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Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Thu Nov 01, 2012 11:08 pm
by Po1ntBlank
Thanatos02 wrote:Wall of text
Just something I want to point out. I've been following a good amount of fanfics here. My two favorite styles being Epilogues and Pseudo-Routes, as they bring me back to the feeling of the original game. You say a lot of things like, "I've written myself into a corner" (which may be somewhat true) and "at this skill level"

What I'm getting at here is you seem to talk yourself down a lot, but I for one really enjoyed the story so far. I've never read another story from you, but besides the minor improbabilities (which I've only noticed due to other people), I've come to really enjoy your story. I'm in a situation where I'm just waiting for people to write more chapters (Meadows' miki route, Doomish's Misha route, and your Akira route) so every new chapter is like christmas morning for me. And you definitely release quickly.

I'm getting a bit off topic, but what I'm saying is don't beat yourself up so much. Your act 2 left a little to be desired, this is true, but not only did you go back and actually fix things, it turned out very well in my opinion (and isn't that all that matters? :wink: :lol: ) But keep your head up, you've rounded the first lap, now's not the time to go back and fix it, but now is the time to press forward to keep at this race. I'm loving what your doing so far, and it seems like its only going to get better. Take this is a boost of confidence, that me, and I guarantee despite the criticism so far, many others are eagerly waiting for your next release. Godspeed!


Edit: On top of this, any idea when we can expect the next release? ;D

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Thu Nov 01, 2012 11:25 pm
by Thanatos02
Po1ntBlank wrote:Edit: On top of this, any idea when we can expect the next release? ;D
I'm aiming for tomorrow or the day after. It's turning out a lot longer than I expected heh so it might be a bit. I'm still in the process of getting it all written out, and hopefully I'll do a decent job of proofreading/editing so I don't have to make a gorillion changes a few days from now.

But no, seriously, it's going to be kind of lengthy. I'm about 3/5 through the story, and it's already around 6,000 words.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 1:11 am
by Po1ntBlank
Thanatos02 wrote:
Po1ntBlank wrote:Edit: On top of this, any idea when we can expect the next release? ;D
I'm aiming for tomorrow or the day after. It's turning out a lot longer than I expected heh so it might be a bit. I'm still in the process of getting it all written out, and hopefully I'll do a decent job of proofreading/editing so I don't have to make a gorillion changes a few days from now.

But no, seriously, it's going to be kind of lengthy. I'm about 3/5 through the story, and it's already around 6,000 words.
Awesome! Looking forward to it! Thanks for powering through

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 6:11 am
by Mirage_GSM
I'm noticing a difference between the people who are most/least bothered by it, and I think the main factor here is 'suspension of disbelief'. This is a generalization and completely baseless speculation, but I'm thinking all of the folks that are least bothered by it are the ones that have followed me or one of the other "crazy" writers before, and are used to some of the *ahem* improbable situations I've sometimes placed the characters in. The ones who are most bugged by it are new to my work, and are no doubt used to some of the more sensible stuff that happens on this board (and not where I'm from, believe me.)
The problem about suspension of disbelief is that some stories can do without and some can't.
If you write a whacky comedy like School Rumble, nobody will complain if the Main Character is suddenly abducted by aliens. If your story takes place in a fantasy setting, nobody will complain that "a wizard did it."*
But what you are (seem to be?) writing at the moment is a serious romance story without any supernatural elements, and in this case suspension of disbelief is important.

*Most of the time - it is possible to destroy suspension of disbelief even in stories like that, but let's not go there.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 7:26 pm
by Thanatos02
Akira act 2-8 coming up. This part is the finale for Act 2 of the Akira pseudoroute, and as such, it's pretty long. Not much to say on this one. It leads into the planned Act 3 pretty well, and there shouldn't be any gaping plot holes or any other blaring flaws within this part, but if anyone finds something worth commenting on or criticizing, feel free to voice your opinion.

Act 2 - Part 8-1: Intoxication

“You have a map there, why don’t you just pick something out at random?”

The two of us roam the city streets in search of something to occupy our time. The sun has now set under the horizon, giving way to a night sky gleaming with activity; be it planes or satellites. Crowds of people pass in and out of every open door on the street, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

I find myself spending my evening with another human being for the first time in a few weeks. However, this is much more preferable to the last instance, considering the presence of someone who isn’t a conspiracy theorist and the lack of alcoholic substances.

Beside me is the older of the two Satou sisters; her usual professional attire exchanged for something more casual; a simple red tank top and jeans. Her hair sits as unkempt as usual, swaying in the evening breeze as we wander the streets without a goal or objective in mind.

“I remember seeing an arcade and I figured I’d give that a try for old time’s sake, but you probably want to go do something a little more-“

“Ooh, I know the place you’re talking about! C’mon!”

Akira grabs my shoulders and nudges me around a corner before hopping up beside me.

“It’s only a few blocks this way. Hanako and I go there sometimes, it really is a great place.” she chimes, voice laden with jubilation as she begins to list off all of the games inside.

“What does a girl like you do in an arcade?” I ask, chuckling.

“Just because I pay taxes doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to have fun.” she counters. “I’m not that great at anything, mind you, but it’s nice to go and relieve some stress every once in a while.”

“Can’t argue with that. I’m not some kind of master either, though.”

No thinking, no contemplating, no worrying, and no speculating. The world isn’t going to end by me going out and having fun for once; moreso if it’s with this beautiful girl.

Of course, it’s not a date. She still has a boyfriend, he just... isn’t here.

It’s just Akira and I.

The thought of such a thing causes my heartbeat to quicken, blood racing through my mind as all the possibilities fill my imagination.

What if the arcade is having some sort of couples’ night? Or what if we go to a restaurant and the waiter comments on how good we look together? Or what if one of my other classmates sees me walking around with this twenty-four year old woman?

“Here we are. Any favorites, or is it my pick?” Akira asks with a grin.

No more ‘what ifs’ tonight. Fun time.

The door has been propped open, welcoming us to a large, open-space filled with dozens of arcade games and the many people partaking in their wonders. The room is fitter with a darker theme, with black carpets and bluish walls that show signs of aging; it doesn't help that the only lighting comes from numerous flashing screens.

“Whatever works. I haven’t been in one of these for long enough to remember anything special.”

Well, that's a bit of a lie – there was one game that stands out in my memory. All the hours spent after classes in middle school; betting on matches, holding mini tournaments, hi-score competitions, and all other kinds of shenanigans.

