31 December 2022 part 2

And with this, we are finally caught up; exactly one week behind my actual writing. That felt good.

More shenanigans with Charles and Elliott. I think I made Elliott too arrogant for this section; I don’t have a solid enough grasp on his character and how it shifts over the trilogy. His side of the story is, unfortunately, something of a tragedy, in contrast to Charles’ more heroic arc. I’d like to foreshadow that, of course, but I still need Elliott to be relatable, and a respected member of the team before all that goes down, which is hard to nail down.

The ship name—the Dragon’s Flight—is more than just a pun. It’s also not set in stone, so if I come up with something better I’ll use that instead.

Jasper raised an eyebrow and sat back. “Why?”

Charles blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “Um, well, he’s my friend. And he’s a prince, even if he doesn’t have a country right now, and, and–”

One of the wyverns hopped down and sniffed at Charles, who squeaked and stepped back. Jasper asked him, “Are you scared, little man?”

This was it. He was dead. Charles gulped and nodded, but rather than give up words started pouring out of his mouth. “I-I know you hate cowards, and you’re probably going to kill me ‘cause I’m so scared, b-but at least promise you’ll set Elliott free! He hasn’t even had a chance to try to take [our country] back yet, and he’s amazing, not like me, so if he had help–”

Jasper gave a signal, and another wyvern shrieked and snapped at Charles, silencing him. With a languid air, Jasper rose to his feet and began to circle around the boy, eying him up and down. Once he was back in front of Charles, he squatted down on his haunches and looked the boy in the eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’re freaking terrified of me, and you’re dead certain I’m gonna kill you. And even then, you came down here on the off chance you might be able to get me to let your friend go. That right?”

Charles nodded. Jasper tilted his head, almost ninety degrees, and narrowed his eyes. “This wasn’t some order from that princeling, was it?”

With a shake of his head, Charles replied, “Elliott told me I was b-being stupid actually. But, if you’re just going to sell him back to [the Conqueror], I had to try something. I think she’d do worse things to him than just kill him.”

Only the sound of the wyverns shuffling about could be heard. Charles began to sweat bullets, but he held very still, and even tried to hold his breath.

Then Jasper started laughing, and Charles about fell over. The pirate king clapped Charles on the back, hard enough it stung, and said, “I like you, kid. You’ve got guts. Alright, I’ll give you lot a chance. We’ll see if this princeling measures up.”

For a moment, Charles couldn’t believe his ears. It worked? He’d done it? By the time it sank in, Jasper had already pushed him above deck. Then all the tension drained out of Charles’ body, and he fainted to the floor of the deck, with a smile on his face.

The next day, Charles and Elliott were reunited. Elliott rubbed his wrists where his manacles had chafed, his displeasure clearly evident on his face. He looked at Charles in wonder. “What the heck did you say to him?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t really get it, either.”

The ship they were on pulled up alongside another, smaller vessel. Probably another one of the ships in Jasper’s pirate armada. The crew pulled out planks to lay between them, and they herded Charles and Elliott across.

Elliott looked around, and with what little dignity he could muster he demanded, “Where’s the captain?”

“That’d be me.” A tall woman strode toward them wearing a loose, patched-up tunic, and a pair of breeches with one leg torn off at the knee. She had dark brown hair that fell around her shoulders in waves, and piercing green eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of Charles’ soul. He shivered, but he tried to match her gaze as long as he could.

Elliott opened his mouth to say something, but the woman held up a finger. She studied him next, then pointed at Charles. “You’re the one Jasper was telling me about? The one that impressed him?”

Charles shrugged. “I, I think so. I talked to him yesterday, at least.” 

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Well. Looks can be deceiving, then.” She turned to Elliott. “As for you… The princeling, right? You’re just as he described, so far.”

Elliott’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he frowned. “And what does that mean?”

The woman ignored him, and instead looked over them one more time and sighed. “I’ve really got my work cut out for me this time.” Before either of them could respond, she pointed her thumb at herself and said, “I’m Moira. You can call me ‘Captain’ or ‘Ma’am’. From now on, you’re not princes or servants or any of that. You are deckhands aboard the Dragon’s Flight, and that means you answer to me. Is that clear?”

Charles saluted and said, “Yes, Ma’am!”, but Elliott just glowered. “I’m not some lowly deckhand; I am a prince, and–”

“You were a prince, you mean,” Moira cut in. “You have no country, no authority, and no reason for me to respect you. If you want to change that–any of it–you start by doing what I say. Am I clear?”

“But–”

“Am I clear?”

Elliott shut his mouth, and his face turned pink. He bowed his head. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. You actually can learn; that’s a good sign.” She looked up into the rigging and whistled.

31 December 2022

Happy New Year! Or, so it was when I wrote this.

You may have noticed I actually backtrack a little bit. One of the original ideas I had involved the kids actually being awed by her and wanting to learn from her, only for their parents to come in and take them away, afraid Hanako would “be a bad influence” since she’s too human, and I changed it to fit the new direction I took the scene. I may try that version out at some point, still; I’m not sure which fits the main drive of the story better. The one below draws closer parallels to the way she was treated elsewhere, and show that the people are pretty much the same. The original shows a different take on how she could be left out or shunned, and the contrast between the two might drive that home deeper. I haven’t decided yet.

On instinct alone, she spun around and caught it… only for it to burst in her hand, drenching her face and clothes in water.

She glared at the boy who threw it, an ebony oni bigger than the rest with a single horn. All the kids shrank back, terrified. Out of one of the houses nearby a bookish-looking blue oni rushed out and stood between Hanako and the kids, arms outstretched. “Don’t! They’re only children!”

Hanako’s eyes went wide, and she turned away. What did he think she was going to do? “Even among other yokai, they only see me as a monster, I guess.”

She turned and walked away, not even glancing at their expressions after her comment, and decided to go back to the inn. If anything else happened that day, Hanako wasn’t sure she could take it.

A couple hours later, she was sitting at a table with Nobuhito. He was the only one who didn’t treat her differently from anyone else. She cradled her head in one arm and rested it on the table, while she fiddled with her glass with her free hand.

For a long time, neither of them said anything. Then Hanako muttered, “The humans look at me and only see an oni. The yokai, oni included, look at me and only see a yokai-slaying human. Either way, they only see me as a monster. What’s the point anymore?”

Beside her, the kappa shrugged. “To be fair, most in this village have special reason to fear humans. Many were, themselves, chased out or hunted by them. Even those that weren’t have heard the stories.” He paused, then gestured to Hanako’s kamishimo. “How many of those hunters wore outfits exactly like that?”

Hanako frowned. “But this is…” Her words trailed off as she thought about it more. For her, it was a symbol of honor and respect. But, for these people…

“What else can I not see?” Hanako muttered to herself.

The kappa shrugged again, and quietly sipped at his tea. Hanako stared at him for a while, then asked, “Do you think this is what Lord Isshin meant when he said I wouldn’t find a home here?”

“Most likely.” Nobuhito put his cup down, then looked into Hanako’s eyes. “Whatever else, you were raised by humans, and so to some extent you think like them, act like them. You also carry many of the same implicit biases, even if you are unaware of it. Now I know not all humans hate yokai, but…” He gestured outside. “They do not.”

