Tomorrow's Doom ~ Up: 04/30/16 ~ recommitted to completion.

[Acik]

Can't believe I haven't already commented on this piece, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. As I have found out on my own, writing slice of life presents its own unique challenges. The first and most daunting, in my own opinion, being able to pack plot development and characterization into everyday mundane events. Not every chapter can be romance and action, but you pull this genre off quite well. Even in a chapter that might only encompass waiting for a bus, or studying for an exam, you keep me interested and invested in the characters.

I really like how you have fleshed out your side characters to the point to where classifying them as 'side characters' is an inaccurate assessment. Yoko continues to become more intriguing, especially within this last chapter. I have always believed that a solid supporting cast makes everything easier. If your side characters are fleshed to the point to where you can almost write full stories just for them, it makes moving the story along all the more fluid and enjoyable. It also shows that you have thoroughly invested yourself into the work, which is just gravy. Of course, at your word count, invested might be an understatement at this point.

I'm glad to see a build up toward the reveal, though. As much as I enjoy every installment of Tomorrow's Doom, you have been working toward this plot point for quite some time, and I am looking forward to seeing the payoff. Anyway, sorry for the short essay, just wanted to show my support. Good luck and Godspeed.

[Kyler Thatch]

Something I've been thinking about lately, Aiko has her lifespan pretty much pinned down, but what about Hisao? If I'm not mistaken, one stroke of bad luck and it's game over. For all we know, Hisao could be the one to go first (though hopefully not... maybe). Sometimes I wonder if Aiko acknowledges that fact, or if she's just too hung up on her own mortality to realize it. Or, given the randomness of his metaphorical doomsday clock, whether it's just easier to assume he'll have that much more time to live.

Also, by the end of this there should be a leather-bound hardback version of this available for purchase.

I'd shell out a goodly amount of money for that.

That's kind of you both to say, though I don't think I can monetize this in any way. Far as it departs from the source material, this is still fan fiction.

Makes me curious, though. Reading seems to be a different experience on a screen compared to a physical copy.

Maybe a PDF version or something that folks can print out at their own expense? Although the whole of Tomorrow's Doom might end up being a hefty doorstopper of a novel. I don't know, how long is it compared to the average book?

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

Maybe a PDF version or something that folks can print out at their own expense? Although the whole of Tomorrow's Doom might end up being a hefty doorstopper of a novel. I don't know, how long is it compared to the average book?

Okay. I printed out Greater than the Sum way back when because of some sentimental bullshit. It came out to be around 270 A5 (or 5.8'' by 8.2'' for you Americans) pages long, double sided. That's 135 sheets of paper. Bound, it is half an inch thick. Greater than the Sum is a mere 50,000 words long. In the same format, I'd expect Tomorrow's Doom (>400,000 words) to be around 2200 pages long and about four inches thick. Compare to my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which is ~257,000 words and 2 and a half inches thick at a similar page size. Also keep in mind that printer paper and the paper used in retail novels is different. If you intend to print out Tomorrow's Doom, either now or upon completion, then good luck to you. You'll need it.

[Helbereth]

I really like how you have fleshed out your side characters to the point to where classifying them as 'side characters' is an inaccurate assessment.

One of my chief goals from the beginning was to write an ensemble rather than just a two-character story. All those peripheral characters work as little wells of gravity that pull my protagonist (Aiko) in different directions, either through their thoughts, words, or actions. If they weren't developed to the point where those thoughts, words and actions mattered to my readers, they might as well not have existed. That's also a big part of how I create intrigue in mundane events; because the other characters matter, I can give them a problem and have Aiko try to figure it out. If you didn't care about Yoko, the whole scene with Saki would just fall flat.

I'm glad to see a build up toward the reveal, though. As much as I enjoy every installment of Tomorrow's Doom, you have been working toward this plot point for quite some time, and I am looking forward to seeing the payoff.

So am I, honestly. One of the things that I did that continues to make writing this hold my interest is that my outline is exceedingly vague. Sometimes an entire chapter has been based on one or two sentences. As I write this reply, I sort of don't even know exactly how the final scenes will play out because all I have planned is the basic who where when why and how, but the specifics are all up in the air. It might sound like bad planning, but it keeps me interested in finishing.

Something I've been thinking about lately, Aiko has her lifespan pretty much pinned down, but what about Hisao? If I'm not mistaken, one stroke of bad luck and it's game over. For all we know, Hisao could be the one to go first (though hopefully not... maybe). Sometimes I wonder if Aiko acknowledges that fact, or if she's just too hung up on her own mortality to realize it. Or, given the randomness of his metaphorical doomsday clock, whether it's just easier to assume he'll have that much more time to live.

Aiko has a somewhat unique perspective on mortality.

Maybe a PDF version or something that folks can print out at their own expense? Although the whole of Tomorrow's Doom might end up being a hefty doorstopper of a novel. I don't know, how long is it compared to the average book?

Okay. I printed out Greater than the Sum way back when because of some sentimental bullshit. It came out to be around 270 A5 (or 5.8'' by 8.2'' for you Americans) pages long, double sided. That's 135 sheets of paper. Bound, it is half an inch thick. Greater than the Sum is a mere 50,000 words long. In the same format, I'd expect Tomorrow's Doom (>400,000 words) to be around 2200 pages long and about four inches thick. Compare to my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which is ~257,000 words and 2 and a half inches thick at a similar page size. Also keep in mind that printer paper and the paper used in retail novels is different. If you intend to print out Tomorrow's Doom, either now or upon completion, then good luck to you. You'll need it.

As it stands now, if you have a copy of the three books in the Lord of the Rings trilogy (480,000 words), stand them next to each other and subtract one quarter to one half of an inch. By the time Tomorrow's Doom is finished, it will closely match LOTR in size (435,000 plus 3-5 more chapters of ~10,000 words), which is an accident on my part, but makes for a convenient unit of measure.

[Kyler Thatch]

Mental image: a 5-volume box set of Tomorrow's Doom books.

[Acik]

So am I, honestly. One of the things that I did that continues to make writing this hold my interest is that my outline is exceedingly vague. Sometimes an entire chapter has been based on one or two sentences. As I write this reply, I sort of don't even know exactly how the final scenes will play out because all I have planned is the basic who where when why and how, but the specifics are all up in the air. It might sound like bad planning, but it keeps me interested in finishing.

Thank God I am not the only one. You give me hope.

I tend to work backwards most of the time, and my outlines either are the most rough possible interpretation of the narrative, or don't even resmeble the finished product. Not a bad idea idea using that reasoning as a motivator, though. Think I might hang onto that.

[Helbereth]

Mental image: a 5-volume box set of Tomorrow's Doom books.

The girl in my avatar has three of them ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Also, this might sort of break the established structure, but it would probably be four volumes rather than five. Act 1 and 2 are essentially one act, and they're only separated because the VN ends Act 1 after the Yamaku Festival.

Not a bad idea idea using that reasoning as a motivator, though.

My original outline that covered events from the festival through the beach trip and on through until Hisao's return home consisted of less than a page. It was probably less than a thousand words.

[Helbereth]

What's that you say? It hasn't even been a whole month since the last update? Imagine that, right? Admittedly, this could have been finished a lot sooner, but I've been editing the original act 1 pretty heavily - it never really got any polish. As of last night, I've completed edit passes of all five chapters from act 1 as listed here, which resulted in the addition of two new chapters - split out from events in the existing chapters. Those edited versions will probably only get posted on FanFiction.net, so if you want to check them out once posted, look there (I'll update the OP here with updates relevant to fanfiction.net as they happen).

Anyway... Once again into the breach!

Previous Chapter|Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Next Chapter
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Chapter 44 – Sojourn

Waking this early, well before dawn, is less of a nightmare than I expected, but perhaps the fact that it's still dark out makes it easier; sunlight is the bane of my mornings. Dragging Yoko out of bed is more difficult than either of us predicted, but once I've reminded her about the consequences of missing Shizune's summons, she bolts out of bed and almost beats me down to the Town Car—we'll be traveling in style. Evidently Shizune had planned for her cousin to come and drive us to meet her at the train station, but she couldn't make the trip.

Instead, we're greeted at the gate by Miss Shinsho, a surly, thin woman of about thirty-five years with black, shoulder-length hair and thick round glasses. Despite her mood, she helps load all our bags—two suitcases, two camping packs, plus Yoko's purse and my satchel—into the trunk, and Yamaku is soon disappearing behind us as the sun starts its climb over the horizon. The bright-orange morning sky soon dithers into a nice clear blue as Yoko's gentle snoring and Miss Shinsho's colorful argument with the radio fills the cab, and the kilometers pass by my window.