We stride past a couple rows of DDR platforms and skee-ball machines, winding up near the back wall of the arcade with all of the older games lined up in chronological order. Even though it's been years since I've stepped foot in a place like this, I can still recognize all of the games. Platformers, rail shooters, and most of all...

“This one’s always a great start.” she announces, patting the control panel of the arcade cabinet as if she were reunited with an old friend.

Fighters. It's going to be a good night. I can already feel it.

Pure nostalgia carries me up to the screen, my eyes tracing over every curve and contour of the orange and blue text. The same old ‘insert credit to start’ caption flashes across the bottom, sending waves of temptation up and down my right hand.

This is great; I even have a couple of ¥50 coins in my pocket.

“You ever played this before?”

Of course I’ve played this before! I spent most of my childhood in front of this screen; learning every single character's moveset, memorizing combos, working my hands to the bone trying to beat the list of high scores. I'll bet the stack of strategy guides I saved a month's worth of allowance to buy is still sitting in my closet back home.

...Heh, but Akira doesn’t know any of that.

“I think I’ve heard of the game, but I’ve never gotten my hands on it. You might have to go easy on me while I pick up the basics.” I comment, pulling from all of my inner-strength to keep a straight face.

The graphics are a little dated, but I think I could still squeeze out a few wins. There are some things you never forget, even if it’s been more than a few years.

Akira gives me a wry grin as she nods her head and fishes a couple of ¥50 coins out of her pocket. I do the same, popping the coin into the slot with a fervor and excitement I haven’t felt in months.

“Alright, there’s sixteen characters to choose from, and they all have mostly different fighting styles...” she starts.

They all come from different parts of the globe to participate in the World Warrior contest, yadda yadda yadda. Within the next few seconds, we’ve made our selections and wait for the stage to be chosen.

“The controls are pretty simple, there’s three types of punches and three types of kicks.”

I feign humility to her instructions, pretending to test out each of the commands as I wiggle the control stick back and forth. The character on the other end of the screen stands there unguarded, forcing me to keep restrained until the best moment to explode arrives.

“There you go, it's no so difficult, is it?”

“Yeah, it seems pretty simple.”

Akira steps forward and launches a single kick, which I block by pure instinct.

“Oh hey, you blocked! You do that by holding back on the stick. And by back I mean away from the opponent, since we can wind up switching sides when you jump.”

The clock ticks all the way down to the zero mark, resulting in a draw. When round two starts, Akira takes a more active role, throwing light attacks whenever she can. I play the rush-down card in response, trying to counter her attacks with single button-presses to keep from blowing my cover.

Before her health bar can drain all the way, however, she decides to knock me out of the running with her super-move, eliminating my character before I can block.

“Aha, sorry, couldn't help myself.” she comments with a chuckle.

Oh, she's going to play that game, is she?

Round three starts with a little more action as Akira throws projectiles in an attempt to zone me into the corner. But of course, no one zones the Tiger Knee, so I manage to twist the tables around and bring the fight to Akira, where I'm able to squeeze out a win without giving away too much more.

“See, you're getting it! It's not that hard to pick up, is it?”

“Yeah, it's pretty straight-forward.”

This time, I'm unable to hide my anticipation as round four starts, fingers shaking with anxiety as I try to remember just one of the combos.

The countdown signals for us to begin and I hop in with whatever my muscle-memory can push out. Down+kick, quarter-circle forward+punch, quarter-circle forward+punch, down-up-forward+kick, punch, kick, dr-

Wait, why isn't her health gauge dropping?

The character on the opposing end of the screen blocks the entire surprise barrage without issue before countering, taking only minor chip damage as she unleashes a flurry of projectiles and aerial kicks.

It took twenty seconds, I think. I put up a good defense once I realized that she saw right through me, but I never even stood a chance. She must come here after work quite a bit, because that was a clear-cut loss if I’ve ever seen one.

Akira turns and leers at me, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Never really gotten your hands on it, huh?” Akira comments in amusement; all the more biting as the victory theme for her character plays from the speakers.

“You can’t blame me for trying.” I reply, unable to keep from laughing.

“I don’t blame you, but trust me when I say I know your game.” Akira retorts. “At least you were convincing for the first couple of rounds – it was a nice try.” she adds on before slapping me on the ba-

“Urk.” I groan, one hand flying to my sternum in response.

Heart.

Stop.

Beat.

Stupid.

Being.

Again.

Work.

Dammit.

The thumping in my chest subsides before regaining its ‘normal’ erratic beat. I force myself to take a few deep breaths as I try to stop the rapid flow of blood between my head and my heart, the resulting pain beginning to recede as I get a hold of myself.

There we go with the stupid heart condition again. I bet I’d freeze up from being punched in the shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Akira asks, a look of concern taking over her facial features.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just... issues.” I answer.

“You sure? You look like you're in pain; I didn't hit you that hard, did I?” she replies, head tilted in confusion.

“I'm alright, just a little stressed out.” I respond, trying to laugh it off.

Of course that’s a bogus explanation. A normal guy doesn’t clutch his chest and grit his teeth like life itself is about to implode from being slapped on the back. Of course; I’m anything but normal at this point, but there’s no need to go dredging up that story. Not here, anyway.

“If you say so.” she answers. There’s no part of me that believes she’d accept an explanation like that, but it would seem that she’s willing to let it go.

“So, how about a rematch? I know you can do better than that.”

*********************

The door shuts behind Akira, I, and the crowd of other arcade-goers as the place closes up for the night.

“Six to one. And I’m pretty sure you let me have that one win.” I comment.

“Oh c’mon, you’re just off your game, I could tell it's been a while since you'd played. I come here with Hanako every once in a while, so of course I’m going to be more up-to-speed.” she counters.

“I spent my childhood playing that game! You would think I’d be able to at least stand a chance.”

“If it’s any consolation, that’s the only game I’m good at.”

At least that holds a bit of sincerity. We weren’t able to stick around for long enough to do much more than that one fighter, though. The only other events were a racing game we both turned out average at and a rail-shooter that ended in the same results. I would have liked to see how she did at some of those dancing rhythm games, but her ‘I’m not gonna make a fool out of myself unless you’re doing it too’ excuse shot that hope down with ease.

Regardless of how our time has gone; she’s the one girl I know who plays these kinds of games, so that’s more points to her. I don’t know who her boyfriend is, but he is one lucky guy to have her; the fact that he might not realize how fortunate he may be is enough to make my blood boil.