Hanako chewed on his words for the next hour or so, and then excused herself and retired to bed. No matter what she did, though, sleep wouldn’t come. Her experiences that day, combined with Nobuhito’s words, kept circling in her brain.

The next morning, Hanako packed all her things and headed downstairs. She left her room key at the front desk, and when the tanuki stared up at her in shock, she gave him the biggest, most sincere smile she could. She bowed and said, “thank you for taking such good care of me during my time here. I hope your business keeps running well.”

The tanuki could only nod, and Hanako went outside. She made a point to track down Nobuhito and bid him farewell, and thanked the handful of people who’d tried to help her during her stay. Then she took one last look at Ashina village, squared her shoulders, and headed back out into the world.

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Hanako Next->

Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

30 December 2022

This whole segment of Hanako’s story has been interesting to write. I hope Isshin’s thoughts and intentions when he said what he did are clear. I think so, but I’m also a bit too close to the story to have a clear picture. There’s one more short-ish section to go tomorrow, and the Ashina village arc will be done for the time being. I plan on shelving Hanako for most of January, actually, to focus on other things, like the Majesty storyline.

Hanako almost attacked him but she managed to restrain that impulse at the last moment. “Who are you?”

The tengu raised an eyebrow, and behind Hanako, the tanuki started trembling. He hissed, “That’s Ashina Isshin, lord of this village!”

Hanako’s face flushed and she dropped to one knee. “I, I’m sorry! I’m new in town, and didn’t know who you are, and–”

“It’s quite alright.” He waved it away, then stared at the tanuki. “And what is happening here?”

“Er, well, this girl seems to think this sword belongs to her, when it’s been in my family for years.”

Once more the tengu raised an eyebrow and looked at Hanako. “And what do you say?”

She took a deep breath. “Yesterday, when I checked in, that sword wasn’t there. Sometime last night, even though I’d locked the door, my sword was stolen from me. When I got downstairs, I saw it there.”

The tengu nodded. “Was this sword important to you?”

“Well, yeah. It was my master’s. He passed it to me when he died.”

“And who was your master?”

Hanako had to think for a moment. “Kojima. His name was Kojima.”

“I see.” He extended a hand to the tanuki. “May I see the sword?”

The tanuki handed it over, and Lord Isshin inspected every inch of the blade. “Did you know I had a student once, who wanted to learn the sword?”

Hanako cocked her head. Where had that come form? The tanuki meanwhile just shook his head.

“He was a young man. A human, actually, of all things. He had a purity I’d never seen before or since; he was devoted to the sword, but he used it only to protect what was important to him. He had no love for the shedding of blood.” He looked first at Hanako, and then the tanuki. “His name was Kojima.”

Hanako’s eyes widened, and the tanuki’s face turned white as a sheet. With the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, Lord Isshin asked, “Do you still wish to claim this sword belongs to your family?”

The tanuki shook his head, and Isshin handed Hanako the sword. Hanako bowed deeply. “Thank you very much!”

Once again, Isshin just waved it off. “There is no need for that. Besides, I did it more for his sake than yours.”

The tanuki looked confused. “Mine?”

“Indeed. She is an oni, after all; she doesn’t need a sword to wreck destruction. Based on the power I felt, were I only a few seconds later, you would no longer have an inn, assuming you’d even survived.”

With wide eyes, the tanuki looked from Isshin to Hanako and back again. Then, after a moment, he fainted and fell back to the floor.

Hanako hugged the sord tight to her chest. “Once again, thank you, sir.”

“Think nothing of it.” Isshin turned to leave, then paused. “You are certainly welcome to stay in this village as long as you like. However… I doubt you will find a home here.”

After the relief from getting her sword back, it felt like someone had driven a spike into Hanako’s heart. By the time she’d recovered enough to ask what he meant, though, Lord Isshin had already left.

The next few weeks were rough. The tanuki refused to let Hanako pay for anything, and did everything he could to make her stay comfortable. In some ways, that was a lifesaver; Hanako didn’t have a lot of money, and she struggled to find work in the village. But it left a bad taste in her mouth; it reminded her too much of the fear the one merchant had, when during a guard job she’d been outed as an oni and he’d thrown her a whole sack of gold, in the hopes she’d leave them alone.

As for the rest of the village… A few had heard about the incident at the Lucky Tanuki, and avoided her out of fear. Most, however, seemed indifferent. They rarely ever explicitly excluded her, but none of them did anything to include her, either. And no one seemed willing to give a job to a swordswoman who smelled human. After all, the town was peaceful, and didn’t need warriors. And there were plenty of other oni around for physical labor.

The clincher, though, came one day while she was wandering the streets. A group of children, including a small nure-onna, a rokurokubi, and maybe 3-4 oni, started jeering at her. This wasn’t the first time, and they were just kids, so hanako fully intended to ignore them like usual.

This time, though, one of them grew brave and threw a water balloon at her. On instinct alone, she spun around and caught it, without letting it burst.

The kids all stared at her, mouths open, and Hanako couldn’t help but grin.

<-Hanako First

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Hanako Next->

Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

29 December 2022

I was dead tired, and had no idea what I should write. So I decided to brainstorm, because I wanted a clearer image of who the guy in Elsenaia’s story is. A lot of it was based on me, but not everything, and I want him to be clearly distinct from me. Hence the brainstorming below.

I also decided that along with Majesty, this story will be one of the two I focus on this month, like Hanako and the Orphan of Hamelin last month. We’ll see if this system works or not…

What do I know about the POV character in Elsenaia’s story? (I consider Elsenaia the protagonist, hence the distinction.) Unlike me, he’s outdoorsy, since he was out hiking in the woods with his friends when they ran across the elvish scouting party. He also actually has friends… Who are they? Probably one couple, maybe two, and a few other guys.

We are similar in that both he and I are authors, and for the sake of my own sanity we will even be working on the same stories. Karthos/Death has already shown up… I could have appearances from Maleficent, Hanako, and some of my other recurring characters, as well.

What’s his name, this guy? Kevin? Nick? Nicholas? I’m thinking something that results in “Nick”.

What are his goals? Getting published, sure. Is he already an established author? What would that mean if he was? If he is, what led him out in these woods? Is he looking for specific inspiration? Doing research for a different story he’s working on I don’t have yet, maybe about witches? Just a vacation after a hard-earned success? Both the latter options sound fun. 

I could also have him be with siblings or other family scouting out some backwoodsy area to prepare to build a house. Homesteading, that kind of thing. It does still happen. Maybe Missouri, Arkansas, or Illinois? Does kind of detract from some of my future plans for him and Elsie, though.

28 December 2022

This story is actually an idea I’ve had for a long time now - at least a year, maybe two. It was a fusion of a vague idea I had about dragons being associated with the concept of majesty/majestic, and a dream I had of a pirate king who hated cowards. It kind of converged into this story where kings and heroes become dragons the more “majestic” they are (100% my own subjective opinion right now; I may or may not figure out specific rules later).

It’s planned to be a trilogy, with each book occurring at a different phase of Charles’ life. It’s one of my focus stories for January, actually, and hopefully one of the drafts I plan to finish this year. Also, random trivia fact, for the longest time Jasper was called “Jack” in my head, despite my image of him being nothing like Sparrow/Johnny Depp.