Thus far, considering we're on the road somewhat ahead of schedule, I'm inclined to believe this sojourn is starting off well, but I'm not completely free of concerns. Other things might be more important, like the fact that I'm still not exactly sure where we're going, but the first thing on my list is that, considering we'll be spending the next few days out in the woods and we may have to hike our way through a couple miles of rough hunting trails, I think we've brought too much luggage. According to Shizune, there will be plenty of space for everything, but she hasn't mentioned how we'll actually carry it all to the cabin.

The prospect of lugging a bedroll with all the amenities across my back along with a heavy suitcase dragging behind me and a satchel over my shoulder across several kilometers of uneven terrain sounds daunting to say the least. Still, I didn't even want to try convincing Yoko to leave anything behind, so I'll just have to hope Shizune has a team of slaves to cart our belongings up to this secret wilderness location she refuses to describe. Admittedly, the prospect of having a team of muscular, oiled-up, bare-chested men at our beck and call does sound nice.

I really miss Hisao...

[It's great. You'll love it. Stop complaining,] is all the response I get to my texted query, which isn't very reassuring.

It occurs to me that trying to squeeze information out of Shizune via text conversation is probably a fool's errand, but I'm bored with watching trees zip past my window. If she were awake, I'd ask Yoko; I think she's been contacting Misha secretly, so she seems to know more about this trip than I've been told. However, she drifted off to sleep almost before Yamaku disappeared from view, so the only person I could talk to is the driver. Unfortunately, she's busy yelling at the radio because her favorite team is losing in the eighth inning—or they were last night, anyway—so she probably won't appreciate any distractions.

She also doesn't like that I'm rooting for the other team...

[I'm not complaining, I'm just... trying to plan my day,] I write, probably in vain, then sigh heavily as I press send.

On my last long trip, I got to sit with Hisao and spend a lot of the time talking, so, even though I didn't know where we were going—to the point of being blindfolded—at least I wasn't bored to tears. Our current destination is only a two hour drive from the school, which is a lot less than the six we spent on that bus, but it feels like a longer trip because of the boredom. Fortunately, we should be arriving at the train station shortly, but for now I intend to try working as much information out of Shizune as I can.

I'm sure she expects that, but she'd be insulted if I didn't try.

A quick beep tells me I've received a new text message, so I open it up and read, [Leave your day planning to me; I arranged this vacation, so I'm responsible for the details—besides, you'll need your rest for the game I have planned!]

Game? I should probably be terrified by that prospect...

All her responses will likely be equally unhelpful, so changing the subject wouldn't do any good. The alternative would be to call up Misha and see if I can weasel the information out of her, but I don't want a headache on top of feeling anxious—I'll get there on my own, probably. There's no guarantee she'd be any more forthcoming, either. If anyone I know is good at dealing with minutia and keeping secrets, it's Shizune Hakamichi, and Misha may come off as a dolt sometimes, but that's an act; they're both reasonably devious in their own right, which may be the reason we've always gotten along, even though we weren't actually friends until recently.

I sorta regret taking so long to reach that conclusion...

[Okay, fine, whatever,] I respond, then glance toward Yoko's sleeping form as I type out, [What's this game, anyway?]

"Go to bed, Aiko," she said... So much for Yoko following her own advice...

“You're the one who told me to sleep, remember?” I grumble, poking her shoulder gently. She stirs a little, then turns and leans her head against my shoulder, mumbling incoherently as she dreams. Shaking my head, I whisper, “Dream of taking over Paris, little fashionista...”

Another beep turns my attention down to read Shizune's response, [It's my job as vacation coordinator! As for the game, you'll just have to wait and see, but there will be stakes involved... 8}]

I think that's supposed to be her bobcat grin, complete with glasses...

[Of course, I'd expect nothing less,] I quickly reply, still smirking at her evil little smiley-face.

Her response follows almost immediately, [I'll tell you this much: it's a team sport, and I intend to win!]

Unflinching, I quickly type back, [Bring it—you're going down, Prez! >_O]

I hope she doesn't mind the slang... or the big winky-face...

[All your base are belong to us! You have no chance to survive make your time!] she replies, which leaves me giggling. While I'm wondering where she might have picked up that reference, another message appears. [You must be near the station by now,] it reads, followed by a brief pause, then another message, [My brother will assist with your bags while Misha and I see to the other arrangements.]

I know she mentioned her brother before, but...

[What does he look like, anyway?] I ask, figuring she'll offer at least some kind of hint.

Instead she evasively replies, [Don't worry, he knows to look for two girls exiting a Town Car fitting your descriptions—he's quite astute.]

So... the first creep who walks up and offers help with our bags is probably her brother?

Obviously this is a test, but I'm not sure what she's testing. All I know to look for is a masculine version of Shizune who seems unusually interested in two naïve young women standing in front of a train station, which isn't a comforting thought. If her brother is anything like his sister, I assume he'll be critical, blunt and exceedingly rational, but that doesn't help identify him in a crowd. Assuming they both come from the same gene pool, he'll probably have dark hair, blue eyes, and probably be rather attractive. Strangely, I think that may be the test; maybe she's using her brother's relative anonymity to test my fidelity—perish the thought.

I reserve my lust for the hopeless romantic who fills my inbox with love notes...

[I know you've got an angle. Not telling us what he looks like is intentional,] I accuse, leaving my specific suspicions aside.

It takes a bit longer than usual for her to reply, but it's about what I expected. [Just providing a bit of mystery to the adventure—I know you like mysteries.]

Trying to press her for anything more specific is probably pointless, so I give up my fruitless interrogation. At least this text conversation has distracted me for long enough that we've passed into the concrete jungle. We're still on a suspended highway, so I can't quite see what it looks like at street-level, but there's an ocean of brick and concrete rooftops jutting out from below. A sign depicting a train station buzzes by the window, indicating that we'll reach it soon, at which point I'll get to find out why Shizune is being so secretive.

I usually do like mysteries, but this one is just... unnerving...

~^~

As though she had planned it beforehand, Yoko conveniently stirs from her nap just as we're pulling up to the train station. Normally I'd greet her with a sarcastic comment, but the only reason I even know she's awake is because her head has moved away from my shoulder. Meanwhile, due to Shizune's cryptic messages, I'm far too busy trying to catch a glimpse of her supposed sibling to pay my traveling companion any mind. Unfortunately, there are too many people cluttered around the sidewalk to distinguish any faces.

When she notices me conspicuously staring out the window, I feel Yoko's confused eyes focusing on me, but I continue ignoring her silent questions. Annoyed by my lack of response, she pokes my shoulder roughly and groggily prompts, “Hey!” flinching away from my brief glare before asking, “Where are we?”

“Huh? Sorry,” I mutter, turning back out toward the passing crowd, “You got any idea what Shizune's brother looks like?”

Shrugging sincerely, she replies, “No...” then raises an eyebrow and asks, “Why?”

“He's supposed to meet us at the curb, and we're pulling into the train station,” I explain, which answers her question, but I'm still no closer to learning my answers. Shrugging carelessly, I try to calm my anxiety with a deep breath as I glance toward the driver and ask, “How're the Tigers doing, Miss Shinsho?”

“Choking! Just like always...!” she barks, grumbling a few expletives under her breath before adding, “Anyway! Is Sleeping Beauty awake back there?”

“Yeah, she's up,” I reply as Yoko rolls her eyes.

“Good! I wasn't looking forward to rolling her out onto the sidewalk!” she jokes, laughing heartily as she pulls the car up around the rotary and stops. Looking at us in her rear view mirror, she announces, “End of the line, ladies—Hakamichi already paid your due... but I'll accept tips...!”

“Don't mess with fairy-tale princesses,” Yoko quips as she opens her door.

I guess that was her tip.

Chuckling as I follow her out, I lean toward Miss Shinsho and remark, “Don't mind her, she's grumpy when she wakes up. I told Shizune... err, Miss Hakamichi... to toss in an extra twenty percent for your trouble, from me.”

“Ah, such a sweet girl,” she compliments, then sighs, “even if you are a Marines fan!”

“It's an inherited condition—Dad was a little obsessed,” I explain defensively, sliding out to stand on the curb. When I look back at the trunk, I see it's already open and Yoko is reaching inside. “We'll be all set with the bags,” I mention, turning down to look in through the driver's side window, “but, you weren't planning to help, anyway.”

Laughing, she confirms, “I was instructed not to... but,” she points toward her rear view mirror, “you might wanna go help Red...”

