Meanwhile I wait [Hisao x original character]

[nemz]

Not sure what to make of this Hanako. She has a strangely 'formal' train of thought, and seems to be much more negative and judgmental then she usually lets on.

I suppose this explains Hisao's weirdness. I've had insomnia issues in the past and am sure I came off as similarly 'floaty' and unengaged. His sudden intense drive to set a purpose for himself... yeah, he's definately slipping into that potentially dangerous category I mentioned earlier. For example, consider what might happen if this Hisao were to start taking Kenji's rants seriously.

[Dawnstorm]

Not sure what to make of this Hanako. She has a strangely 'formal' train of thought, and seems to be much more negative and judgmental then she usually lets on.

People who are left to themselves and read a lot tend to have formal trains of thought, since they're influenced by reading. (I'm thinking of a [very different] case that was on the news over here, where a girl imprisoned since childhood came out and was strangely in control. She had a very formal way of talking.) I'm thinking that Hanako's point of view would be one of the most different from how she appears to others, due to her issues. I also see her as totally judgemental.

In addition, Miyako sends her into a rage of denial. She's the most unreliable point of view, so far. I'm thinking she understands Miyako better than anyone else; but that also causes her troubles when it comes to face the truth.

As for her negativity: I sort of agree on that front. I've noticed that my take on all characters is way darker than the source material. It sort feels like I'm writing Katawa Shoujo Noir. I should have done Chandler style first person.

I'm sort of worried what people make of my ending. Take this quote from ShinigamiKenji:

Wonder if you would make a Good Ending & Bad Ending as well? Would be nice to see a Bad Ending.

Well, I know the ending, but I couldn't tell if it's the good or bad ending. It's the one I see for the story. I can go off from a branching point, but - again - it would just be another ending. Not exactly a good or a bad one. I simply can't do good or bad.

The thing is: if my take on the characters tends to be... bleaker then the source material, will all endings come across as bad endings, even if I think of them as not that hopeless?

Doesn't matter for the writing, really. The story is what it is. I sometimes mess up, but that's part of it, too. That's what editing is for (though I won't edit this once it's done).

I suppose this explains Hisao's weirdness. I've had insomnia issues in the past and am sure I came off as similarly 'floaty' and unengaged. His sudden intense drive to set a purpose for himself... yeah, he's definately slipping into that potentially dangerous category I mentioned earlier. For example, consider what might happen if this Hisao were to start taking Kenji's rants seriously.

Anything's possible at that point. It's what scares him the most. (I've always viewed him as primarily going for comfort, so this also influenced this scene.)

[nemz]

As for her negativity: I sort of agree on that front. I've noticed that my take on all characters is way darker than the source material. It sort feels like I'm writing Katawa Shoujo Noir. I should have done Chandler style first person.

Well they are certainly darker than they typically reveal, but that doesn't mean they aren't perfectly inline with the game. Just about every charecter is harboring some deep wounds behind a wall of positive thinking. Hanako being the sort to brood in silence and hold grudges is entirely plausible.

Well, I know the ending, but I couldn't tell if it's the good or bad ending. It's the one I see for the story. I can go off from a branching point, but - again - it would just be another ending. Not exactly a good or a bad one. I simply can't do good or bad.

That's not a problem. The whole good/neutral/bad thing is rather silly anyway, since it's only taking into account whether Hisao gets the girl and not whether this is actually a good or bad thing for anyone involved.

[Mahorfeus]

To be honest, I started to read this story under the assumption that it would follow the familiar pattern of Hisao pursuing a romance with a girl with emotional turmoil and helping her overcome or cope with it; failure of course, being a possibility. I can't remember who coined the term first, but "pseudo-route" comes to mind.

As is, it's quite different from that in several ways. The shifting of perspective is perhaps the most noticeable one, as well as my favorite. Things are just written in a way that don't give seem to give any expectations for multiple endings, so if you have a definitive one in mind, then trusting your gut is probably the way to go. The way you speak of the planned conclusion gives me a bleak impression for some reason, but that's a bridge I'll cross whenever it comes to that point.

[Dawnstorm]

That's not a problem. The whole good/neutral/bad thing is rather silly anyway, since it's only taking into account whether Hisao gets the girl and not whether this is actually a good or bad thing for anyone involved.

I'm not even sure what "get the girl" would entail with Miya. I know how the story ends, but casting a romance-interpretation across it is fiendishly difficult. I couldn't tell you, even as a spoiler, whether he gets the girl or not. I just don't know. I do know what happens, mind you, just not how to interpret it in a get-the-girl paradigm.