When Charles stepped down below deck, he was shaking in his boots. Everyone had heard how ruthless Jasper the Pirate King could be. And worse, everyone knew how much he hated cowards. Charles wasn’t 100% sure, but he figured he counted, and Jasper would kill him.

But if he didn’t at least try, Elliott would just get sold off, or worse. So down he went, until he stood in front of Jasper’s makeshift throne, with a huge flock of wyverns eying him from everywhere throughout the room.

Jasper himself was quite intimidating. He wasn’t a large man, per se - he was only of average height, and wiry, rather than bulky. But there was a sharpness to his gaze, and he had a subtle tension that made Charles feel like a mouse caught in a serpent’s gaze.

For several long minutes, Jasper said nothing. Finally he confirmed, “You’re that boy that was on the ship we boarded yesterday, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me, kid. If you have to call me something, call me ‘Captain’ or ‘Your Majesty’.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” The words still felt wrong to Charles. After spending his whole life calling the old king that, it felt uncomfortable to use the title for someone else.

Jasper’s face soured, and he leaned forward. “So, what do you want, little man?”

Charles bit his lower lip, then mustered up his courage and said, “I want you to release Prince Elliott!”

27 December 2022

My biggest concern with this scene (both this part and the ones surrounding it) is my depiction of the tanuki. As I understand it, they’re pranksters, and rarely if ever actively malicious. Not that the guy here is, but he doesn’t give off the vibe of toying with or playing with Hanako that a natural prankster would have… One of the options I’m considering is that he was trying to protect Ashina from this human-affiliated person by removing her weapon, but in that case his approach still seems a bit off here, and there’d be some major issues in the next section. I’ll want to think on that some more.

…breakfast. She stopped in her tracks, though, the moment she saw what was hanging above the front desk.

Hanako’s rage flared awake, but she kept a lid on it, and even managed to make a convincing smile as she approached the tanuki. “Hey, hey. Owner-san. Where did you get that sword?”

When the tanuki replied, he seemed utterly at ease, as if that wasn’t clearly the sword Hanako had brought in just the evening before. “Oh, that? Old family heirloom. My grandfather used it in battle a hundred years ago.”

The beast in Hanako’s chest roared, but she managed to keep her anger out of her face. She leaned in and rested an elbow on the desk. “Really? Because it looks a lot like my sword, before it was stolen sometime last night. Even though my room was locked.”

“I’m sorry to hear you were robbed,” the tanuki said. “Wish there was something I could do to help, but we have a very strict policy. We are not liable for any theft or lost possessions during your stay with us.”

The edge of the table crunched in Hanako’s grip, but otherwise she maintained her calm. “Hey, Owner-san. That sword wasn’t there yesterday. If it’s a family heirloom, why would that be?”

The tanuki shrugged. “Why would an oni have human money? Or use a sword instead of a kanabo. When you reek of human like you do, that’s pretty suspicious.”

What? “You don’t believe I’m an oni? Do you need to touch my horn or something?”

“I’m just saying. Even this conversation isn’t a very oni-ish way to handle things.”

The anger  that’d been building since Hanako had arrived in Ashina started to break free. So she wasn’t “oni” enough for him? He wanted to see the monstrous side of her? Fine. She could show him what it really meant to anger an oni.

The tanuki’s face paled. Hanako wasn’t sure at first if she’d already started leaking pressure, when the tanuki bowed to someone behind her and she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She spun around to find a tengu, seven and a half feet tall and rail thin.

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Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

26 December 2022 part 2

Surprise! I actually got two writing sessions in that Monday. I wanted to catch up a bit, I guess, and I had work off, which made it easier.

This one was fun. When I was younger, sometimes I would entertain my little brothers by having each of them give me a word (kind of like mad-libs), and then I’d make up a story or something that used all the words they gave me. Most of them were pretty corny, but it was fun. So I kind of went and tried it again with the family we had over. One of them gave me the word cheese, another birds, and the my Mom gave me the word, “Why?”. Then I cam up with this.

The pigeon carefully looked around from his perch on the branch. There was a pizza with a beautiful, golden crust the humans had thrown out for whatever reason, and the pigeon wanted to grab what he could of that crust and carry it home to his family. However… This was the Cat’s territory. And if the Cat was around… Well, it wasn’t worth risking his neck for.

Once he’d watched and waited long enough to feel safe, the pigeon flew down to the pizza, only to come face to face with a mouse.

Both of them shrieked and jumped back. They slowly circled each other, the pizza between them. Finally, the pigeon asked, “You’re… not with the Cat, are you?”

“What? Never!” the mouse exclaimed. “The Cat would sooner eat me ask for help. WHat about you?”

The pigeon shook his head and heaved a sigh of relief. Then he had a though, and gave the mouse a sidelong glance. “Are you here for the crust, then?”

The mouse narrowed his eyes. “And what if I was?”

The pigeon ruffled his feathers, and got ready to fight. The mouse settle back on his haunches, ready to spring forward, and asked, “What about the cheese? Are you after that, too?”

“What? No! What would I even do with the cheese?”

Surprised, the mouse relaxed. “Well, maybe we can come to an agreement, then. I leave you the crust, and you leave me the cheese?”

He extended a paw, and the pigeon hesitated only a moment before he took it in his talon. “Agreed.”

For the next several minutes, the odd pair worked to harvest the pizza, each keeping a wary eye out for the Cat. As they worked, the pigeon said, “I haven’t seen you around these parts. Are you new here?”

“Oh, no,” the mouse replied. “I’ve lived here my whole life.” With his tail, he pointed to a small drain. “My wife and I live down there with our children. Out of sight. Not seen, not heard. That’s the best way to avoid the Cat.”

The pigeon cocked his head and ruffled his feathers. “Is it? That’s not what I’d learned.”

“Oh?”

“No. My pappy always taught us to fly high and free, out where the Cat can’t reach us.” The pigeon flapped a wing into the forest. “That’s where my family lives; high up in a tree, out where the Cat isn’t.”

“Hm? Out in the sky? Where the Cat can see you all the time?” The mouse shuddered. “I couldn’t do that. Way too scary. What if he watches you land?”

The pigeon scoffed. “Better than you. You practically live in the Cat’s lap! If some accident reveals you to it, then there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do. And you have to come out sometime to gather food and such, don’t you?”

The two stared at each other for a long time, then finally just shook their heads, took their piece of the pizza, and left, the mouse to his hole and the pigeon to his tree. Each was so certain the other was the greatest fool he’d ever meet.

26 December 2022

Pretty simple section today, but setting things up for how much she will feel out of place later.

Honestly, I’m a bit worried about how I portrayed Nobuhito. I want him to seem odd, but not stand-offish. I also want to make it clear that he’s a bit of an outcast in Ashina society even if it doesn’t bother him much.

When she arrived, she found a warm, inviting inn with an image of a dancing tanuki hanging from the sign post. Inside, she found a rotund, cheerful tanuki behind the counter, and off to the right a handful of other customers milling around the dining area. Among them was a kappa with graying hair, sitting by himself in the corner, sipping tea.

The tanuki gave her a big wide smile. “Welcome, welcome! What can we do for you today?”

“Um, yeah.” Hanako shuffled her feet. “I’m going to need a room for a few days. And I heard there’s someone here who can trade yen for zenni?”