When I turn back, I see Yoko struggling to yank a bag out of the trunk. At seeing my smirk, she stops her struggle and scolds, “You just gonna stand there?”

“I was considering it,” I reply with a sardonic smirk.

Rolling her eyes humorlessly, she goes back to fighting with the bags. As I move to assist, I spy the figure of a young man clad in a gray suit and red tie standing a few paces behind Yoko, his eyes seeming to have locked onto her rear—I guess he likes what he sees. If that's Shizune's brother, he needs a lesson in etiquette, or a pair of sunglasses. There's a sharpness to his features, and a slight blue tint to his jet-black hair that matches up my expectations, except that he looks closer to twenty-five; at most I'm expecting someone closer to our age.

My brief pause causes Yoko to straighten up and sneer at me, which makes me wonder whether I should bother telling her about the man leering at her. It might be fun seeing how she reacts, but she's probably too concerned with the luggage to care. Instead, I move to give her the requested help, keeping an eye on the mystery man all the while. Even as I'm watching his every move, he continues following Yoko's movements, seeming completely oblivious of my deepening scowl; I can practically see the flowery sundress she's wearing reflecting in his pupils.

If he's Shizune's brother, he isn't nearly as self-aware.

Giving her bag a final tug before leaving it trapped, she turns and curtly inquires, “So, are you done chatting with the driver?”

“Hey, she has a name, y'know,” I retort, frowning at her ambivalence, “It's Miss Shinsho, and she's really nice once you get past the yelling.”

“Yeah, well...”

“Yeah, well, nothing,” I fume, probably sounding like my mother, “You should be nicer to people!”

I'll kindly not read into how deep the similarities are going...

“I'm just tired, and it's like nine million degrees out!” she says petulantly. “And we packed this too tight,” she laments, standing back and placing a hand on her hips as she starts fanning herself with the other, “And I'm too hot to work like this...”

She means it literally, of course—it's well over ninety degrees out, and oppressively muggy—but I wonder what her suited admirer is thinking after hearing her say that. Turning to check his reaction, I'm surprised to find he's walking away, and rather quickly. Unless he's running off to find a baggage cart, I'm guessing that wasn't Shizune's brother, which isn't all good news; I'm relieved that letch isn't him, but that means I'm back at square one. Meanwhile, my distracted eyes earn a swat on the shoulder, but I doubt Yoko will believe my explanation, so I decide to lie.

“Sorry, thought I saw someone familiar,” I claim as I start rummaging through the bags.

Rolling her eyes, she retorts, “I'm pretty sure Shizune's brother would have done a better job of hiding his staring at my ass...”

We share a brief giggle while I'm separating the bags, punctuated by both of us turning a quick glance at the poor young man who's disappearing into the crowd. As I draw her bag out of the tangle, I tilt my head a bit and ask, “You're not bothered by that?”

“Guys staring at me?” she prompts.

“Yeah...”

“In general, no... it's like a silent compliment,” she explains, which I guess makes sense, “Long as it doesn't get creepy.”

“And that happens when...?”

“Usually a few times a day,” she quips, swinging her bag down to rest on the sidewalk. While I chuckle knowingly and move to extract one of our camping packs, she steps over to the side of the car and aims an apologetic smile at the side-mirror. “Sorry, Miss Shinsho,” she says, which makes me smile, “I didn't mean to be a bother—late night, early morning... you understand, I hope?”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” comes the bellowing response, immediately followed by an exasperated sigh, “I swear they're trying to lose this game!” Apparently Miss Shinsho went back to her baseball game. “What was that, Red?” she asks a moment later, then quickly answers herself, “Oh, no bother...! Dammit, what kind of idiot misses a play like that! Third base, morons!”

Leaning back toward me, Yoko whispers, “She does know that game is a recording, right?”

“And the final score was posted last night? Of course,” I reply, then smirk and explain, “Baseball isn't just about the final score—it's the pageantry, the fresh air, the-”

“Flies?” asks a somewhat nasal voice. As Yoko and I turn to examine the source, I don't quite know what I'm seeing, and Yoko is rendered speechless; I'm not sure whether what I'm looking at is male or female. “Near as I can tell,” the person who defies explanation continues, “baseball mostly involves swarms of annoying bugs and questionable meat wrapped in processed bread and covered with a rainbow of messy toppings.”

Okay, Brain... I need your help here.

Clad in an unseasonably heavy yellow sweater-vest over a plain white button-down t-shirt with red shorts underneath, the person standing on the sidewalk gawking at us could very well be Shizune's brother, or a sister she hasn't mentioned. Its voice has a masculine timbre, and those dark blue eyes look strikingly familiar, like a certain Class President who owes me an explanation. However, the narrow frame, slender limbs, girlish bow, and especially the dark blue stockings with golden moons and stars, are all clearly feminine. This person seems to defy logic, like a living contradiction, and I suddenly wish that letch in the gray suit had actually been Shizune's brother; at least I could tell he was male.

I don't even know how to address... it...? properly...
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Previous Chapter|Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Next Chapter

[Helbereth]

Previous Chapter|Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Next Chapter
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“And, you are?” Yoko asks, cleverly managing not to specify gender.

“Hideaki Hakamichi, at your service, Miss. You may call me Hideaki. And you must be Yoko Guidot,” he replies, confirming his identity; this really is Shizune's little brother, I guess—her strikingly androgynous little brother. Turning to face me, he continues, “You must then be Aiko Kurai. Greetings, to both of you. I've been instructed to assist with the transportation of your luggage by my sister, Shizune,” he nods toward the trunk, “Have you a preference about which bag I should carry?”

I admit the robotic tone isn't unexpected, but I kinda miss Misha's bubbly voice by comparison.

Wearing a perplexed wince, Yoko turns to me like she wants to ask a question, but I wave a hand at her and instead reply to Hideaki, “Um, well... we haven't gotten much out yet, so-”

“That stripe is quite fetching,” he interjects, which I think is a compliment, “Do you bleach it that color, or were you involved in an industrial accident of some kind?”

Caught off guard by the unusual question, all I can muster is a one-word reply, “Bleach.”

“Disappointing,” he says simply, then steps around to the trunk, “Not unexpected, though. I'll bring the bags you've already retrieved, if that's alright.”

Without another word he takes the bag I just removed from the tangle and the one at Yoko's feet, then steps away a few paces, turns back, and stops. Now that he isn't making strange compliments and I have a moment to breathe, I take a second to look him over more carefully. At most he's fourteen—Midori's age—and I can't account for his fashion sense, but I guess if I could dress like a boy when I was his age—it's something I still practice, really—I shouldn't hold his dressing like a girl against him. The bewildered look on Yoko's face is a little surprising, but she might just be questioning his taste in stockings.

I think they're kinda cute... if a little bit—okay, a lot—weird on a boy...

“C'mon, Red—we have a train to catch,” I say, tapping her shoulder as I reach for my new suitcase; I purchased a nice green substitute since Amaya stole my yellow monstrosity.

Still angling a curious look at Shizune's cross-dressing brother, she reaches in to grab my camping pack, then gives her head a little shake and turns to ask, “Got everything?”

Pulling my satchel out and slinging it over my shoulder, I nod and affirm, “Yep, let's go,” then whisper, “before Deaf-Charge gets antsy...”

Nodding, she closes the trunk while I go to thank Miss Shinsho and inform her that it's safe to leave; I'm not actually sure whether she heard me over the blaring radio, though. Shrugging, I turn a cordial smile at Shizune's brother—Hideaki is his name, which I should try to remember—and nod. Wasting no time, he nods and turns, then starts leading us into the station. When we reach the gates leading down to the platform, he stops and sets the bags down, then goes to retrieve a baggage cart.

It occurs to me that he could have brought a cart along when meeting us at the curb, but I'm not about to critique someone who's being helpful. Besides, I get the sense he's just following Shizune's orders, which may well have included skipping the procurement of a cart until now; I can't imagine why, but she also didn't explain that her little brother is a cross-dresser. The reason behind that remains unclear, though if I assume she instructed him to introduce himself blindly, she probably intends to find out how we reacted.

I hope she isn't disappointed.

As he's returning with the cart, I notice Hideaki talking over his shoulder, but I'm not sure who he's talking to—an imaginary friend, maybe. That seems unlikely, but there's nobody else around as far as I can see. Without a word of explanation, he loads the two bags he was carrying onto the cart, then adds the ones we're holding. Whatever else I might think about his appearance, he certainly has manners, bowing deeply toward each of us in turn, then taking two deferential steps back.

