The Alternate Universe Meme

[misheard]

The Alternate Universe Meme

1. Comment with your character.
2. Others will reply with an AU idea.
3. Thread. Profit.

AUs can be any AU of any kind, but if you need ideas, I have this masterlist and this tumblr to get you started.

Comments

Cherryblod | Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea

[cherryblooded]

[aquaticrush]

[Hi dad]

[cherryblooded]

[Hello, actual daughter! Well, still adopted, since lobsters and shrimps do not porpoises make, but adopted from a young age so it doesn't really make a difference. He's currently brushing her hair for her. It's a Moment.]

Your hair is so lovely, angel. Do you ever think of doing anything else with it?

[aquaticrush]

[Retasu fidgets in her chair.] Do you think I should? I know the style I keep it in is a little strange and the cut doesn't allow for a lot of variation.

Nagi "Alice" Arisuin | Chivalry of a Failed Knight

[darknesshermit]

Edgar Allan Poe | Bungou Stray Dogs

[kingpest]

Hajime Ichinose | Gatchaman Crowds

[embellishes]

[ ota, with the exception of nsfw/smut. here's my rp wishlist, which has a list of my favorite aus, if you need help coming up with an au! but i'm super into anything, i love aus. ]

since his canon update is fresh in my mind: ghost AU

[midden]

[Words appearing on their own in Hajime's notebooks are nothing new, but this isn't the Gatchaman-assigned notebook. It's a flowery pink and white one, totally normal except the suddenly-appearing text.]

Hi, Hajime-chan! :D

[Also, the Gatchamen don't use a lot of emotes except for her.]

HOW COULD YOU

[embellishes]

[ When Hajime peeks over her desk to watch the ink bloom across white, lined paper, as if with a happy little flick of the wrist, it'd be inaccurate to say she shouted. More true to the reality of the moment, she shrieks, a noise that hurls out of her mouth from the back of her throat, it seems. A talking notebook?! A talking notebook!! ]

You! You're the cute one I just bought...! [ She can't help it when she turns her body to grab the handle of a drawer in her desk. Tearing it open, it jostles with pens in a rainbow of color, each of them more and more vibrant. You might think there's a level of organization going on here that mere humans can hope to achieve one day, but no. They just roll that way. She picks out a matching pink, something to accent the cover of the book. ]

Hmmmm...
Not D-san, Utsutsu-chan... Not Senpai... Not Joe-san... Paipai? Noooooo way~~~
You must be
The notebook? How mysterious!
Where did you get such cute ink! Where, where?

:>>>

[midden]

I don't know! Yours is much cuter.

[The notebook's is a boring red, for now.]

Maybe I can change it if I really try?

[thirdbeauty]

[The academy's dance studio is usually empty by this point in the day. Empty, that is, except for one Natsuru Senou whenever she gets it in her head that her latest solo or her form in general needs more work.

Which is often. She's talented, but she rarely has complete confidence in herself. Even when she can't really pin down what she might possibly be getting wrong, she keeps practicing until she's more sure of herself.

With how late it's getting, though, people might start to wonder where she's disappeared to for so long. And if not anyone else, then at least Hajime is certain to discover the taller girl deeply focused on her routine in the studio.

Her form certainly appears perfect, and she doesn't miss a single beat. And yet, she still seems uncertain as she flows, smoothly and apparently effortlessly, into her final position. She's so internally focused right now, she doesn't notice Hajime even if the girl is right out in the open nearby. It's probably because of that intense focus that she's completely lost track of time in the first place.]

[furtherforward]

[There would come a time where debtors are finally excused from their work in Koriko. It's an inevitability, like the change from winter to spring to summer, the blooming of flowers and their subsequent death. And for a debt like Akira's, he was sure to be relieved first. The cyclist never expected it would be so sudden, though. (But why wouldn't it be?)

He still remembers that day clearly. The Witch summoned him to her office (quite literally; magicked away right as he was clocking out), and he stood in front of her desk with that air of impatience that suggested he wouldn't tolerate having his time wasted by even his own boss. In front of the Witch was a simple sheet of paper. She signed it, and told him to do the same with his real name: Akira Midousuji. It was the closure of his contract, and he had only an hour before he would be returning home.

Maybe it was just the heat of the moment weighing down on him, but he remembers clearly the very first thing he asked the Witch.