The way you speak of the planned conclusion gives me a bleak impression for some reason, but that's a bridge I'll cross whenever it comes to that point.

I like to think I don't do bleak. It's just that I can see how others disagree with me.

[nemz]

I do know what happens, mind you, just not how to interpret it in a get-the-girl paradigm.

I applaud any effort to create a female Yamaku student able to resist the sweet whispers of the swaggervest and the mysteries of "that new guy smell".

[Dawnstorm]

For story-post navigation please refer to the index post.



II.4. Pretending

On entering his room, Hisao almost steps on a piece of paper. He bends to inspect it. It's ragged edge suggests that it has been torn from a notebook. On the paper are columns of text: tiny kana and kanji spread across the paper, leaving little white. Hisao blinks at the dizzying display, then uses thumb and forefinger to pick up the paper, at a corner, one of the few places that do not contain any writing. He holds it up, looks at it a while, then finally enters the room.

A letter from Miya. What else could it be? The door falls shut behind him, but he doesn't bother to lock it. Instead he walks over to his desk and puts the paper down on it. It is Thusday. On Monday, she has told him that she never wants to see him again. Till next time. He has since been waiting for her to pop up somewhere, perhaps at a time chosen to inconvenience him. What he did not expect was a written communiqué.

Hisao scans the page looking for a name, but there is none. No addressee, no sender, nothing. But there needn't be. He turns the paper over and finds more writing, although at least half the page is empty. So the side he's looked at first is page one. He turns it over once again. An incongruity strikes him: the torn edge is very ragged. It has been torn out without much care. It cuts off no writing, so it's been torn out empty and only then written on.. The writing itself is anything but careless. The letters are tiny but surprisingly easy to read, even the kanji. Why would anyone tear a page from a notebook, not caring to leave a neat margin, and then take the utmost care to make the writing pretty. It makes no sense. He looks the page over. Nothing is crossed out. This is unlikely a first draft. Hisao wonders if the incongruity is deliberate, but he can find no reason for it.

And if this text is not from Miya?

He starts to read:

You wanted to know what history I have with Ikezawa.

It's from Miya, all right. He takes a deep breath and reads.

***

You wanted to know what history I have with Ikezawa. Very well, I'll tell you as much as I can remember. I'll also write about “Atsuko”; why I wasn't lying when introduced myself that way, why I'd be lying if I introduced myself that way now. It all boils down to me being the only member of the non-existant Yamaku drama club. Of course, it all goes back further than Yamaku (not Ikezawa, of course, but the rest). You see, I pretend. I pretend to be someone, I pretend to do thinks, I pretend to want things. I pretend.

The first thing you need to know about pretending is this: pretending is not equivalent to lying. When you lie, you deliberately state a falsehood with the hope that others believe it. When you pretend? You just act as if. The prototype of pretending is the stage. You play a role other than yourself. You pretend to be someone else. You're fooling nobody. Instead the people who watch you pretend conspire in the pretence. It's a conditional, situational belief in some sort of reality that is hard to pin down as true or false. So here I am, in real life, treating it like a stage. The role I play is myself. I have to play that role, because inside I'm empty. I'm tired. I feel like I don't exist, but that's not quite true. Something inside me chooses how I play my roles after all. I think the governing principles are alternately: a minimum of fuss, a maximum of interest. It's just that no identity sticks; there's only that roster of familiar roles.

You may think this is a very personal revelation, but it is not. This letter you are reading, it is an act just like everything else. Don't take it too seriously. At the same time, it is a revelation. It's as close as you'll ever get to a statement from me. I cannot avoid pretending, so I don't try. But that doesn't mean I can't try to communicate via pretence. If a message, through some miracle, arrives let me know what is. I'm curious. So why am I writing this? Selfish bitch that I am (= pretend to be; I will not bother to tag my language again, so get used to doing it yourself, okay?), I have a favour to ask of you. I'll do that in person, but you'll need to be prepared. You'll need to know about what pretending means to me. Don't worry if you don't get it. Not even my mum does, fully. Not even I do.

You should have a hint, now, of what the non-existent drama club means to me. Let me clear up a misunderstanding that you may (or may not) have: I do not want to be an actress. I do not want people to look at me. I want to be in the audience. Maybe, just maybe, I want to write a script or two, but I'm no actress. I'm pretending because I'm forced to. You meet people and you have to react to them. Even if you have nothing to say, you need to say something. Do you see? I might be pretending the truth at times, and not know it. I might get so used to my roles that I confuse them with myself – until I talk to someone else and the script changes. All is nonsense, but it doesn't always feel like it. So you see, if you know who you are, you have no business joining the non-existent drama club.