“Well, it’s getting pretty late. I should probably be getting home.” I state, already moving my feet toward the bus stop.

However, Akira grabs my arm and stops me in my tracks.

“Oh no you don’t, we still got things to do. You haven’t even been to the most fun part of the city.”

Before I can offer any objections, my shoulders are grabbed once more as I'm nudged around, facing the opposite direction as the bus stop. I wonder if Akira is so good at getting people to go where she wants them because of her profession., or it's it's because of who she is as a person.

Either way, after five minutes of being guided around random corners; we wind up at a pair of glass double doors. The crowd around here is much thicker, although the faint sound of an upright bass can still be heard over all the commotion.

“Welp, here we go.” she states.

“Seriously?”

The low-power neon signs plastered across the front of this building indicate that we've arrived at a jazz club. The average age of the crowd here has risen to the late twenties and thirties, indicating that we’ve entered ‘that’ part of town. This single club is about as welcoming as it gets, however, which makes it easy to understand why Akira comes here.

There’s just the question of why she brought ME here.

“You’re eighteen, right?”

“Oho, you were planning this from the get-go, weren’t you?” I ask.

“Guilty as charged.” she retorts, shrugging her shoulders and giving me a sly grin.

In an attempt to show some kind of manners; I step up to the door and hold it ajar. This makes the sound of latin jazz that much more apparent, and has the added effect of blasting my nostrils with the scent of cigarette smoke.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Akira comments with a chuckle and a bow, as if I’d asked her for a dance. She strides in through the entrance, each step laden with confidence.

The inside is decorated with a little more taste than its label would lead one to assume. The floor is made up of a mix of beige tiles and dark-red carpet, the walls painted tan and left dim by strips of low-power neon lights.

A single counter sits at the far wall, attended by a lone bartender with slicked-back hair with nothing better to do but polish the counter. The scene is quite stereotypical, but not at all unwelcoming.

Aside from that, the only other area worth noting is a row of billiard tables off in the corner, unoccupied at the present.

Despite its small size; there’s more than a few people here. Every table in front of the stage is filled, with most of the remaining viewers choosing to stand along the railing. There’s plenty of conversation bustling among the crowd, which for some reason relieves me.

I guess if I say something stupid, then only Akira will have to hear it.

“The music's pretty good.” I comment.

The woman beside me nods in approval before replying with “they’ve been practicing. I still prefer the other group they call over from time to time.”

“Are they even better?”

“They’re about the same when it comes to skill, I guess. Smooth jazz is more my thing.” she replies.

She strides right up to the counter and takes a seat, gesturing for me to join her. Once we’re both seated, the bartender takes a break from his maintenance duties and offers to help us.

“You know what I want, Teppei.” Akira comments with a grin.

“Coming right up, Ms. Satou.”

He reaches below the counter and produces a caramel-colored bottle with a silver label reading ‘S*pporo Yebisu Premium’ and a tall glass.

“And how about you, sir?” he turns and asks.

“I think I’ll have a cup of coffee, if you do that here.”

The bartender nods and heads off to another section of the counter, no doubt to start up the coffee machine they haven’t had to use since the business crowd started rolling in.

Akira slides a keyring out of her pocket and flips through what must be over a dozen keys before coming to a bottle-opener. She works her magic on the metal cap before tipping the nozzle of the container into the crystal-clear glass, filling it with an amber-tinted liquid.

“So it would seem that you’re into jazz.” I comment, trying to make conversation.

“Well, I like all music, really. I’m not gonna pretend to be some big audiophile, I listen to whatever sounds good on the radio.” she answers before bringing the rim of the glass to her lips and taking a long sip.

“I thought you said you didn’t like hip-hop?”

“Of course I don’t. Hip-hop isn’t music, silly.” Akira says with a mischievous grin.

No comments there.

“People are entitled to their opinions, and I can respect those who do like it. But I can’t stand the stuff.” she adds on, no doubt feeling the looks of displeasure from some of the other folk here.

At this point the bartender returns with a steaming cup of black coffee, setting it in front of me before heading off to tend to another set of customers.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Akira asks, tenting her hands and resting her chin between them. The fact that she’s now giving me her full attention makes me a little nervous.

“Not a whole lot, these days. There’s not much to do up at that school besides read and study.” I reply, chuckling.

“Yeah, that’s what I always hear from the other two. I suppose it’s easy to turn into a bookworm if that’s the only source of entertainment.” Akira comments. “You’re new to the school, right?”

“I'm only getting through my third week, so I'd say that's a yes.”

Her eyes gaze up and down my visage, analyzing every detail of my figure as if looking for something.

I hate to play the cynic here, but she must be curious as to ‘what’s wrong with me.’ No one I know of goes to a school with a twenty-four hour nursing staff to enjoy the scenery or be with their friends, and I’m sure she knows that as well. Even moreso than others, considering that she has a relative there.

“So if you don’t do a whole lot, do you at least have any interests?”

Well there’s a question that’s always tough to answer.

I could talk about my old interests in soccer, or how I used to sneak out of my house and wander the city at night. There's the things I've picked up since my accident as well, like my newfound fascination with the scientific world, or how much reading I've been doing...

But things like that are no doubt boring to someone who leads a life such as hers. I don't want to come off as some kind of dullard, do I?

“C'mon, can't you tell? I'm a real party animal. I do what I want.”

...

Did I just say that?

No, really, DID I JUST SAY THAT?!

Akira’s gaze meets me once more, not a single feature out of place as she gives me a blank, stone-faced stare. However, after a few more moments, her cheeks inflate as she tries to control her reaction, slight chuckles escaping from her throat as she tries to keep herself calm.

“Oh really now? Tell me a wild story then, party animal.” she comments with a challenging grin.

Welp. May as well follow through with it.

“Please, you think I'm joking? Just a few nights ago I went up to the roof with a friend of mine, after curfew, and drank it. I'm talking totally wasted, the other guy nearly fell off the edge.” I respond, trying to fake a sense of bravado.

At this, she loses it entirely, her laughter managing to ring out even over the bustle of other club-goers as she doubles over, gripping her sides.

“I’ve known a lot of wild idiots in my day, you’re not one of them.”

“And how can you tell? I could be the craziest guy on the face of the Earth for all you know.” I counter.