The tanuki’s eyes widened for half a second, but he kept his smile and he gestured to the kappa Hanako had seen earlier. “Nobuhito should be able to help you out. He’s a bit of an odd one; a bit too fascinated with the humans. But he should be able to help you out.”

Hanako thanked him and headed toward the kappa. As soon as she walked into the main dining area, everyone stopped and stared at her, their eyes flickering from her horn to her clothes to her sword. She did her best to ignore all that, though, and sat down in front of the kappa. “Are you Nabuhito?”

The kappa slowly looked up and blinked at her. “Why do you want to know?”

She pulled her purse onto the table and pulled out a few coins. “I… don’t have the right money for here, I guess. I’ve only ever worked with yen, ab the people here only accept ‘zenni’. Could you help me out?”

Nobuhito took one of the coins and examined it closely. He took it in his beak and bit on it, and in wonder he said, “These are real!”

“Of course they’re real.” Hanako’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

The kappa gave Hanako a long, appraising look. “Why did you come to Ashina?”

The question surprised Hanako. “Well, I mean, this is a village for yokai, right? I wanted to be somewhere I belonged, a place to call home.”

Nobuhito tapped the coin on the table. “But you can earn human money. You found a way to live among them, Unless you stole or killed for it?”

Anger flashed in Hanako’s eyes, before she brought it back under control. “I’d never do that.” She rested a hand on her sword. “I was lucky enough to put my master’s skills to use protecting people. But… well, they never really accepted me.” She smiled sadly, then forced herself to cheer up. “But hey, I’m around a bunch of other oni and yokai now, right?”

“Hmm.” The kappa stared at her a while longer, then pulled her purse over and counted the contents. “I’ll give you five fifty for all this.”

Hanako hesitated. Was that a fair deal? She realized she didn’t know enough about the value of zenni to be able to tell. Still, kappa were widely regarded as honest and honorable, so she nodded.

The kappa handed her a different type of coin, and she got up and paid for a room for the next week. She considered going out and exploring the town, but the day’s events had been surprisingly draining, so she locked the door and went straight to bed.

The next morning, when Hanako woke up, her sword was missing. She practically tore the room apart looking for it. The door was still locked, as was the window, so how would anyone have gotten in?

Finally, despondent, she trudged down the stairs to breakfast.

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Hanako Next->

Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

25 December 2022

So, it was Christmas. A couple of my brothers came over, so it’s been hit or miss this whole week (from the 25th through the 30th) how much I was able to write or not. That’s not a bad thing; I really enjoyed the visit, and we had a lot of fun. But it did make me a little sad. That said, I did write every day - and even got 2 sessions in one day, to catch up a bit - so there will always be something here.

This time, I went to the Writer’s Block, and kept getting words like “Lust”, “Fertility”, or “Flirting”. I also found a random statistic that over 100 people have registered on a waiting list to see an execution live. After I quit fighting it, that kind of percolated in my brain, and merged with the stories I’ve heard about people writing and randomly falling for random prison inmates. No idea where I was going to go with it, and probably won’t ever come back to it; it’s pretty short.

Marlene wasn’t a looker. She knew it, and she knew everyone else knew it. Still, even she wanted something more in life.

She wasn’t expecting to get it like this, though. A few years back, on a whim, she and a couple of her friends had thrown their names on a list to watch a real-life execution. Something like needing to have civilian witnesses? Honestly, Marlene had forgotten all about it, and likely would’ve removed her name from the list if she’d thought of it.

24 December 2022

I finally got back to my Adeline story. This is the big project I’ve been working on more or less since I realized I wanted to become an author… and I’d definitely bitten off more than I could chew. Technically, I did finish a draft of one version of the story… but that one’s kind of crap and doesn’t really look anything like the story the way it is now.

Adeline is one of two main protagonists, and has just escaped an abusive home, alongside a foreign slave (Ting) her father and his friend were getting ready to sell. Ting actually has magical abilities she cannot control, tied to death and rot. They’d just met the Dorwitts, a family of traveling merchants, very loosely based on the idea of gypsy caravans. Summer’s Fall is August; Harvest’s Rise is September.

Soul’s Day, 31st of Summer’s Fall, 473

It’s hard to believe it’s already been almost two weeks since I left home, Mama. Or that it’s the end of Summer’s Fall already. I feel free, more than I have in a long time.

I think you’d like the Dorwitts. They’re fun, and they’ve been teaching me a lot of different things. Mostly more sign language, so I can talk with them better, but also things like keep track of your money, or how to juggle. Even though she didn’t want us to stay at first, Vy’s even been teaching me some tricks to get the most whenever I have to sell some of the jewelry you left.

Lianne said I should pick something out to keep for myself, to remember you by. I think I might keep that small necklace you used to wear a lot.

Most of the time Ting just watches. I think she’s scared of herself, still. But it’s not as bad as it was; I think the gloves really helped. And she’s always there practicing when they’re teaching me how to sign; I think she might be better than me, soon.

Rasbin says we’ll reach Luskra around three days from now. That’s kind of sad, in a way. I don’t want to say goodbye to the Dorwitts so soon. But I think Vy was right to be scared. Just letting us travel with them is dangerous.

Around ten to eleven days after Adeline and Ting joined the Dorwitts, three days into Harvest’s Rise, they arrived at the gates of Luskra. It didn’t have large or particularly imposing walls, but the city itself was a sprawling, massive thing. The sheer quantity of people crowding around the gate pressed in on Adeline and made her feel trapped; she could only imagine what Ting must be going through. She reached over and grabbed Ting’s hand, and flashed her a quick smile. Weak as it was, it did seem to help Ting calm down.

After they got through the gate and past the worst of the press, Rasbin pulled their caravan off to the side. He patted Adeline and Ting on the shoulder. “Well, I guess this is goodbye for now. Do you remember how to get to that pawn shop I recommended?”

Even though Adeline nodded, she couldn’t quite hide her uncertainty. She’d known Luskra was bigger than Caldwell, but she never imagined any place could be this big. Even if she remembered everything right, she wasn’t sure she could make sense of the city enough to follow Rasbin’s instructions.

Rasbin gave her an appraising look, then clapped Zad on the back. “Why don’t you go with them? Make sure the old coot doesn’t try to pull one over on them? We’ll be at our usual spot in the market.”

Zad stumbled forward and shot his dad a withering look. Then he straightened and nodded his head down the street. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way.” 

He lead them down a couple large roads, then turned down a smaller street to a quiet but dignified shop. Adeline and ting followed him inside, where a short Jingese man with a neat, white goatee stood behind the counter. He opened one eye and looked at Zad. “Ah, the young Dorwitt boy. When did your family return?”

“Just came in today.” Zad tipped his head back toward the girls. “Actually, I’m here to help these two. They have some jewelry to sell, and Dad said to make sure you didn’t scam them too hard.”

“Oh-ho.” the old man studied the two for a while, and especially lingered on Ting’s gloves, before he bowed to them. “Cao Wei at your service. What can I do for you today?”

Adeline stepped up to the counter and began to pull out jewelry pieces from her satchel. Once she’d pulled out everything but the necklace, she signed, “How much could I get for all of this?”