An Akira that hadn't been through the trials of Koriko, months and months of it, would have been content to sign the papers and just wait for his return, or perhaps might ask if she'll certainly make good on his wish, but the wish became secondary to him in the moment. He could wait to see whether it was true or not. (Being the best cyclist by a wish... That's the last thing he wanted, so instead, Akira changed his wish. He wished instead to nullify any wishes to become the best by fellow cyclists, like Naruko, Imaizumi or anybody else. A simple, tactical wish that leaves everything up to the purity of drive and completely overturns his opponents. In a sense, it's a victory for Akira!) Instead, he remembers a strange feeling bubbling up inside of him as he broke the quiet of the room with his sharp voice: "Will I remember this place?"

A futile question, and she reminded him as much. The Witch couldn't guarantee that anybody's memories would remain in-tact, she said, and he noticed the upward curve at the edges of her lips that spoke to her suspicion of Akira's change in character. How devious of the Witch, to bring him here so that he might adapt in this way, only for her to tear him away from that which he once rejected, but now embraces in some way.

He remembers even to this day when he walked out from that office, serenely accepting the terms of his return. He remembers staring at the ceiling on the top floor. Yes, he remembers thinking to himself that he'll treat it like he's no different from before – if he's to lose his memory or if he's to keep it, what does it matter? Akira closed his eyes at that time and stood there for many, many minutes, cutting and slicing away at the layers that he'd grown around his heart. All these layers... they're a double-edged sword, good and bad. They protect him, they strengthen him, but they weigh him down, don't they?

Knowing Hajime and getting close to her... Surely he knew all along that knowing her, while it gave him feelings and color where there was once a gaping hole and gray, would eventually lead to losing her. Abandon it... Abandon it... He had to let go now, if any time. It couldn't be that hard, and it's just a reminder that he can't let anything grow on him that can perish like this. Something like this... he certainly won't need it, not ever. So he wouldn't say goodbye, he decided. He would only plan on moving forward. He gripped his fists so hard at that his short nails left half-moon imprints on his palms, and he stood around outside of that office listlessly for nearly 40 minutes

Until suddenly, Akira thought of something.

He remembers, so many years ago, that he had his cell phone in his pocket when he went to see the Witch. He remembered the time that Hajime nabbed his phone and input her number into his, uselessly, he always thought. Thought. Akira pulled the phone out and stared at it, so quietly that he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat thudding low and strong.Would they remember? Would they forget? Either way, couldn't he do something about it? Akira typed into his phone madly, backspacing and retyping until he was satisfied with something direct, unburdened. There wasn't much time to wonder whether he should or shouldn't anymore. He hit send using the cell service near the Witch's office, knowing she wouldn't get the message until much later, when she was back home and with a phone sure to be wiped, but plenty able to connect to service. The next step was to write Hajime a note that she would receive just as Akira was sent back to Kyoto.

Though it was written second, it was the first message Hajime would receive from Akira. It read simply: Don't bring your cell phone near the Witch's office. -Midousuji Akira

That was enough, he thought at that time. Succinct. It spoke for him everything that needed to be said: first, his directions. And second, his full name, written without the fear that the Witch would take it away. She had no right to it anymore. His name was enough to say that he was leaving then, and if she wanted to guarantee that she'd have any recollection of him, she'd keep from getting cell service until she, too, fulfilled the terms of her debt.

For however long that took her, the very moment Hajime got cell service again she would find that a message, with some delay, would ping her phone. It's short, awkwardly put, and from a mysterious sender that has no ID in her phone any longer – seems the Witch erased any additional contacts from her list.

I'm Midousuji Akira. Do you remember?

...Sadly, there would never be a response to any message of her own – how could there be, across universes? Akira wouldn't get her reply.


When Akira returned to Kyoto, it was as seamless as when he left. He forgot everything.

The all-rounder woke up in Kyofushi's club room, where he managed to fall asleep on the massage table. It was his second year of high school, and he had no recollection of his time in Koriko. Akira went through his final years of high school without a single regard for it. Without thinking anything was off, without wondering if he was missing a single thing. The 42nd Inter-High passed, and then the 43rd, and no matter what he placed his performance was still impressive enough for him to be scouted by a few universities – convenient, but he decided he would get into whatever school he wanted, no matter how much work he had to put into it. All continued to go according to plan, and not once did the inkling of a parallel existence nag at his brain.

But on the night before his graduation day, he had a peculiar dream sparked by overhearing classmates of his chattering in class about giving their second button to their girlfriends. He fiddled with the button on his uniform on his way home from school, finding the tradition to be an unnecessary one. That night, Akira dreamed of a girl much shorter than he, with dark brown hair and with her teeth at his chest, right over the scar that he got some time during his second year. (By some accident, he decided after months of confusion; there was some nasty spill he managed to get involved with, although he never remembered tearing up his chest like that.) It was so panic-inducing that he nearly woke with a start, but he remained in his captive slumber. The girl bit down, and Akira bit back a scream in return. She twisted her head, twisted it hard, and pulled back...

