• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Realistic or Modern x

fluticasone

fluticasone

mushy canele
Roleplay Availability
font callfont callfont call
night owl
picaresque . set roles . app-based

a roleplay revolving around youth and how they steal back legacies taken from them.

main image by champi

01
drowning in highballs i can't even drink
story
Pt0mSIy.jpg
The city of Tokyo moves to its own beat, uncaring if you can follow along. The few who hear its rhythm thrive and rise above the rest, casting deeper shadows in their wake.
In a city that drowns its people in lights, there are those who choose to remain friends of the dark.

Forty years ago, an art circle named 不夜城 (Nightless City) gained critical acclaim through a series of paintings depicting everyday scenes in Tokyo. Each piece could stand alone - but as a set, it told the story of the city's duality: how it was filled with both hope and despair, failures and dreams. Rather than display them in an art gallery, these paintings were put on display in one of the member's public art studio. It remained there for a few years until change slowly permeated through its walls.
One by one, each painting was lost. The first was sold as collateral to a gambling debt. Another passed hands into the next generation and was never seen again. At least two were lost to an internal feud, and the studio finally closed its doors, putting everything away into storage.
The value of these paintings did not go unnoticed. Within a year, the storage house was raided and everything of value was lost, including the remaining paintings of the Nightless City. Even with a feverish search and public outcry, the paintings could not be tracked down.
Eventually, memories of the paintings too, were drowned by the city.

Today, those paintings are barely a blip in the public conscious - a piece of trivia for the inquisitive, an urban legend for the artists. The old studio is now a used bookstore, opening its doors again to the public for the first time in decades. Half-assed coffee is served for cheap, and a few re-upholstered seats gather around the bar. It smells of bad coffee, musty pages, and musk of a cat. For many, it's nostalgia in a building.
It's here, while
prime
was cleaning, that they uncover their grandfather's old journal, hidden behind a hollow bottom of the shelf. Inside were notes, clippings, receipts with information haphazardly jotted down the back. All of it about the paintings people forgot - and his wish for their recognition again.
closer
sakai ryuuji
Some of
CLOSER's
earliest memories are of men coming to the door at midnight and the stress written, plain as day, on their parents' faces. They remember their father cursing their grandfather, yet succumbing to the same fate with the cards. How their mother left, weary with defeat, walking away without looking back.
Nowadays, they run a money laundering business that fronts as a laundromat. In the backrooms, their father fences stolen goods, making barely liveable dividends from the sales - most of it went to paying off the family debt.
CLOSER
resents their family, as they're unable to pursue the higher education they desire. Instead, they went to a kosen with the plan of finding work early.

CLOSER
is a frequent visitor to the used bookstore
PRIME
works at. The two businesses are along the same street.
CLOSER
has met
morte
and
dawn
in passing when they came in to do their laundry.

Character art by
era_pippi
. Played by
riddle .
.
orbit
mochizuki yua
From a young age,
orbit
was expected to excel. Unfortunately for them, they did. Whether it was academics or sports, they accomplished it all with ease. What their family sought now was something that they could be the best at. It would be laughable if
orbit
could remember that they're in their current predicament because they said they wanted to be like the olympic gymnasts being broacasted on stage. It was just something a child said, fascinated by the colorful costumes and flashy acrobatics. But their parents took them seriously and booked them the best coach they could find.
orbit
is exhausted. After failing to meet expectations for the third time in a row,
orbit
took a break from the competitive scene and assess what they want. Their parents protested, of course, but their coach had their back and reached a compromise to continue training even if they wouldn't be competing.

orbit
is cousins with
folie
. In fact, envy of
folie's
family is the reason why their parents expect so much out of
orbit
.

Character art by
storybuns
. Played by
A Murder Of Corviknight
.
prime
Mokuto Yumeji
PRIME
had always known their grandfather had been an artist, but they'd always assumed they weren't anything special. After all, they wouldn't have closed down their studio if they'd been famous, right? There would've been some mention of their greatness, but they never saw evidence of it - until they found the journal and looked into it themself.
With the help of their closest confidant, they tracked down the rest of the parties they thought should be involved in the recovery of the Nightless City's paintings. Now here's to hoping they agreed with their sentiments.

