You want me to be your girlfriend... so I could continue to draw for you?" "I mean... yeah. Like, we're already so good with each other, you probably wouldn't get along with any other author or guy. Or people. You know, no offense. I kinda... helped you make something good for once. And we can make something great together." He mumbled out. He remembered thinking "Shit" as her face was serious, ([[but not in a good way.]])

"If I wasn't any of these things, you wouldn't even talk to me, is that it?" He could see her face getting red and tearing up in pent up frustration. "Look at you! You don't even wash your face or change clothes, even when I suggested it before as a friend. I honestly can't stand the way you smell or look. You like me because I put in the effort? But you think I deserve someone that doesn't even try!" He curled up in anger, deeply hurt. "I do try!! Who was the one who approached you when you didn't have any friends! I was the one putting in the effort!! Look, I let you draft the characters! Name the story! And honestly I didn't even like the name!!" "Well you don't seem to appreciate my drawings and how much time I spent trying to make your stupid story! I don't even like it that much ok?? I did it because I thought it would make you happy. But now I feel like you're just asking for so much more." She walked past him, ([[stomping down the stairs.]]) "You know what, forget it. Don't talk to me again."

He was angry at the time. But as he grew older, he noticed that the fact that he overlooked people, and that he assumed too often what they felt... it kept him from having any friends. He missed Akane, but felt too proud to try talking to her again, and she seemed too angry to approach. He took petty bitter satisfaction that she was just as lonely, too slighted to admit that he himself was in the same situation. During his younger years his lack of companionship lead him to start drawing himself. He drew what he wanted, what he liked with no compromise. He did not intent to put her down when she drew... But now that he actually tried the art itself, he realized what she meant. As he grew older... he realized that he had come off too strong, and was trying too hard. He should not have pushed his story on Akane like he did. He realized that he too has compromised and relied on Akane for support, validation and companionship. This wasn't the only incident that would remind him of this lesson. Years had passed, and he was fortunate enough ([[to change.]])

Back at the apartment, Shiro sat working on a couple more rough drafts. Ever since he got back alone, May had been hissing at him and pacing at the door. Shiro ignored her; the rain had lightened up and the little brat Buttercup was finally gone. It was one thing to deal with Kuro; it was another if he had leveraged another asset to sway Akane with. The rain had finally let up, and it made him uncomfortable that Akane was ([[alone]]) outside with Kuro for so long...

The dream I wrote in the beginning was an actual dream I had. I was able to tie it in with Buttercup's series/backstory, which is honestly very fulfilling when you can get multiple pieces to harmonize together.

A wave of rain smacked the apartment, as he thought back to those middle school days. He genuinely thought he was being kind and friendly.. it wasn't until much later that he realized he was came off more as selfish and short-sighted ([[than intented...]]) In the adult world, he would have had to admit that his younger years exhibited a "white knight" phase.

She was always soft-spoken, taking back passive-aggressive tones to try making him feel welcomed. He liked her. A lot. Pretty, quiet and hard-working... did he mention pretty? Always willing to oblige, in studies and art and ideas. She didn't accept all of them, but he was alright with that. She was taller than him, slender and with black hair that made pretty swishes like an anime girl. Bangs framed her face. Wore cute skirts every now and then. They talked as often as they could. Sometimes he would meet up with her and she would meet up with him after class. He had a middle school crush on his best friend. At least... he thought she was his best friend. He thought... ([[maybe she liked him back.]])

He tried moving on, and saw her talk to other students well enough, but still remained friendless. He never talked to her again after that; she told him straight up that she didn't want to. What she said truly stayed with him. His mind would stray away from the incident for a while whenever he got buried in work, ([[but it was never forgotten.]])

"No. Way." Her face was twisting in anger. "You think you can just... what... why would you..." She struggled to find words, looking around the stairway in disarray. "W... why not?" Ari stumbled out in shock. He never saw her this angry or exasperated before. "WHY NOT??!!" Akane snapped. "You think I would date someone like you, a guy, who picks on everything I draw, making me feel stupid and worthless like so many pieces I draw isn't good enough for you. Do you have any idea how you made me feel like I wasn't enough and that you didn't care? How dense are you??" "Look, no, no I do care!! But geez you should have told me if you felt that way or something. I mean, you didn't act like that." he tried saying back defensively. "Why do you like me?" Akane cut him off in pissed inpatience. "W..why? Well..." He looked her over and stumbled out "Because you're pretty. And good at drawing, and I'm not. You're always so clean and smell nice and dress nice and smart and stuff. You always put in a lot of effort, unlike me." He laughed nervously; he wasn't really thinking, just spouting what came to mind. Although by now, his interest had shifted since she was clearly showed her dispisement for him. He realized that he didn't actually know Akane as well as he thought he did. ([[His face blanked]])

He looked at Buttercup, crouching in the corner. Her face was very much like Akane's... she reminded him so much of the little girl in the story of the Candle Maiden. He didn't know what to do with her. She arrived unannounced, and he sat perplexed by what it could mean; ([[not knowing what to make of it.]]) Years had passed since he last saw Akane in Middle school. He had become a successful creator of a series he enjoyed; "Mew Mew Nya Chu", and with an amazing team, climbed the ranks to create a story for other people to enjoy. The story was so well crafted, it got its own television animation adaption, along with merchandise, posts, comic conventions... it was a rousing success. He was lucky; he worked hard and came out on top at a very early stage of his career. He had wondered how ~~redacted~~ had fared; he came across her work and knew she went under the alias as "Akane". He recognized her style instantly. He was wrong to imply she wasn't good enough at the time; he was also a novice and was in no position to say that. Her art had matured... he truly hoped that she was successful.

Shiro had looked up Buttercup's history [[file previously]] before planning to remove her. He wasn't sure how he was going to break the news that Buttercup was gone with another friend. But it was clear that she had to go; Akane was behind already on her schedule and for that reason Shiro felt that he could approach the relocation as a voice of reason. He saw Akane's red rain coat, ([[which deepened in color as it got wet,]]) pass outside the window.

Akane felt uncomfortable with the dampness of her coat and the after shower air stiffling against her skin. Her hands were warm with a couple reorders of coffee. Kuro walked along side her, holding an umbrella above them both, keeping her close to him. They entered the home and walked upstairs, greeted by Shiro in the hallway. "Hey! Shiro. We're back." Akane greeted him. "... Where's Buttercup?" Shiro's gaze tensed slightly. Kuro stared suspiciously, and then lunged at him, grabbing him by the scarf and pinning him against the wall. ([["WHERE'S Buttercup?"]])

Akane looked at Shiro, questioningly as he moved his hand up, blocking Kuro's face away from his. Something dangled on his wrist. A slim ribbon, pale yellow in color. Shiro spoke calmly, like an adult running out of patience with a temper tantrum child. "That's frankly none of your concern; my explanation belongs to Akane and Akane alone." Shiro twisted himself free from Kuro in a flinch. He straighted his shirt and looked Akane in the eye. "Someone came by and claimed her. ([[A guy named Ari?"]])

Akane's face looked blank. "I know that you knew each other before. He said that he was here just to see Buttercup; that he remembered her. Buttercup wanted to go with him. And they both seemed happy about the decision." "Wait... so you... saw him today...?" Akane's face tried to grasp the situation. "Yes. I know him as... the creator of Mew Mew Nya Chu? Anyhow, Buttercup said that she knew him, and decided to leave." He walked up to Akane. "Honestly it was for the best. You're behind on your work, and you know you're not giving Buttercup the attention she deserves. She'll be fine; it's the best outcome for both you and her." Akane paused for a moment. "So she seemed happy with him... I can see that happening... I take it Ari is doing alright?" ([[Shiro paused.]])

"Well enough." He said bluntly. He gave Akane a hug. "You did the best you could while she was with you. Don't worry about her." Akane looked up, and nodded, slowly looking around the room that would no longer be graced by that little yellow raincoat. Her eyes landed on Kuro. "I guess that answers your question." Kuro's eyes slinted. "You ok with this?" Akane made a tight smile. "Yeah, yeah... I mean, I'm busy, and there's no way I could take care of her and do her justice... It's for the best. It was fortiuous, actually." "I should get back to work" There was a slight attempt to sound perky, ([[dispite the faintest crack in her voice]])

Akane stepped lively into her studio, already lost in thought of what to create next; perhaps in attempt to shove out other thoughts. Shiro locked eyes with Kuro as Akane went out of sight. "You knew we were close... didn't you?" Kuro growled lowly. "What exactly did you do with the girl?" Shiro faintly smiled as he flicked his wrist, showing off the ribbon. "What, you don't believe me?" "I have no reason to believe that. Your clothes are damp from going outside. If she was really picked up, you would not have been soaked that much." "Such observation skills!" Shiro retorted sarcastically. "But trust me, what I did was a lot better than what you had planned for her. You should be thanking me. You really think you could just give some excuse to Akane that she somehow "Went missing?" Perhaps I don't know the details, but... I've seen the knife in your possession." "Neither of us wanted ([[her here]])." Shiro said.

"Are you hinting that I wanted to kill her??" Kuro snapped. "What kind of monster do you think I am?" "Oh, am I wrong? Forgive me, I was just tossing back the favor of being falsely accused." Shiro laughed. "Maybe you wanted to adopt her; you Akane, and Buttercup, finally forcing me out of the picture. But even then, Buttercup would grow to be your rival." Shiro tugged at his ribbon. "Stupid plan that would be impossible to impliment in fast enough time. You can't fool me. Sooner or later you would have wanted to get rid of her." "You tricked her into going there, didn't you?" Kuro said pointedly. Shiro shrugged his shoulders ([[before heading inside.]]) "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't." Kuro crossed his arms as he smirked, unfazed. "Just returning the favor of a truthful accusation." he interjected, standing outside.

Originally the title of this chapter was called "Mediums" as I tried to make another chapter for my college project. It was a back-up chapter, made to jot down other ideas of how to approach my final project. However, I made no progress on it; partically due to time, and then later due to lack of interest. I went on ahead and wrote chapter 3 "Yellow" since I had both a theme and event that I wanted to portray. It wasn't until the end of creating that chapter that I got inspiration for chapter 2, ([[Orange Haze]]) and soon both were neck and neck in substance. It took a long while to complete Chapter 2, but I set aside everything else to reach the end. I still feel like the chapter wasn't clear [[in its direction,]] but now we have a definite scene between a yandere and yandere, as well as more [[character interactions,]] discoveries and flash backs.

When she suggested the idea, it was judged and inspected at every angle, and eventually compromised. There was only one way to get to the room inside the house; the staircase and hallway. Remote, but attached. The little bit of distance didn't stop her parents from being a frequent visitor. She could hear their footsteps creak up, and most days they had the decency to knock. Other times they would ask her to keep the door open, "for air circulation" etc. Similar to a tower of a castle, she felt she had just as much freedom as if she was in one. A minor plus, it did come with a bathroom she could partically claim ([[as her own.]])

The fruit brought back memories. And not pleasant ones. Her mind shifted as she looked ahead at the pumpkin posters, long left since last halloween. The rust-colored carpeted subway floor changed slowly into a classic summer sky. Her family was out for a picnic; ([[impromptuous]]) and cautiously welcomed. Cicadas and various bugs orchastrated the forest. <audio src = "Audio/cicada.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

She was heading out today to visit her editor. She had sent Kuro some line art gags to color, edit and format text in. Dispite their initial arrangement of using her office, they did agree in unison that there was no point being there when Akane was gone. Kuro finished the work given online. She thought about sending Shiro some pages to work on while she was gone, but thought letting him know what was going on and give him a day off would suffice. She had yet to finalize any ideas anyway. She wanted to confirm with her editor on the storys' direction. The subway was packed with people, as many stood quiet with their private thoughts, keeping to themselves. A couple giggled in the back and a baby started crying. Akane just looked listlessly out the window as tunnels blocked and exposed the outside city, making streaks in light like window blinds. She adjusted her bag that held some sketches ([[for the next episode.]]) <audio src = "Audio/subway.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

She honestly hated it when they were cut that way. She prefered peeled, each segment pulled apart in an encapsuled membrane; easier to eat, and no sticky juices running down the arms.

He was only 4. Clasping chubby hands together, he started praying, thanking the almighty for the food, ([[and through peeked eyes,]]) looked at the various dishes and utensil, slowly counting out each plate to thank in meticulous, childish detail. <audio src = "Audio/cicada.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

Akane's heart jumped as her eyes flew opened. "What's so funny?" Her father demanded with a sneer. They didn't say anything; he was so angry, they couldn't figure out what they did wrong. "WHAT'S SO FUNNY?! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?" His words were clorted with anger. He glared at Akane, the oldest, the one whose giggle broke his patience. She squirmed at the undenyable pressure to answer, as she realized that if her siblings would say nothing, she should speak up. "I... he was praying for the plates and napkins... and we thought it was funny." Akane stumbled out. She could not explain why it was funny; but they were children. Children with appropriately immature humor; kids who found butt jokes and fart noises the peak of comedy. Her father would not accept that. His eyes seared into Akane's ([[in disbelief and anger.]])