23 December 2022

I wanted to show that Hanako is caught between worlds; neither human nor truly yokai, at least as far as they’re concerned. So this arc is a little bittersweet at best, maybe outright tragic, even though I don’t plan on anyone dying.

I actually did a fair amount of research on different kinds of yokai for this, to make Ashina village feel as vibrant and diverse as possible. If anyone else needs a reference, my primary source was yokai.com. They have all kinds of information on there, with illustrations to help give a better idea what they’re talking about. It also includes specific individuals from old stories and fairy tales, like Tamamo no Mae, Shuten-doji, or Urashima Taro.

And yes, I shamelessly named the village (and its ruler, Lord Isshin) after locations and people in Sekiro. I have no regrets.

1-2 years before the destruction of Chizu

When Hanako had heard rumors of a hidden yokai village in the mountains, she wasn’t sure she believed it. Between the strength of the shogunate and the reclusive nature of many yokai, it seemed too good to be true.

Yet now, six months later, here she stood, at the gates of the Ashina castle village. Maybe here she’d find a place where she belonged.

An easy smile fell to her lips as she squared her shoulders and walked inside. Her jaw almost dropped, though, when she saw the marketplace. A group of kappa drunkenly belted out enka songs from an outdoor pub, while a nekomata couple fawned over each other as they walked down the street, their four tails intertwining. One yokai that looked like a giant umbrella with a long tongue hopped up and down on its single foot as it argued with a tengu merchant.

And mixed in with all that were dozens and dozens of oni. Red, blue, black, white, yellow; anywhere from a single horn to a crown of five; walking alone or whole families herding kids around for a day out. Part of Hanako wondered if she’d died and gone to heaven.

Or at least, she did until she accidentally bumped into a large, blue-skinned oni with a single horn. Hanako turned to apologize, but the oni only wrinkled his nose. “You reek of human.”

Eh? Hanako paused and tried to sniff herself, but she couldn’t smell anything. What did human even smell like?

After that, though, she began noticing little things. Like the way most parents herded their children away from her, or how shopkeepers wouldn’t meet her gaze. Still, it wasn’t like she could let this get her down. She approached a woman selling baked goods and cheerfully asked, “Hello! I’m new in town, and I need a place to stay. Do you know where I could go?”

The woman’s head rose a bit to look at Hanako better, stretching out her neck and proving her to be a rokurokubi. “Yeah, I know a couple places.” She poked her head out into the street and looked right. “If you’re only here for two or three days, I’d go to the Kirin’s Rest; it’s a bit pricey, but the rooms are worth it, and they won’t cause a fuss. That’s here on this street, about two blocks up to the left. If you’re going to be here a week or more, though, I’d head to the Lucky Tanuki; take the next right and follow that until it curves around to the north, and it’ll be on your right. The rooms aren’t as nice, but they’re cheap, and the food is good.”

“Thank you!” Hanako looked over the rokurokubi’s pastries. “Could I get four daifuku, too?”

“Of course! That’ll be twelve zenni.”

Hanako’s hand froze halfway into her purse. Zenni? What was that? She pulled out a few coins and stared at them. “Umm… Is there a way I could pay in yen? Or is there a place I could exchange money?”

The rokurokubi stared at Hanako like she was an exotic creature at a traveling circus. Hanako blushed furiously and scratched at her cheek. “I, uh… I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to expect when I finally found this place. I haven’t actually heard of zenni, before.”

The silence continued long enough to get awkward, before the rokurokubi finally said, “Er, well… There’s a kappa that hangs out at the Lucky Tanuki I told you about. He’s kind of strange, but he should be able to help you.” She packaged a pair of daifuku and handed it to Hanako. “Here. On the house.”

Still blushing, Hanako bowed and thanked the woman, then scurried off to find the Lucky Tanuki.

<-Hanako First

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Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

22 December 2022

There’s a lot going on in these scenes. It’s pretty tricky to balance, actually; the piper’s song seems like it should be fun, and joyous, all that. But at the same time, Naomi’s losing her only “friend”, and the piper has gathered a ridiculously massive swarm of rats to follow behind him. Which is terrifying. Doubly so if you’ve played either of the A Plague Tale games (I’ve still only played Innocence; Requiem is on my list, though). I may play with different iterations of this scene to figure out what fits the story best… after I have enough of the rest of the story to have an idea what that means, exactly.

The other concern I have is with Father Monroe. Who is he exactly? How much of an influence has he had on Naomi’s life? I think at this point I’ve decided he is not her guardian, but he does seem to have it out for her for whatever reason. I don’t know why yet; maybe she was born out of wedlock? I don’t really like that, for various reasons. I’ll think on it more.

…unnerved her.

Barton seemed fascinated by it, however. He even squirmed out of her grasp and ran out into the street. Naomi cried out and chased after him, but froze when she saw what was happening.

Pietr danced and sang his way down the street, playing his pipes all the while. How he could sing while playing the pipes, Naomi didn’t know; none of it made sense. But that’s what was happening.

That wasn’t what had caught Naomi’s breath, though. Behind him scurried a whole horde of rats, so think it almost looked like a river of fur flowing down the street. Rats sprouted from under doors and through cracks to join the throng.

Naomi snapped to her senses and found Barton a little ways ahead, rushing to join the horde. She yelped and chased after him. She’d nearly caught up to him, at the edge of the horde, when a strong pair of arms caught her and pulled her away.

“You don’t want to get caught up in that, little Naomi,” Baker Malcolm said.

Naomi squirmed and struggled to get free, but the baker’s grip on her was too strong. “Barton! BARTON!”

But the piper and the rats paid her no heed, if indeed the piper could even hear her over his own playing and the noise of the rats. He danced on his merry way until he was out of sight, and it wasn’t long before the last of the rats soon followed.

Malcolm finally let Naomi go, and she sank to her knees, too stunned to cry as she stared vacantly down the street where the piper had disappeared.

Around her, the other villagers began cautiously opening their doors. They looked around with pale faces before they slowly filtered out into the street. All of them huddled together, like they thought they’d just seen the devil himself.

As Naomi watched them, she saw a lot of the other kids clinging to their parents or siblings. Johan. Grace. Emma and Ruth. It struck at the hole inside her heart, and she squeezed her arms around her chest, as if she were hugging Barton close.

Only, now Barton was gone, too. And he wouldn’t be coming back. Once that sank in, the tears finally came, and the sound of her cries and sobs echoed throughout the village.

Perhaps an hour later, Father Monroe had gathered any willing to an impromptu, outdoor sermon. “Rats are unclean, the very spawn of the devil himself,” he said. “And any who can command them like that must be his servants. Indeed, eve those who merely consort with them are suspect!”

He glared across the square at Naomi. Ordinarily, she might quip back or at least return his glare, but today she couldn’t bring herself to care.

One of the other villagers, Robert, chimed in. “Yeah! If he can do that, how do we know he wasn’t the one as sent the rats in the first place?”

“Precisely.” Father Monroe nodded. “And it would be the gravest of sins to support one of the devil’s servants!” The crowd roared in approval, and he continued. “Therefore, we will not pay this foppish wretch so much as a single cent! We will not condone any witchcrafts or sorceries here. Instead, we must drive him from the village! If he will not, then worst comes to worst, we may be called upon to hoist this warlock on the pyre!”