“Well, for one, you asked for coffee instead of something hard, despite the fact that you could easily pass for a twenty year-old.”

Well, yeah, there is that...

“And two, you've got manners and you're way too level headed to be a party moron. Those guys don't see a girl on a bench and ask if there's something wrong; they see a girl on all by herself and ask what they can do to get her clothes off.” she states in a rather blunt fashion. “It's a good thing that you're not that kind of person.”

“Eh? Why is that a good thing? I figure girls all want some kind of rebel, not a boring guy who’s never even been to a party.”

She starts to calm down, although my question has her chuckling for a while longer before an answer arrives.

“That’s true in most cases; girls your age don’t know what they want so they let instinct take the wheel. Personally, I want the opposite; if he has manners and knows how to shut up during a movie then we’ve already got a connection going.” she replies.

“And besides; I don’t think you’re boring.”

I'm not sure why, but those few words are enough to send inexplicable joy ripping through my mind. I still can't help but play the modest card, though.

“Really? I sit around and read most of the time, that doesn’t seem like it’d make for a very interesting person.”

“I work with boring. Trust me, you’re an amusement park ride compared to some of these guys.” she counters.

She takes another long drag of her beverage, emptying its contents. The remnants of the bottle beside it are then emptied into the glass, starting the cycle anew.

This time I can’t help but analyze each movement; the opening of the bottle is tilted toward the opening of the glass, filling the void inside with an amber-colored liquid. From this point, the rim of the glass is tilted up toward her lips, where she takes a rather long sip. A long, satisfied sigh saunters out of her open mouth as she sets the drink back on the table.

Each motion is done with deliberation, and I get the feeling that it’s a practiced procedure.

“I take it you come here often?”

“Most of the time, yeah. Tonight is actually my first time in three weeks, since the boyfriend doesn't like me coming here. He's one of those anti-alcohol types, in case I didn't mention that."

Yeah, she mentioned it, and she seems like she’s ready to make up for lost time, as indicated by her first glass already having a quarter of its contents missing.

“It’s pretty nice, for a downtown bar. I used to hang out in whatever crappy pool-hall I could run into on the way home from work until a friend of mine introduced me to this place. Been coming here ever since.”

“Pool-hall? So do you play billiards, too?”

This question piques her interest as she sets the glass down mid-sip, replying with “yeah, I might be getting a little rusty though. How about you?”

“I used to play with some friends of mine in middle school, but I’m not that great by any means.” I answer, waving my hand in an attempt to dismiss the notion.

She chuckles at my answer. “They have tables over there if you want to have a game or two.” she responds, pointing to the other corner of the building.

The part of me that wants to keep from embarrassing myself says no, but what remains of my masculinity insists that I even the score from those matches in the arcade. I wonder which speaks louder; my lack of self-confidence, or my damaged pride...

“I think a few rounds would be fun.”

Satisfied with my response; she nods and hops up to her feet. I follow her over to the darkened corner where a row of billiard tables go unused, ensuring that we don’t have to work around anyone else.

“You remember how to play?” she asks, handing me a pool cue.

“It’s not the world’s hardest game, I think I can still manage.”

I grab the rack from under the table and load up the each of the billiards, stopping it at the proper place on the table. At least I remember that much.

“Heads or tails?” Akira asks as she plucks a coin from her pocket and perches it on her thumb.

“Tails.”

She flips the coin into the air, eyes following it as it rounds down and hits the green surface of the pool table.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 7:27 pm
by Thanatos02
Act 2 - Part 8-2: Intoxication

Heads. Go figure.

The white cue ball is set onto the table, with the first person to go positioning herself on the edge before it. She shuts one eye as she takes aim, lining up the length of the cue with the white sphere.

Before the shot is made, however, she stands back up and faces me, her mouth forming the ever-potent words “y’know, how about we make this more interesting?”

“More interesting? Akira, are you really thinking of gambling with a high-school student?”

“You may be a student, but you’re more of an adult than some of the geezers I work with. C’mon, you know you want to~.” she chimes. Her face twists into what can only be described as an extortion technique; her eyes widening as an expectant smile forms on her lips.

And it works, too. I can’t say no to that, more because I’m curious as to what she has planned.

“Alright, fine. What are the terms?”

“Nothing fancy. If you win, I buy you a drink; if I win, you buy me a drink.” she suggests, a crafty smile gracing her normally relaxed features.

“Giving alcohol to an eighteen year-old? Isn’t that rather irresponsible of you?”

“I'm not giving you alcohol, Hisao. You have to win it first.” she counters. “Or would you rather have another cup of coffee?”

“It's not like I'm straight-edge, so don't go worrying about me."”

There's also around ¥2000 sitting in my wallet, so my economic situation won't go into a crisis if I lose a few games. Provided she doesn't look for anything expensive if she wins.

“Great. Let’s do this.” she replies.

Akira takes the shooting position back up; bending over, lining up the cue with the ball, and then knocking the tip against its edge.

The white sphere slams into the front of the triangle, knocking each of the billiards against every edge of the table.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

The 3 enters the pocket straight out of the break, and is joined on the tally by the 2, 4, and 12. My jaw drops, my shoulders slump in disbelief, and my wallet slips from my fingers.

Three of the eight balls she has to pocket, and that’s just from the first shot. Who or what the hell is this woman?!

“Man, I'm out of it.” she sighs, pouting.

“Out of it?!!”

“I'm off my game since it's been so long. I went and pocketed the damned 12."

“As well as three solids.” I counter.

“Well, yeah, there is that.” she returns, trying to tone down as soon as she notices my bewilderment. “C”mon, I'm sure you'll pull off a few wins.”

It would seem that she's intent on making me work for those wins, however. She rounds the corner and lines up the next shot, sinking the 1 with ease.

“Okay, so, not as rusty as I thought. Heh.”

Indicating that she's given up on subtlety, her next turns consist of what may as well be trick shots, like striking the cue ball in such a way that it curves around a cluster of striped billiards.

It gets even worse when she goes into 'show-off' mode for her next shot. She's managed to play the cue ball into such a position where it's impossible for her to get to the last solid billiard; no way to bank around the obstacles in any manner, unless she can somehow knock the white sphere in such a method that it zig-zags through them.

So what does she do? Can't maneuver the ball around the obstacles, so she introduces a third dimension and bounces it over one of the striped spheres, straight into the 5-ball with enough force to slide it into the corner pocket.

“That had to be against the rules.”