"Mom, pack up the picnic. We're going home." He ordered abruptly, hurling the plate of oranges onto the ground as he stood up. Akane and her siblings just sat there in scared silence as they watched the food being hurriedly put back into the coolers, and watched their father storm off into the distance, starting up the car as if ready to drive off without them. It was a quiet, hot, ride home as they waited ([[tentively]]) for an explanation. They were afraid that if they said or did anything more, it would enrage their father further. Akane's stomach growled. <audio src = "Audio/car-driveway.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

Akane looked at the box of oranges her mother sliced; they bounced slightly as the subway traveled down the rails. They were not cut into wedges, but peeled into segments. She would have chided with her mother if they were delivered as wedges; the juice would have made a mess. She popped a segment into her mouth and thought about the "explaination" her father gave that day ([[for his unreasonable outrage.]]) <audio src = "Audio/subway.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

After a heated time of silence, he spoke up. "You think... it's funny to give thanks for the smallest utensiles and plates? Well let me teach you something. Do you think it's fun, driving back home, not eating anything? Do you like that, huh?!! Anything you're not grateful for, will be taken away. Let's see you eat without plates and utensils ~~REDACTED~~." Akane flinched as her name cracked through the air; the car jumped on the country road and trees limbs smacked against the windows. She had only spoke up because her siblings did not, and because her father looked directly at her. She was not speaking for herself; they were all thinking that. ([[Why was she singled out?]])

Akane still felt the sting to this day. She ate the last orange and looked at the empty container, returning it to her bag. It was just earlier that the morning Meeting had a message of the same effect; the ptsd was strong, and her idle hands allowed her mind to linger. "The axe does not remember, but the tree does." She murmered. Looking back, she remembered being angry for the youngest being punished. He did nothing wrong. She remembered him sobbing on the way home. She remembered all her siblings crying on the way home. She gritted at what her father said ([[to them;]])

As a child, she learned was to not say anything. Proactive, regressive; just don't say anything. She was too scared because she did not know what words, what actions would trigger him. As a child, she learned fear of expression. Fear of her father. And that he was proud of that. As a child, she learned that it was her fault. Everything was. Her siblings were hungry because of her. They were crying because of her. As a child, she learned that through humiliation, hunger, and blame was the best way to teach a child. As a child, she resented her siblings for ever trying to reason with their father. Rather than defend them, she resented them for not "obeying better"; for not going along with what he wanted so they wouldn't be collectively punished. As an adult, she also felt that her siblings resented her ([[for similar reasons,]]) during the occasions she could not "perform".

She shook her head at the memory; there were hundred of incidents like these, all with varying degree of violent explosions that made each unpredictable as to what would trigger their father. Much, much later, her siblings were trained to timidly crawl to his side and stammered for forgiveness before things got worse. Akane didn't see what she did wrong, and the injustice stung enough to stop her from being the first to beg under his shadow. It stung more when he lectured her longer before finally granting release of pardon. A forgiveness that stopped her father from brooding any longer, but would not stop him using this incident as a reminder to her and her siblings of how little they were. Her thoughts had mellowed as the memory's emotion was relived. She looked back at her work, "To become Ashes" ([[and mused to herself.]])

If she could spin the memory into a coping mechanism of dark humor for "Unlucky Death", she would. But not this time. The mother of the crying child gave the infant a princess doll; golden curls and silver-blue gown. Akane watched as the baby became preoccupied ([[by the toy]]) and stopped its crying. <audio src = "Audio/subway.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

Her past memories often inspired some story elements for her work. She would sort out which one would be best appropriated to "Unlucky Death" and "To become Ashes". The orange picnic incident, ([[with its citrus perfume]]) sounds more like a "To become Ashes" plot. With a slight nod, she confirmed that decision in her mind, and proceeded to organize the event to the story, categorize it ([[and mused to herself.]]) That traumatic event would be the inspiration for "To become Ashes". It fit well; the lesson of never speaking up for oneself, gaslighting, manipulation and over-the-top anger at the well-intended laughter...

She had looked around her room before heading out that morning, as she was wont to do. It was by passive suggestion, and a lot of ego stroking and kissing up to her father's good side she got this far. It wasn't the room she wanted. But it was the room she got corresponding to what she fought for. Which was little. But it was what the reality deemed appropriate. Her own little place "([[in production.]])" To be asking for more would be to push her luck, and Shiro and Kuro were strictly forbidden to venture away from the office.

Among the cars bustling around the street and chaotic chatter that blended into atmospheric garble, Akanes' eyes detected something. A red scarf and silver hair. Shiro was waving in the distance; [[his eyes looked her up and down.]] as she heard her name come from his lips. "Hey! Funny to meet you here." Shiro said as he walked up. "Yeah..." Akane spoke, eyebrows knitted. "I thought I gave you the day off; I wasn't expecting to walk into you so soon." "Yes, you did give me a day off! And I decided to spend it getting some errands done." He shifted a couple of plastic bags; his pose was bent- ([[they must've been heavy.]]) <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

Nearby, a park luminated with tea-time light. A little girl frolicked in the tree shades, arms swishing with a bright yellow raincoat, decorated in cute pink charms and flower patterns. The silhoutte of the coat was bouncy, like a blossoming buttercup. Layers of white sheen fabric stuck out from under the petal-shaped fabric. Her hair was brushed back and in 2 bouncy ponytails. Large rainboots made her gait waddle. The ribbon was missing, but the flashlight now dangled around her neck on a thin chain. One would say the gray eyes matched that of Buttercup, but she looked brighter; [[happier.]]

She picked flowers and headed to an apartment, up a flight of stairs and into the kitchen. She put the flowers in a glass vase, tippy-toeing to reach the counter. A man in a clean shirt and khaki pants was working; he had a large blanket draped around him that had patches of shimmering blue and green reflective fabric. They glistened like lizard scales. He worked quietly, sketching on a table glowing with natural sunlight. The place was clean, except for a single empty bag of chips. The little girl promptly picked it up and put it in a trash bag, before sitting [[contentedly]] next to the creator.

Without much being said, they worked together, speaking in musical language of gestures, sketches [[notes]] and giggles.

[[Chapter 4]] Coming soon!

"When do you have to see your editor? Are you in a rush?" Shiro asked. "Not really." She walked off to one of the resturants and shops on the side. "I'm supposed to meet him at our usual spot, but I have time. Why?" "Ah, I actually have time as well! Well, I have a bus to catch, but later. If it's not much trouble, I was curious about where you were going to take the story." Shiro tossed his hair to the side. "If it's not a breach of creators code, I'm very curious." Akane perked up. "I'd... actually be glad to. I'm about to submit rough drafts to my editor, and while he'll give me feed back on the story, I enjoy discussing it with other people as well." ([[She extended her hand]]) "Want me to carry one? They look heavy." She motioned towards the plastic bags. <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

"Oh, no it's ok! I got this." He back posture was hunched and did not agree with his sentence. Akane was about to roll her eyes when someone with a motorcycle drove dangerously close behind Shiro, riding on the sidewalk in stupid daredevil brashness. She cut into Shiro's monologue about "carrying weights like a man", and without saying anything just pulled him roughly to the side, tripping over the resturant tables and falling on the chairs. Akane and Shiro tumbled, ([[as did the content of the bags]]). The motorcyclist revved by, shouting mocking profanities at the people they passed, as an angry crowd yelled at them to get back on the road. <audio src = "Audio/motorbike.mp3" autoplay> </audio> <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio> <audio src = "Audio/crowd-boo.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

Shiro looked at Akane intentively. "But! I'm dying to know. The step brother hasn't pulled any of his usual pranks; sending mobs to break into her office and destroy pieces, or causing trouble in her part-time jobs." "It's easy for any reader to figure out that this could only mean that he's planning something horrible." He leaned close. "Question is, what could that be?" Akane pressed her lips together tightly. "Yes." she confirmed. "It's a spoiler, one that you won't see in a few chapters. The step-brother... Asher... you know his "girlfriend" [[Yona?]]" Shiro's face cringed instantly; his mouth became a tight line. "What about the bitch? Oh god you're going to have Yona smash it at the exhibit aren't you?" Akane thought for a second. "Not quite, but I can make that happen. Due to Yonas' status, it would be impossible for Ashe to try getting back at her or holding her accountable..." "Ok, if that's not it, what will happen?" ([[Akane hurried up the pace]])

Akane lowered her voice and twisted her face slightly. In a theatrical manner, she paused before revealing: "The step brother, Asher... will dedicate the sculpture to Yona." Shiro kept his eyes focused on Akane, waiting for her to say more. He blinked rapidly as he asked "Wait, what? How?" Akane, now that she had dropped the spoiler bomb, resumed to her usual neutral expression. "Swap out ownership in the background. Claim that he was the creator of the sculpture, and dedicate it to Yona on stage." she said matter-of-factly. Shiro blinked rapidly. "But the step brother dispises Yona." "Correct" Akane said, patiently. "But so does Ashe..." Shiro mused to himself "Wait, so this is basically the biggest "Fuck you Ashe" the Asher is trying to pull?" "Exactly." Akane said. "Ashe knows how much her step-brother thinks Yona is a nuisance. But if that means hurting Ashe and humiliating her beyond repair, ([[he'd be more than happy to oblige."]]) <audio src = "Audio/light-bulb-breaking.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

"Wow." Shiro said. "I have no words." He bowed, rustling the plastic bags on his side. "I imagine that when delivered in drawings, it will be more gut-wrenching portrayed in this synopsis." Akane nodded "But now that you mentioned Yona knocking it over... it does sound like something she would pull in pettiness. I'm actually considering your idea." "Oh, no, it was just something I thought would have happened. I think a lot of readers would expect that to be the course of events; if you manage to pull off your idea, it would be that more shocking since no one would see that coming. My idea sounds flat by comparison. Simply less intricate than what the step brother's maliciousness is known for." She tilted her head in agreement. "Thank you, I do think this would be a new low for the step-brother. But I wonder if ([[it's convincing.]])" Akane shifted her bag in her hands. "What do you mean?" Shiro asked.

She shook her head "See, there are multiple ways I could go about this. I could explore another asset of Ashe's character; if I went the route of stolen ownership, would past experiences have [[trained]] her to remain silent? Will she stand up for herself? Perhaps the "foreign client" turned out to be her step-brother in alias. Perhaps I could merge all these ideas into one and make a cohesive event." She was up and pacing now in excitement, her hair gently tossed in the breeze. "You see Shiro?? Before anything is put into paper, you have this elasticity; the story can be changed and depending on which route you want to go- they can all provide something new to the story!" Shiro smiled "I'm just happy I could help." He reached out and held her free hand in his. "Just remember. I'm always here to lend you a hearing ear and feedback." She looked down and smirked a faint smile, embarassed at how she must look, ([[frenzied with excitement like a puppy.]])

"Thanks... I haven't been able to talk with people like this in a while..." She muttered. "My editor... he looks at me like with an air of superior maturity... it's grounding, and helpful, but he never gets excited- most times I suspect he's disgusted that I could come up with such things." Shiro nodded, his eyebrows knitting. "There's nothing wrong with you Akane. You're just incredibly passionate." He gripped her hand tightly. "I like it when you're excited... you're... very pretty that way." He murmered softly, almost to a whisper. "What?" Akane asked. "Nothing" Shiro smiled brightly. "I'm excited to see how we'll draw this together. It's a lot of fun figuring out how to make the characters develop through suffering." He said ([[nonchallantly]])

Akane gave him a little side eye. "Through hardships." She suggested. "Well yes. But suffering and torture can bring out interesting aspects of a character. Maybe not exactly torture, but inflicting pain on an individual haha! I would say some people deserve it; it brings out their true colors, and thus, have it's own irreplaceable purpose. [[Don't you agree?"]] Akane gave a side smile "I guess? So in a real-world scenario, the case of humiliation; like falling on the ground on loosing one's groceries, or dropping a whole stack of papers." She shrugged and patted his reddened cheek. "I'm sure all suffering in real life have a purpose, and that makes it bearable." Akane then looked at time. "I should get to our meeting place. But I'm really glad I talked to you. It gave me a lot of ideas to think about." She handed back the plastic bag. "Right... I need to catch my bus..." Shiro gestured at her. "Wait... hold on a minute." He put his bags down, grabbing her arm hastily ([[pulling her close.]])

Shiro thought he smelled oranges; Akane's eyes looked out of focus, as if recalling a memory when she said that. "Taught to keep silent" huh... Ashe definitely faced many trials where she was unjustly shamed and punished; any attempts to fight back were wrought with cruel consequences... it would certainly be in character for her to give up to avoid additional pain...

His heart thumped. Her messy hair was organized into a ponytail with a red scrunchie. She had jeans on and an off-white button up shirt, giving her a business-casual flair. Her lips were deliciously rosy and glossy; he was sure it was some kind of lip gloss and didn't realize it was fruit juice. She looked cute, and he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Her red scrunchie. It was so familiar...