They're childhood friends with
WITCH
as they used to be neighbors and kept in contact despite the
WITCH's
retreat.

Character art by
ISUMI_136
. Played by
Bitten
.
folie
ninomiya reine
Born to a life of privilege, some might say
folie's
accomplishments would be the direct result of that. They'd be right. They've never been a hard worker - everything came easily to them. Natural charm and their affluent background opened doors that should've remained closed.
If only they knew the price to pay for a life of luxury. Oh,
folie's
hands are clean - but they can't say the same of the things they own. Though their parents made every effort to hide the nature of their work,
folie
still found out. Their heart is heavy with guilt, though they remain too cowardly to step away from wealth's safe cocoon.

Folie
is cousins with
orbit
, though they aren't fully aware of the context behind their parents' bad blood.

Character art by
NOZ
. Played by
Nano
.

witch
hino sayuri
With a prominent online persona as an entertainer, the college dropout
WITCH
would seem like an average cloutchaser, racking up views with their stupid plays and loud personality. At least, that's what they want you to believe.
In truth, they've been lauded as a wunderkind, their ability with numbers unnerving the people around them. Unfortunately, life was not kind -
WITCH
locked themselves away from the world. Though their skills as a cracker grew, it was hard to say if anything else did. It's only recently that they've taken the steps to climb out their self-created hole.

PRIME
is
witch's
closest and oldest friend. They stayed in contact even when
WITCH
became a hermit.

Character art by
いちじく
. Played by
fluticasone
.
morte
Izumi Hanako
The story of the Nightless City paintings caught
morte's
attention while researching for class. Missing paintings, estranged friends - it made for a romantic story that caught their attention.
That's all it should've been - a story. The kind they would make up of their own past, having been orphaned early and never adopted. They excelled in theater after all, earning themself a partial scholarship at the university. Their only memory of their past is a key that they keep around their neck, though
morte
has often debated if it's time to let go.

morte
became friends with
dawn
because they share a few classes.
They frequent the street where
closer's
and
prime's
workplaces are, popping in occasionally.

Character art by
jizell
. Played by
SavannahSmiles
.
dawn
Matsui Hato
There's something to be said about youth gutsy enough to head into the big city by themselves despite not knowing anything beyond their sleepy little rural town. But
dawn
has always been a go-getter, and when they were provided an opportunity to study art in Tokyo, they grabbed the chance with both hands. Never mind the fact they had no relatives there - it was where their grandmother first honed their craft, and they were determined to follow in their footsteps.
It was their grandmother who first taught them to hold a brush, and though they've passed,
dawn
insists on carrying on the tradition. They felt they owed them that much, as their grandmother raised them for much of their early childhood while their parents were working.

dawn
became friends with
morte
as they share a few classes at the university.
dawn
is a regular at
closer's
laundromat.

Character art by
CUW
. Played by
ravitto
.
The Night Owls
No first-come first-serve. All roles are applied for unless you've been previously invited by the GM.
The GM has the final say regarding any decisions made in the roleplay. Discussion is allowed, but if the GM puts their foot down on an issue, it should be respected.
There are low expectations when it comes to activity. However, if more than two months pass between posts, regardless of reason, the player will be removed.
If there are arguments between players, it should be handled privately and civilly. If the tension bleeds into the group OOC, in the event there is a back and forth, regardless of who started it, both players will be booted.
While there are no "literacy" requirements, a decent grasp of English is a must. Just follow the skirt rule and we should be fine! I don't need needlessly verbose descriptions, but one-liners don't give a lot either.
Hey there! I'm mono, your GM. This roleplay is highly inspired by Persona 5, Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne, and Magic Kaito... just less magical and more like unrealistically skilled youth. Just ride along with the suspension of disbelief and don't think too deeply about how realistic this all is - I know I won't!
That said, we'll be touching on some fairly sensitive subjects such as addiction and depression. I know these are common triggers, so I'd like to dissuade you from joining if they are yours. I expect any applicants to be able to tackle these issues with critical thinking and empathy.
As mentioned previously, this entire roleplay is app-based. There won't be any first-come-first serve business - I'll review all the apps in one go once all roles are applied for. If only one person happens to be an applicant for a role, they can still be rejected.
Our OOC will be on discord. If you don't have one, you could probably manage, it just won't be ideal. Feel free to hop on even before applying! It's the best place to go if you have any questions.
Good luck and I hope this managed to peak your interest. If not, no hard feelings, see you in the next roleplay!
 