“Leap-frog shot. Look it up.” she replies as if by habit.

To drive the point home; she performs the stunt again with a bit more force. This time, the cue ball clears nearly half the table and knocks against the 8-ball at an angle, giving enough of a push to knock it out.

And there it is. She wins. Flawless victory, just like earlier. Why do I even have a cue?!

“You hustled me, didn’t you? Pretending to be all out-of-practice so you could lure me into a false sense of security, huh?”

“Not quite what I was planning, but you can’t hold it against me even if I were, Mr. ‘if I pretend I’ve never heard of this game, she won’t expect me to jump out with a hard hitting combo.’” she counters.

“Touche. But still, where the hell did you learn to play like that?”

In response, she wags her finger back and forth while taunting with “a girl's gotta have some secrets, right?”

Such a cop out. I'll bet she goes and plays in huge tournaments with a skill level like that.

Content that she’ll have no more opposition, she calls out to a waitress to bring her another beer, specifying that a drinking glass be brought with it.

“Why don’t you just drink it out of the bottle? We both know where this is going.”

In an instant; she turns and gives me a ‘what the hell are you on about?’ look, eyebrow raised full-force.

“Straight from the bottle? Maybe if I grew up in a trailer.” she comments, hand on hip. “I’m not the most refined lady out there, but I’d like to think I still have a bit of class.”

“So it’s not classy to drink straight from the container?” I ask.

I guess Kenji and I were doing it wrong, then.

“This is my opinion, so take it with a grain of salt; but I'd say it’s pretty trashy to drink straight from the bottle. It shows that you don’t appreciate the quality enough to take fifteen seconds and pour it into something where the taste is more potent. It took at least ten years for this some of this stuff to ferment; have some respect for the hard work.”

“Really? What about the other day when you were drinking from the can?”

She jerks back in response, eyes shifting back and forth as she tries to think of an answer.

“You can't prove that in a court of law.”

“Oh? So even the mannerly Ms. Satou slips up from time to time?” I chime, unable to hold myself back.

“Yep, and that's all it is; slip-ups.” she replies, trying to play it off.

“So why is it so bad to drink out of the container, then? I guess if you don't take the time to 'appreciate' the taste, then you're only trying to get wasted?"

“Exactly. Those are isolated cases with me though; it's an old habit that likes to resurface every now and then.” she comments. “I'm not going to use immature words like 'stupid', but I speak from experience when I say that method is doing it wrong.”

I can tell that she has a lot of pent-up feelings on the matter. If I recall, her boyfriend is against alcohol in all its forms, so that must not work very well with someone who appears to be an expert on the subject.

Before she can continue on with her rant; the waitress returns with the requested bottle and drinking glass, setting them on a table behind us before heading off to a different part of the club.

“Ah, perfect. I’m going to teach you something tonight, Hisao. What's different about this particular glass?” she asks.

The base tilts outwards like any regular drinking glass, but the upper end flares out, like a bulb. It’s different than what someone like me is used to drinking from, of course, but it doesn’t seem like there’s enough of a change to warrant being called a different thing.

“The top part?”

“Close enough. This is called a ‘flared pint glass,’ and is just one of many different ways to appreciate your beer. Basically; the shape helps accentuate the smell and flavor, which are two qualities that get toned down by your standard bottle or can."

Just like the last beer; this one has its cap popped off and its contents poured into the ‘pint glass,’ although this time in a more demonstrative manner. One can already confirm that the first part of her lecture was from the heart, since she couldn’t have taken more than fifteen seconds in the entire process.

“And to conclude tonight's lesson: a wise man once said 'you don't drink to get drunk, you get drunk from drinking.' Does that make sense to you?”

I nod my head, which prompts the contents of her drink to begin draining into her stomach.

“Ahhh, but anyway; that’s enough about the alcohol. Ready for round two, big man?”

***********

“C’mon Hisao, it’s all geometry! You’ll get it down next round, I’m sure.

***********

“I swear that one was all l- why are you putting the cue down?! Come on, we aren’t finished yet!”

***********

“Yes, m’aam, can I get a glass of scotch? And do you guys still have those whiskey stones? I don’t like it watered down.”

***********

“An’ what’s the deal with your lil’ hair thing? It jus’... pokes out. Your hair pokes out, Hisao.”

“Yes Akira, I’m aware of this. Can I take my turn, please?”

She tugs at the single, stubborn lock of hair on my head like a playful cat, giggling each time it springs back into place.

***********

“C’mooooon Hishao~. Jusht one more match! I’ll let you win this tiiiime.”

Under normal circumstances, the woman before me is polite, calm, and collected. However, with the introduction of beer and liquor into the equation, thanks to six straight losses; I’m welcomed to a showing of the older Satou sister having to prop herself up on tables to stay on her feet.

“Akira, I’m out of money. And besides, I, uh... I think you’ve had a bit too much already.”

She stumbles up in front of me, mere inches from my face as she sputters “tha’s what they alwaysh say! I’m twenty-four yearsh old! I can take care of myself!”

The odor of the alcohol on her breath is enough to overload my senses for a few seconds.

“I’m sure you can, Akira, but the bar has a cap as well; for those who can’t take care of themselves.”

And a cap is a desperate need, in this case. We’ve been here for what feels like three hours, and the table behind us is now littered with discarded alcohol delivery devices. Three bottles of beer, a glass of scotch, a glass of bourbon, and a glass of brandy -- I’m no expert on alcohol; but I think Akira is quite the master when it comes to this matter, despite being so young. I’m sure anyone else would have already passed out...

“Well maybe they should make ‘n excepshun~.”

...by this point. Even so I don’t think Akira is that far behind the point where even she would be left powerless against the effects of the substance.

The jazz band is still playing, the crowd is still chatting, and the bartender is still serving, but I think it’s time for us to bow out. I’m already broke, so there's no point in sticking around long enough to let myself get into debt.

“I think we should get going. It’s already one in the morning, and you look like you’re about ready for some sleep.” I comment.

She sways back and forth in a stupor as her addled brain processes my statement. Or, at least, I think she was processing my statement -- her mind might just be thinking of taking another swipe at my hair, like some kind of drunken feline.

“Hey, you there?” I ask, waving my hand in front of her eyes.

The pupils inside make a feeble attempt to follow my fingers before centering into some kind of neutral position. The result is a thousand-yard stare that sees everything, and yet nothing all at the same time.