"Jeesus, that asshole!" Akane sneered at the rider's direction. She turned to Shiro, who was picking himself up from the ground. "You ok?" "Yeah, I'm fine; thank you." He brushed himself up and picked some gravel from his hand. He looked embarassingly at the stuff he bought, now scattered on the ground. Shiro 's ears were a bit red, with passerbys walking by [[and giving them lingering glances.]] "Dammit, not again..." he swore under his breath. "Ah geez..." she said "I'll help you pick them up." Shiro bit his lip and started putting the produce that spilled from the packages. A banged up carton of orange juice that miraculously did not spill, and a box of ready-make cake. She thought she saw some kitchen knives and rope through a side glance, but Shiro swiftly put them into bags. "Pretty yummy stuff you got here." She said. "You seem to like eating sweets." She picked up the cake box and smiled "Got this for a special occasion?" Shiro hesitated before taking the box from her. Then he smiled and gave a laugh that tried to cover up ([[his momentary]]) lack of confidence. <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

"Thanks. Yeah, kinda? I thought it might be good to have on hand." He booped her nose playfully with the box. "Maybe we can eat it togther, as a thank you for helping me pick up my stuff." He reached out his hand and helped her ([[to her feet.]]) She opened her mouth to say something, but he intercepted, saying "I'm still curious to know about your story, if you don't mind picking up where we left off." <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

They walked together in silence for a bit before sitting down in front of a resturant. Shiro rested his grocery bags and Akane watched the bed of orange pinwheels spin in front of the store. "You know... being a creator doesn't mean we always have inspiration. I'm sure you've experienced it; an art block, for example." She paused. "As much as I have these ideas I don't always have this zeal. Usually I like talking about my stories, but... lately I've been feeling a little tired." Shiro stood there, listening and giving sympathetic nods. Akane stared ahead "I'm hoping talking my editor would help ([[get it back.]]) Usually it's effective. But talking to you... might be fruitful." <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio> <audio src = "Audio/walking.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

His hands were on her shoulder and they were shaking. The pinwheels seem to sputter from off the ground. "Akane... do you... I mean... when we fell... did you... remember...?" He spoke incoherently, nervous, obviously searching for the right thing to say, not sure if to say anything at all, trying to detect some existance of memory, but not desiring it to be remembered. Her eyes shifted and her brows knitted in cautious confusion, trying to decipher what they meant. He stopped, moving his hands toward her shirt, then fastened the collar button. "Never mind!" He brushed off. "([[It was nothing.]]) Your shirt was unbuttoned. Now you can go impress your editor and tell him what you want." Akane tilted her head. "Ok? You sure? Because I really gotta go but, [[if you remember,]] you can tell me later and we can talk about it." Shiro smiled. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

Akane nodded promptly and walked off, turning back as she watched him step onto a bus. She made eye contact with him briefly before he disappeared out of sight. She looked at her reflection; the collar button made her look stiff; appropriate if she had a tie, but she didn't. She undid the button with a finger and smoothed her clothes. It was a quick walk to the resturant they had lunch together. Akane pulled out her phone and was about to make a call but.. It was a 5 minute walk to her editor's ([[and she wanted to collect her thoughts.]])

He waved goodbye, then paused midair once she was out of sight. The red scrunchie, the push, the crowd's stare, Akane's hand reaching out and helping him... His face reddened and twisted in slight embarassment and anger. He thought this would never have happened again; he promised himself that he was going to be a different person ([[than back then.]]) If he had it his way, **he** would have been the one to save Akane, holding her in his arms tightly. But... But at least Akane didn't recognize him, dispite the similar occurances.

The thought flashed in his mind that he'll be able to unbutton the shirt down instead of up. "One day, she'll me more than happy to let me do so..." But right now, he'll have to deal with other... obstacles. He assured himself, that they were not a problem at all. [[It was nothing.]]

They watched this girl almost fly to the side, not hit by the motorcycle, but jerked herself out of the situation, almost as if was pulling herself away from being hit. She dropped some things from her bag... no one offered to help her pick them up. She stared at some of the objects as if she had just bought them somewhere. She was on the floor for a little bit, mouthing something inwardly before she finally pulled herself to her feet. <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

The frail nerd with an ever present stoop from trying not to be noticed. Glasses covered by hair that was unfashionably cut into strands of dusty gray mop bristles. Sniffling and always getting pushed over... He gritted his teeth. No. He killed that person. Never again would he return ([[to that state.]])

In all honesty, not that it was needed. He "knew" Buttercup; he watched as she came into being between Ari and Akane. Not that anyone would have known; the quiet mop-head nerd was even more invisible than the 2 social outcasts. But he watched. He saw everything. It took him a while to recognize Buttercup; pushed out memories of that era made things hazy. But thank goodness she did not recognize him. He brushed at his red shadow as he thought about how he overheard Akane dump Ari. He was quietly sitting on the top of the stairs, fiddling a knife. He didn't know what he was going to do with it, or whether it was for himself or for his rival. He couldn't hold back his disgust for Ari for having the nerve to ask her out; he had already taken so much of Akane's attention, it was impossible for Shiro to talk to her again. But he did learn one thing ([[about Akane;]]) hypocrasy struck Shiro when he heard what she told Ari...

He just needed a little bit more time. To show Akane that he's perfect for her. "She'll see all the sacrifices and effort I made. Eventually." He looked at his hand and remembered ([[how they were on her shirt.]])

It was nighttime; the school light barely hummed in the bathroom as Shiro looked at himself. The room was dim and green, and with the low light Shiro looked like a ghost. "Disgusting..." he muttered, chest hurting and teeth clenched from trying not to cry. He let in a sharp breath, and started laughing manically, head bent over the sink as he gripped the edges. He tossed his head back and looked at his reflection pathetically. Those freckles, unkept hair, crooked teeth... his eyes darted as they found more and more imperfections... That nose. Why is the chin so unattractive? Forehead isn't cut smooth, The cheekbones make me look fat.... Thin chapped lips, eyes that can't see without glasses, brimming with tears-! More and more faults with himself came up, making his heart race in depression, until he finally grabbed his knife ([[and stabbed the mirror.]])

"Akane deserves the best... And... I'll become the best for her." He slowly lifted up his head and looked at his cracked reflection. "She'll deserve me." "She'll want me." "She'll want only me." "She'll love me." "She won't live without me."

In the fluster of the situation he tried to cover up what had happened. A simple gesture; nothing more. Although... After she was gone, he remembered being so close her breath smelled like oranges, her eyes widening as she tried to make sense of him. She really was pretty with her hair pulled back and her smart outfit. He blushed at the thought that he wanted to kiss her lips, and then touch the smooth curve of her neck. He had his hands on her shirt. Maybe she'll remember, maybe she won't, but [[someday]]...

Nervous, but ready, just like Ashe when she walked alone on the train, her sculpture in tow in the luggage. Nervous wreck that broke into heavy sweats of relief once it showed up, unscratched, in perfect condition. Ashe chewed her burned nailed to bits while on the ride, trying to resist the urge to go to the luggage compartment and stay passenger there. Akane looked out at a shop window, envisioning the whole scene, trying to capture the emotion and angst; channeling her own twinge of nerves ([[and expanding it]]) to something much, much more...

She stepped into the publishing building, and rode up the elevator; polished wood showed her reflection on all sides as she repeated details of the new ideas so as to not forget. Her reflection mirrored into infinite copies, creating an auditorium of her face to audience. The elevator chime rung, and she stepped out ([[onto the sterile white floor.]]) <audio src = "Audio/elevator-ding.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

While some people would find the office just a regular office; boring, uninspiring and closed in; Akane felt the overflowing white familiar like a blank document of a sheet of paper. Granted, this was a place where ideas were given birth to the world; not conceptualized, or conceived. But it was white and sterial as the halls of a hospital, a palace for divine rule to be administered. Fax machines, copymachines, phones, computers; stacks and stacks of documents to be printed, approved and sent out. She heard murmers of editors talking with their various clients, and she made way to a desk that had a distinct smell of sterile cleaners. She tapped editor's ([[Liam's]]) shoulder.

Without looking up, his stern voice spoke up. "Meet me at the usual place; ([[we can talk there."]]) He waved his hand. Akane always thought he had a beautiful manly hand; one that would be good for reference, and one that Akane often studied. His phone rang, and he picked it up. Akane heard jumbled conversations as she walked out.

A delay. She'll make do and think more about her story, pulling out papers in preparation, ready to deliver, as if she were presenting a speech. She walked up to the lobby and waited, still nervous about hailing a booth at their usual resturant. While she could have texted Liam in person, [[as most editors do,]] she truly did value his opinion. Even if she felt pegged down a few notches every session. He kept her grounded. In spite of all their sidings and disagreements, the weight of the responsibility of being on her own would have been too much. Besides, talking ([[face to face]]) made it easier to convey her ideas.

The first time they met, they began conversing through text. While Akane had many ideas, she could feel the frustration seep through as Liam ruled many of them out. Eventually had to bend her head to many lot of Liam's notions, and she felt that perhaps her ideas weren't getting through because she did not convey them well enough. After a while, she felt comfortable enough to try making phone calls, and as she felt through the texts, she was able to confirm by his voice. Strains and sighs as he bluntly would say once in a while "I give up. Do what you want." Still, she had more victories by phone rather than by text. That gave the notion that perhaps visible cues would also help. Her resting bitch face often impeded many social interactions in the real world, but with Liam, she at least tried. And even though she choose timelines Liam advised against, he did at least begrudgingly tell her that the way she delivered on paper made him think she did alright.

He stepped in smartly as he pushed his glasses up to look at her. "Hello Ms. Akane. Waiting for me?" She ducked her head with a slight smile. "Wanted to talk with you along the way." [[His eyes smiled.]] "Sorry for making you wait then; let's see what fresh character torture you have for me this week?" His different colored eyes briefly showed up behind the glare of the copper glasses, perfectly polished in gold glimmer, ([[as they stepped outdoors.]])

It was hard to read his expression sometimes, but they were always straight-forward and genuine. He was always a hard working editor, and put his best foot forward to every meeting. She liked that about him. He was always in the moment. His frown prominent when working, sporting the resting bitch face they both shared. But in their general talks (which always became debates), he was very fairly pleasant to be around. Now if only her ideas could keep that feeling throughout the whole meeting.

Working with them had been an productive venture, in spite of the occasional spooks when her parents would bang at the door. But today, she was glad for a break; she rested her hand from sketching and stretched it out. The muscles tingled from her wrist to her fingertips, restless and fidgity. She flinched as the outside world greeted her with blinding light. She closed her eyes, ([[thinking for a while.]])

Together, they scheduled an interview that, this time, ended without interruption. Both Shiro and Kuro completed pages with skills that rivaled her own, giving fresh perspectives, backgrounds and consistency that her overworked mind could not afford. Their art had even seemed to reach yet another level from what she saw previously on their profolio. Speaking of affordance, they charged prices that actually were low considering their skills. In all honesty, ever since she saw their sketchbook she was inclined to hire them. Their arguments and discussions, contray to what she said earlier, had made a favorable impression on her. If they could just keep the debates civil, then she could see herself never running dry on creativity and feedback. She solidified her decision as their excellent work pace finished all the work she had laid out well before the end of the interview. They simply were too perfect. In a way, she was glad that no one else made it through. She truly felt that she had the best on her hands, and the hectic previous deadline was well worth it. But like all good things, ([[they had this one string attached.]])

The grass was tall and itchy, and Akane had lifted her feet on the [[picnic]] table to keep it from tickling her toes. Her 10 year old self scrunched her nose at the thought of bugs possibly connecting with her dangling appendages. Oranges [[sliced in wedges]] dominated the majority of the smell; their transparent juicy segments attracted fruit flies. She sat on the far end of the table, with her younger siblings lining up on the side. At a prompt from her father, ([[who was grumbling in summer sweat,]]) the youngest started to pray. <audio src = "Audio/cicada.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

A block of cement was buried into the dirt that was hooked to the table by a heavy chain to deter theft. Various tables where in the location, each a stone's throw away, and other families were occupying them, all in various relaxed stages of their lunch. Seemingly at ease at this practice called a "picnic". Akane didn't go out very much. The long drive since the amber daybreak to the state resort made her excited yet nervous.

When she was little, Akane read a story. In this story, a group of siblings were subjected to the rilings of an aunt; she flailed unreasonable, petty annoyances that caused a wedge in the whole family. In retaliation, the children found an old doll, and cristened it after the peevish aunt. And every time the children got scolded, and made a great ceremony of "drowning" her in the rain barrel. Akane felt that was an excellent parallel with how she treated her character "Ashe". Of course, "Ashe" was unrivaled in her patience and perserverance, but she was a self-insert, an outlet, none the less. The train slowed, jostling everyone in its speed. Akane stepped off on her stop and blended into the crowd ([[outdoors.]]) Her shoes slapped against the pavement.

Akane looked at Shiro briefly "You remember where the story left off right?" Shiro nodded and cleared his throat. "Of course. So far, Ashe finally got the contract from a commissioner to build a glass replica of the city. She worked on it for months, and then was was asked to ship it to a specific address, which she learned last minute ([[that it was the "Glassglow Art Show"]]). Should all things work out, Ashe should be able to put a dent in the debt she owes her step-brother, some positive reputation and good marketing for future business, etc, etc. It's her ticket into the art industry; assuming, however, that her work isn't sabotaged." Shiro smiled "I found it most helpful, to review first and then ask questions. Something I learned the hard way during my school years." He smiled. "I'm more of a listener than one to raise hand during class." <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

She was tall, slim and incredibly beautiful. But she was superficial and manipulative. A liar with crocodile tears; to be sure, Asher was manipulative, but more in a cold-hearted, business fashion. Yona, on the other hand, literally slept around to garner blackmail, made up accusatory stories and got away by acting innocent. Generally she used dirty tactics to get her spoiled, entitled way. There were too many words that could be used to describe her, but readers all agreed that she was a well-crafted, hated character. She even rivaled Asher in terms of fan-hated; a befitting partner in terms of relationship for the step brother.