“Miss Guidot, Miss Kurai, If you have trouble finding my sister, just listen for her bombastic companion's irritating laughter,” he says, holding a hand out toward the platform. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you,” he adds, turning toward the cart return, “you seem of nicer stock than most of my sister's friends.”

“Uh, thanks, Hideaki!” Yoko blurts, chuckling nervously.

Nodding as he turns a curiously raised eyebrow back toward us, I echo, “Yeah, thanks,” then wave and add, “Nice meeting you, too!”

I'm not sure if that's completely true, but he just called us nice...

Instead of replying, he offers a slight bow, then starts walking away. It's a little confusing watching him go that way since it just leads toward a waiting area—nothing but columns and benches—but then I notice a tall, broad, blue-haired, bearded man with a long ponytail emerging from behind one of the columns. The stern expression that I can see only briefly in profile tells me he's an impatient man, which is a point well-emphasized by the sheathed katana he's carrying. How he got that past security is beyond my scope of understanding, and it might just be an empty sheath, but, either way, it's quite intimidating.

I don't really think it's empty, though...

The katana-wielding man—whom I'm guessing is the Hakamichi patriarch—hefts the sword up to rest on his broad shoulder and starts walking in step with the strangely-dressed boy. The gaudy Hawaiian shirt he's wearing makes me question his fashion sense, but, compared to the boy's attire, it doesn't seem terribly odd; perhaps unusual fashion is Hakamichi trait, although I'd guess Shizune got her sense of fashion from her mother. However, even from a hundred feet away I can hear him yelling, and the words get drowned out by the high ceilings, but I can tell he's no less hard-edged than his daughter.

I'm unsure whether not meeting him was a missed opportunity or a blessing.

Undoubtedly Shizune gets some of her traits from her father, as I did from mine, and it would be nice to perhaps learn a bit more about her through her family, but that opportunity is quickly disappearing into the crowd. Meanwhile, Yoko is bumping my shoulder impatiently, and I turn to see her manning the cart and waving for me to walk ahead. Unfortunately, she's right and we don't have the time to waste, so, turning one last look toward the mismatched father and son, I shrug and head through the gate. Maybe we'll get the chance to meet her father on the return trip, assuming we don't get eaten by bears, murdered by hill people, or sacrificed to an angry god.

I really need to stop playing Silent Hill games...

~^~

Similar to the station where I last saw Hisao, this one consists of several platforms, suspended crosswalks and sign posts, along with a few hundred people milling about, coming and going. Thankfully it isn't raining, but it's almost unbearably hot out today, and the concrete is just making that situation worse. Fortunately, before we've gotten twenty paces past the gate, I hear a familiar bubbly voice rising up over the cacophony of the bustling crowd. Despite how loud she is, it's comforting to hear someone familiar, although I don't think she can actually see us yet.

That only lasts for a few more strides, as her tone pitches upward and her ramblings solidify into a single word, “Aicchan~!”

Ack! She found me! I'm doomed...!

“Yocchan~!” Misha adds, and I hear Yoko sigh resignedly.

Wait, how did she not see her red hair first...?

“Over here~!” she calls, and I see an animated hand waving over the crowd, though I still can't see her face. “Hey~!” she shouts, and I finally see her pink hair bobbing up over people's heads—I think she's jumping in place. That... isn't surprising. “You made it~!” she adds, still jumping as she gleefully cheers, “C'mon, c'mon~! Shicchan is waiting inside already~!”

Despite her cheering, we can't actually move much faster because of the crowd, but we've reached her soon enough. The dark purple t-shirt she's wearing seems a little strange as she usually wears much brighter colors—like pink or powder blue—but I imagine she's wearing it for the slogan, which I can't read because she won't stop bouncing—I wonder if that leering man is watching. Aside from that, she's wearing khaki-colored denim jeans, which also seems quite strange for her, but we are headed into the woods, so I guess it's a practical selection.

“Hi, Misha,” I greet, squinting at her shirt. Now that I'm a few paces away, I realize why I'm having trouble reading the slogan: it's in English. Pointing, I inquire, “Is that a band, or something?”

Straightening the shirt, she corrects, “No, silly~! I thought you were a gamer~?”

Now that she stopped moving, I can read part of it at least. “Epic purple shirt?” I recite as I translate, turning toward Yoko briefly before turning back to squint at the writing underneath.

I should probably be getting this, but I'm just not.

Sighing, Misha turns around and straightens the back of the shirt, which displays something much more familiar: the Horde symbol from World of Warcraft. “Oh, I get it now,” I say, and even Yoko lets out a sigh of recognition, “Did Amaya call you, or something?”

“No, why?” she deadpans. On most days, I could accept that as her being dense, but I don't think she understands the connection.

I doubt Amaya could convince her this quickly, especially not over the phone...

Shrugging, I reply, “No reason... anyway, where do we bring the bags?”

While Misha turns to lead us toward the train, Yoko and I share a knowing glance. After my little conversation with Amaya two nights ago, I ended up reactivating my account during a lull in our preparations yesterday, and Yoko may or may not have stayed up later than she should have playing her new priest; it took almost no convincing to get her started. Misha wearing that shirt could just be a coincidence, but I don't think either of us believes that Amaya hasn't been planting ideas in our pink-haired friend's head. For now, I plan to maintain my facade of ignorance on the matter, if only because I doubt Shizune would approve of Amaya's meddling.

I think Tadao's Angels might be recruiting a new member soon, though.

Apparently Misha doesn't mind carting things around for people because she quickly snags the two camping packs and doesn't listen to either of us saying we can handle it ourselves. Neither of us is complaining exactly, though I'm glad she only took the camping supplies; Misha isn't the most coordinated person I know, and I put my nice stuff in the suitcase. After a few short minutes we've found our way through two passenger cars, a dining car, and we're just about to enter one of the cabin cars when someone blocks the door in front of our fearless, pink-haired leader.

Usually I'd expect some kind of verbal exchange to happen in this kind of encounter, but whoever stopped us apparently isn't talking. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it's Shizune, and I don't know what she's signing because I can't see around Misha or the bags on her shoulders, but the grumbling tells me enough. After a brief, mostly silent exchange, one of the bags gets pulled away rather suddenly, which allows me to see Shizune finally. There's a thin smile accompanying her narrowed eyes, which either means she's happy to see us, or just amused to have two new playthings; it's hard to tell with her sometimes.

I wish I had that amount of control over my expressions.

“Shicchan, you don't-” Misha starts, then stops for a moment before groaning, “Oh, fine...”

When she sees my confused expression, Shizune offers a quick wave, then swings the camping bag down to the floor so she can sign, [I told her to lead you here, not carry your bags.]

I can't tell whether she's scolding me, or just relaying information.

Setting my bag down, I tentatively explain, [She didn't give us the option.]

[That's not unexpected,] she signs, settling her stare on Misha, [No matter... our cabin is just this way...]

Lifting the bag onto her shoulder, she turns and walks away down the aisle, and Misha starts following almost immediately. Before I can grab my bag and continue along after them, Yoko bumps my shoulder and asks, “I didn't catch most of that—is she mad again or something?”

Turning a bewildered wince at her, I reply, “I... have no idea...”

“Sounds about right,” she mumbles as we start to follow.

While I don't exactly share Yoko's apprehension, I understand its source. She still carries a bit of mistrust for Shizune following the topless race she coordinated, and for that I can't blame her, even though the alternative was probably worse. Either way, they're still a bit standoffish even after a few weeks, but there are hints that neither of them wants the animosity to continue. If I'm completely honest with myself, I didn't argue when Yoko volunteered to come along because I hoped she and Shizune would get a chance to bury the hatchet—hopefully not literally.

When we reach the aforementioned cabin, Shizune unlocks the door and leads us inside. It's nothing spectacular, just a basic train cabin: wood paneled walls and a green carpeted floor with wide benches on either side of a narrow corridor. Our four bags join four others, all barely fitting into the space even as Misha's giant suitcase is conspicuously missing, and we've soon settled into the seats. While I lean against the window across from Misha, Yoko sits beside me, opposite Shizune, and there's a long awkward silence that lasts until the train starts moving.

I'm hoping this trip sees the end to those awkward silences...

Since all four of us can communicate using sign language—though Yoko is still a novice—I hoped we would pass the trip in relative quiet, but that's basically impossible with Misha around. That's just as well, though; I'm getting used to her voluminous voice. Even though she and I have never been close, and we haven't seen each other for a few weeks, she starts talking like we've been best friends for years, and the same goes for Yoko. As the train zips across the countryside, she sweeps us up in laughter and chatter, which I'm surprised to say doesn't feel like torture.