I've gotten drunk with Kenji before, but his wasted state was more like an exacerbation of how he usually was -- Akira's character has taken a complete U-turn.

This is the reality of intoxication, huh? I’ve always heard jokes and stories, but I never imagined that people actually got like this. Is she one of the many different varieties of drunk, or is this the standard?

At the very least it’s a testament to how little I get out. Eighteen years old and I’m just now seeing my first drunk girl in person.

“Akira!”

She jumps and comes close to losing her balance, hands latching onto my shoulders for support. That action by itself is enough to send my chivalrous spirit rampaging over any and all other responsibilities in my head.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home. Where do you live?” I ask, a tired sigh escaping from my throat.

Her hair whips back and forth as she shakes her head, trying to jiggle her thoughts back into working order it would seem.

“Ah, yeah. ‘ere, jusht let me lean on you, I’ll show you the way.”

She throws one bare arm around my shoulders and uses me to support her weight; which I have to admit isn’t very much despite how tall she is. From there, we make the trek through the entrance and into the nightlife of the city.

“It’sh a pretty long way, actually. Maybe a dozen blocks thataway.” she informs me, trying to point her arm down the road.

She does her best to support herself on her own two legs, using me for balance as we begin the walk back to her...

“Is it an apartment?”

“Kinda-shorta. I'll point it out when we get there, let’s jusht go that way for now.” she responds.

It takes a while, but we manage to build up a rhythm of when and where to put our feet to keep from falling over under the other's weight. There's still the problem of how shameless we look walking together like this, but there's no vehement staring, so there's no point in worrying over it.

The crowd soon slips into the back of my mind as we trod on, accompanied by the shine of an endless row of street lights. The feelings of nostalgia start to take over once more, memories of my twelve year-old self wandering through the streets of my home city. There's never been a case where I had to help a drunk woman walk home, but it's been enlightening, to say the least.

I'm tired and exhausted from all the things this day has folded out to become, but I'm not taxed enough to let a girl I've become friends with stumble home all on her own.

I find it hard to admit that the only attachment I have to her is only friendship, though. I'll always be in moral turmoil thanks to these mixed feelings, but I can't deny that there's some kind of fondness there.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 10/27]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 7:28 pm
by Thanatos02
Act 2 - Part 8-3: Intoxication

“’Ey, Hisao.”

“What is it, Akira?”

“’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Huh? I don’t mind one bit. It was kind of fun getting to know... a different side of you.” I reply.

She gives me an idle chuckle before answering with “maybe one day I’ll get to know a few things about you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you ask a lotta questions, and don’ really open yourself up for the same treatment.” she answers.

Yeah, that's always been a problem of mine. I've always refused to open myself up to any of my classmates and even my own friends. I couldn't even force myself to do an introduction on the first day of school.

“I tend to get carried away with the questions, yeah...”

It's my problem, not a problem of anyone else. If I want to open up to someone, it has to be of my own will; there isn't a single person who is just going to waltz up and ask to know everything about me.

I squeeze the words “Is there anything you want to know?” out of my throat, knowing full well what's going to come first.

She mulls the statement over for a while, eyes staring dead ahead and she no doubt tries to think of what she wants to ask. She's unable to keep her head still, however, as her hair constantly brushes against my shoulder and even my cheek.

It smells nice, something I can't say about her breath.

“Well, I’ll get to the point. I can’t help but get a lil’ curious; sho, what’sh your problem?”

“My problem?”

“Y’know... Why’re you here?”

Called it.

“Well it’s, uh... I don’t really like talking about it.”

“Oh c’mon now, it’sh not like it’s a problem with your tackle or anything, right?”

“What?! No, it’s my heart!” I respond on impulse.

I'm getting a real bad case of déjà vu, for some reason.

She thinks for a bit before asking “got a broken heart, do ya?” followed by a few self-amused chuckles.

“Not quite. It’s something called arrhythmia; basically, my heart doesn’t work the way it should. It beats at weird intervals, freezes up every now and then, that sort of thing.”

“Ah, that sounds rough.” she answers.

“I only got it... Well, no, that’s wrong. I found out about it earlier this year, during a little incident.”

It’s something I’ve always had. Like a ticking time bomb thrown right into my chest from the get-go. Even the doctors weren’t sure why it hasn’t been an issue until now.

“It changed everything, really. I used to play soccer, but I can’t do any running around anymore. I used to have a lot of friends, but I lost contact with them during my stay in the hospital. I loved wandering the city I lived in, but I’ve been so locked up that even that’s gotten away from me; until tonight, anyway.”

“Lost contact with erryone? How long were you in the hospital for?”

Feels weird being on the answering side, for once.

“Four months.”

“Jeeeeeez. Longest I ever been in was a few nightsh, and that was o’er a broken nose.”

“What’s the story behind that?”

“Ah, ah, ah. You first.” she counters.

Argh, that was a nice save on her part.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Do you wan’ to tell it? You seem like you got a lotta stress pent up over this heart thing; wasn’t it you who said it’s nice to ’ave someone to vent to?”

An even deeper, exhausted sigh escapes my lips.

“It’s not a story worth telling, in my honest opinion.” I reply.

“Maybe not,” she concedes, “but I still want to hear it.”

Not worth hearing, and yet she still wants to hear it?

“Alright, where do I even start..."

“It was winter, back in February. I’d gotten a letter calling me out to a clearing in the woods by a girl in my class.”

A dark-haired girl named Iwanako. The sight of the white scenery. The sounds of the winter breeze rattling the branches overhead. I can remember it like it happened yesterday. The sights, sounds, and sensations of that time are going to follow me to my grave.

“I'd found it that morning in my locker. At first I thought it was a joke, so I went out to play along and get a laugh or two out of it. At least, that's how it was until a girl actually showed up.”

That dark hair swaying in the wind, those soft eyes gazing at me, her form shaking with anxiety against the winter air. It’s all clear in my memory, like a photograph taken on a professional camera.

“My heart started beating; you know any guy gets nervous in a situation like that. Well, it turns out situations like that are the worst thing for people like me.”

The thumping of my heart against my sternum; like a caged animal trying to get out of confinement.

“She confessed, the nerves got to me, and I had a heart attack. That’s all there is to say about it.”

Screaming, panic, gasping. My sight overwhelmed by the color red. That’s the last I remember of it before I woke up at the hospital. I think I was out for a few days, maybe even a week.

“So your heart stopped when a girl told you she liked you?”