She opened her mouth and eventually shrugged off "I was going to ask ([[my editor about it.]]) Stealing ownerships... especially when the client is a third person member. Couldn't she prove her claim if she has receipts? Yona knocking things over sounds more feasible. It could be just as mean-spirited. It establishes her character. And that's mainly what I'm aiming for."

Akane, although jittery from having a fun vacation, still felt an underlying current of tense anger from her father. The others did not quite get the same message; they were giddy with excitement at this rare occasion. Akane noted that her younger siblings, aged 8 and 6, were giggling at the fact that their baby brother was thanking for the plates, forks, and napkins. Akane giggled a bit as well; it was funny to hear him focused on the smallest detail of the picnic. Perhaps she could not verbally express, but deep down, she wanted to believe that their jovical mood was not due to ignorance, but because her siblings knew something she didn't; that there was nothing to fear and everything was fine. The siblings bursted into snorts ([[and well-intented laughter.]]) <audio src = "Audio/cicada.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

All which came abruptly as their father slammed his fist ([[against the table.]]) The food shuttered and the youngests' prayer screeched to a halt. Other people looked up briefly, wondering what the commotion was about; even the cicadas seemed to drown out in that moment of intense fear.

"GOD DOESN'T CARE IF YOU'RE JUST KIDS. Mocking the creator like that. Do you know what happened to the children who mocked the great prophet Elijah? "Oh but we were just teasing for fun~~"" his voice whined in mocking imitation "THEY WERE RIPPED TO SHREDS; ALIVE, BY BEARS!!" His voice roared in fury.

"I know what you were thinking. But children are foolish; their hearts are bound with foolishness. You know what drives that away? A rod. "Oh but they're just children"" His voice escalated "CHILDREN DO NOT GET PITY ON THE SPIRITUAL BATTLE FIELD. DO YOU THINK THE DEVIL WILL SPARE YOU BECAUSE "YOU'RE JUST KIDS?" WHEN IT'S TIME FOR ACTION, [[I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE KIDS.]] YOU HAVE TO FIGHT AND NOT LISTEN TO YOUR WICKED MIND." The car roof rattled as he was screaming ([[at this point.]])

Their reply of silence was heavy. And after a moment he added "Not one of you thanked me for driving you there." Akane's eyes stung, as she tried to reason with herself that the picnic was his idea, but could not combat with the feeling that it was all her fault. They whizzed around a corner, and momentarily her father said nothing as he focused on the road. He took an uncharacteristicly sharp turn, whipping their bodies against the side. They dared not say anything. Saying or doing something got them into this trouble; they still couldn't comprehend what they did wrong. The road lengthened, and the ride steadied once more. Her father tched at the silence. "You are all stupid children. ([[You need to repent."]]) <audio src = "Audio/car-skid.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

"You think it's unfair to punish him huh? Well guess what. In the spiritual war, we fight as a family. If one of you mess up, we all get punished. The almighty could have given you nice things today, but it's all your fault. Maybe though this experience, you'll finally ([[get through that THICK SKULL and]]) learn something!!" Their [[insistance in]] silence made him storm out of the car [[and into a seperate room.]] He stayed out of sight until dinner. <audio src = "Audio/van-door.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

They were just scared. And in shock. "Blah blah blah excuses" he probably would have said, if they had the courage to tell him so. Or perhaps he would have said "Scared? Good! You should be. But why are you so stupid as to not repent? Better to be scared and alive than so proud and dead." He would later tell them that they were being rebellious. At best; stupid.

Their mother fed them the soggy, crushed remains of the picnic after they got home; all the festivity of the food was gone, and Akane found it hard to swallow or look her siblings in the eye. They stayed away from their father like rats that hide in the dark corners. Eventually their father yelled at them again for not "repenting" and begging forgiveness at his feet. It was only after he grilled them with a side of spanking did his anger abate.

As an adult... she realized her father chided them for being children. He was angry they weren't grown up yet. As an adult... she realized her father was a shitty father at best, and a monster at worst. And as an adult... she realized she was still fettered to say nothing back to her father; ([[**under any circumstances**.]])

Akane's phone rang as she received a gmail from Cherri. It was a photo-album from Japan, a momento from Cherri. Text messages following the return back: "Hey! I actually woke up at this god forsaken hour called 5 am. Seriously, I don't understand why or how you manage to do this every day. Figured you'd be up. If you don't respond back I'll be disapointed in you." (Puncuated with a sad emoji and laughing face) The girl glazed over the message and formulated a response, her fingers gliding a reply. Their conversation quickly turned into light hearted banter. "And just what are you doing in this forbidden realm of mine? Bow, being of the day to the queen of the darkness. Go get some more sleep U-U" "lolll geez. xD But seriously, how about you? Don't you know that humans need 8 hours of sleep to function?" "Ooooh bold of you to assume that I was human but thanks for caring." "Oooooh bold of you to assumed that I cared" (followed by a tongue sticking out laughing face) "So why are you up anyhow?" "Heading back home. I really need to unpack all this MERCH I got heehee!" This is possibly an introduction to the "Green" chapter (4)

"Who... is, um..." Shiro worded out. A very weary eye peered out from a mess of bangs. Around her thin, pale wrist, which was mostly covered by her long sleeves, was a tiny yellow ribbon, twisted in rosettes, and dangling a small, keychain-sized charm ([[in the shape of a flashlight.]])

It was a little girl, barely reaching up the Akane's waist in height. Dressed in a [[classic]] yellow raincoat, with a wild brown hair covering her face, the chubby mouth in a slight frown. Shiro was speechless. "The fuck is that?" Kuro ejected bluntly, squinting ([[at the girl]])

Akane's face tightened. "I'll be fine." She said bluntly, then softened as she turned to Buttercup. "Besides, you want to see me work, don't you? I think we'll have fun together. You said you had a story you wanted me to illustrate. I can't wait to hear about it." Shiro said nothing, but as he heard those words, ([[his eyes narrowed]]) as Akane was looked away. Buttercup was looking dully at Shiro, unflinchingly meeting his gaze and holding Akane's hand tight in her chubby one.

Shiro observed Akane from the corner of his eye. She allowed Buttercup to sit in her lap while she drew traditionally. Akane expression softened around her, howbeit a bit distractedly. He could see slight tension grow on her forehead as she realized she could not draw efficiently. Buttercup also... [[seemed to not enjoy the process.]] She did not object to being put in this position but... "Geez, her face is like a rock." Shiro observed. He never heard her voice, but once in a while, Buttercup would put her lips to Akane's ear, and whispered hand-cupped secrets. Akane would usually reply with "Oh really? That's such a good idea." and "That sounds great!" Shiro heard Kuro ([["Tch"]]) in annoyance.

It seemed uncomfortable; Akane was used to slouching over and drawing with her pen dangerously close to her eye. Every once in a while, she switched up positions, and Buttercup was clearly making it uncomfortable for them both. After a while, Akane resorted to taking more frequent breaks to compromise and focus solely on Buttercup's "Story". She sat quietly beside her, watching her draw with... strange nostalgia. Nostalgia that would put her to sleep as the sound of the pen scratches comforted her.

She didn't always find what Akane wanted, but she worked tirelessly, almost breathlessly, until she found what was required. If you looked closely, one could see the sad disappointment in her eyes when she failed. If you looked even closer, one could see that she wanted to be involved, but out of fear of being forgotten.

Food was another issue. At first, Akane had snacks brought to her room, although she wasn't pleased at the potential mess it could make. She encouraged Buttercup to eat, but Buttercup took the hint and would wait patiently to eat once Akane was ready. More often than not, Akane's lunches were delayed or eaten sparcely, and so Buttercup would leave her plate half-eaten in attempts to stay by her side. Her eyes were becoming larger and frame seemed to waste rapidly, ([[but Akane did not seem to notice.]])

When she arrived, her sallow cheeks seemed permanently marked with faint tear streaks. As the days went on, her eyes seems as tired and hallow as Akane's. She blinked rapidly, refusing to nap unless it was right next to Akane. It was like she was scared of waking up alone again.

Shiro noticed. But did not do anything. He was frightened, that if he said anything Akane would take action. He was frightened of Buttercup, and held her at arm's length as much as possible. "Maybe... just maybe..." he thought to himself "If I ignore her a bit longer... she'll disappear..." There was a loud shove as Kuro, who had his back turned from them at a distance, all of a sudden stood up with loud energy, toppling the office chair he sat on. Without a word, he marched toward Buttercup, picking her up and carrying her by her waist, as she made little confused cries and rustling plastic noises with every move. Shiro looked at Akane, who was ears deep in music, ([[oblivious to the world.]]) For sure, he wasn't going to tell her what had happened, but...

Akane's penmanship numbed her brain; like floating in the depths of the ocean. Was it hours? The pages were filling up as she was in a comfortable zoned state. Songs played, one after another as she was lost in contented monotonous lull. But even so, she had to surface and breathe. Rise to the skyline, and... She blinked rapidly and looked up. She looked at Shiro, who glanced up at her and quickly directed his eyes toward his drawing. Earbuds had occupied his hearing. She felt like she was missing something... forgetting something... she looked toward the side and startled as the office chair was pushed an inch close to her face. May was occupying the seat, and quietly side eyed in broken sleep. ([[She looked around...]]) "May, Where's Buttercup and Kuro?"

Just then, the door opened, and Kuro and Buttercup walked in. Buttercup was dressed in a ducky bathrobe onsie, and nibbling on a bagel. Her tiny steps were sleepy. Kuro followed behind, pushing her with his hand, and then looked up and saw Akane. He shrugged and was about to walk past her. "Wait a second, did you... **Bathe** Buttercup?" Kuro rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not like you were gonna do it." Akane side eyed him "You ARE aware she's just a little kid?" "Oh shut up Akane I wasn't going to do anything weird. Gross." ([[Kuro's face twisted in disgust.]])

He side stepped her, but she yanked him by his arm. "Just don't do anything weird, ok?" She pleaded. He smirked and suddenly pushed close up against her. "Listen here you little mommy-wanna be. It's not like you were going to do anything about her. I get it; you don't want your parents finding out, blah blah blah, but you can't just leave her locked up in the room without proper care." His face was close to hers, and she could feel his breath as they stared off each other with stern expressions. "You're treating her like a damn toy! You know brats who get excited for a pet and just leave them in the corner to stay quiet? Well congrats, you just reached that level." Akane shirked back away, then felt Buttercup's cool, damp hair in her hand. She had pushed her way between them, hugging Akane's tummy. She looked down as Buttercup handed the rest of the bagel to her, ([[signaling she was too tired to finish.]]) It was difficult to keep her heavy eyes open.

Akane picked her up and smelled the sweet scent of Buttercup's hair. It was like a warm sky cleansed by an after-rain. She glanced at Kuro. "Fine. I admit I'm not taking care of her..." She looked away slightly blushing. "Thanks for picking up the slack." She said softly. Kuro studied Akane briefly before letting out a "Tch." He smirked as he said "You wanna give me a kiss for that?" [[and leaned with a sneer on his face.]] Akane snorted "Quit with your stupid flirting. As if." and walked off ([[to put Buttercup in bed.]])

It wasn't every day that Kuro took care of her; but once in a while he made sure she ate something. He would bark at her to "eat some damn lunch", explaining a bit more gently that Akane was still in the same house; right next door- after she showed hesitation. Kuro made sure to check when the kitchen would be empty, then gave her a mismash of food from whatever he could find. Cereal, mostly; premade canned goods and dishes from a guy who had no cordination on how to put meals together. Buttercup was so small, she could rest her chin on the table ([[when eating lunch]]) her eyes reflecting in the wood glaze.

Kuro gave a smirk and chuckle as Akane walked off; then he turned around and locked eyes with Shiro's silver ones, burning and staring with intense hatred. Shiro said nothing, and his face was tense; but only his eyes were livid. Kuro was flirting in front of his very eyes, and enjoyed how he, Akane and Buttercup stood, towering over Shiro in his seated position. He had not said anything; his guise that he was too preoccupied with his music and work already established him from noticing his surroundings. His earbuds were still in his ears, but Kuro knew; they weren't playing anything. "Got something to say assface?" Kuro spat. Shiro's eyes clicked into a heightened heat. "To you?" He said icily. "Nothing at all."

Since that night he had cranked up the interaction with Buttercup. It took mental note to release the tension in his forehead, softening the eyes, the quiet curved smile of the lips and slight smile crinkle of the eyelids. It was as exhausting as being a model for a career; but each pose must be as perfect as possible.

Shiro silently took notice; it was hard not to. He made attempts to address Buttercup kindly, more frequently that morning. While he honestly he did not want to deal with her at all, ([[Kuro on the other hand...]]) He tapped his fingers on the table, tucking his toes to keep out of May's touch. He kept an eye on Buttercup and Kuro through the spoon reflection, catching eye how his expression subtly soured in the glass cup.