Now, Misha being gregarious and talkative is something I expect, but Shizune is less of her typically stern self than I've ever seen. The difference isn't even subtle. First there's the outfit, which consists of a black camisole with blue fringe, denim jeans that are cut off just above the knees—complete with dangling fabric tassels—and strapped black, open-toed sandals. That paired with the white visor on her forehead and dark aviator sunglasses on her nose—prescription lenses, I think—makes her look refreshingly casual, like a proper vacationing traveler. Granted, we're going into the woods for a couple days, so I'm not expecting her to wear anything formal, but I didn't expect her to look so... country.

I half expect her to start chewing on a wheat stalk dressed like that...

Even the way she's sitting, legs crossed at the ankles with one arm resting in the window while the other does most of her signing, is uncharacteristically relaxed. Admittedly, I'm a little unnerved by her casual cadence, but it isn't an unwelcome sight. On the beach trip it seemed like Shizune never felt comfortable, which I thought might be because she didn't enjoy relaxing, but Misha isn't the least bit surprised by her friend's behavior, so I guess this is normal. Considering one of my only complaints about Shizune over the years has been that she always seemed so uptight, discovering that facade may have been a carefully crafted lie is actually a relief.

The conversation is surprisingly light as well; nobody even mentions anything about school for the entire first three hours, which I'm sure is some kind of record for Shizune. Instead we start talking about life outside of school, family and future aspirations. Since she hasn't had the chance with these two, Yoko takes the opportunity to talk about her unusual national background, her parents, and her dream of working in the fashion industry. It turns out Shizune follows fashion trends rather closely, though her reasons are borne of business sense; she wants to ensure she looks her best once she enters the corporate landscape.

I should probably take that as good advice, actually...

As the two of them start talking, mostly in sign with just a little bit of help from Misha, I quietly drift out of the conversation. Luckily I can cover it with my being rather inept when it comes to fashion, but really I'm just letting them explore their common ground. Eventually Misha figures out what I'm doing, and she moves across the aisle—letting the other girls gab in relative seclusion—and comes to sit with me in the interim. Usually I'm apprehensive about trying to whisper a conversation with Misha, but she's surprisingly quiet, and seems no less determined to let our mutual friends explore a common interest.

“Think they'll start getting along~?” she asks, still lilting despite the lack of volume.

Nodding, I shrug and quietly reply, “That's what I'm hoping...”

“Shicchan, too,” she whispers, giggling as she continues, “she felt bad about the race.”

Shrugging noncommittally, I counter, “It was a good solution... and they brought it on themselves...”

“Maybe,” Misha sighs morosely, returning the shrug, “But, Shicchan didn't want them to end up hating each other over a silly bet.”

I never really thought of it that way.
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That's a pretty extreme conclusion to make, though I guess it could have happened if things took a dire turn. At the time, Yoko and Amaya were barely more than acquaintances, so I can't say for certain whether they would have agreed on anything if Shizune hadn't stepped in to mediate. There also could have been a better solution than a topless race up and down the beach, but I don't think either of them really ended up hating that part; Amaya seemed to enjoy it in the moment, and after seeing her parade around in lingerie, I think Yoko harbors an exhibitionist streak. Either way, though, ensuring the security of Amaya and Yoko's friendship is not, nor was it ever, Shizune's responsibility.

I can't quite say that without sounding hypocritical, though...

“That probably wouldn't have happened,” I say, trying to sound certain despite my doubts, “So, she didn't have to-”

“But she wanted to~!” Misha interrupts cheerily, temporarily losing the whisper. Fortunately, Shizune couldn't have heard her, and Yoko wouldn't know what she's talking about without context. Regaining control of her voice, Misha continues, “Shicchan knows that perception is more important than reality... and she knows how people see her. Deaf-Charge isn't a very nice name, as you know... but it fits...”

She knows? How can that... Why hasn't Shizune...?

Paling a little, I open my mouth to attempt a reply, but Misha just giggles and nudges my shoulder with her palm. “Who do you think made it up~?” she asks teasingly, laughing harder when my eyes go wide, “Wahaha~!” then calming herself quickly to add, “Just don't tell anyone, okay~? Okay~?”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I mutter, “Okay...”

Evidently Shizune is more devious than I thought.

“I kinda like my name, too~!” she says, almost losing the whisper as she breaks out laughing again.

“You mean-”

“Drill-Sergeant~!” she chirps, nudging my shoulder again, then reaching her hand up into a mock salute, “I keep the soldiers in line~!”

I guess that's... one way to look at it.

It's hard to believe, but seeing her grin so broadly makes me laugh. Evidently the names my classmates whisper when they don't think either of them are listening were actually invented by Shizune herself. It sounds insane, but I'd never insult Shizune by calling her sane—it's kind of genius, actually. Misha can't quite explain how they found their way into use without anyone realizing the source, but I know a bit about how rumors can get distorted as they pass through whispers, and I guess a nickname could move the same way. That happened with our pet name for Hisao—The Swooner—so I guess the same could easily have happened with Deaf-Charge and Drill-Sergeant.

Thinking it's the most obvious question, I ask, “You're not bothered by it?”

“Of course not, silly~!” she balks, practically bursting my remaining eardrum with a deafening, “Wahaha~!” that draws attention from both the other girls.

“Why's she so giddy?” Yoko asks laughingly.

[Did she go looking in my bag?] asks Shizune, glaring at me accusingly.

What's in Shizune's bag...?

Shaking my head as I join in Misha's laughter, I manage to reply, “N-no...! It's nothing, really! Just... never mind!”

I'll let Yoko in on the joke later...

Despite our denials, Shizune and Yoko end up joining in the laughter, though with much less gusto. Once the mirth subsides, our pocket conversations end, which is a little disappointing—I was enjoying the aside with Misha. However, seeing Red getting along with Shizune—whom I might start calling Blue, for obvious reasons—makes the transition worthwhile. It's too early to say they're becoming friends, but Yoko isn't sneering anymore, and Shizune is having an easier time laughing—if that's what she calls her silent, hand-over-mouth snickering. Whatever the case may be, this train ride has become a lot less tense, and a lot more amicable.

According to her itinerary, Shizune is confident we'll reach the woods by two o'clock, which is just over four hours from now. That doesn't tell me when we'll arrive at the train station, how we'll get to the woods, or how we'll navigate the forest paths with all this luggage, but, assuming she isn't just luring us out there to ritualistically murder us, flay our skin, and offer our remains to a woodland altar—thereby ensuring her immortality—I assume the plan is to reach the cabin before nightfall. In the meantime, I should try to draw out some hints about this game she has planned; maybe she'll reward my persistence with some hints about its objective, or at least the stakes.

I hope it doesn't involve ritualistic murder...

~^~

Mom often warns me that I should calm down and try to think less, but I'm pretty sure she hasn't been in the back seat of a Range Rover, which is conveniently lacking doors, hurtling over little hillocks and bounding between trees at obscene speeds while gripping a potentially unsecured handle bar, holding on for dear life. When Shizune introduced us to this planned form of transport, I was happy to conclude that we wouldn't have to carry our bags through the woods, but that might have been my natural laziness talking. Contrary to the promise of an easy ride I thought it indicated, this vehicle is merely a windowless, doorless death trap, and I'm almost positive it will be the end of me.

I think a catapult would be safer!

It's a good thing I wore my old ragged pair of jeans instead of the new overalls Yoko insisted I buy for the occasion, as they would have been ruined; I can't say the same for her pretty, flowery sundress, which now looks more like a muddy sheet. After the last few splashdowns, I haven't bothered fighting the grime; my corpse shall be a warning to any fools who would abandon sanity in favor of an easy ride. Every crevice from my shoulders to my feet is caked with mud, I think my stomach has switched places with my lungs, I'm pretty sure I just ate some kind of indigenous beetle, and I can't stop screaming—those last two may be related.

I understand Shizune's casual outfit now, though...

Our luggage is probably having a smoother ride up on the roof since most of the mud we've splashed through hasn't gotten above face level; any mud above that line—like the clumps I can see dangling from my bangs—has resulted from my trying to wipe it away rather unsuccessfully. There's one thing I plan to take away from this experience if I survive, and that is my intent to obtain a driver's license, if only to prevent my friends from getting me killed even sooner than I'm predicting. Meanwhile, our driver apparently seems to think my continuous screaming indicates that I'm having the time of my life because it only causes her insane laughter to redouble.