It almost sounds humorous, now that I hear it like that.

“Yep.” I answer.

“Life’sh a bitch like that.” she comments with a snort. “What happened with the girl?”

“She visited me in the hospital for a while. That’s the thing, though; it was only ‘for a while’. She held out for longer than my ‘friends,’ but eventually she just stopped showing up.” I answer, not even hiding the bitterness in my tone.

Akira’s eyes shut as she enters thought again, no doubt trying to think of the appropriate response.

“Did you like her back?”

I want to say ‘yes’ to that question, but with all the thinking I’ve done over the past few months; that would be selling myself short. I had feelings for her because of that incident; but I can’t honestly say our relationship would have gotten far -- maybe in another universe where I wasn’t a broken person, but not in this one.

“No. I don’t think I did.”

“Then I think it’sh a lil’ unfair to hold it against her.” she comments.

“I know what you mean.”

As much as I wish I didn’t. It’s easier to cope with things when there’s someone to blame; but I can’t blame anyone for this. It’s the way things are, and all I can do is ‘deal with it,’ in the words of my surgeon.

“I guess you got a broken heart both ways, huh?” she comments, an amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“C’mon. Smile. You gotta laugh to keep from cryin’, y’know?”

You have to laugh to keep from crying? I wonder which part of her that’s coming from; the drunken mask that can’t help but laugh because of all the alcohol, the adult part that has to put on a happy face for the younger generation to look up to, or is it the actual Akira speaking from her own experience?

Before the conversation can continue, we wind up in front of a lavish, multi-storied, tan brick building with a large sign reading ‘Nook Condominium.’

“Ah, ‘ere we go.”

“You live here?”

“Yep. Home shweet home,” she answers.

A condo? How much money does she make?!

We cross the empty road and step in through the revolving door, into a lobby populated only by a trio of men in business suits. All three of them are bald and wearing sunglasses, despite it being one in the morning.

I can feel their gazes watching my every step, waiting for a chance to take a taser to me or tackle me to the ground. Akira, however, doesn’t flinch in even the slightest; she even greets them by name.

“Evenin’ Jack, Kaneda, Nicol.”

The three of them return her greeting with a crisp “Good evening, Ms. Satou.” all in unison. Not a single part of their bodies save for the jaw moves to do this, their eyes straight forward as if frozen in place by duty.

“Are you gonna be alright from here?” I ask as we make it to the other end of the lobby, Akira’s free arm reaching over and keying a password into the elevator panel.

“Yeah, I should be good. ‘n what about you?”

“Oh, I’ll just catch the...”

The buses stopped running at least three hours ago.

“Well, no, I think a taxi would be better at this...”

All my money went towards our little wager.

“Nah, I think I can crash in a hotel for the...”

Once again, economic situation in crisis.

“...Know any good bridges I could sleep under?”

Akira lets out a hearty laugh, having to grip her side to stay stable.

“I got a couch you can sleep on. C’mon up.”

“Ah, you don’t have t-“

“A gentleman eshcorted me home. It wouldn’ be fair if I let him sleep in a ditch.”

“No, really, don’t worry about m-“

She turns and places one finger over my lips, staring at me in a steel-faced stupor until she’s convinced that I won’t offer up any more objections.

The elevator soon arrives and Akira makes a feeble attempt to drag me inside, one arm locked with mine to ensure that I don’t try to escape.

Part of me wants to speculate as to why she’d want me in her apartment so much, but something like that would be downright improper. It’s easier to assume that she feels genuinely indebted, and she hates having debts floating around. I don’t think there’s much to repay for a guy being a gentleman, but I suppose anything is too much for her.

“Oh, and Hisao, about earlier...”

“Hm?”

“We've all gone through shitty timesh, it's how the world works. All we can do is work through it and hope we come out as better people.” she comments. “Of course, you've prolly heard that one a million times.” she adds on with a chuckle.

With that said, not another word is spoken until the elevator reaches its destination. A quiet ding rings out through the small cubicle before the silver doors open, welcoming us into the world of Akira's penthouse.

They say a person's home tells a lot about them, so I guess the best words to describe Akira in this instance are 'modern' and 'low-maintenance.' Hardwood floors, a couple of landscape paintings, and lighting provided by a single ceiling fan. The first room right out of the elevator is rather large, containing a widescreen TV with a long sofa, a recliner, and a coffee table in accompaniment.

The view is the most impressive thing, however. The entire opposite wall is composed of a window spanning corner to corner. From here, you can see almost the entire city; the flashing lights, the neon signs, the headlights pacing their way up and down the roads, everything.

“Liking the view?” Akira asks with a confident grin.

“It’s amazing, I’m not gonna lie.” I answer.

“Runs me a good bit o’ money erry month, but it’s worth it.”

“Make yourself at home.” she adds on before removing her arm from mine and stepping off to another part of the penthouse, her hand guiding along the wall for support.

Well, no point in being timid about it now that I’m here.

I take a few steps into what must be the living room and plop down on the sofa.

For some reason, I get the feeling that this place is well cared-for, since I can't spot a single scratch, scrape, or scoff on anything in the room, not even on the polished wood floors. The coffee table looks as though it were brand new, despite a label on one of the legs indicating that it at least four years old.

Granted, there's not much to care for, since there's no other furniture in the room except for a few bookcases loaded with textbooks, binders, and movies. But still, I get the feeling that she carries a lot of pride in keeping this place cleaned up.

It’s a few minutes before Akira returns, but in time she comes back with a blanket and a few pillows, having to struggle to hold her balance as she half-delivers, half-throws them at me.

“Awright, I think you’re set.” she comments.

“Yeah, this is great. Thanks for, uh, letting me crash here for the night.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it. No one else livesh here, so don’ be shy or anything.”

The dark bags under her eyes have become even more prominent, showing off how fatigued she has to be from today. She seems to be feeling it as well, as she gives me a nod and makes her way back to what must be the bedroom.

“’Night, Hishao.” she calls back.

“Good night, Akira.”

...

Well, I can understand the exhaustion at this point, because that was one hell of a day. Hard to believe that I woke up at seven this morning to go to class; and yet here I am sleeping over at a girl's house at an hour past midnight.

This entire month has been a trip, for the most part. New school, new living arrangement, new people, a manly picnic on the school roof, a science symposium, and multiple meetings with the woman in the other room.

Akira.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; that woman is something else.

There’s not just something about her; everything about her is appealing.