"Yo, Akane!" Kuro said bluntly. She looked up and he gestured at Buttercup, who was making little clapping movements with her chubby hands. "Look at what the gremlin accomplished." He flipped the ceramic bowl over on the table with a hallow clatter. Surprisingly, it did not break. "Finished it." Akane has a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and then walked toward Buttercup and kissed her head. She turned around and faced Kuro "Thanks for always doing this for her. And me. Sorry for being so busy." Shiro didn't say anything. Sitting in the far corner, having clearly established from day one that he wanted nothing to do with this whole child affair, wishing that she would become ([[invisible.]]), there was little to say...

In a quick movement, Kuro picked up Buttercup in his arms, letting her play with his dark hair, making her squeal a bit. A calculated move, as Akane had withdrawn her attention to her notes, only to be brought back by Buttercup's noise. Akane moved closer, putting down her notes, asking Kuro what they were horsing around to now. Kuro ([[took advantage of this and]]) seemed to tease her, lifting Buttercup up in the air, pulling Buttercup away from Akane, as she moved closer and closer, trying to get him to stop, a clear expression of excitement and fun on her face.

Kuro knew what he was doing, and although neither Shiro nor Akane could tell if it was genuine, Shiro felt that it was. Shiro felt that this was Kuro's natural advantage. Buttercup was bringing out a different side of Kuro, one that appealed to Akane and broke through her busied cloud of thought [[more than anything Shiro said.]] Buttercup was playing the role of a daughter to them... Daughter... He looked at Buttercup ([[a new thought spinning in his head.]])

He somehow made the child his leverage. By having the kid, he carved out an impression of the "protective older brother" and it was obviously working with Akane. The contrast between his caring actions and tsundere words was charming.

She couldn't bring herself to admit that she's been trying. For weeks. But nothing seemed to work out. Online applications and in-person meetings. Perhaps it was her pride; she had high standards. Still, no one seemed to level up.

On a scrap calendar sheet, there was a faded scribble of a side character from the series. The picture depicted a scene where Ashe had burned her hand from the glass production, and the character was bandaging it up. Arrows empathized the "bottom up" camera angle and direction. Shiro recognized the scene; it was back when Ashe had first learned about glass making. The person she was learning from, however, looked slightly different; he surmised that this was an early concept sketch, and kept for future reference.

Unfortunately, Shiro was already in Akane's line of sight, so there was little he could do but wait. For this particular menace, he preferred letting his anger build up until he was coiled as a lion, ready to crush his prey's skull in a single pounce. Even outside, he could hear the amplified voice of the father through the walls. He wasn't going to stick around to listen; [[had enough.]] of that. He had to be there for her and save her. Actions, less assessment.

Both insisted that they worked in her office along side her. In all honesty, this wasn't something Akane was against. She WANTED live discussions, she WANTED company. But inspite of her initial acceptance, her fears captured her thoughts and halted acceptance of their condition. "I'm sorry, I should have told you before. But my family and I... are not in the best of terms. Do you think you could... possibly work from home? I will send you the pages and we will text often." She made no effort to hide the reluctance of this situation in her voice. Shiro held her hand. For a moment Akane thought he could be commendating, but ([[instead...]]) "Akane... I'm sorry but I can't accept that. I promise, I will never yell or do anything cause suspicion but... could I please work with you? I truly believe... I draw better around you." Akane felt a strange sensation of relief that he refused. But she still wasn't sure...

Kuro firmly gripped her shoulder. "Come on, give in. Besides. Do you really have enough time to find another assistant to replace us?" Akane smirked "Are you threatening this to be your ultimatum? A "Let you in the office or you quit." sort of situation?" Kuro returned a look that was almost flirty. "Consider it as a push in what you want to do. You don't have to hide it. ([[You don't want this arrangement.]]) And I'm willing to play the bad guy if it gets you to admit it." She looked at them both. "You guys are very mean, exploiting me like this." resigning to their conditions. Shiro smiled and Kuro teased "Oh we'll do so much more if it means helping you." "We have a deal." Akane replied.

Fast forward some time later, and they established a surprisingly hidden schedule. They moved in her shadow, and to the world was just as hidden from sight as her own private thoughts. Having a room in the farthest wing of the house offered a... guise of privacy. It was the one thing Akane had asked from her family ([[a seperate office to work in.]]) to help her in her career. Parents walked in one way; Kuro and Shiro climbed in through another. The part of house that faced the forest, where no occupants save for Mrs. Ebony, could see her burn the midnight candle.

He sat up and tugged at the collars on his sleeve. "It's a good concept; a natural progression of the situation. And very encaptivating. However." He paused, glancing up at her. She sat squarely; here it comes. "I do wonder. Your genre is drama; ([[due to the emotional suspense]]) your readers get hooked. After a while, don't you think they'll have to be rewarded? A sense of justice, a bit of hope or relief, not just a tease."

He folded his hands together and leaned forward. "For example, do you remember the Disney movie Cinderella?" Akane nodded. She was not allowed to watch that many movies growing up, but she watched had watched the original [[during her adult years.]] "Probably the most riviting moment in the movie was when Cinderella FINALLY finished the chores, FINALLY completed her work, FINALLY had her dress complete, dispite all the unfair torment from her stepsisters. It was a outcome that beated all the odds of expectation." "What you're trying to do is somewhat similar. We are playing with the ([[expectations of the]]) audience. They expect, like Ashe, that something bad will happen because that has been the precedence of the story." Akane tilted her head. "Is that a bad thing?" Liam held his hand up. "I'm not done yet."

For a moment, Akane felt a little uneasy. Fictional scenarios of pain and suffering were one thing, but Shiro sounded he was talking about the real world. Akane liked to flow negative emotions from the real world to the fictional one, where it could expand safely within the net of make-believe and little consequences. She didn't like bringing that emotion, which has been strengthened and expanded upon, back into the real world.

Ari's story "Mew Mew Nya Chu" Has a similar love-relationship between the pirate king and the goddess. Ari later sends a pachinko merch of Mew Mew Nya Chu to Akane along with a sorry and thank you letter; thanking her for her friendship at the time and that they can now resolve and leave on good terms. For the chapter footnote; Buttercup's design and world was inspired by "Little Nightmares" the game, "Spirited Away". While Ari thought that they had commonality on gritty history, he pushed for light-hearted ideas while Akane pushed for a more darker vibe in the "Candle Maiden" story. The lizard people's appearance are inspired by the nightwalker in Princess Mononoke, the Giant Moon Spirit (wave form) from Avatar the Last Airbender, and Zant's armour from Twilight Princess. Main proment features are the chameleon's side buldging eyes on the apparal. Much of the lizard people had designs from Amazon jungle birds and reptiles.

Green's story is about the Doll named Kushana. Also describes how Cherri and Akane first became friends; the positive toxicity and eventual mellowing into "friendship"? Parallels between the real world and Akane's is that Cherri had a friend that connected together real well. Although Akane never wanted to be Cherri's friend, she always felt like the third wheel. In the real world, this friend is a rather ambiguous guy. In Akane's perspective/reader's perspective, it is this girl (bronze skinned, athletic, not curvy but almost boyish in body type, but wears lacy bouncy clothes, curly chestnut ponytail named Verna with Green eyes) that always shows up. The guy in the real world also likes dressing in more femine attires. Verna is the physical form of the story "Kushana"; where Akane feels very much like the third wheel doll that later goes rampaging with murderous intent to the happy couple. Kuro was also present at the time, and in the "Friend group", allowing for these small moments to be turned into potential comedy bits. (Cherri being "flat", "steve jobs" joke) At one point, Cherri and Verna were trapped in a locker together. Akane replies "You guys making out or what?" Akane and Kuro also hide in a locker at one point. Kuro starts to shake due to how much he realizes he wants her, but Akane teases him asking him if he was "Scared" At the end, Kuro ends up dissecting Verne, as he said she had "potential" to become "part of him". She woke up missing limbs, and it is implied that Kuro fed them to Akane, who not only ate them unknowingly but helped hash up and cook partly, signifying that she was rehashing ideas to incoorporate into "Unlucky Death".

[[-Red-]] [[-Orange-]] [[-Pink-]] Stories: [[-White-]] [[-Yellow-]] [[-Black-]] [[-Green-]] [[-Purple-]] [[-Blue-]]

Shiro -Yandere -He/Him -"Ashes" series -Was created first during Akane's middle school years, making him the oldest -Status: Survives longest -Had many character design changes. -Beginning had unruly, messy dark ashy gray "mop" hair, freckles, unkept hair, no double eyelid, slightly crooked teeth and glasses. -He altered his appearance to become prettier, with clear skin, and "Kpop" features. His iconic features are his red scarf, red eyeshadow, and silver ombre hair that fades into his old hair color at the tips. Silver Gray eyes. -Bleeds black ink. -Half a head taller than Akane. -Occupation: Illustrator/Assistant for the manga series "Ashes" -Physical strength: (6/10) | Manipulation: (10/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships: One-sided with Akane Crushes: Akane Enemies: Literally everyone else Friends: None Allies: Liam, the editor

Buttercup/Talia -She/Her -"Candle Maiden"/"City of Rain" series -Was created second during Akane's middle school years; the creation between Ari and Akane -Status: Survives indefinitely in Ari's care (Escaped) -V.1.: was very pale and hallow, with large eyes like silver dollars. Messy brown ashy hair, shoulder length. No shoes. Tiny yellow rosette ribbon with flashlight charm. Classic large yellow raincoat with silhoutte of a canary chick. -V.2.: Hair trimmed into two side ponytails, rainboots, neon yellow raincoat with clear plastic outside and buttercup shaped petal interior. Pink floral design. Wears flashlight charm around neck. -Head above Akanes waist in height. -Occupation: Assistant/Muse for the manga series "Talia: City of Rain" -Physical strength: (3/10) | Cautiousness: (7/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships/Crushes: None Dislikes: Kuro and Shiro Friends: Ari, May Caretaker: Akane, Ari

Kuro -Yandere/Tsundere -He/Him -"Unlucky Death" series -Created during the high school years -Status: Dies at Akane's hands through Shiro's manipulation of digital deletion -Consistent character design -Black hair, red eyes, with white pixel blood. Usually wears black jackets and an artist hand glove. -Head taller than Akane -Occupation: Illustrator/Assistant/Editor for the webtoon "Unlucky Death" -Physical strength: (9/10) | Manipulation: (7/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships: One-sided with Akane Crushes: Akane Enemies: Literally everyone else Friends: May

Verne also created during high school years/"Kushana" -They/Them/She/Her -"Kushana" series -Created during High School Years -Status: Eaten by Kuro and Akane - -Bleeds gray pencil graphite and watercolor sludge. -Was a friend to Cherri and Akane in Highschool -Head taller than Akane -Physical strength: (9/10) | Culture References: (5/10) | Dumb Friend Jokes: (10/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships: None Crushes: Implied with Cherri Enemies: Kuro eventually Friends: Akane, Cherri, Verne (real), Kuro

Hyacinth -They/Them/It/He -"The Owl Reports" picture book series -Was created after Akane's College years, although sketches originated during her school years; her first debuted series. Hyacinth is both the oldest and youngest character (oldest as in first to be officially created, but youngest in terms of physical appearance.) -Status: Fading (Untouchable) -Small boy with bangs that are light purple gray in color, covering his eyes. Wears a large white t-shirt too big for him. Short pants of muted blues and purples. Shoes. -About Akane's waist in height. -Occupation: Inspiration for the children's textless picture book series "The Owl Reports" -Agility: (8/10) | Mute | Mental Maturity: (8/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships/Crushes: None Dislikes: None Friends: Akane, May

Akane/Mine -Protoganist -She/Her -Alias: "Hecate" and "MareBird" -Oldest of 4 siblings -Negative traits: Workaholic, not great at naming things, messed up schedule and not the greatest hygiene. -Black hair that's messy but still somehow looks nice even when unbrushed. Used to keep it in a high ponytail with a red scrunchie. Since meeting Cherri, yearly gets her hair dyed. Always chooses some sort of red ombre/variation. Serious eye bags, red lips. -Poor self-image, coffee addict -Tends to work hard, not necessarily smart -Occupation: Illustrator/Creator for the manga series "Ashes" and the webcomic "Unlucky Death" -Physical strength: (5/10) | Perceptiveness: (7/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships: None Crushes: Dormant, unrealized crush for Liam, her editor, although that realization came too late. Enemies: Her father, her self-image, and eventually the 2 yanderes. Friends: Cherri, although she becomes distant. Blue, Green, Ari, and Yellow, although all these ties were also severed. Allies: Liam, the editor, seeminly the Yanderes in the beginning

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Akane wasn't convinced. "So what now?" Liam shrugged. "You tell me. You're the author. What's your plan for the upcoming chapters?" Akane sat upright and let out a breath. She wasn't sure how Liam was going to take her idea of sabotage, but she knew that once she started speaking the words will flow out with passion. ([[She wasn't good at storytelling live.]]) But she'll give it a shot, just like all the other times, and see if she would finally be able to sway him.