Once again, the crowd roared, stirred up in a fervor of self-righteous zeal. Some part of Naomi thought she ought to go and warn Pietr, but the bigger part of her couldn’t be bothered. Besides, he was the one who sent Barton away.

<-Hamelin Previous

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Compiled version (potentially including unposted content)

21 December 2022

Songs are difficult to write. I’m also not really a fan of how on-the-nose this one is. That’s one thing I appreciated of Shannon Hale’s Book of a Thousand Days; the magic wasn’t from the words, but more how they made someone feel, if I understand it right. Still, this works well enough for a first draft.

It was some time later when, from the alley where she’d tucked herself away, Naomi heard a song. It was distant, at first, but seemed to be getting closer; a jaunty tune that invited the listener to jump up and join the dance. Not that Naomi felt like dancing just then.

Soon, it had gotten close enough she could recognize Pietr’s voice, and then the words he was singing:

“Ah, rout-tout, diddly di,

Rout-tout, do.

In for a penny, in for a pound,

Come, ye rats, and gather ‘round.

There’s many a place to rest your head,

But none here in this town.

A plate full of bread, a bowl full of cheese

Come eat with us, whate’er ye please…”

Naomi struggled to pin down why, but something about the song unnerved her.

<-Hamelin Previous

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Compiled version (potentially including unposted content)

20 December 2022

For my birthday a few weeks ago, my family got me a little 3-4 inch cube book called The Writer’s Block. It’s full of a bunch of different writing prompts and idea generators, and I decided to take a break from my usual stuff and try it out. The first page I flipped to was only a single word; “Gossip”. By itself, that didn’t appeal to me. But I randomly turned to a few other pages, and got one with “Superstitious”; the two started fermenting in my brain, and I had a thought. Superstitious/supernatural entities that are likely to gossip or be affected by rumors… why not vampires?

Most modern media depict vampire society as being focused around the “elite”, of it being a branch of high society. Makes sense; it’s quite the wonderful metaphor, isn’t it? But while considering that, I was thinking about what they might gossip about, and I had a question. How would they react to some unrefined country bumpkin joining their society?

If I ever do more with this - and I’m not sure I will - I’d want to pull in more of the characters vampiric nature. What I’ve got written here could just as well be some ordinary rich girl dating a farm boy. Also, Alucard would only be a stand-in surname.

“Have you heard about the young heiress of the Alucard family, Druscilla?” The speaker was a short, plump woman named Edith. If I hadn’t already known it, I’d never have believed she was a vampire.

“Oh, yes. What a scandal! Not only did she run of with some mortal and turn him, she didn’t even have the decency to choose one of the wealthy, well-groomed ones. Instead, it was some boy from the countryside.” Druscilla herself had a thin face, in sharp contrast to her talking companion. If you told me she’d never smiled in her life, even before her Change, I’d believe you.

“What was his name again? Spencer?”

“No, no. It was Shawn, I believe.”

That’s me. Shawn. Fresh from Burhill, Idaho, and fiancee to Leah Alucard. Also a freshly-minted vampire. Still kinda on the fence how I feel about that. Unless Leah’s around; then I remember what a no-brainer the decision was.

I approached the two women. “Did you need me for something?”

Both women seemed shocked at the sudden intrusion. “No, we’re fine, thank you.”

I tipped my hat to them–an old baseball cap from the mill I worked at during my high school days–and said, “Best be careful what you say, ma’am. Prob’ly best not to offend the lady of the house, especially if she’s invited you as a guest.”

For a moment, both just stared at me. Then Druscilla said, “Indeed.”

I tipped my hat again and walked away. Behind me, I heard them debating who I was, which was curious as they’d been talking about me just moments before. Not that I felt like going back and introducing myself.

I passed by a few more groups of people, each one twittering away, mostly about my engagement with Leah, or about the way she changed me without some big boss’s approval. Made me wonder what I was doing there and how I was going to deal with this mess.

Before long, too much was too much and I retreated upstairs. Didn’t really want to spend time with the in-laws; my first meeting with Leah’s dad had just about come to blows. So I headed up to the attic and looked out the window over their massive backyard.

A little while later, Leah came up and joined me. “Figured I’d find you here, once I realized you’d left the party.”

I gave her a wry smile. “It’s pretty nice up here. Got quite the view.”

“Hmm.’ She came and sat down next to me, then leaned her head on my shoulder. “So what’s really going on? And don’t try to tell me everything’s fine. I know you well enough to know something’s up.”

I grabbed herr hand. “It’s really not much. Just… Been hearing a lotta people talking. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Of course!” She raised her head and looked me in the eye. “Are you? Do you regret it?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nah.” I glanced out the window. “It’s just… I’m a farm boy from Idaho. What the heck do I know about fancy parties or things like that?” I turned back to Leah as I said, “Guess I’m just worried I’m gonna make things harder for you with everyone else, since I don’t know how to look presentable to all the snooty-tooty folks downstairs.”

Leah snorted with laughter, then shook her head. “Don’t worry about them or what they think. And if they’ve got a problem with you, they can go through me.” She kissed my cheek. ‘You’re worth dealing with all that crap for, I hope you know.”

I grinned. “You are, too.” I tickled her side a bit, making her squeal, then stood up. “C’mon. Probably ought to head back downstairs before someone wonders where we scurried off to.”

19 December 2022

The final part of her encounter with the oni scouts. I’m honestly not sure on a lot of things with this scene (both the previous part and this one); is Shuten-doji the Youkai King? If so, is he this one or the last one? I’ve been researching Japanese mythology, yokai in particular, to prepare for this story and its various pieces, but I’m on the fence on what to use and how to use it. I don’t want to disrespect the established legends, for one thing. There’s also the fact that Hanako’s story does not take place in Japan, at least the way it’s written now, and I worry that using established figures like Shuten-doji or Tamamo no Mae will make people think it does. I’m definitely drawing heavily there for inspiration, after all…

I’d say the only solutions I can come up with are to make it explicit somehow this isn’t Japan, or to spend time in Japan, do a lot of research, and change place and people’s names to reflect Japan itself. Right now, I don’t think it’s a big deal, where I’m not official publishing this or anything, but it’s something I want to keep in mind.

“Don’t worry about it.” He stroked his chin. “Y’know, all this talk’s got me craving some now.” He gestured to Red. “Grab the bigger one; we’ll save the small one for last. She’ll be the most tender.”

Red glowered at Yellow and grumbled, but he walked over to grab the father. Hanako considered herself lucky she’d gotten as much information out of them as she had. When Red walked past her, she stood and drew her sword. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Blue and Yellow exclaimed in surprise and reached for their weapons, but she’d already stabbed Red through the chest before any of the three could react.

Red roared as Hanako pulled her sword free, and she could feel the waves of anger pulsing off of him. He charged her, hands outstretched, but she danced to the side and lopped off his arm as casually as a noble woman might wave her fan.

Blue swung his own kanabo at her, and did his best to stay out of range of her sword, but she dodged and jumped inside his reach. SHe drove her knee into his groin and used the pommel of her sword to bash him in the head, dazing him.

Before she could finish him off, the yellow one released a burst of pressure, though it was barely enough to catch her attention. “You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he sneered. “But do you think a lowly red oni like you could do anything to me?”