Last edited:
font callfont call
{role}
Last
First
image
 by {name of artist}
Keep your application brief. Pitch to me the concept of your character as concisely as you can - the idea of the app is to make me want to know more about your character. The image can be any size, it should automatically cover it. Remove the curly brackets of areas you will be filling out.


Code: 
[nobr]
  [div=display: none;][font=Averia Serif Libre]font call[/font][font=Averia Libre]font call[/font][/div]
  [div=--charIMG: url(https://i.imgur.com/Pt0mSIy.jpg);
  --aFont: 'Averia Serif Libre', serif;
  --mFont: 'Averia Libre', sans-serif;
  --darkColor: rgba(18, 7, 1, 1);
  --lightColor: rgba(255, 255, 255, 1);
  --blendColor: rgba(51, 58, 33, 1);
  --glowColor: rgba(235, 255, 252, 1);
  display: flex;
  flex-flow: row wrap;
  box-sizing: border-box;
  padding: 25px;
  gap: 25px;
  position: relative;
  width: 100%;
  max-width: 850px;
  margin: auto;
  height: auto;
  background: var(--darkColor);]
    [div=flex: 1 275px; background: var(--charIMG) no-repeat center center/cover; display: flex; flex-flow: column nowrap; justify-content: flex-end; min-height: 250px; max-height: 500px;]
      [div=display: block; width: 100%; font-size: 3rem; line-height: .9; text-align: center; letter-spacing: .35em; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: var(--aFont); color: var(--lightColor); text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px var(--glowColor); margin: 25px 0px; padding: 0px 5px; box-sizing: border-box;]{role}[/div]
    [/div]
    [div=flex: 4 275px; color: var(--lightColor); ]
      [div=display: block; font-size: 4rem; line-height: .9; font-family: var(--aFont); margin: .25em 0px .5em 0px; text-transform: uppercase;][div=display: inline; background: var(--blendColor); ]Last[/div]First[/div]
      [div=display: block; font-family: var(--mFont); font-size: 1.25rem; line-height: .9; margin-bottom: 15px;][url=https://i.imgur.com/tsQ1SEd.jpg][div=display: inline-block; background: var(--blendColor); text-transform: uppercase; padding: 1px 5px; color: var(--lightColor);]image[/div][/url] by {name of artist}[/div]
      [div=display: block; width: 100%; text-align: justify; font-family: var(--mFont); color: var(--lightColor);]
        Keep your application brief. Pitch to me the concept of your character as concisely as you can - the idea of the app is to make me want to know more about your character. The image can be any size, it should automatically cover it. Remove the curly brackets of areas you will be filling out.
      [/div]
    [/div]
  [/div]
[/nobr]
 