Between her smile was the second button of his uniform. She told him she'd done this before, but this time, it was to remind him of what's close to his heart, what's there that he couldn't see. Her hand reached for the button between her teeth, and she held it close to her own heart in a gesture that he found oddly reminiscent of... something.

Akira woke up in a cold sweat that morning. It's one of the very few dreams he remembers vividly. There was something about that girl...

During the graduation ceremony, Akira spent his time trying to remember the girl's name. It was during the commencement speech that he remembered, as the speaker said something he found largely unremarkable save for a single word: "As citizens reaching adulthood, it's time for you to begin your lives anew and with vigor, with endless possibilities to pursue."

Hajime Ichinose. He remembered everything all in that moment, reaching with the claws of his mind to something that shouldn't exist. Even when the speaker asked the students to rise, Akira remained seated, completely floored by everything that he'd forgotten that just now, he remembered.



It's been ten years since he was at Koriko, he's counted. Ten years full of Akira going to college, joining a major Tour team and performing well, ten years until he's 26 years old and trying to figure out how he can reach across the universe, if it's even worth trying. Akira stands with one hand perched on the handlebars of his bike in a Tachikawa that doesn't resemble one Hajime would be in, gazing out distantly as he recalls everything he knows about Koriko. Would she remember? Did she get his text message? ...What good would it do him, even if she did?

What a ridiculous distraction. Years have gone on, and with time, it becomes harder and harder to believe what took place was real. The only thing he has to wash away his doubt is the scar over his heart, and even that, he's beginning to wonder. It's so...]

...Gross.

[It's but a mutter under his breath, caught in the wind to disappear. He slides his cell phone back into one of the pockets in his jersey – it's a new phone, but one that he insisted keep his old number. Akira shuts his eyes and thinks to get back on his bike to return to tackling his rigorous and lengthy route in the more mild early-summer heat, but for a moment there, it feels as though the very temperature around him changes.

Even the sounds around him seem to change. What was once a passing family becomes the voices of a few girls, almost as though he's not where he was just before. And then, Akira's phone vibrates in his back pocket. Peculiar, since he rarely gets messages – but if he's to wager a guess, it might be one of the team managers. Akira reaches for his cell phone, but he couldn't be more wrong about the sender

It might just be a message that can finally reach its destination.]

[embellishes]

[ Akira's phone does not go off once. Instead, it constantly vibrates, notifications being flipped for a solid minute or so before it silences. It's impossible, but there is a preview of a message on the screen.

No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I defini...

It's impossible, but there's an alert that Akira has 48 unread text messages and one received voice mail. The texts have sporadic dates, as if the person who sent them only decided to send them in the moment. Spontaneous choices in their life, to a number that surely bounced the messages back. Still, there's a name displayed there, and a selfie set as the contact picture, to boot.

Hajime!!! and accompanying picture, taken on his phone at least ten years ago stare back at him. It's impossible, but there's even a voice mail there.

No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I definitely would remember.
Hmm~ Did we meet at a collage group?
Gatcha~~

...

Uwah. It bounced?
That's super weird. I just got this message. Are you an alien?

Hajime remained in Koriko after Akira had left. It's hard to measure that time, now, but back then, it'd been a struggle to not be aware of it. She heeded his orders and did not bring her phone anywhere near the Witch's office. Akira left, and the proof was in the pudding: he was no longer listed as a resident anywhere on the island. It was a day they both knew would come, and because of that, she refused to let it devastate her. Knowing that, the fact he'd gone as far as to leave her a message like that, surely... he had a plan.

But Hajime isn't the sort to wait around, so sitting on her debt and accumulating a bunch of little things wasn't an option anymore. She felt it in her heart; she was nearing the end of her bargain. The blank space on Hajime's contract, where a wish would be written, was filled in a year after he left. She'd taken it back after waking up, under the agreement that instead of a wish, for now, the revival fee would be all she'd work on. After his leave, she had something that she wanted to strive for. In the Witch's professional handwriting, it was scrawled:

"I want Akira and I to meet again."

Selfish. But signing her life away should be a decision made for herself. Akira had to have some kind of personal wish like that, too, she thinks.