His eyebrows tensed and he made nods now and again. If it was her father, she would have read that expression that he was building up a lecture to spout at her once she was done. But this was Liam, a man who did not look down on her for her taste in story, but her execution in telling. Her voice became animated and her hand gestures wide. She took note of herself once in a while to tone down her voice when she saw other staff and patrons smile a little worriedly at her passionate telling ([[from a distance.]]) At length she was done telling him all the details she could recollect. They weren't said in order, nor polished in any form, but there was something about telling Liam the ideas that made it more solidfied. She paused, ready to hear ([[his feedback.]])

"If you watched the old classic movie, you know that the moment her dress gets torn, it becomes her lowest of lows. Not only did she suffer accusations of stealing the materials, but it was her mother's dress, and most importantly, an unfair treatment; she was promised a night out, and that was taken away." "Now; this is what I want you to realize. The scene that happens next; the Fairy Godmother scene; the reason it is so powerful and rewarding is **because** Cinderella was at her lowest of lows. We feel bad for her. We want her to be happy, and this is her moment where we realize that happiness." "I think, in my professional opinion, that this is her lowest point of the season. Granted, Ashe had so many down points where you just beat her over and over again ([[with no resolve.]]) So I don't expect this to have that great of an effect."

It was the one tale others had told her her story sounded similar to, and she did not take that kindly. She admired the original story by the brothers grim; it appealed to her more, perhaps due to the uncensored use of magic and gore. But generally, the comparison made her feel and sound unoriginal; phony. She hated the troupe "saved damsel in distress" that the movie had become affiliated with.

"But you have to reward your audience's expectation somehow. When you make Ashe the character the audience wants to sympathize, they not only empathize, but they relate and become one with Ashe. You need have some positive justification to not upset your audience." Akane had a heavy feeling in her gut. "So... you think that I should change the story and give her a savior as a way out?" Liam shrugged "Something like that. I think you and your audience mostly feels bitterness. This is not the first time I told you you could give Ashe something positive as a reward. ([[So far in your story,]]) anytime something positive happens, your viewer registers that as a premonition of something painful to come. It's been working, I admit. But in the long run, what will your series end up looking like?"

Akane gritted her teeth. "With all due respect," she said "I don't want to turn my story into a Cinderella tale. I don't want the easy way out of "a girl finds a prince and they live happily ever after." I find that troupe unrealistic and insulting." Liam tilted forward, his face close to hers. "We're here to tell good stories. And who said that it had to turn into a romantic troupe? Look, I admit, that troupe is easy to create and honestly it will do you more help than harm. It's better than the current course [[you are taking right now.]]" Akane's heart skipped a beat and reddened as she blinked rapidly ([[like a sulky toddler.]])

He leaned back and sighed. "But; you're the author. If you want to make it unique and find a different way, then I welcome the idea. It's just... if you chose to go the "cliche" route, then no one will blame you." He paused. "You're an amazing story teller, and talented artist. I'm sure you'll come up with something." Akane's face reddened deeper. It did always feel good to be praised. She looked at her feet and thought for a moment. "I think... regardless of what happens to the sculpture, someone will notice her, and her talent will show through ([[and be acknowledged.]])" She said at length.

"Just think about it; how DO you plan on ending the series? Eventually the audience and Ashe will become jaded to the torture, and well before then, many of the readers will be bored or emotionally exhausted to continue reading. This isn't Lassie, where "getting in trouble" is the main shtick. This isn't some rescue or hero mission. This is someone going through bullying, torment and heartache."

Liam nodded, tapping the arm rest. "It a start. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But if you're going to reward them, you have to do it now, during the biggest climax of the series. By the end of this route, if you insist with this "natural progression of things"; this repetition of heartache, it'll be too late." Akane nodded, feeling very tired. "So... there's nothing wrong with the sabotage being feasible then" Liam hummed. "I'm not sure. The way you're telling me, it sounds like you're settling on the idea that the brother has been the commissioner all this time. Or paid the commissioner to work for him. Either way will work with what you've already written so far." Akane sighed; she said that as a way to get one final positive affirmation of her plans and thoughts. The high of being so full of passionate ideas were knocked down to the knees, as the praise was dismissive and short. Rather, she was forced to, again, look at the underlying problems of the story. It was a gapping hole, and she felt exhausted trying to tackle it. ([[It left her with a feeling of inadequecy.]])

To become Ashes finale You can't wait until the very end, where Ashe finally gets some good news and drags her emanicapted body across the snow. The gut-wrenching, pitiful hallow feeling in the reader's stomach as they know that now it is far too late. That pitiful saddening feeling that Ashe still hasn't given up, and couldn't see how futile it was at that point. By Ashe falling in the snow, body eaten by cold and hunger, where she just falls asleep and never wakes up.

Liam held out his hand and pulled Akane to her feet, giving it a shake. He watched Akane as she put her papers away. "Ah!" He exclaimed, as a thought occurred to him. "How was your search for assistants coming along? Where you able to get in contact with the ones I offered you? It seemed like they aren't working with you yet." "Ah... don't worry about it." Akane turned to Liam and shook her head "I actually don't need help anymore. ([[I got what I need."]]) "I... see." Liam didn't sound convinced, [[but did not say any more.]]

Liam had felt her hand was getting haggard; her face looked more exhausted than usual. He knew she was an amazing artist who could do the work of several people at once... but only once in a while, when the pressure was immense. He didn't like the thought she was burning herself out.

Akane stepped out; the day was cool, and whipped her hair around in a crisp breeze. She nodded to Liam as they parted ways. Liam watched her briefly as she walked off into the distance. She looked at her watch and her heart thumped. She could make the evening meeting if she caught the next subway... She almost tripped over a street cone, yanking off her shoe as she ran to catch a ride on the subway back. Amber street lights started flickering on, as she made it on board. She watched the lights bleed through the subway windows, ([[phasing in and out.]]) <audio src = "Audio/city-sidewalk-pedestrians.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

She sat, nervously waiting for what this was all about. At length he said "Your mother called your editor." "Oh??" Akane said. "What for?" "She was just making sure that you were on your way home, but that's not the point. He told us that you got help for your series?" Akane nodded nervously. "Yes..? Just recently. I meant to tell you earlier but it happened very quickly." Her father shook his head. "That's fine. I just wanted you to know that it's a good thing. You're getting help. Can I ask about these people?" ([[He squinted at her.]])

Akane swallowed. How much did he knew? Was he waiting for her to say something that would contradict what he learned so he could out her for lying? "They're both very talented, and are clearly skilled. I haven't done much work with them but they seem to be a great asset. Right now, I'm just establishing a working schedule from 8am-6pm. They both-" "Ah so there's 2?" Her father interjected. "Yeah one is for the online gig and the other is for the manga magazine." At this point her mother walked in with her codex. "What are they? Man or women?" "Why should that matter?" Akane thought privately "They're both guys-" "Wait, so they're men then?" Her father shook his head "Well, so long as everything's done online, then I guess it's ok." ([[Akane urked.]])

Her mother shook her head "Don't ever let men work with you. Especially when you're dressed like that." Akane's face squinted in confusion. Dressed like what? A button up shirt and jeans? "My editor is male, mom." she said back. "Yeah but he's nice and we know him." She waved her arbitary standards at Akane. "~~redacted~~ you need to find a husband some day." Akane refrained herself from rolling her eyes, ([[but couldn't hold in a huffy sigh.]])

"Nevermind that." Her father said. "The reason why I asked is to clear up whether you're paying them, or if the company you're working for is paying for them." Ah... so that's what this was about. "I'm paying them dad. If it's about the monthly bills then yes, I can still pinch in and help pay rent." Her father nodded. "Good, good. Whatever you can do to contribute tithes to the church. I think, however, the whole thing with the assistants is that you'll have enough time on your hands now right? I expect you to still help out with the chores and morning and evening meetings. It's the least you can do for this family for helping support you right? Alright?" "Me hiring assistants wasn't so that I'd have a bunch of free time, but that I wouldn't be killing myself with work." Regret would have filled her if she said that outloud, as she was sure to receive some kind of backlash she wouldn't be able to rebutte. Nevertheless it didn't stop her face from souring. "Oh, it'll only be once in a while, I'm sure." Her mother added lightly. "Sure." ([[Akane resigned.]]) "I'm sure it will." She thought.

The meeting was long and grueling. She had no energy for this; she sat playing with the cuffs of her jeans, rolling and unrolling them with her feet. At one point she accidentally banged the table with her knee and everyone startled; it did not trigger a tirade, but it did not wake her up ([[from her sleepy lull.]]) The table smelled of silver polishing; her copy of the codex pages were gilded with gold edges.

There, at the table, was her father sitting, waiting for her. She looked at the clock; the meeting was supposed to start in a few minutes. She wouldn't have time to change, but at least she made it on time. "~~Redacted~~" Her father addressed her "Come sit down." ([[He pulled up a chair next to her.]])

Akane felt how long the day had been in her gut; the travel, the meeting, and the encounter with her father was compiling into an exhausted, dirty tangle of a sensation. She crawled upstairs to her room; it was a familar place, and that made it comforting, even in the dark. She left the lights off and looked outside. The moon was as round as a marble, and let in ample light into the room. She figured her father would probably yell that she was ruining her eyesight; a step away from yelling at her to go to sleep, ([[but she wanted to sit in silence.]])

It was strange; her father's voice was so loud, but she heard it so often it was like background noise. She noticed the birds's evening song faintly and focused her hearing on it. Her eyes glazed over and the disappointement in her stomach was bubbling. She saw in a dazed state, half-dipped into sleep, a tree out the window. It seemed to be hanging over a grave, shaking gold and silver dresses. The birds pecked out eyes and helped sort rice. The room was warm like sleeping in the warm ashes of a stove that went out. No... it wasn't ashes that she slept in... What was it? It had to do with her name. "Ah, yes, cinder. Wasn't that the same thing?" She thought sleepily. "Cinderella... Ashes... Coal... a train... why did it keep coming? Won't it stop? It's shaking the table..." The uneasy feeling in her stomach started to feel scared. "Make it stop... I feel like the glass windows will break at any moment... the glass will get everywhere... make it stop please... ([[I don't want to face the inevitable...]]) please make it stop...!!"

Her mind surfaced to reality with a start as she realized her father had been banging his fist on the table. She sat ridgid in cautious stupor, wondering who triggered him, but after a moment of listening realized that it was just general anger at the world. The usual politics and human nature had captured her father's wrath, not her. Her back was sore and there was a crook her neck for being in a single position for so long. The stone of discontent stuck in her stomach, she turned the pages of the codex, ([[pretending to have been paying attention.]])

He flipped through the first few pages. Quietly scruntinizing the sketches. "Alright then... let's get to talking." He cracked his knuckles. They sat facing each other as the editor went over the various changes Akane could make for each panel. What direction and angle could be taken to maximize the impact. It took less than an hour; there weren't many panels they discussed over, and there was a few shots that Akane and Liam debated at length. They flipped the last page over the table, and Liam sat quietly. Akane sat in the unusual silence. "So?" Akane asked "What did you think?" "This chapter? The fact that I didn't say anything meant that it was good... enough. We discussed your projection for the series last month; we expect you to have 2 chapters completed this month, and this fills the quota." ([[He said dismissively.]])

They entered Panacea, a casual diner that had a layout similar to a buffet, except everything was bread and sandwiches and baked goods. Customers picked up trays and sauntered around the rows of baked goods, picking up what they wanted with tongs and paying for the total at the end. Akane picked up a slice of mango cake, [[as courtesy on Liam's tab.]] She usually brought her own lunch that her mother insisted [[packing]]; a simple yellow cheese and ham sandwich. Still, being able to see new places were fun. The yeast, cream and meat smells were amazing. Warm peachy light waft from the ovens in the back, and soft melodic music played around the clock. Liam got his usual; a philly steak sub and cinnamon rolls. He sat on the hazel benches, putting on disposable plastic gloves at their large table near the window. There was enough room for 4, but they needed table space ([[for a couple dozen sheets of paper.]]) <audio src = "Audio/restaurant-ambiance.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

Her mother would protect her from "frivolously spending money- especially on a monthly basis!- at all costs." Akane's mouth watered as she sighed sadly, looking at all the foods she wouldn't be able to experience.

Liam noticed that Akane had little to say, so he handed her back her papers and stood up. "Well, we'll meet next time. ([[I'll leave you to your story and]]) I'll look forward to seeing your pages completed."

It was their little ritual; he insisted since the first day they started visiting the store. He loved Panacea, and was happy to eat lunch there, but every customer had to order something. The first time they converged there, she had already packed lunch; he offered to pay for her dessert, and it remained that way ever since. She always picked a slice of dessert under a couple dollars. It was like a reset button. No matter how they parted in their last session, Liam always bought a slice for her. It was her way of assessing whether they were still on good terms or not. She appreciate that there were no grumpy carry-overs of ill will lingering in the air; but she was always hesitant before grabbing a slice; she always waited until he gave go-ahead signal. <audio src = "Audio/restaurant-ambiance.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

"Shhhhh" Kuro stepped out of the shadows, holding May in his arms. "Guess there's no point keeping quiet now, is there?" Akane squinted at him; "I'm tired and I don't want to talk. What are you doing here?" her voice had the slightest tinge of anger. Kuro walked up to Akane, and let May down on the floor; a great ball of grey slid smoothly across the floor, hiding among the shadows. Akane sat up as Kuro sat beside her. "Sorry for barging in, but I left some of my stuff here last time. Just came to get this." He snatched something; a glimmer of a flash drive, a blue one, showed up in his hand before disappearing back in his pocket. Before Akane could say anything, May walked up and purred against his leg, before taking position at the window sill he walked through. She sat fixated at the world outside; her shadow made a huge hole in the light pool Akane was sitting in. "Happened to come by when you and your family were downstairs ([[having a yelling competition, yah?"]])