Atsuko is - no, I should say was another member of the non-existent drama club. Atsuko was me, but she was better defined. She had a shape, a history. She had problems and solutions. She had the potential to be happy and sad. And for all that, she was less real than Miyako. It's Miyako's body that write's this letter. Atsuko can no longer write letters; she's gone. But even if she could, she'd be using Miyako's body. All this is a roundabout way to say that I know I made her up, but she was an important part of my inner life. She wasn't real. Right. At Yamaku, that made her the perfect member of a non-existant club. Don't you agree?

Well, Atsuko has left me. I've seen her walk away on Sunday, with her mother into a new and happy life. Yes, that was just an Atsuko, and not the Atsuko, but: A girl and her mother, while I was already upset because of having met you. Something in me snapped and I could no longer believe in the act. It just seemed... silly. Atsuko is out there, not in here. (Imagine me pounding my temples right now.) You may not understand what that means: she was my mirror. She has been with me for over a decade. Was I five or six? I can't quite remember.

You see, even as a child I had my problems. And I wanted to ask my mum for advice, but if I had done that, she'd have worried about me, and she had problems of her own. I was such a clever little girl, wasn't I? If I ask questions for a friend, mum won't worry, right? Atsuko has this problem, Atsuko has that problem. Not Miyako. Atsuko. See? Doesn't every child try something like this? And does any mother ever fall for it?

I can't remember a single moment of finding out that my mother has known all along. We never really talked about that, except much later when we'd already stopped that game. There certainly was no single moment when we admitted to each other that we knew. I just kept on telling Mum Atsuko's problems. At some point, I just knew she knew they were really my problems. And then, a bit later, I knew she knew I knew she knew. That's the evolution of pretence between two people. I think it works like that for every one, really. So we had this pretence going on, and then it was to silly to keep up (probably around the time of my first period, but I can't remember), and much later we could look back and laugh about it. In a way.

See the evolution of pretence? It starts out as a deliberate lie on my part. It fails as a lie; Mum doesn't believe it for a second. But she pretends to believe it, humouring me. Is that a lie? It may be; it's less clear cut though. At some time, I realise that she is humouring me, but I still play along. Another layer of pretence. In the end, what we have is a mutual act; we're both actor and audience. At that point, we might as well just talk about my problems in a straightforward manner. Might but don't. Is it any surprise that, when we finally quit the act, I stop telling Mum about my problems?

I'm not sure my mum knows that I've kept Atsuko alive inside. She might, or she might not. Now, I'm pretending for myself. Inside. For nobody else. Atsuko's been my little secret self for quite a long time, now. How to describe how she felt inside? Maybe a bit like a virtual stuffed toy that looks like yourself? Uh, that not only sounds silly but also a tad creepy. I can't explain. She's been me so long, now that she's someone else, I'm frightened. See, everything I do is always Miya now. And she has never been clearly defined to begin with. The complexity level rises. There's more confusion. I'm frightened.

Atsuko being gone is frightening, sure, but it's also somewhat a relief. See, if all my problems are Atsuko's, and if Atsuko can solve them, but Atsuko isn't real... Don't think I wasn't aware that she'd been a tool of denial. But somehow it worked, kept me going. Well, no longer. It's only Miyako now, inside out. Not even I can tell what will become of her. A corpse, sure, but before then?

If I'd still had Atsuko, for example, when we entered the Shanghai, who knows? I could have borrowed her, played her on the outside, too, rather than only on the inside. Maybe as Atsuko I could have faced Ikezawa, but as Miyako? Impossible. You see, Ikezawa was one of the first people who had the misfortune of meeting me at Yamaku. Back then, oh I can't quite remember what I thought, but I was at a bad spot. Yamaku was little but a haven for freaks to me. I felt like I didn't belong there, like I was the wrong sort of freak. A queer freak among your garden-variety of freaks. I mean, I have sleep paralysis. Is that a bodily problem, or a mental one. Sure they accepted me. But somewhere out there was a poor little freak who didn't get to go to freak haven, because I stole his place. I felt like an usurper. And then I spotted Ikezawa. And all she had were those burns. That's all? I must have thought. Or not. I really can't remember. Well, she was so apologetic. As if she chose to have burns. I couldn't take it. So I played along. Boy did I play along! I really can't remember the details, but it was quite plain to see that she didn't like being a freak (even if she's really just a second-rate freak, compared to most of Yamaku), so I pretty much told her to be proud of it. I'm sure if I've had a pair of scissors on me, I might have cut her hair. It was that bad.