Last edited:
font callfont call
witch
Hino
Sayuri
image
 by いちじく
'Kiki' tends to have polarizing opinions. On one hand, her fans find her streams hilarious and her devil-may-care attitude endearing. On the other, she comes across as obnoxious and entitled. She flies solo, never collaborates, and never mentions anything about her private life. Anyone who tries to find out would be met with wall after wall, an unusually high privacy fence surrounding someone who should've just been yet another internet funny man.
As far as Sayuri is concerned, Kiki is someone else. Kiki's a mask, a shield to hide behind. It's easier to accept that people dislike Kiki - she isn't her. It's far more damaging to be hated as Sayuri.
She'd let what other people thought of her ruin her once. What should've been praise from the adults around her became barbs from her classmates. Alienated, alone, and with no healthy coping mechanisms, Sayuri retreated into herself. Her parents were of little help, as they'd always treated her like an adult. When faced with the reality that she was still emotionally a child, they were lost.
Ironically, it's Kiki who saved her. She could put Sayuri aside and forget how painful it was. When she was Kiki, people spoke to her. When she was Kiki, they supported her.
When she was Kiki, they loved her.
 
Last edited:
font callfont call
Closer
Masaki
Masao
Masao always hated his father for his gambling addiction, and for his mother leaving him to handle the man. A child born to be another failure in a long line of overconfident, cowardly, and worst of all poor individuals. He couldn’t even afford to leave as there were debts made in his name as well that had been made chaining him down to his father’s fate. Now he had to prioritize resolving the mistakes of his parents before he could even dream of pursuing anything beyond a life of debt.
The only bout of luck he had was his mind, and in the end he could only find use for it in finding ways to beat back their debt. It was the laundromat that had been his idea, it was thanks to him that the debt was gradually lessening, and he had to take on the role of accountant/financial advisor for his father’s debts. Smart enough to keep their criminal sphere close, but ambitious enough to make connections that were profitable. It was shady and shameful business, but honor was for those that could afford it.
Ever since he took on this responsibility he’s refused to let his father influence him. Masao was going to own every aspect of his life that he could, and do everything in his power to break this generational curse of poverty. It didn’t matter whose approval he had, if he was gonna die chained down by the mistakes of the past he would look however he wanted, act however he liked, and enjoy what he could in the meantime.
Masao was going to live freely or die trying.
 
Last edited:
font callfont call
closer
sakai
ryuuji
Bitterness is a taste.
Ryuuji is intimately aware of it with each run of his tongue over his teeth to contain his sharpness because sometimes silence is better than the alternative to the violence that threatens to spill out. There can't be frustration, since that would require active participation in the life he's been dealt with. No, Ryuuji would rather fester in the accompanying bleakness he spits along with the bitterness towards his drawn-out days.
Give me a goddamn break, he seethes as earnings are shelled out to shady stains of people and he loses himself staring at the vortex of laundry machines; the smell of detergent still bothering him even after all this time.
He finds respite in his daydreams, albeit fleeting and serving as reminder of what he can't have. All he desires - more so deserves is laid out before him with security and the joy of finally being free from his family's shame. So, he keeps dreaming even as his world remains a monotone blur.
 
font callfont call
MORTE
Izumi
Hanako
Loneliness has been Hanako's constant companion for as long as she could remember.
It could be found in the silence of the orphanage after the rest of the children had gone to sleep and Hanako lay staring up at the ceiling above. It could be found in the smiles of the children as they were lead away by hand into a new life while Hanako was left behind in the shadows.
She could never figure out why she was unwanted; was there something wrong with her? While the rest of the children were playing outside, Hanako would practice her smiles in the mirror, hoping that a family might adopt her if she looked friendly enough; eventually she became so good that she could fool everyone around her into believing that everything was alright in her small world.
Hanako felt adrift, like a balloon whose string had been released and she floated away. She found solace in the stories she created, the words a comforting presence as children came and went in the halls of the orphanage throughout the years.
She found her love for theater quite by accident, having stumbled upon a rehearsal for a play while looking for a quiet place to write. Her eyes were opened to a whole new world and she took to the stage like a bird in flight; after all, she already had practice at faking expressions so acting came naturally to her.
Her various roles in performances over the years eventually landed her a partial scholarship at the university where Hanako slowly began to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could finally leave those lonely halls behind and step into a bright future.
 