"Ah..." She nodded. "And you hid because you didn't know who was coming up." They were both speaking in muted whispers; Akane because she was tired, and Kuro... His whispery voice sounded nice. "Do you mind me being here?" She said nothing, thinking for a moment. "I'll take that hesitation as a no." he chuckled. "You looked like you could use... a particular company." Akane looked down, her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheek in the moonlight as her mouth made a slant of being had. Kuro held a finger in the air, ([[trying to descipher something.]]) He tilted his head "Mango?" "Huh?" "You smell like mangos." he moved closer and sniffed her face.

"Ah." Akane moved her head back at the sudden movement. "I had a slice of dessert today during lunch." Kuro squinted. "You mean to tell me you didn't have dinner?" Akane looked blankly at the ceiling, not answering his question. He pushed his face into her field of vision. "Hey. Answer me." He sounded concerned. "Aren't you hungry?" His face was inches away from her's. "I'm not moving until you tell me." Her eyes returned to him, annoyed. "No I didn't. But it's no big deal. I came back home late so I missed out dinner. They get mad if I miss father's rants, but could care less if I miss out dinner." "Oh for shit's sake. You're an adult. You can make your own dinner." Kuro pulled Akane up to her feet. "Come on, ([[we'll raid the kitchen together."]])

Akane panicked, grabbing his arm back. "No wait Kuro you are NOT stepping outside of this office." "You don't understand. My parents don't even know you're here. They know I have assistants but they don't know that you work here in person. They think I do everything via online." "Besides, they just billed me for the housing and groceries today." She shifted her feet. "If I eat less, there's less I have to pay for." Kuro's face looked at her in disgust. "What kind of logic is that?" He poked her in the belly. "Hey- stop!" Akane moved her body back. "Nope." Kuro kept poking her tummy, ([[attacking places she wasn't covering with her hands.]])

May looked on, back and forth from outside and indoors as Kuro gave snuffled laughter. Eventually Akane caught Kuro's hands in ticklish annoyance. "Stop, stop" she giggled; he was really strong and her grip wasn't great. They were up against the wall. Kuro stopped making attempts to poke; his body loomed over hers, pinning her against the wall so she couldn't escape. "Just go grab something from the kitchen; a candy bar or something. ([[And then I'll stop tickling you."]]) He ran his hand gently along her jaw, lifting her face and studying it, before side steping in a smooth movement and extending his arm toward the door in invitation.

Akane returned back with a Trail mix granola bar. Kuro was watching outside, petting May. "Quick question: Doesn't your job pay you enough to pay for the bills?" Akane unwrapped the bar and took a bite. "It does." She answered. "But not enough for me to save up and move out of here fast enough." Kuro nodded, understanding. Then he sat next to Akane and picked at her hair, smoothing it down. "Your editor. Was he nice?" He voice grunted. "Yeah he was nice." She mumbled. "As always, ([[he poked holes at my ideas."]]) "Here, lemme have a bite." Kuro reached his arm around her suddenly, grabbing her hand and biting a mouthful of honey, nuts and oats. He grimanced "What is this shit; horse food?" "Hey, I thought you wanted me to eat it." She mumbled. "I was just curious." he shrugged. "You can have the rest now."

"Anyhow you seem upset about your editor. Whyssat?" Kuro mumbled before swallowing. "Well..." She was frustrated. She didn't want to be; he was fair and made good points. But it didn't make her feel any less... small. "Basically he wants me to make a fairytail ending." "Really?" He asked flatly. "Well, basically! I'm tired alright. I've been talking all day and I don't wanna talk nuances.." "Fair enough." ([[They sat in silence for a bit.]]) The breeze from outside started to pick up; sending a sweet spring night smell into the room.

"I'm just... too tired right now. When I wake up tomorrow I can tackle the problem better..." Akane hugged her knees, looking blankly at the wall. Kuro shrugged, "Not my best day either, to be honest." He looked up at the ceiling; she was going to ask what he meant by that, but nodded in understanding. "It's for the other series right?" He said after a while. "Yeah." "Then do what you want with it." he rolled his eyes. "Make as much money off that cigarette-butt-head's story and then move out of this place." Akane snorted. "Cigarette-butt-head?" "Don't tell me you don't agree." Kuro smiled nudging her. "His hair job looks like a cigarette butt." He licked his finger and made a "Pshh" motion with his thumb, as if puttng one out. "One of these days that series is gonna be over; ([[no series lasts forever.]]) Might as well have fun while you're at it. If you like misery, write misery."

She shook her head. "You don't get it." She said with a half-smile. "I might wear out the readers if I don't write it differently." "Nah you don't get it." He sprawled. "You're gonna burn yourself out if you keep chasing what the crowd wants." "I'm surprised... it sounds kinda like you're supporting the other series. I thought you didn't like it." "I don't." He said curtly. Then he looked at her ([[for a heart beat longer;]]) his red eyes reflected in the moonlight. "But I like you."

"Anyhow." He stood up and stretched. "Your prince will take his leave now." He gave a sweeping bow, and then walked over to the window, unceremoniously tossing May lightly to the floor. "Happy reading." He said, nodding to the book. And soon enough, he was in the forest [[and out of sight.]] Akane sat, thinking. As always, when things boiled down to it, she enjoyed having her editor's opinions. She knew she would regret not taking it... Maybe instead of someone else coming to save Ashe, maybe... even if it's just a small victory, just on her own, someone prompting her to take the right steps of healing... She looked at her granola bar, before pulling out her laptop [[and typing]]; the events of the day cramming and falling out of her mind in an [[Orange Haze]]. End of [[Chapter 2]] Return to [[Title Page]] Read Chapter 3: [[Yellow]]

Mrs. Ebony was in the washroom before heading to bed. She saw Akane's lights from her house and wondered if the young lady would be burning midnight oil once more. But by the time she had finished her toiletres, Akane's light had gone off. It would seem not tonight.

Just outside the shop, a guy with dark hair and red eyes sat in a darkened alley across the street, out of line of sight and partically hidden by bushes tainted by neon orange spray paint. He sat like a statue, watching very still, with rusted cans that littered on the ground. He had been watching for a long while; he opened up his phone; in it was a schedule that was in sinc with Akane's. He saw looked up this bakery before; it was his first time visiting in person. Casually hidden from it, but in clear view of what was happening. His eyes simmered in hot anger as Akane and her editor talked. He didn't like that they were at the same table; it didn't matter that this was a monthly meeting; it looked too much like a date. A cozy, mellowy, warm date. And that made him angry. He didn't enjoy the way that editor was looking at Akane. He didn't like the fact that he was looking at her at all. He was tense, clenching his fist; at length, he noticed that his black nails were pinching into his skin, bruising his palm, ([[almost bleeding.]])

He watched as saw her face pinch in discussion, and he felt his anger flare. This guy was making Akane unhappy... His thoughts went around rapidly; the editor's name. His job. His house... he looked them all up. All the way down to the route he usually takes on the way home. He wasn't sure if he wanted to erase him but... The editor said something; a passing compliment maybe? Was he flirting with her?? Akane went red... and Kuro felt a blood vessle snap. She went red FOR HIM. He was going to hold back, reasoning with himself that he wasn't prepared completely prepared to cover up what he was planning to do. But for that blush, he would take the risk... He sat, eyes not blinking, hunched forward, tense, posed; almost ready to break into a dash. His hand gripped a knife in his pocket... His sudden unsatiatable desire ([[to kill]]) was almost too much.

His eyes did not waver from their target, but his ears picked up something. He snarled, alerting the person that he was aware of their presence. Footsteps walked up to almost a meter's distance. "That's a bloodthirty growl if I ever heard one." Shiro remarked. His eyes were unflinching in a deadly stare; from his position he looked down at Kuro. "What do you want?" Kuro said, ([[not moving.]]) Shiro tilted his head slightly.

"I want you. To leave him alone." Shiro demanded. Kuro's brows knitted in fury "Why the hell would I listen to-" then he froze, in thought, and finally turned to look at Shiro. "You love Akane just as much as I do." He said quietly in confusion. Shiro just stood there, not moving, not changing his expression. "And you hate this guy... just as much as I do, if not more..." Kuro continued. "And if that's the case... why would you have me not kill him? Wouldn't it be a favor to you to get rid of your competitor?" "Keep talking." Shiro said condensendingly. "Maybe if you do, you'll have enough braincells between you and yourself ([[to figure out why."]])

Kuro clamped his mouth shut, gritting in anger. "It has to be something that will end in his favor. His best outcome. And he wouldn't ask me for such a thing unless he was confident he'd have something to hold me back." he thought to himself. He relaxed slightly. "I see now. You don't want me killing this guy because it'll benefit your story, and essentially, you. While you may survive if I kill this guy off, right now, it'll be completely in my advantage and to your crippling." "You hate this guy. But you're swallowing your pride because you have no other choice, do you?" Shiro's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll kill him when the time comes. And when I do, I will do it on my own schedule." Kuro waved his hand "Still; doesn't do **me** any favors to keep him alive. Fine. You have some kind of black mail to pull over me don't you? Why don't you spill it out ([[and tell me what it is?"]])

Shiro pulled out his phone. "This; I have the evidence of the missing people you sabotaged their meeting with Akane." He pulled out videos and played a clip. "You're a brute force, Kuro; dangerous, but you clearly don't think much and you aren't as careful as you thought you were." Kuro's eyes watched as he saw his face, clearly snuffing someone, struggling but overpowering them with brutality. One they stopped moving, he dragged the person off; clearly the area where they were was in the place Akane was waiting for a hiring interview. Their body was not moving, and their head looked strangely misshapened. There was no way Akane was not going to recognize that it was him; the video was too clear and in focus. "How did you..." "I have friends, unlike you; ([[little birds and rats helps me.]])" Shiro jested.

"And before you think you can snatch my phone and delete it, I've already set a digital bomb, so to speak. The video is posted on an account that sents it to a recipient at a certain time. It'll go directly to Akane by exactly midnight. And unless you disable all her accounts and take away all her electronics, which for you, is literally impossible, she will be able to see it." Kuro smirked "Isn't that a bit ironic? You, who hate technology, is able to conjure up this plan?" "You mean isn't it ironic that I work traditionally and yet I'm so much more well versed in digital manipulation than you are?" Shiro gripped his phone and leaned closely with a death cold stare, speaking in a chilling lowered voice: "Listen closely. There's a difference between hating something and ([[being good at it.]]) I find it most befitting that it's by technology that you're held in check." His finger hovered over his phone.

"Now. Do we have a deal?" Shiro said, staring. Kuro looked at him unfazed, then smirked. "Not that I'm convinced, but your demands. I want to hear them before I decide to murder you." Shiro squared his shoulders, standing up right. "Leave him alone. For good. I pull the strings between their interactions; they don't get to meet unless I let them; they don't talk unless I want to. And as for you, you can stop Akane from seeing what you did by signing into the account I created, disabling and destroying the video scheduled to spam Akane's devices." Shiro reached into his pocket "The password and username for the account is in this blue usb stick..." Kuro sat quietly; his anger seemed to have abated, as his pose loosened into a spreaded sprawl. Shiro stood, relentlessly holding his pose, waiting an answer; ([[then his eyes flashed in alarm.]])

Kuro's arm moved in a blur motion; quicker than the eye could follow, and Shiro's head whipped against the wall. He became aware in a few seconds that Kuro's arm was pressing heavily on his windpipe, and a ringing in his head made him give out an involuntary sound. His phone was knocked out of his hand, clattered at his feet that now hung a few inches in the air. Kuro was towering over him, his whole body emitting rage. In a moment of clarity, Shiro became aware that he was clawing at Kuro's pressing arm in reactive survival. "You're not as smart as you think you are, are you?" He sneered. "What makes you think I won't kill you right now, take that usb stick from off your corpse, and get rid of that editor right after?" Shiro's mouth was bleeding, from cutting his lip against his teeth during the collission; but it still formed a smirk as he pulled his hand out, flipping the pocket inside out, ([[revealing nothing.]])

The pocket was empty. "What makes you think I have it on me?" Shiro said gutterly. "Now listen. Carefully. You let me down, leave the editor alone, and I will tell you where the usb stick is." Kuro's lip twitched, and after another moment of intense silence, he let Shiro down, dragging him against the wall before withdrawing his hand. Shiro wiped his mouth and picked up his phone, strategically taking several steps away, positioning himself. "If you head to her office right now, you'll find it in the second drawer. And right now, you have to choose whether you'll waste your time waiting for them to finish so you could kill the editor, waste your time chasing me, or, ([[you head back right now."]])