Anyway, she pushed me down the stairs, and I broke my little finger in the process, and we were both suspended for a week. Well, big deal. I don't think either of us would have wanted to go to class after that. Then we had a feel-good session, and I'd decided to play along, but then she apologised to me, and, again, I couldn't take it. See? I think I offended her by not accepting that apology. She's a good girl at heart and doesn't want to hurt people. Not even if they deserve it. Good thing she went to Yamaku. Any old school in Tokyo? Oh dear. Poor little princess. Or maybe not. She's stronger than she seems. You should have seen her anger when she shoved me down the stairs. Beautiful. My memories may be a bit hazy, but I'll never forget that look on her face.

I'm sure once I'm dead she'll be relieved, but she's a good girl, so she won't want to be relieved. It's silly really, that moral side of her. She'll feel guilty for being glad I'm dead. Mark my words. (And don't tell me I may survive Yamaku. It's possible, and I know that. I prefer to pretend I won't. I wish I could say statistics are on my side, but I'm an outlier already. Wrong gender, wrong age. Maybe my father is/was Lao? That's at least possible. Statistics have little to say about me in that respect.)

So who was being mean to poor little Hana chan back then? It certainly wasn't Atsuko. Atsuko doesn't do that. Yes, that's right. It was Miyako. But not yet Yamaku Miyako. There was some left-over Tokyo Miyako in there. I was transitional. Basically Ikezawa was a victim of role rehearsal. There are bound to be overdramatic moments, before you get it right. (Of course, I probably still don't have it “right”, but let's not talk about that.) Maybe non-Yamaku experience led me to believe Yamaku would be harsher than it turned out to be? I don't know. I simply don't know. You see, those who live to see graduation, which may or may not include me, will go back to the real world eventually. And then? It's sort of a reversal: if the environment around me isn't nasty, then I have to be. For balance. I don't know how to move in a gentle world. I think I may be learning. Of course, I'm still pretty nasty, but believe me, I was nastier to Ikezawa than to anyone before or after. Well, certainly after. But if I've been nasty before, it was in self defence. (Look, I'm rationalising!)

You see, I'm good at poking into the wounds of the people around me, because they show me my own pain. I don't exist, unless I see myself in others. And since different people are different, I'm never the same either. My actions are more real than I can ever be. The results of my actions are hints that I exist. And I use them to fabricate my roles. That's pretending. When we're together, I'm our joint project. When someone else is there, too, I'm something more complex. But I'm never me, because there is no such thing.

That's pretending. And if that makes no sense to you, don't worry. You may have guessed that I need you for an act, and that's true. If you agree, and you probably shouldn't but you probably will, already extant rumours are going to go into overdrive. I'm half sorry to drag you into this, but then maybe you're also only pretending. You have that look sometimes, as if you want to disappear into others.

I'll see you when I work up the courage (you didn't think I was fearless, did you?), and it will have to be soon. There's a dead line, see?

Anyway, that was my writing self, and now I'm exhausted. Bye.

***

Hisao stares at flood of words. Meaning flies at him in a spray. She needs to ask a favour? Hisao, Yamaku drama club member #2? She managed to get herself pushed down the stairs by Hanako? Hisao has trouble picturing that. But there is something in the image that roots him in the text: the broken finger. A body in pain. Pain. I hurt therefore I am. She may feel empty. She may not identify with the things she does. But the pain is real and personal. Does she ever feel joy? Feelings beyond all meaning, raw and real and fleeting. What about the rest of the time? Boredom? What was it she said? Meanwhile I wait. And suddenly, death doesn't seem that terrible any more. Is she rubbing off on him?

But people waiting for death don't ask for favours, do they? There is something she wants. Hisao flips over the paper and reads it through once again. Then excerpts, jumping back and forth. He reads and reads, and at some point starts making notes, until all the world is words and his head an aching swirl that could sink the sturdiest of concepts.

***

Writing Home (#2)

Mum, mum, mum!

He's not my boyfriend! He's not! I understand you want to meet him, but no promises. What if you scare him away? Then it's all your fault? (Kidding!)