font callfont call
dawn
nomura
chiaki
Chiaki marvels at each rise of the sun over towering buildings, eyes alight with wonder that remains after it sets and the city's lights reflect back, promising opportunity and change. Even when getting lost in the hustle among the crowds, scratching their head at the train system, and always being on the run, their smile never fades for a second.
The ache in their heart is still there, breaking through their enthusiasm in every lecture and stroke on a canvas. It's difficult to push it back when the faces of their family flash in their mind, but they continue with more vigor, determined to take this chance they've been given.
But the traitorous thought of being better off away from the stiflingly small town Chiaki had known before being swept away in the fantastic whirlwind that is Tokyo stings more. The familiarity is gone. In Tokyo, everyone is a stranger, but there's comfort in that. Here, Chiaki can be the person they'd hidden from the people they'd grown with, even from their beloved grandmother. Here, Chiaki can experiment with clothes considered outlandish and dye their hair in ways that would have surely raised eyebrows back home. Finally, they think they can find peace within their body while chasing their passion.
Homesickness is surprisingly easy to conquer when they have a brush in hand, falling into the rhythm of creation that drowns out any doubts to solidify that this is what they were born to do.
 
font callfont call
dawn
Matsui
Hato
image
 by CUW
Hato spends the two weeks before his train ride practicing a Tokyo accent. He’s good enough to get applause from his high school friends—at his going away party, he shows off that polite intonation like a badge of honor, replicating any and all ridiculous city phrases that the group can come up with. It’s no surprise to anyone that he’s so convincing. If someone was going to get out of their quiet little village, it would be Hato, after all.
He uses the accent when he gets to Tokyo, and uses it proudly. In fact, he doesn’t think to drop it until the woman running his share house pulls him aside to let him know how stupid he sounds. She says it like a true Tokyoite, too, her quiet concern at his butchering of the dialect veiled in several layers of politeness.
He slips back into Kansai dialect like an old coat, because it turns out that Hato is going to stand out in the city no matter how hard he tries. It doesn’t bother him as much as it should, maybe. Hato is used to attention, both good and bad. “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down,” he’s been told, but he hasn’t gotten hit over the head with any blunt objects just yet.
Getting into TUA, walking that same path that his grandmother carved, escaping from the inevitable obscurity of the countryside—for that, he doesn’t mind getting stares on the train for talking too loud or snickers from classmates when his speech betrays his hometown. For his dream, he can be a bit of a joke.
 
Last edited:
font callfont call
orbit
Mochizuki
Yua
image
 by storybuns (vtuber)
From a young age, Yua was taught that the Mochizuki always reached for the moon and the stars. Whether it was academics, sports or even just making pictures in the sand, Yua was expected to be one of or the best of her peers. Everything she even remotely showed interest in came with expectations. Expectations to excel because passion should make you work harder and be better. Yet, with each expectation dropped in front of young hands, the passion burnt out fast like a comet hurtling towards the sun.
Gymnastics was different yet the same as everything else that she showed minor interest in.
Instead of losing passion for it, under her coach’s care, she grew to love it. To her, gymnastics was like dancing and flying all at once. When she was still a child, all she had to do was practice under the eyes of her coach and maybe her family if her coach allowed it. And when she was entered into competitions, she glided and flew along happily in the beautiful costumes that she loved.
Until she fell.
And she kept falling. Failing.
Failing until her body started to fail her as well. And one day her coach put her foot down and told her that she needed to take a break. Once she recovered she could decide on her own what she wanted to do. Her coach believed that Yua was an adult now and should decide things for herself. It was her life, not her parents’ lives.
Her coach was the first elder to tell her to not listen to her parents’ wishes.
Although Yua was always a respectful and obedient child, a small part of her had also grown to be resentful as the years passed. But she was also taught to be grateful and respect her elders. So she convinced herself that it was easier to swallow the resentment than the guilt and obediently followed what her parents wanted for her.
Becoming an Olympic gymnast might have not been what she wanted for a long time now but it had been what was expected of her. To be suddenly told that she was free to decide for herself what she expected for the future was…jarring.
She was…lost. Lost as a planet spun out of orbit.
 