Kuro glared at him from the side. "Choice is yours. You might be smart enough to figure out what the usb code says. And don't bother trying to torture it out of me. I can promise you... you won't have enough time for that." Shiro was already almost out of the alley, his back towards civilization and the streets. "YOU FUCKING COWARD!!! I'LL KILL YOU ONE DAY!!" Kuro bellowed at him. Shiro finally turned his back on Kuro, shouldering a confidence that was ([[pretending to have been paying attention.]]) He stepped out of the darkness of the alley, and into the mellow orange sunset. His face and red scarf took on the tinted orange glow, melting camouflage into the streets. He looked at Kuro, and with a slight shake of the head, quietly, calmly replied: "I don't think so." And just like the setting sun, he slipped out of sight. In mere moments, Shiro was gone.

Shiro quietly stood still in the night outdoors; his arms stiffened with a deep hissing as he felt Akane drifting into dreamland. He was far enough away from Kuro, so he wouldn't have to worry about being lynched ([[all of a sudden.]]) <audio src = "Audio/waterphone.mp3" autoplay></audio>

He looked at his phone. It was honestly a gamble; from all his research on Kuro, he knew vaguely that deep inside, he wanted more than anything else to be sweet and gentle with Akane. It didn't show at work, and obviously Akane would never pick it up in a million years; but that image of a bad-boy being tamed was something Kuro might want protected... Shiro was glad he was right on the money. Today, Kuro confirmed several weak points, and Shiro flicked his finger on his screen, ([[knowing that the account no longer existed.]]) <audio src = "Audio/waterphone.mp3" autoplay></audio>

He could dig up the video once more, if he ever needed to; he had just about as much faith in Kuro keeping his word as he probably had in Shiro completely deleting his leverage. But swords were drawn, and the black king was held in checkmate... for now. Watching Akane being in the company of the editor, sharing her attention with Kuro... his heart would stop so many times in sheer panic of loosing her. But he knew he'd have to play game low and slow if he was to win. He was realistic. And he could wait ([[for a heart beat longer;]]) if only to hold out for just a moment more. <audio src = "Audio/waterphone.mp3" autoplay></audio>

It's a little strange; there's this phenomeon that exists in the artist community that also seems to be present in the writing of this chapter. I call it the "tainted paper", which occurs whenever an idea has been sketched onto a sheet of paper, generally in the traditional sense. When one tries to erase it and start completely anew, the old pencil marks linger and seem to impede the creation of the new sketch. Maybe it's just the haunting of old ideas lol!

I eventually came up with a few themes to run in the series. One of which was Cinderella, both the disney rendition and the Grimm's brother fairytale. Another theme was the constant reference to the color orange in some shape/form; that came along when I decided that chapter 3 would be named yellow. I enjoy colors very much, and considering that Akane, Shiro and Kuro are all color-based, I liked the thought that it would be a running theme throughout the story. Orange, while not explicitly tied with any character, has been affiliated with the editor, Liam.

Liam ate slow; Akane had finished her lunch and was going over her draft, saying little. Once he was done, she handed him the sketches she had pulled out ([[while waiting.]]) He clicked open his pen, retracting and clicking it, as he did habitually while thinking and waiting. It was a heavy orange-tinted wood; poised, ready for scribbling corrections. <audio src = "Audio/pen-clicks.mp3" autoplay loop> </audio>

She was disappointed that she couldn't escape flaws from her editor. And she was nervous for what was waiting at home. In spite of her nerves firing off, it was an uneventful, sleepy journey, with just her and her thoughts. She returned, and it was dark. She stepped into the kitchen, ([[where the light was on.]])

She had traded off a book from her room; the codex for a leather-bound ivory book. It was heavy; she looked down the table of contents and flipped the book until mid way, where she found the story of Cinderella. She sat in the pool of light. Before she could begin reading, ([[she heard mewing.]]) She figured May was not in the room, and out on her nightly patrol of the house. However, it came from a corner of the office. <audio src = "Audio/cat-meow.mp3" autoplay> </audio>

Weeks later, exciting news ruptured the animation community, as a new series by the creator of "Mew Mew Nya Chu" was already toppling the popularity polls. This new chapter has been put into motion, ([[GreenLIT]])

[[Chapter 3]] Outside was dark; a very calming monotonous dark of gentle rain, drops splattering in organic patterns on the window, [[pattering in light beats.]] It was barely audiable, but the sleepy, misty, silver atmosphere permeated into the room. The rain was so light, there was no need for indoor lights, and Kuro and Shiro have been busy working on their respective projects. Akane, after taking an afternoon nap in the studio bed, had promptly stepped out ([[for a bit.]]) She did not explained where she would be going, and just assured them that she'll be "back in a few." And indeed, she did. ([[But not alone.]]) The tension between Shiro and Kuro had immediate set to boiling, ready to burst, but neither made any hostile movement. Shiro's ears perked up as he recognized her footsteps, and heard the door opening.

Asher had a father and mother.. They weren't well off; they were actually pretty poor. His father named him after "happiness"; his father had a chronic illness and poor luck that made him bedridden and never able to hold a jobor support the family. His wife was the breadwinner, working for a wealthly widower neighbor as an employee. Asher's mother is like grandma; begruding her husband, and open henpdown to him. However, he truly loved his wife; dispite his illness it would seem like he was well whenever she was around. "You could tell she was his whole world; she menat everything to him. He was a fool mad in love. " Unfortunately, that didn't help how she treated him; as eshe often berated him "If your'e well enough to walk around and cuddle why can't you work?" Asher's father eventually died; Asher was heartbroken, because he and his father were very close. Only a month after, Asher's mother got married to the widower neighbor. Asher was taken off-gaurd; she told him to "dress up" in his best outfit; the one he wore to his father's funeral; he thought they were visiting his father's grave. She never told him that she was getting remarried. He doesn't hate his step-dad, nor his sister-in-law, Ashley. He was furious with his mother; after and argument she admited that she never loved his father; she didn't hate him but they "weren't right for each other". He snapped back that maybe is she did love him, he would still be alive. At one point, his mother tried "acting" that she would leave her new husband to try bringing out Asher's true feelings on the situation. He was angry that she couldn't stay consistent and was now trying to wreck yet more people's hearts in a fake attempt to save his; there was no way he could be "fixed" and he yelled at his mother that she was going to have to live with her mistakes forever. He ended up breaking the glass picture frame of their new family portrait, cutting his hand while gripping the pieces in anger and he said that no matter what she did, the "glass would always stay broken." He also accused her of marrying the step-father for his money; something he would taunt her about when his step-father passed away, of the same illness his original father died of. He said that their love wasn't genuine; and that the only difference between the step-father and his faher was their wealth. At one point he did learn to hate his step-father; Ashley once let slipped that they had a lovely christmas together; it was the last christmas his father had, and he remembered how much he wished she would come home to him and not have to work that holiday night. His father was missing his wife sorely; turned out she was helping at the widower's party that day, while her husband was alone and lonely. The step-father's will was broken into several contracts; Asher's mother was given half the wealth, and was to supply Ashley's and Asher's needs. Ashley was given a quater once she was 21, as did Asher. Asher did not want it; but he didn't want his mother to have the money either. He tried getting Asley on his side, convincing her that his mother was a bad person, but she wouldn't Eventually it became a slipperly slope of anger to resentment to losing himself in cruelty as he tried to win Ashley over his side by breaking her heart in the process. He does not touch his mother; he knew the worse of a person she became, the more it would hurt her, as he knew she did love him, even if it was more for herself than for him. He would cause damage to Ashley so that the money would drain from his mother's account through her. Evntually the damage would become physcial and more violent as Ashey insisted on staying on his mother side, and would not see Asher's perspective completely. She firmly believed that her father and step-mother truly loved each other. Ashley refuses to take money from her step-mother and would rather work herself to death than do so.

[[Yellow]] light was cut off, as the door to the office ([[closed.]]) [[The rainy season seemed to abate.]] End of [[Chapter 3]] Return to [[Title Page]] Read Chapter 4: [[GreenLIT]]

I honestly meant to publish the last couple chapters a while ago, however, I got stuck on the idea that I should put pictures and audios along with them. On this note, I procrastinated a lot.

I kinda.... like the color of my nose bleeds. Although it's annoying because it gets over my work, my head spins and that's all I can smell for a long while. But it's like Shiro's scarf. I like his scarf. It's a nice pop of red in the scenery. Kuro: Hmp. Only idiots would wear a scarf like that. You know... dog fights are illegal in most places but that doesn't stop them from occuring in underground, secluded places. They start with the puppies... cutting off their long ears to short points so other dogs can't grab them and rip them off... Imagine, something like ears could make or break a dog's victory, so the chopping has to be done from a young age. Second most important is their sense of smell. For a dog, not being able to smell is like not being able to see. Blind in the struggle of survival. Of course... (he smirked) If a prey lost her smell... well, that wouldn't be so bad for their hunter, now would it...?

"I remember it was dark, like the inside of a locker. That was my first memory. Perhaps that was where I was born? I remember dampness of clothing and the sweet smell of books. I saw your face. You didn't look like you wanted me. That confused me... and saddened me, although you did your best to hide it well. I learned that from you; hiding behind my face. You didn't exactly taught me how to smile, but you let me play in your dream world. In your heart, you looked away, and I saw the parts you wanted to hide from him. He was more eager, and not exactly disappointed... [[just expectant and impatient.]] You hated his smell."

"You took care of my body. Every day, after school, after classes. Every single time, you picked me up and held my hand, walking alongside (at a distance). You worked hard to fed me. You made sure I was ok, cared after, looked for. I heard your complaints when it was night. I learned to cry from the many nights you did so in loneliness. I was no company fit for you, nor one you desired. Sometimes, I felt your pride in me when we were alone. Once in a while he came to inspect me, and it never seemed good enough. It made you sad. [[And I was sorry.]]"

"You two fought, and I was alone. Abandoned, all but officially. I remember standing at the bottom of the stairs, listening to you yell, and with a heavy heart knew what was inevitable. I resorted to what I knew best; crying. I saw you once in a while. You looked back, but never with intent to welcome me back. I smelled too much like him. I looked too much like him. I was yours too though. Wasn't I? Neither you nor him held my hand after that. [[I was too tired to think.]]"

"After a while, I learned to resent you, the way you resented me. I did not like everything about him, but out of the need to fill something, I liked him better. You had forgotten, and you did not see me for a long while. A broken dreamworld, crying, alone and tearstained, left [[suspended]] in coma."

"And then you saw me. Your heart had healed a bit, even if it was in a loopsided mended way. You held my hand. You were glad to see me. Inside, you were still the same except your feelings had muted. Stunted, or numbed? I did not know. But they were faintly there. I was happy you brought me out from the void and with you. But it was not my home... And again, you did not teach me how to smile. [[You were too busy to.]]"

"You had new... "friends". I knew they did not like me, but I felt it was not safe for you either. The white one... please... be careful. I knew him from his scent of rotwood; no matter how much he wrapped himself in the aroma of warm firewood, he's the same ghost that followed you around at school, flickering in the shadows. He looks more like a ghost than ever. May knows this as well. He's been very nice to me this whole time, and has kept the ghosty one away from me. [[I know cats don't act like dogs, but]] this one is protecting you."

"The dark one seems better. A little. Just slightly. He was comforting. Mean words and nice actions. But his center makes me feel like I'm disappearing into the darkest, deepest drop of hunger and consumption. I could have slipped at any time. I was lucky; [[I've escaped.]] But now I'm scared for you."

"I'm with him now, and I'm ok. He was messy at first, and I didn't recognized him; I was scared where the white one dropped me off. But he changed. I'd say for the better. We have so much fun now. He takes care of me; all his nasty scent that you complained of is gone. He makes me smile and laugh. He gave me a new name as well. [[Talia.]] I hope someday you will smile [[contentedly]]. Love, Buttercup."

The reference to Buttercup is the golden field, while "Talia" is Russian for "Rain from heaven"; a hint at Ari's historical knowledge. Kinda of out of character when his Mew Mew Nya Chu had cutesy names.

Akane really doesn't have a good hand at naming things...

It was made of stiff water-resistent cloth, forming a silhoutte of a Canarie chick, the tiny keeper of the underground mines.

Double-click this passage to edit it.

Cherri -She/Her -Akane's only friend in the real world. -Met during High School -Status: Alive, but becomes drastically isolated from Akane -Strawberry blonde/cinnamon hair, likes pink makeup and clothing, also kpop inspired look and low double pony tails. -Social Butterfly, has a clique/troupe, but also highly toxic in positivity. -Loves to travel, blog and attend to social media -Shorter than Akane. -Inspired "Kushana" the doll maker story and Venre's existance (at one point got into it and had Akane roleplay as the male love interest and herself as the girl.) Overly unattached to the story however. -Occupation: Mother owns a beauty salone, and she is currently taking over with her cosmetology degree. Was the main reason why Akane's hair is dyed; Akane gets a free hair dye yearly. -Not the most caring person. -Physical strength: (6/10) | Cheery behavior: (10/10) ___________________________________________________________________________ Romantic Relationships: Surprisingly doesn't have that many boyfriends or romantic partners. She has a lot of guy friends and gay guy friends, and friends in general. Crushes: None currently Enemies: None currently Friends: Too many to count, but Akane is included on the list

Coming Soon! Return to [[Title Page]]