Seriously, I don't even think about a relationship. I mean we have no future. Is that fair? He knows about my condition, and maybe that's why he makes no move, but it's better like that, really. He's still around, though.

There's also that minor detail that he's not really my type. You'll see what I mean (if he doesn't agree to see you, I'll point him out to you in secret – I'm sneaky like that). Really, sometimes I wonder about myself. Do I hang out with him, because I'm missing something? He's a good boy, and it's a shame that pretty much describes him.

So don't tease him too much (if he comes). He's already got me to deal with.
Love you,

Miyako

P.S. I didn't say that I'm looking forward to your visit, but you know I do, don't you? The date is fine. See you then! Bye.

[nemz]

This whole thing reads like a koan. There is truth here, but probably not in most of what she actually thinks is true.

And that whole deal with being different people in different situations? That's normal. What isn't normal is to think so hard about it.

[Dawnstorm]

There is truth here, but probably not in most of what she actually thinks is true.

It's sort of hard to tell (for me) what she actually thinks is true.

And that whole deal with being different people in different situations? That's normal. What isn't normal is to think so hard about it.

Exactly.

[griffon8]

This whole thing reads like a koan. There is truth here, but probably not in most of what she actually thinks is true.

That's pretty much how I felt.

This was very well written. It really drew me into the world of Miya. Oh, except for this:

I think the governing principles are alternately: a minimum of fuzz, a maximum interest.

I feel pretty confident you meant 'fuss' instead of 'fuzz'. Though the mental image is very amusing. Also, 'a maximum of interest'.

[Dawnstorm]

I feel pretty confident you meant 'fuss' instead of 'fuzz'. Though the mental image is very amusing. Also, 'a maximum of interest'.

Heh, sometimes typos change the meaning around in interesting ways. Edited. Thanks. (And thanks for your response, too.)

[Dawnstorm]

For story-post navigation please refer to the index post.


II.5. Feminists

The day she has written the letter is Thusday. Friday, then the weekend, then Monday pass and Miya makes no move. Tuesday is the day. It feels... symmetric. The intention is this: go to the male dorms just before class ends, sit down beside Hisao's door, wait until he comes back. He rarely comes back right after class ends, so dozing off is an option. Take the opportunity wherever it presents itself; after all she doesn't sleep well at night. Bed sleep: deep and dangerous. Certainly, Hisao's arrival will wake her.

When she arrives, though, the door is slightly open. Is Hisao back already? Is he ill? Well, no waiting, then. She quickens her pace, which makes her steps more audible. Announce yourself, so he can get ready. Just when she reaches the door it bursts open and out of the room dashes the world's most conspicuous burglar. “Uh...” Miya utters.

The figure swings to face her, but immediately takes a step back. A colourful scarf flows, falls, bounces. The glasses are so thick, they look like an impediment to vision rather than an aid. Who...? Why does he have a key? Neighbour? Invited?

“You are not Hisao!” he says.

“Very perceptive.” This is quite clearly an act, possibly even more absurd than her own. It is impossible to tell how much he buys into it. Is it primarily to keep others at a distance? To fool himself?

“Don't talk to me!” He takes another step back.

Instinctively, Miyako takes a step forward. Watch and wait. “Oh?”

“I know what you're playing. But Hisao's too smart for you. He's a good man, if a bit naïve. You'll see.” He fumbles in his pocket. Buying time?

Hm? “The two of you against the world, right?” She feels her eyebrows tilt, her lips curl into a smile. She steps forward, peers into the room. He has not left a mess. Interesting. Hisao doesn't know, or at the very least does not approve, or maybe pretends not to approve of this guy's intrusion. “Would this make a good... base of operations, I wonder?”

“It's a lousy base of operation. Only one lock. Practically no security at all. Go look else where. Shoo.” Accompanying motions of his hand. Who thinks this sort of act is convincing? Maybe it's not supposed to be. A surrealist?

“Hm... With the proper investments, though...” She glances past him, towards the door. He should be reacting to that, but he doesn't. Is he blind? That would explain the glasses. So auditive cues all the way, then.

“Nothing here a feminist could want!” he blurts out, and then: “Kitagawa Miyako.” So he knows who she is? Well, he would. The rumours are very hard to miss. “Special operations officer of the local feminist chapter!” Wait, what? “Transferred from Tokyo, where she brought down a school.”