Hanako cocked her head. “Ne, oji-san. Was that supposed to be scary?”

Both Yellow and Blue froze. Red had turned and roared at her, and was about to rush in when she said, “Shouldn’t it be more like this?”

And with that, she released all the pressure, all the anger she felt, both from the threat they posed to the Chizu refugees and for this family who’d lost everything. Red stopped in his tracks and began cowering away from her, and both Yellow and Blue fell back on their butts.

Yellow tried in vain to scooch away from her as she slowly walked towards him. “But…how? How?”

Hanako thought for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Practice? Or else it’s because I’ve got something to protect.” She raised her sword and cleaved his head from his body.

Before the body even hit the ground, though, Blue’s voice yelled from behind her, “Drop your sword!”

Hanako spun around, and found him holding the girl by the neck in front of him. His eyes were desperate, as if they’d seen a monster. Hanako found that ironic on a number of levels. He repeated, “Give us your sword, or she dies!”

It only took a moment for Hanako to decide what to do. A small smile played at her lips. “Alright, then. Catch.” She sheathed her sword and tossed it to Blue. His eyes left her for a moment, and Hanako took the chance to dart in. As he caught her sword with his free hand, she drove her fist into his solar plexus, and when he doubled over, she twisted his head and broke his neck.

She retrieved her sword and faced the final oni left. “So what are you going to do, big guy?”

Red looked from Yellow’s corpse to Blue’s body, then up at Hanako, who’s innocent smile didn’t match the hardness in her gaze. He backed away a couple steps, then turned and ran off into the forest.

Hanako turned to the two captives, who looked up at her in fear. She sighed, then removed their gags and began to untie them.

“Who… Who are you?” the father asked.

“Just a wandering swordswoman.” Hanako finished up and stepped back. “There’s a group of refugees about two hours’ walk north of here. Follow this road to the river, then turn right and follow that up. Ask for a woman named Keiko; she’s running things right now.” She turned to leave. “Tell her Hanako sent you.”

She turned to leave, when the father asked, “How can we trust you?”

Hanako looked back at the two oni she’d just killed. Her eyes met the father’s. “If that’s not proof enough, I don’t know what would be. The choice is yours, though.”

And without another word, Hanako left.

<-Hanako First

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Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

18 December 2022

There’s a lot that’s changed about this story since I first started it. For example, now I’m thinking Aislin did officially join the temple to the Rose in some capacity, rather than just working as a volunteer under a probationary status. Still working out how she brings Cordelia around; it might even be the same. I also want to figure out a better idea of what some of Aislin’s own flaws and concerns are; I’d like the old woman at the end to be able to help her out.

The rabble-rouser guy is going to come into play in the future. I’m definitely going to have fun with this. Though I do want to change what he says here, make it less relatable and more sketch.

In particular, one man stood on a box in one of the more open areas of the slums. He looked disheveled, with ragged clothes and a patchy beard, but there was a ferocious gleam in his eye as he yelled out to the crowd.

“And what have they done for us? What good do their cries of love, or life, or beauty, do to solve our problems?”

Aislin watched for just a moment, and felt the emotions of the crowd shift and sway with every turn of the man’s words. She hurried away, as lead settled in her stomach.

Only a couple blocks beyond that, she finally found the shrined. It was a small, simple thing; a small altar set before the painting of a raven-haired woman, the left half of her face covered by a mask. Indeed, her entire left side seemed to be withered and dead. The altar and the room looked clean and well-cared for.

Aislin bowed her head and offered a silent prayer to the Lady. What had she hoped to accomplish here?

As she turned to leave, however, she found an elderly woman, with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “Ah, apologies, child. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I was just finishing up, anyway.”

The old woman studied her carefully, and her eyes lingered on the rose pin on Aislin’s lapel. “I must say, we don’t get many of your faith out this direction. What brings you here?”

<-Aislin Previous

Aislin Next->

17 December 2022

This is the first time we’ve seen Hanako interact with any other yokai, and I kind of wanted to show that she’s caught between worlds. This isn’t the best scene for it; I plan to add another scene, maybe set before the Chizu village arc, where she actually finds a yokai settlement (maybe predominantly oni, maybe not), and show how wary they are of her. Still, I hope I captured a bit of that feeling here…

When Hanako noticed the tracks leading off the road, she wasn’t sure if it was instinct, caution, or curiosity that compelled her to follow them. Whatever it was, she was grateful.

At the other end of them, she found a trio of large, male oni, each a different color but all around eight feet tall, gathered around a fire. Some creature–it looked to be the remains of a horse–turned on a spit above it.

Off to the side, a father and daughter were trussed up, quivering in fear. The girl couldn’t have been more than ten years old. The ruins of a wagon rested on the other side of the fire, its contents strewn about, either broken or devoured. A bit of bile rose into Hanako’s throat, and she desperately hoped the mother of the family hadn’t been traveling with them. 

Hanako took a moment to consider how she wanted to approach this. Then she put away the charm she got from the old merchant and walked out into the clearing. “Hiya! What’s cooking?”

The oni stopped their conversation to look at her. The red one even got up and reached for his kanabo. All of them, including Hanako, ignored the muffled screams of the father and daughter when they saw her.

The blue one glared at her. “And who are you?”

Hanako beamed at him and held out her hand. “Hanako! Nice to meet you.”

After an awkward moment, the blue on sneered and spat off to the side. “You reek of human.”

There it was again. What did that even mean? Hanako had spent so much time around humans she couldn’t tell. “Occupational hazard, I suppose?”

The third–the largest of the three, with a yellowish tint to his skin–studied Hanako carefully. “Y’know, rumor’s goin’ ‘round about the shogun’s pet oni. You hear anythin’ about that?”

“Oh, her. “ Hanako’s face soured. “Yeah, I ran into her once. Big, blue woman. Seemed like bad news.”

The yellow one seemed satisfied with her answer. “Got fresh-cooked horse for now. But if you’re patient, well…” He flashed a cruel smile at the father and daughter. “We’ve got a real delicacy comin’ later.”

Hanako plopped herself down next to Blue, across the fire from where Yellow reclined. “Huh. I thought what’s-his-bucket had strict rules about eating humans.”

Blue looked over at the red one. “Sit down, already!” He smiled at Hanako. “That’s old news. After the shogun started his campaign, Shuten-doji deposed the old man as the Yokai King, and eliminated all those laws. Only for his army, of course. Gotta incentivise people somehow.”

“Oh-ho. So you three are all in the new King’s army, then? What are you doing out here?”

Red spoke up for the first time. “We scout. Shogun’s men near here, burned village.” His smile turned ferocious. “If lucky, we eat survivors.”

The beast inside pushed against Hanako’s ribcage. That was Keiko, Chiaki, and the others he was talking about. But she held it back for the time being and pretended to look thoughtful. “Sounds tempting. How would I join? The main army nearby?”

Yellow snorted. “The big armies are up north; better to avoid that, I say. No, you wanna join, head southeast toward Nanmoku. Our company’s going to hit there next.”

Hanako beamed at him. “Thanks for the info.”

<-Hanako First

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Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

16 December 2022

I changed Nella’s name to Naomi. Nella didn’t have quite the right feel to it for the character. Also, I’ve always been fond of the name Naomi. It’s just a very pretty name.