font callfont call
MORTE
Ikehara
Emica
image
 by Luxiem
Emica is a alluring and mysterious character, often seen stalking the streets of Tokyo wandering into shops and taking notes on wherever she's been, some would quote her as an intriguing yet odd woman, albeit most would mistake her as a woman of the night or some sort of street performer but alas looks are just that- looks. I'm sure your parents have told you to never judge a book by its cover, cliche, I know but it truly applies for a woman like Emica. Raised in a broken household- her mother and her father failed as parents in every way possible, both teenagers when her mother fell pregnant with her first and only daughter- Kicked out of their parents' home and forced to work multiple jobs just to put food on the table whilst also coming home to a crying one year old to take care of and feed. It didn't take long for her parents to find forms of escapism, after all everyone is trying to run away from something, her father swiftly moved on with an affair with another woman he'd met at work selling dreams giving scraps of fortune he barely had for his own family and her mother began partying day in and out in an attempt to relive her lost days of youth often blaming Emica for her missing out on her dreams of theatre, how foolish. Although Emica couldn't control her circumstances at the time, she was raised to be quiet, hush when told, don't bother mommy and daddy unless we send for you. But a growing child has one thing parents can't control- curiosity. And soon the near mute 2-year-old let her growing mind get the better of her, and she talked, and talked, talking for the longest she'd ever spoken before, they tried to hush her the usual manner even giving her timeouts, but it never worked, her questions turned to ones of concern, "where was daddy going late at night?" "Why didn't mommy come home until the morning." They hated it, They hated her, their already faltering love slowly turned into resentment, resentment that was already festering even back to their teen years. So soon before her 3rd birthday, they left her at the doorstep of a local orphanage, it was for the best they would excuse, they could live free now. Let the little runt be someone else's responsibility for a change, The only thing left behind was a single key her mother gave her to a music-box she kept on the dresser, the only thing that signified even a shred of love from her parents. As she grew older her mother's passion of theatre must have rubbed off on the young girl as she took a liking to the performers on stage, or when the orphanage kids would gather around to watch some old vintage movie, she loved the outfits, the glitz, the choreography, the talent. Her liking soon turned into passion as she'd train herself to the best she could, even receiving a book from her caretaker on Broadway musicals and performances. She'd even take the book to every appointment she had, but sadly she never found parents to share it with. She sat in the orphanage, year-after-year, her love for theatre thankfully never died out but her hope on having another family again quickly did, It was only after finished high school, reaching adulthood and received a partial scholarship at a university that she truly began to shine past her crippling childhood, now she takes inspiration from what taught her best- life.
 
Last edited:
font callfont call
folie
Ninomiya
Reine
All things good are never as they seem, and the same could be said for the ugliness hidden beneath the veneer of Reine’s seemingly perfect life. She grew up in the lap of luxury, cradled gently in the palms of her parents who’d wage war if it meant keeping her from experiencing the slightest of wrongs. With an older brother to inherit their family’s empire-in-the-making, the weight upon Reine’s shoulders is astoundingly light. Though perhaps this lack of expectation is what led to her current predicament.

The Ninomiyas weren’t quite on the level of Japan’s top corporations, but their strange meteoric rise in affluence was enough to provide their children with only the best. Where most children interested in astronomy are given glow-in-the-dark stars to paste on their walls, Reine was gifted a Takahashi kitted with every accessory they could think of. When her parents saw her happily tapping away nonsensically at a piano at a family friend’s house, the young girl woke up to find a piano in the living room the next day. No one said anything about the fact that she hardly touched many of these gifts unsuitable for a child her age. If her interest was nothing more than a passing fancy, they were satisfied as long as she was happy.

Natural talent and money to pick up where the former faltered carried Reine through many successful ventures into various hobbies. Still, she was far from a prodigy and lacked the commitment to work hard to get past the walls she’d inevitably hit. Fickleness morphed into uncertainty, and this manner of effortlessly sailing through life while simultaneously failing to find the path she wished to take in life continued until she enrolled in fashion school out of desperation to do something. She’s still the confident young lady who can manipulate social circles with a flick of a finger, at least that’s what she shows to the world outside. In truth, her former intrepid nature has turned into nothing but a facade, stuffing her anxiety into an inner voice that’ll occasionally rear its ugly head.