Miya feels her jaw drop, so before her mouth falls open, she presses her lips together. Does he have a file on her? Who is this guy? Or is it a lucky guess? It's not quite the truth, anyway. A principal had to resign in a bullying scandal, and by that time she'd been at another school, although her case did get dragged up in a sideline hardly anyone paid attention to. But it was, indeed, a feminist side line: something about promiscuity and double standards. Her name hadn't been mentioned in anything published, and neither had her mother's, but nobody can read all the comments or related discussion groups on the web, so who knows? There could have been a picture or two, too. If you're a shut-in with lots of time at hand, and the web, then maybe...

“You've been exposed!” he shouts.

It has to be a coincidence. Is she getting paranoid? She shakes her head vigorously, to clear her mind. He tilts his head, grins, as if he's scored a point. So he saw that: he's not completely blind. Fine, on with the show.

“Have I, now? And you? Are you a patriarch? Do you do women a favour, when you're eating the food they make you? A maiden's self-worth in the shape of an octopus wiener. A salty tear on an already too salty rice ball. Ah the power! To raise up, to destroy. What happened? Did your girlfriend tell you one day to make you're own dinner?”

“La la la! I can't hear you!”

She shakes her head, laughs. “But you're lucky, aren't you? I'm only a feminist, after all. I'll just steal enough of your rights so that we have the same amount. I mean, I believe men and women can live in peace. If I didn't believe that, I'd be a...” The pause stretches from the dramatic into the melodramatic range. “...matriarch! Their symbol is the spider. The female, huge and powerful. The male, for sex and food. As it should be.” Another pause, shorter this time. “Or that's what I'd say, if I were a matriarch. Lucky for you that I'm a feminist. Wouldn't you agree?”

A piercing shriek, and he dashes forward. It's a reflex reaction, but Miyako sidesteps to dodge him. She finds herself in Hisao's room. She tries to see what the weird guy is up to, but what she sees instead is the door, about to smash into her she stumbles back, avoiding it. The door clicks shut, and then the sound of a key. Locked in? What the...? She stands and stares at the door. This is a first for her. Here is someone who has outplayed her. And she cannot even tell if he believes his own act.

Unbidden memories well up inside her. How much does Hisao need to know, to fit the act? What would her mother expect from her, if she had a boyfriend. Is she supposed to talk about the whole freaking mess inside her? Everything? Must she turn inside out, and lose even that distinction?

Boyfriend, girlfriend. Husband, wife. Baby. Mummy, Daddy. The script that subdued her life. And her mother's. And now she's staging that play for her Mum, who'll clap and say, “How nice!” Even if you fall through the gap of the story, serve as little more than a cautionary tale, you still remain in its clutches. Potential protagonists. A romance. The genre is the enemy, but you can't go meta. All bends to the will of the script.

Pull yourself together, Miyako! There's a reason she's here. Her mum will come... will come.. they have to... If that's the story, so what? She can't … worry. It's... she... must... can't... what...

Footsteps outside, but two sets of feet. And it doesn't take long to find out who's coming.

“But aren't you curious?” Pause. “Wahaha, Shicchan! I wasn't going to read it. But don't you want to know who Iwanako is?” Pause. Smack. “Ow! I can't even smell the letter? What if she... Ow! Okay, okay!”

A distraction is pushed under the door and into the room. Miyako stares at the thing with no thought at all. Footsteps recede. Silence.

More silence.

Iwanako, huh?

[nemz]

Well that was... something. Very, very odd. Kenji's going to be crafting prison shivs out of toothbrushes all night now in a raging fervor. And Misha wants to SMELL the letter? WTF?

[Bagheera]

I thought it was great. I'm really liking Miya; she's fucked up, she knows it, she copes as best she can. And everything else is so spot on that I find it easy to buy everything Dawnstorm's selling. The only tough part is the wait between chapters!

[Dawnstorm]

And Misha wants to SMELL the letter? WTF?

If it's a love letter it might be scented. (Perhaps too obscure?)

Actually, I find it stranger that she says these things out loud while they're alone. It must be one of those quirky habits of hers, when she's excited. The "ow"s would definitely be loud. (I like that interpretation better than that I messed up. )

I thought it was great. I'm really liking Miya; she's fucked up, she knows it, she copes as best she can. And everything else is so spot on that I find it easy to buy everything Dawnstorm's selling. The only tough part is the wait between chapters!

Thanks. At times she's pretty hard to write, both emotionally and getting her right. But what delayed me this time was Kenji. I really don't like him much, nor the humour he represents. I still tried to do him justice, but don't expect him to be a major player.