“Wahaha~!” Misha bellows as the bumper scrapes some bark off a passing tree, which then nearly smashes into my knee. “Isn't this great~!” she exclaims, her piercing voice harmonizing with the revving engine noise, “Smell that fresh air, Aicchan~!”

Can't breathe. Too busy screaming.

“That's diesel, and it smells glorious!” Yoko remarks, apparently enjoying herself despite all this insanity.

“This is fun~!” Misha chirps, continuing to laugh maniacally, “Don'cha think~?”

If I had the ability to speak right now, I'd disagree vehemently, but I don't, so Yoko replies instead, “Reminds me of summers in Nova Scotia~! You drive like my grammy—and that's a compliment!”

“Wahaha~! Thanks~!” Misha responds enthusiastically, “My brother taught me~!”

I'm glad this is conjuring pleasant memories for some of us...

There remains a dark corner of my mind that wants to push Yoko out of the cab for being so cheerful, or slam Misha's face into the steering wheel for driving like a maniac, but they really aren't the ones who deserve the blame. No, this is Shizune's fault, and I'm sure she's enjoying every minute of this nightmare from her seat of inscrutable guile. Obviously she can't hear my frightened screams, and I can't actually see her bemused smirk because she's seated directly in front of me, but I still want to slap it off of her face. Instead, and probably for the tenth time in as many minutes, I swallow hard—I hope that wasn't actually a beetle—and turn toward our throttle-crazed driver.

Stopping my screaming for a moment, I loudly blurt, “Are we almost-” A sudden jolt interrupts me, momentarily plunging my stomach up into my throat. Swallowing it back into position, I yell, “...There!?”

“Almost~!” Misha replies, just as cheerily as the first time.

After being denied this many times, I've lost all hope of reaching our destination in one piece, but, practically before the word leaves her mouth, I notice what looks like a large, brownish, wooden building rapidly approaching. It looks like civilization of some kind, which means our journey may be reaching its end, and I'm beside myself with joy. Before I can express my elation, Misha takes a hand off the wheel and points toward the distant building; I blink a few times just to make sure that's what I'm actually seeing, and it doesn't actually surprise me, but I suck in a breath and hold it anyway.

I swear she's trying to give me a heart attack!

“There it is~!” she cheers, then quickly catches the wheel and swerves to avoid a cluster of birch trees; it's like she got her driving lessons from my mom. With that crisis narrowly averted, she adds, “That's it, right, Shicchan~?”

At least she isn't signing her questions...

Apparently surmising the query based on context, Shizune decides to throw caution to the wind and stands up in her seat—thereby taking her life in her hands. Leaning out through where I assume there was once a windshield—I don't want to hear about how it went missing—she turns a sly smirk over her shoulder. She doesn't bother signing anything, probably because we're jostling around too much for anyone to see what she's saying, but I think that incorrigibly raised eyebrow means we've nearly arrived. It's the best news I've heard all day, and I'm still too petrified by fear to cheer, though a few muted giggles work their way out between my screams.

Almost the instant Shizune returns to her seat, Misha slams on the brakes and we skid to a halt mere centimeters from the rear wall of what looks like an impressive log cabin; I'll check into that once I make sure I'm still whole. Following a cursory check to ensure all my limbs are still attached, nobody bats an eye when I practically fall out of the truck and start giggling madly, coming dangerously close to kissing the muddy ground in my delirious stupor; I've heard of people doing that, but never understood why until today.

“I'm alive!” I yell unabashedly, not even caring how that sounds; I'm pretty sure we're the only four people around for several kilometers. Crawling up to sit on my knees, I quietly mutter, “I'll never call Mom a bad driver again! And I'm never riding in that infernal contraption again!”

I have met the anti-Christ, and it is a windowless, doorless Range Rover.

My mumbled declarations earn a snicker from Yoko, followed by a frightening prediction. “Except for on the way back,” she says, moving to my side and patting my shoulder as she takes a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, she adds, “Still smells like diesel... and mud,” she turns and starts meandering away, “There is a shower, I hope?”

“C'mon~! C'mon~!” Misha chirps, jumping up and down somewhere to my left. “Get up off the ground, silly~!” she says, apparently to me, then follows after Yoko exclaiming, “You have to see inside!”

Turning to see her running toward what looks like a big wooden door, I mutter, “I'll be along...”

First, I need to make sure my insides stay inside...

It may not be particularly dignified to kneel on the ground and mutter incoherently following what ended up not being a complete disaster on wheels, but I need a moment to commune with the Earth and thank whatever fictional deity is responsible for keeping us from flipping into one of the numerous gullies Misha only narrowly avoided. The afternoon sun is at my back, and once the initial panic-induced adrenaline surge relents, I manage a smile at the feeling of warmth on my shoulders. That's soon followed by a comforting hand, and I turn around expecting to find Yoko, but instead it's Shizune looking down at me with a furrowed brow—obviously she's concerned.

Forgetting that she can't hear me for a moment, I protest aloud, “I'm fine... really... no problem...”

Taking the hand away, she smiles and signs, [Misha's driving leaves something to be desired,] which she seems to understand is something of an understatement as she shrugs and adds, [the alternative involved having someone else drive us here, or walking through four kilometers of dense woods carrying all our bags—I'm sure you'll agree this is the better option... Eventually.]

Looking up at her sympathetic smile, and seeing that she's no less caked in mud than myself, I feel torn. The part of me that wanted to slap her a few minutes ago is receding behind my more rational side, which realizes that she's as much of a victim of circumstance as myself. Now that I've had my moment of delirium, I think I can swallow my trepidation and focus on the good ends to her questionable means. Managing a small smile, I inhale deeply, wave her offered hand away, and shakily rise to my feet.

Once I've regained my balance, I turn and reply, [It's okay, I guess... We're alive, no harm done...]

[You're sure?] she counters, smirking despite the concern in her eyes, [You look a little pale.]

Obviously she's half-joking, and I can't blame her for that; I must look like a wreck. [Feet on the ground, stomach back in place, color coming back to my face,] I sign, starting to walk around her toward the door as I add, [A little warning next time would be nice, though.]

[Noted,] she affirms, tilting her head concernedly, [Feeling better?]

Smiling, I nod and reach out to nudge her shoulder. In response, she squints at me for a moment, then returns the smile and holds a hand out toward the cabin. Now that I've recovered my senses, and at her beckoning, I take a moment to inspect the immense, two-level structure. The exterior looks somewhat dilapidated, but that might be an inaccurate assessment since I don't know much about woodland architecture. All I know is that it looks a little rough and rustic, which may be intentional considering the location. The surrounding woods are quite picturesque now that they aren't whipping by centimeters from my face as I scream unintelligibly with my eyes closed.

I hope Yoko wasn't snapping pictures with her phone, but I'm probably not that lucky.

We're definitely deep in the woods, but that isn't really bothersome. Now that I've gotten away from the Range Rover, the diesel smell has faded a bit, allowing the pungent smell of pine and recent rain to reach my nose. Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes and listen to the woodland sounds. Birdsong, chirping insects, and distant warbling from a lone, indistinct creature hiding somewhere in the trees might make someone else cringe, but I find it oddly soothing. Following the excitement of the ride, I'm just happy to have a moment of calm reflection, which is soon ended by a yell coming from somewhere inside the cabin.

“Aiko, you have to see this!” Yoko calls, sounding especially excited.

I hope it's the good kind of excited.

My eyes pop open and I find Shizune standing before me, beckoning for me to follow as she backs toward the door. The juxtaposition of hearing Yoko and seeing Shizune is a little disconcerting, but I shrug away the confusion and start to follow. When we reach the door, which appears no more simplistic than the rest of the exterior, Shizune grips the handle and pushes it open slightly. Instead of heading through, she turns to face me and offer a questioningly raised eyebrow. Her concern is touching, and not misplaced, but I shake my head emphatically.

It's not like we were on a boat.

[You head inside and have a look around,] she signs, moving to follow a brick path along the side of the cabin. Turning as she walks, she explains, [I have to check the utility shed—ask Misha if you need help finding anything.]

As she disappears around the corner, I hear giggling coming from inside, which I'm guessing means the excitement is the good kind—here's hoping. Pushing through the door, I have to blink a few times in disbelief, thinking my eyes are playing tricks. The rustic exterior had me thinking the interior would be little more than a shoddy wooden floor, maybe a big stonework fireplace, and a few tiny windows. Instead, this looks like something out of a modern design magazine, such that I almost don't want to disturb its perfection with my muddy shoes.