There’s a lot I might eventually change about this. For example, an early version of the myth had a blind, a lame, and a deaf child all left behind by the piper (either because they couldn’t keep up, or couldn’t hear the music to get charmed by it), and they’re the ones who told everyone else. If Naomi knows and hangs out with them, she could leave them a message. I’d have to be careful, though, as they would never reappear in the main story, so I don’t necessarily want to build them up as being important…

Naomi nodded, and the piper began to play. And oh, how he played! It felt like joy itself flowed out of his pipes. The music carried the piper away and he began to dance. It took but a moment for Naomi’s tears to vanish, replaced by a great toothy smile as she clapped along.

The piper had more tricks up his sleeve, though. He began to throw out small colored flags, and flowers of every kind. Naomi couldn’t figure out how he did it, as she never saw him take his hands off the pipes.

By this point, a sizable crowd had gathered around the fountain, but the piper kept his eyes on Naomi. He danced and twirled, faster and faster, until Naomi couldn’t keep track of what was what. For half a second, she even thought she saw hooves instead of the worn boots the piper wore.

He finished with a flourish, and swept off his hat and bowed to her. “And what did you think of my performance, fair lady?”

Naomi could only applaud. “It was amazing, Mr. Piper! How did you–”

“Naomi!” Out of the crowd, a tall man in a cassock glared at the girl. The wrinkles on his face were evidence enough that he wasn’t prone to smiling.

Naomi’s smile vanished, and she shrank into her shoulders. “G-good evening, Father Monroe.”

“And what is good about it, pray tell? And what are you doing idling away here? Have I not taught you that an idle mind is the devil’s playground?”

Naomi shrank herself further, and found herself wishing she could disappear right into the earth. The priest continued, “And worse, cavorting about with this… foppish peacock!”

The piper frowned for half a moment, then flashed Father Monroe the biggest smile Naomi had ever seen as he bowed. “Goodman Pietr at your service, Father! Gleeman, piper, and ratcatcher all in one.” He rose and smirked at the priest. “I believe it was you who called for my services, was it not? A thousand coin, to rid this fine city of a rampant infestation of rats, wasn’t it?”

Father Monroe looked as if he’d just eaten something phenomenally bitter. Naomi barely noticed, however; she was to busy trying to catch her breath. This was the ratcatcher? Was he going to take Barton away? She scooped up the rat where he’d been sitting and turned away from Pietr.

After a moment, Father Monroe asked, “You are Goodman Pietr?”

“Indeed I am, good sir.”

“And you can resolve our rat problem?”

“Indeed I can, good sir.”

Father Monroe scowled, then looked over where Naomi was trying to creep away. “Very well. You can start with that one.”

Naomi shrieked and backed away, but the piper just shook his head. “Tut, tut, tut. Now, now, good priest. You do not see me trying to tell you how to preach your sermons, do you? You tend to your duties, and I shall see to mine, you have my word.”

The priest choked back a thousand scathing replies. “Every rat, Goodman Pietr. If you want full payment.”

Naomi never heard Pietr’s reply, because at that point, she broke out of the crowd and hid herself away.

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Compiled version (potentially including unposted content)

12 December 2022

Yeah, it looks like I missed last Sunday the 11th, too. Not that I did a great job the 12th, either. Again, I was just forcing myself to write something. Didn’t turn out great.

I kinda always wanted to do an introductory scene for the Arena, with Kali (or whatever I change her name to later) showing some newcomer around. I eventually plan on finishing and/or rewriting this.

“Welcome to the Arena,” Kali said, gesturing to the colosseum before them. “Where everyone you see is created, reworked, or borrowed whole-sale to be immortal and help the Authors practice writing combat scenes or similarly stressful situations.”

“Umm…” The newby, a petite girl with short raven-black hair, looked worryingly toward the medbay, where wounds of all kinds were being treated. “Does it hurt?”

“Depends on the Author. Ours seems average; we feel some pain, but rarely if ever is it debilitating.”

10 December 2022

I felt pretty proud of this scene. This is where the shogun’s true nature as a gaslighter really comes out to the front. One of the revisions I’m considering is cut out the bit with Nakamura and the hearing, and just have him bring it up after the fact in this scene. I’d want to show Nakamura fleeing Chizu village more expicitly during that battle if I do that, though.

As always, they were lavish, from the vibrant colors of the rugs on the floor to the silk-covered pillows for guest to sit on. Suzune moved to prepare tea, and soon the scent filled the room, from the finest tea money could buy.

She used extreme caution as she placed the tea cups and poured from her father. From past experience, she knew the cups were incredibly fragile, at least in her hands, and even more expensive.

“Sit.” Father nodded across the table from where he sat.

Suzune’s blood chilled from the tone in his voice, and the joy she’d had on receiving the promotion to major evaporated. She kneeled on the cushion, placed her hands in her lap, and patiently waited for Father to begin speaking.

He finished his cup and gently set it on the table. “So. You were defeated. By a single oni, no less.”

Suzune’s heart curled in on itself, though she did her best to keep her expression neutral. “Yes Father.”

He looked up and met her eyes. “If you lack even the strength to defeat one oni, then what good are you?”

It felt like the floor fell out from underneath Suzune. She wanted to protest, remind him that Hanako was no ordinary oni, of all the things Ito had said earlier. But the words wouldn’t come out. At the end of the day, he was right, wasn’t he? She’d lost, and hundreds of her fellow soldiers had died for it.

The shogun stood, and began to walk slowly around the table. As he moved behind Suzune, he said, “Not only did this defeat cost us many good officers and soldiers, every loss leads to doubt. And doubt is unacceptable. Did you not hear Nakamura? The very fact you lost caused him to question your loyalty, and the honor of my line. I suspect it’s also related to Major Ito’s sudden leave of absence, don’t you think?”

If she could have, Suzune would have vanished into nothing. “Yes, Father.”

He moved back around in front of her. “I took you in as a child, despite the fact you are an oni. That is all anyone else will ever see. If you want them to accept you, such failures will not be permitted. Do you understand?”

Suzune nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to look up and meet his eyes.

“Fortunately, you have a chance to rectify this.” He sighed and sat down, and out of the corner of her eye Suzune was surprised to see him smile at her. “In spite of your failure in combat, your strategic thinking was excellent. You did achieve the goal in battle to remove a village of foul yokai sympathizers, and rescued many other soldiers, besides. This promotion will give you a chance to further prove your worth.”

Like someone finally seeing a light after weeks of darkness, Suzune clung to the hope the shogun dangled before her. “What would you have me do, Father?”

“Polish your mind. Use that strategic brilliance to gain advantage over the yokai army. And if you ever face that oni in battle again, do whatever it takes to kill her. Especially if she was trained by the traitorous swordmaster.”

She rose and saluted. “The will of the shogun be done, Father!”

He nodded. “That will be all.”

Suzune bowed and turned to leave. Then she thought of what Captain Takamoto had reported on Hanako’s description of the army, and the way Hanako herself had been so desperate to protect the village. That didn’t sound like the oni Father often described, or even the ones Suzune had met and killed in battle. She paused in the doorway, and almost asked Father about it. But something held her back. In the end, she just left.

She was probably mistaken, anyway. She was just an oni, after all; better to leave things like that to Father.

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Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)