The ledger she accidentally found in her brother’s file cabinet didn’t help in assuaging her fears that someone else might have done better in her shoes. Someone who actually deserved to be where she currently is.
 
font callfont call
PRIME
Mokuto
Yumeji
They say determination acts before fate.
Yet one domino was all it took to seemingly bind him back to his roots. His family history was something he grew to resent coming into his own, and although it’s been swept underneath the proverbial rug in recent decades, his grandmother’s death was the perfect catalyst for skeletons to come out of the closet. His parents, to put it nicely, asked him to help manage an old family property; else his allowance would be cut off. This wasn’t exactly welcome news as he needed the money. There wasn't exactly anything noteworthy he had accumulated to get a steady, regular job. Something that wasn't part-time. This would've had to do.
In his new position, he often ran into colorful characters: antiquarians who perused the shelves, loitering students who were skipping school. There were the annoying sorts of course—namely those who were especially nosy about a mythical art circle. It was for this reason that while there was undeniably a story to be told within these walls of the newly-opened bookstore—Yumeji was having none of it. To think he was making plans to one day ditch this grimy city and leave an unsatisfying past behind. Though what would he have done afterwards once he did?
Through small talk, he realized that so many of them had such lofty aspirations. His parents must have had a twisted sense of humor when they named him. Must be nice to have dreams. Life and all its opportunities had passed him by, perhaps this was the price one had to pay if they peaked during their teenage years. It only served to rub salt in the wound knowing all the people he had made fun of growing up were successful now. More than he could ever be, anyway. Now just a washed-out night life denizen, Yumeji with his lazy, half-hearted smile, greets every day with a yawn. Yet his eyes betray the fact that he wishes for one more chance to break through such stagnation.
The answer came in the form of a dusty old journal, he almost expected the first page to say “be careful what you wish for” but the contents inside were far more outlandish than he could’ve ever imagined.
 
font callfont call
Prime
Hinode
Mokichi
original
 by Segawa Awoji
It was just a gesture, really.

He hadn’t been expecting anything, honestly.

And, truthfully, it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

…

Certainly, his parents had been expecting something. Sending him to the nursing home on the weekends, to talk to an old man who had become a stranger to him, who became more and more a stranger to him. Rambling on about stories that could never get the names and dates right. Gesturing into the air with a spoon and making a mess of the table. Shouting intermittently, struck by some great, misplaced stroke of inspiration or despair.

His grandfather was crazy, and Mokichi was too old to find it funny, too young to tolerate it kindly. They had been closer, back when he was still a child. There were photographs to prove it, after all. Sprawled out on tatami, sporting gap-toothed grins with watermelon slices, staying up late to listen to stories from the Showa era.

But his memories of the past were corroded by the present, by the image of a bent and broken man who smelled of shit and wet wipes, who spoke in delusions of grandeur about a youth sixty years expired.

His parents had been expecting something. Mokichi knew it was nothing.

And just like that, his grandfather was no more.

…

His parents had a plan, of course. His grandfather was dead now, and with it, the necessity of filial piety was gone. A used bookstore was a relic in the age of e-books and piracy. By the end of the year, they’ll clear out all the stock, and the property will be sold. It was still Tokyo, after all. Property prices were on the up and up, and a good sale would be more than enough to secure their retirement.

They were expecting nothing from him, a freeter who failed to get a career, wasting away amongst unwanted books and paper cranes. Couldn't blame them. He was expecting nothing of himself either.

But he could still put up a front.

Just long enough to perfect the memory that'll remain of him within his closest friend, once the year was up and this present was no more.

And this journal, left behind by a man he no longer remembered, would be the catalyst for that.

 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)
Back
Top