Her personality and how she comes off as a person. Just someone trying to get everything sorted out and wants nothing more than a life of stability; that's a dream I can get behind with just as much fervor.

Then there's the sense of humor, and the fact that she doesn't take anything very seriously. It might just have to do with four months in the hospital surrounded by doctors and life-threatening complications, but all I want at this point is for everything to calm down. It's been way too long since I've had a day where I could just laugh and take it easy, and Akira creates the kind of setting where that's possible.

And on top of all that, well... I'd be lying if I said she wasn't beautiful. The images of her figure and the feeling of her arm slung around my shoulder is more than likely going to pop up in my dreams during the nights to come. It's not a beauty like her sister's, though, where there's always this pressure not to do something stupid. It's more of an 'easy on the eyes' beauty; the kind of face you wouldn't mind waking up t-

I'm rambling again.

Anyway, I'm starting to find myself thinking of these things more and more, every day. The same thoughts of the blonde girl in the other room skipping through my head, the same daydreams about talking on that park bench and meeting in the Shanghai...

Hell, if every day could be like today, then I think my life could finally take a turn for the better. No more depressed nonsense, no more endless thinking; I’d always be busy. Maybe that's the appeal of companionship; there's always someone there. That's a quality I've come to appreciate after months of staring up at the ceiling or into the contents of books.

The hurdles I’d have to hop over are still quite intimidating, however -- the age difference, the fact that she already has a boyfriend, her professional life, and plenty of other factors.

But you know, this is the first time I've truly felt this way about someone. Maybe the challenge just makes it that much more appealing.



Previous | Next

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 8:34 pm
by Mirage_GSM
Despite its small size; there’s more a few people here.
more than?
“At least the music is good.” I comment.
I was under the impression he liked the rest as well...
The 3 enters the pocket straight out of the break, and is joined on the tally by the 2, 4, and 5. My jaw drops, my shoulders slump in disbelief, and my wallet slips from my fingers.
Four of the eight balls she has to pocket, and that’s just from the first shot. Who or what the hell is this woman?!
Good question... Weren't you done with unlikely coincidences?
The inside is pretty much one could expect from a place of this stature
what.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 8:43 pm
by Thanatos02
Mirage_GSM wrote:more than?
Indeed. Typo.
I was under the impression he liked the rest as well...
Uh, you're going to have to word that a little better. I'm not sure what could be unfitting about the statement, since that's just what it is; an offhanded remark.
Good question... Weren't you done with unlikely coincidences?
It is entirely possible for a break in 8-ball billiards to result in 4 pocketed balls. I guess it's a little unlikely that she didn't scratch out or knock any striped balls out either, but it's hardly a coincidence.
what.
Yeah, that was pretty terrible wording.

Thanks for the input, man. I'll go back and tweak a few things.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Sat Nov 03, 2012 8:01 am
by Mirage_GSM
Sorry for being so brief in my last post. It was half past one in the morning and your chapter was longer than I expected...

Hisao said "at least the music is good" which implies that in his opinion all the rest of the establishment is terrible.
It is entirely possible for a break in 8-ball billiards to result in 4 pocketed balls.
Sure it's possible. It's just that it's extremely unlikely - and in the context of your chapter it was entirely unneccessary to add another unlikely event.
I understand Hisao running into Akira several times was needed for your story, but this isn't.
I guess it's a little unlikely that she didn't scratch out or knock any striped balls out either, but it's hardly a coincidence.
Uh... if it wasn't a coincidence - what was it? Did Akira do it by design? If so, she could make a fortune winning Pool world championships.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Sat Nov 03, 2012 10:55 am
by YourFavAnon
Enjoyed this chapter quite a bit. I know absolutely nothing about billiards, other than I'm completely shit when I play, so the idea that her going flawless doesn't bother me too much.

Keep up the good work, friend.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Sat Nov 03, 2012 11:39 am
by Thanatos02
Mirage_GSM wrote:Sorry for being so brief in my last post. It was half past one in the morning and your chapter was longer than I expected...
Hisao said "at least the music is good" which implies that in his opinion all the rest of the establishment is terrible.
Ahhhhh, alright I getcha, I'll go back and re-word that.
Uh... if it wasn't a coincidence - what was it? Did Akira do it by design? If so, she could make a fortune winning Pool world championships.
Yes, Akira did it by design, the fact that she's damn good at pool is something that's going to be covered later on in the story when we actually get around to exploring her past.

I'll change a few minor details to make it more 'believable,' but it's no coincidence that she's able to run a perfect game.
YourFavAnon wrote:Enjoyed this chapter quite a bit. I know absolutely nothing about billiards, other than I'm completely shit when I play, so the idea that her going flawless doesn't bother me too much.

Keep up the good work, friend.
Thanks, man. It really puts a grin on my face when one of the writebros I like responds.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Sat Nov 03, 2012 5:48 pm
by Po1ntBlank
Love this chapter. I for one don't really have a huge problem with the pool game. I'm pretty good myself, and I've seen some crazy games played at bars, etc. I've been played by my friends younger cousin who was like 16 years old. She played a perfect game as well, not suprised Akira can do it too

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Sat Nov 03, 2012 6:00 pm
by Bagheera
Yeah, Akira being a pool shark doesn't trigger problems with SoD here either. It kinda fits in a way.

Re: Akira Pseudo-Route [Updated as of 11/2]

Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2012 4:18 pm
by Thanatos02
Alright, just finished up a pretty big round of minor fixes/edits on 2-8.
I tweaked the arcade scene a bit to make it mesh with Hisao's character a little better, as well as re-worded some of Akira's dialogue.
The choice in the bar is now gone in favor of a more long-lasting and less cringeworthy joke, and I changed up some of the billiards scene to foreshadow a bit of Akira's past, as well as make her victory a bit more reasonable.
The scene walking home now has some more thought on Hisao's part, and explains a few things a little better.
The ending is also lengthened a bit, and it has a bit more elaboration as to what Hisao thinks of Akira so far.

Overall, a couple of things Hisao said didn't really line up with the planned character, so I re-worded some things to make it harmonize a little better. No major changes, no giant plot holes or twists, and 10,000 WORDSOHGODWHAT.

Thanks for all the input, y'all, and I'm glad it's been getting generally favorable reactions. Act 3-1 should be up by the end of the week. No major time-skips or anything, but there is going to be a change of direction for the story as well as more fleshing out of the overall theme.