Seeing a small wooden box beside the door with two pairs of muddy shoes inside—presumably Yoko and Misha's—I quickly step out of my tennis shoes and add them to the bundle, then take a few tentative steps across the pristine hardwood floor. Everything is made of wood, which I guess makes sense for a log cabin, but it's all polished to a mirror shine, and accented with lighter and darker hues along all the mouldings. Instead of seeming dark, the whole main room is lit as though we were standing outside, the result of a window bank that covers the entire eastern wall, floor to ceiling, beyond which is an impressive view.

Taking a few steps closer, I see a trail leading out from a back door situated about three meters below the floor—I guess there's a basement. It follows a brush-lined path down an embankment to a small dock that extends out into a medium sized lake, complete with a pair of small rowboats tied off near the end—for fishing, I assume. It seems like the Hakamichis must have an affinity for fishing, and probably hunting. The boats are a good indicator thereof, but the bank of stuffed fish and animal heads covering one wall, along with rows of gaming pictures arranged around the big brick fireplace are a dead giveaway. To me, though, that lake just looks like a great place to swim.

I'm glad Yoko made me pack a few swimsuits.
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Overhead, hanging from the bare rafters and flanked by skylights, several ceiling fans spin silently, apparently keeping the room cool. It occurs to me that they probably aren't powerful enough to do that on their own, but it makes sense once I notice there's a rather sophisticated-looking console beside the front door. It looks like some kind of security system, and probably allowed Shizune to turn on the air conditioning while we were en route. It's something Amaya told me her aunt has been working with in newer homes, but I've never seen its like in person; all I really know is that it must have been exorbitantly expensive.

Adding to that expensive feel, the furniture all looks like handcrafted, rustic artisan pieces with plush, embroidered cushions, all of which look to have barely been used, which makes me even more self-conscious about walking around in my muddy clothes. That seems to have no effect on Misha, though. Lounging on the enormous, L-shaped couch in the middle of the room, which may be the only piece of furniture that wasn't handcrafted, she watches me with her shining gold eyes, apparently fighting hard to hold back her amusement at my wonderment.

When she notices my quizzical glance, she blurts, “Well, whaddya think~!”

“It's... amazing,” I say as she bounds off the couch and walks over to stand at my side. Noticing that Yoko is strangely absent, I frown contemplatively and glance around before voicing my concern, “Where's Yoko?”

I hope she hasn't fallen onto a ritual altar somewhere.

Giggling, Misha looks toward a hallway that runs parallel to the windows and replies, “Ran off to have a look~! ...Or maybe find a shower...”

“There's a shower?” I ask rhetorically, then shrug when all the response I get is another stifled giggle.

I haven't quite reached my quota for stupid questions yet today.

Following her eyes, I take a few steps toward the hallway, which is all windows on one side, while the other is solid wood paneling covered with an arrangement of family photos. When I turn back and see her giving me an inviting look, I start creeping along the hall, inspecting the pictures. Unlike the gaming wall, which is all sporting photos, these pictures are of home and family. Only a few of the people look familiar, but Shizune's distinct sharp chin, silver-rimmed glasses and cropped blue hair are easy to identify, even in an image that looks to have been taken at least ten years ago. It probably shouldn't surprise me that she's always had that prideful smirk.

Beside her in the image, sitting cross-legged and looking particularly bored is a young boy—Hideaki, I imagine—and behind her kneels the big, burly man I saw at the train station, who looks a lot happier than he did earlier today. The big, toothy grin cutting a line through his shaggy beard is probably the result of something the woman at his side said just prior to the photo being taken—his wife, and Shizune's mother, I'm guessing. The honey-colored hair, cut into a perky bob with a heart-shaped clip over her right ear, frames a familiar pair of cheek-bones and cloudy blue eyes that seem to smile brighter than her narrow mouth is capable.

My guess is the woman in the image is probably in her late twenties—maybe thirty—but if her hair were colored to match, she'd look like an older, perhaps happier Shizune—admittedly, Shizune seems to express happiness with stern looks rather than smiles. Her mother appears in several images to my right, biking, on horseback, and dressed in a wedding gown arm-in-arm with the burly man, always wearing that thin smile and seeming totally carefree. However, this particular family photo is the last place she appears on the wall, which, if this is set up like the time-line I think it is, doesn't bode well; I get the sense she hasn't been around for a long while.

“I see you found her,” says a voice, and I have to turn and see it's Misha before I'll believe it's her talking. Unlike her typically cheerful self, she isn't smiling at all, and her voice sounds positively womanly; the girlish timbre seems completely gone.

“That's Shizune's mother, then?” I ask, if only for confirmation.

Taking a deep breath, Misha nods soberly and replies, “Edea Hakamichi.”

I can think of no better a name for the Hakamichi matriarch.

“Shicchan doesn't like talking about it,” she adds, her somber tone adding gravity to the words.

Suspecting the answer is no, I decide to ask, “Did you ever meet her?”

“No... I've only seen the pictures, but, I've heard great things~!” she lilts, or tries to at least, “Shicchan... Shizune,” she corrects herself, “...misses her more than she'll ever admit.”

I know the feeling.

Misha goes silent following that, and I continue looking through the photos. Numerous pictures continue to the left, many of them depicting Shizune and Hideaki's scholastic triumphs, family gatherings, and assorted minutia of life. From the images, I've gathered that her father has always had an affinity for gaudy Hawaiian shirts, and her brother's current girlish appearance might just be a phase—that's a comforting thought, at least. Despite her deafness, Shizune has always been an overachiever, and I was never quite sure until now, but she has apparently always been deaf; her mother seems to have learned sign language—certificate and all—in order to communicate with her then toddler daughter.

Misha's assessment of “great things” may not have been an overstatement.

Sadly, the other thing I've noticed is that as Shizune and Hideaki get older, their father seems to grow increasingly sullen—raising two kids alone seems to wear on him. Between that last picture with his wife where he looks indelibly happy, and the most recent image depicting him standing with Shizune during Tanabata last year, in which she looks like the spitting image of her mother minus the honey-colored bob and hair clip, it looks like he aged twenty years. It's easy to tell he's trying to keep up appearances around his daughter, but there are wisps of gray evident along his temples, and I don't think Shizune hasn't noticed.

I wonder if I'm seeing Mom's future in her father's weary eyes.

That disquieting thought makes me think of calling Mom, if only to tell her that I'm alive and I love her dearly; it might not be a bad idea following that harrowing drive. Unfortunately, my phone is outside in my satchel, which I'm hoping is still strapped to the roof of the Deathmobile, but I also doubt there's a signal available this deep in the woods. Considering the expensive security system, I'm assuming Shizune has a satellite phone around here somewhere, though I'd be embarrassed telling her I just want to call my mommy and tell her I'm okay. While I'm weighing my dignity against my peace of mind, I hear the front door open, and Misha bounds away.

Resuming her more bubbly self, she cheers, “Shicchan~!”

I'll never get used to her yelling to a deaf girl...

Shaking my head, I follow at a more leisurely pace and come around the corner to find Shizune slipping a key into the door of a closet. She turns a coy smirk toward me and flits her eyebrows as she disappears inside, then emerges a few moments later carrying a pair of black backpacks. Misha goes in after and returns with another pair of backpacks a moment later, which they bring over to set down on the couch. Evidently there's one for each of us, and if I'm reading the situation correctly, I assume they have something to do with the game she mentioned.

I never did get any more information out of her...

Still without so much as a nod, Shizune opens one of the bags and starts rifling through its contents. When she's satisfied everything is in order, she zips it closed and holds it out for me to take. When she lets it go, I'm surprised by its weight, but I manage not to drop it reflexively; apparently its contents are heavy, which probably means they're expensive—I learned that from Jurassic Park. Her expression indicates that I'm not supposed to look inside just yet, though I'm guessing she only wants to explain it once, and Yoko hasn't returned from her tour.

“Yoko, come out here,” I yell, and Shizune nods approvingly.

“What?” comes her distant response; it sounds like she's under the floor—in the basement, I'm guessing.

“Just come back up here,” I request, stomping the floor a few times for emphasis, “I think it's game time~!”

“Wahaha~!” Misha laughs, confirming my guess.

I still don't know what she's confirming, unfortunately...

After a few moments, Yoko emerges from a door at the far end of the windowed hall, brimming with energy and smiling despite her looking like she just got rolled through a swamp. Her airy voice echoing off the ceiling, she asks, “Aiko, have you seen downstairs yet?”

Shrugging, I shake my head and admit, “Haven't seen past this room and that hall.”

“There's a tea room, pool table, a full bar, and I was looking around the dojo when you called!” she describes, still skipping cheerfully as she passes into the living room, “I thought we'd be roughing it, but this place is set up like a spa retreat! And,” she pauses, apparently noticing Shizune's severe glare, “I'm guessing we won't be partaking of that today...”

“Not 'til tonight~!” Misha replies, which sounds a lot less disappointing coming from her cheerful voice.

Now that we're all assembled, Shizune holds up a hand to gain our attention and starts by smiling invitingly as she signs, [Welcome to my family's woodland hideaway,] then assumes that unnerving bobcat grin as she continues, [We'll get our luggage squared away, get cleaned up and have lunch first, but,] she holds up another one of the backpacks, [once we've rested a bit, the game begins.]

Surprisingly, Yoko is the one to sign the burning question, [What's this game about, anyway?]

I guess Naoko is an even better tutor than I remember.

“Shicchan will take too long to get around to it,” Misha says with a disarming smirk aimed at Shizune, “But it's basically a scavenger hunt~!”

Rolling her eyes, Shizune explains, [Misha is correct... basically...]

She goes on to explain that this scavenger hunt isn't the typical kind that's set up beforehand, but the rules are essentially the same. We'll be given a list of things to find out in the woods, and provided equipment to assist with our search—hence the backpacks—but it will fall on each team to find the required items in their natural state—that is, nothing has been planted beforehand. The first team to find everything on their list and return to the cabin wins the game, and will benefit from an as yet undefined prize, which Shizune is still keeping a secret.

My first reaction to the game as she describes it is one of dismay. Considering how well she understands the rules, it sounds like she's done this before, perhaps multiple times. Even considering that her brother was tasked with writing the list, she and Misha probably know the area pretty well, certainly better than Yoko or myself, so they'll know where to start looking while we'll just have to guess. Her solution to this issue is both elegant and a little unnerving: instead of pairing them together, I'll be hunting with Misha while Yoko searches with Shizune.

I guess that evens the odds...

With the basics described and the teams set, we head out to retrieve our luggage from atop the Deathmobile, and I'm pleasantly surprised to find that everything has survived the voyage. The first thing I check is my cellphone, which is, as expected, out of service—I can call Mom later. As we're carrying our things into the cabin, it occurs to me that we've apparently brought camping packs to a cabin that's better equipped than most modern homes, but I'm assuming they're intended for some purpose other than providing amenities while we're indoors.

Once inside, Shizune leads us to the bedrooms upstairs; where a normal house would perhaps have a loft over its garage, this cabin has two bedrooms built above the north side of the building, under a dormer. Split by a narrow hallway, the two rooms are essentially identical, except one has green carpeting and the other has dark blue. Each has a big picture window facing the lake, which can thankfully be covered by curtains and blinds, and a pair of twin beds, one on each side of the door. Without consulting my weekend roommate, I immediately call the one with green carpeting; Yoko doesn't complain, but she does roll her eyes at my predictability.

Now that she's shown us around a bit, Shizune reiterates that the game will begin once we've recovered from the voyage, and leaves us to get cleaned up and changed. While we're moving our things into the space and getting settled, I notice a rather large closet embedded in the inner wall, but upon trying the door I find it's locked. It seems strange that a guest room closet is locked, so I head across the hall to ask for a key. Oddly, Shizune refuses to provide a key and tells me to leave it alone, without even providing a reason.

That evasive answer, especially without an explanation, piques my curiosity. Maybe that closet contains the ritualistic altar I keep imagining, although I think I'd rather not know if that's the case. Yoko is no less curious about the locked closet, and when I tell her about the picture wall downstairs, she surmises that it might contain something relative to Shizune's mother. Well, technically she says it probably contains her mother's body suspended in stasis fluid, preserved for all eternity, but that's just silly—that kind of thing only happens in science fiction.

Right...?

Setting the curiosities aside, I concentrate on getting ready for this scavenger hunt. The overalls seem like the perfect thing to wear while wandering around in the woods, so I take those along with a black t-shirt downstairs for a quick shower. Figuring I'll just get covered with grime again, I don't obsess over getting too clean, but it certainly feels good to get the mud out of my hair. While I'm singing under the shower stream—I feel a lot less self-conscious out in the middle of nowhere—I think over the days events so far, and find that I'm feeling surprisingly relaxed.

Even after the boring drive with the world's most irate baseball fan, a somewhat awkward train ride, and that nail-biting, death-defying woodland joyride—which is a term I use very loosely—I'm still excited to share some fun with my new friends. Earlier, I was worried that Yoko might regret coming along, but she really seems to have enjoyed the journey thus far, and didn't even flinch at the prospect of partnering with Shizune. Honestly, I find I'm actually looking forward to spending some time with Misha; she's much less intimidating by herself, and I'd like to learn more about her brother, the one who taught her those questionable driving skills.

And perhaps explain why I think he's insane.

There's still a warning thought in the back of my mind that wonders what Shizune's ulterior motive is in all this, but considering where I am, who I'm with, and what we're doing, I don't think that even matters. An hour ago, I climbed into a Range Rover with my friends, and probably almost died at least fifteen times on the way through the woods—or that's how it seemed at the time. If I can go through that, then stand up, dust myself off and walk away—after a few moments of muttering delirium—then I'm sure I can handle anything Shizune Hakamichi has planned.

I might even accidentally have a good time if all goes well...
_______________________________________________________________________
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Scavenger hunt? Questionable closet? Ritualistic murder? Overalls? These things and more await on the horizon! In the next episode of...

And now I sound like the announcer from a 50s TV show...

[dewelar]

Okay, Helbereth...you know I love your writing, and you know I love this story, and this chapter was great fun to read...

...but...

...am I still reading Tomorrow's Doom here?

Allow me to explain why I'm asking this question. I popped onto the board as you were posting this and was pretty jazzed to see a new chapter. As I was reading, despite the usual excellent quality of the writing, it just felt like something was...off. I didn't want to post anything right away, because I wanted to try and figure out what it was, and now I think I have: the relationship angle is starting to get lost.

Now, I understand this is likely intentional, because...yeah, they're apart right now. The problem is that throughout this Act, and especially in this chapter, Hisao has become a secondary character in a story that's primarily about the lead's relationship with him -- or at least, I thought it was. It kind of feels like TD has gone on hiatus, and until it returns we're getting a spinoff story about Aiko and her friends that is still being "marketed" as TD. In movie terms, we've kind of left our rom-com behind and have slipped into buddy movie mode. I realize that as the creator, TD is whatever you want it to be, but from an audience standpoint, this whole Act might have been better as a separate story or a set of one-shots. What was once a nice, tight story has lost some of its focus.

Anyway, like I said, this is still very well-written and enjoyable, and it's not like I'm going to stop reading, but it's just something you might want to keep in mind.

[Helbereth]

Okay, Helbereth...you know I love your writing, and you know I love this story, and this chapter was great fun to read...

...but...

...am I still reading Tomorrow's Doom here?

Yes, it is, 100%, been in the outline since week 1, but I can't really say much else without spoilers. Yes, it does feel like it drifted away from the relationship angle. Yes, that's intentional. No, I haven't started writing one-shots into my narrative.

[Numb]

Even the way she's sitting, legs crossed at the ankles with one arm resting in the window while the other does most of her signing

Little nitpick here, but I'm fairly certain that Japanese sign language uses both hands, though there might be a simplified version that I'm not aware of using only one.

Great chapter, as always, looking forward to see how this develops back into the relationship we all know and love. I'm predicting a surprise appearance from Hisao, but I've been predicting that since he left

[Helbereth]

Even the way she's sitting, legs crossed at the ankles with one arm resting in the window while the other does most of her signing

Little nitpick here, but I'm fairly certain that Japanese sign language uses both hands, though there might be a simplified version that I'm not aware of using only one.

Hence "most". If she needs both hands, she'll use them, but you can get through a lot of small talk with just nods, head shakes, shrugs, and a few flicks of the wrist, as it were - yes, no, maybe, I don't know, etc. and so on. When the scene switches to her sharing a conversation with Yoko, it's implied that she resumes using both hands consistently. Granted, I didn't say as much, but Aiko probably wouldn't even bother noticing her going back to normal.

Great chapter, as always, looking forward to see how this develops back into the relationship we all know and love. I'm predicting a surprise appearance from Hisao, but I've been predicting that since he left

It has been a while since we've seen the hapless dolt, hasn't it? Poor, train-bound, Shanghaied, suspected, embarrassed, profusely apologizing via satellite phone, and now constantly texting Hisao... he hasn't had the best time since this act started.

Did anyone make the connection that he essentially got Shanghaied by his family, btw?

I wasn't trying to be subtle about it, either...