I thought about this number again, so I'll try it once more.
Akira Midousuji-kun, if you're out there, please!!
Respond!
It's too mysterious~

It's certainly a difficult wish to fulfill, and there's a lifetime of servitude to act out as payment. Hajime does so willingly. He's done his part. She can tell, and though a part of her always wondered what would happen if she brought her phone near the Witch's office, she doesn't. His plan hinges on the reason why being hidden from her.

Throughout the years, it sits in her room when she visits or is summoned, not at all forgotten. The temptation is great, but she's stronger than it, and smiles the entire time. It's necessary and furthermore, she makes it possible, because this is how Akira is fighting back for something that is his own.

There's a boom of spirit activity, and Hajime makes a point to work by the Witch's side in ensuring some kind of peace. During her stay on Koriko, the resort island endures, protected by the Gatchaman with a caring and thoughtful hand. Still, she wonders if Akira might have been able to give his input on the situations and fights that arose. Despite his prickly nature, he wasn't illogical, nor was he unintelligent. What he had to say about a situation was worth listening to, and if he were here, how would he respond...?

However difficult it was, she had a goal to strive for. The Witch reminds her that they might not recognize each other when they do reconnect every year or so, a pained quirk to her smile, but Hajime continues on. She trusts a boy over her employer.

It ends in the middle of October, when the Halloween decorations are going up. Thinking on it, there must have been about fifteen years of work on her back. It's when someone hangs up a banner in one of the reception halls in the hotel that she's snapped back to the Witch's office to sign her contract one last time. Fifteen years is apparently enough.

Her phone sits in her room.

At the last minute, Hajime makes her way across Koriko, bursting through her room to grab it, popping open the case to ensure it is still there. A last ditch effort sits there inside her phone, only barely bent. In combination with whatever it is Akira's plans from years ago are, this should do the trick. She's confident.

She wakes up in bed in the Gatchaman HQ, surrounded by people she loves and cares for, but there's a spot missing between them where someone else would fit perfectly.

Hm... My heart's telling me something weird, Akira-kun.
Or is it Akira-chan? I don't know why, but I feel like it's Akira-kun.
But... today I opened my phone case, and a purikura sheet was in there.
It was me and a guy I've never seen before.
^ That's a lie, though, right? Because this is definitely me.
In these stickers, it's me. Me and you, right?
When I saw it, I could only think about the name in these messages.
It's absolutely the first time I've ever seen it.
But, um... Ahaha.
Sometimes it's a little painful. Looking at it, I mean!
"Akira Midousuji."
It reminds me of a thunderstorm, and my heart aches a little bit.
...It's weird, but I think you'll read this some day, so I'll leave it for you to discover.
By the way, you're adorable. Your eyes look black, but they're actually super purple, aren't they? How cuuuuute~~~

It's been a month since she received that initial, mysterious message, and Hajime discovers a sheet of purikura in her phone case. It's dented where chips and bits were. The colors are faded, but what it is in her hands is distinct; herself, dangling off the shoulders of someone much taller, who stares into the camera with a blank expression. His eyes are dark, and wide. There isn't a reflection of light in his eyes, but she can tell he's staring into the camera.

It affects her more than it should. She sticks the largest one onto her desk, and another is stuck to her lampshade. Yet another sticker decorates the face of her clock. Her room in the apartment she shares with Sugane is a bright, chaotic sight, but the addition of this boy's image stirs up an emotion she can't quite ignore. It's like finding an old pair of shoes that fit just right.

!! I've decided!
I'll wait until these stop bouncing back.
If you're an alien, it might take a while to get that signal again, huh?
Be patient, be patient, me~
It'll work out ☆

Hajime graduates with special honors on account of being a member of the Gatchaman. She thinks that she hasn't put in that much work as a student, but knowing her work as a superhero is appreciated makes her smile. She checks her phone multiple times through out the night, but no messages come through from the mysterious Akira Midousuji. A selfie is sent, and it bounces back.

She doesn't go to university, if only because she wants to do something else with her time. Hajime works in disaster relief when she can, but most of her days are spent moving up at Orion Papyrus, where she continues to work despite her status as G-101. There are bursts where she has to be regulated toward working in the back, her face too easily recognizable to keep the shop manageable. The majority of the time, however, she can peacefully work the floor as an employee, helping people find the stationery they're shopping for. She tells her mother about the alien she's texting, and the only response she gets is a hesitant but supportive message in return. Hajime does what she wants, and even her mother knows that, so she continues the brief, sporadic correspondence with a number that repeatedly sends her texts back to her.

Directly after completing university, one of her friends gets married, and for some reason, Hajime thinks about a hundred day ceremony where she tosses the rock out of the window. It unsettles her, so she sends a text about the day only when she's had a few drinks. Somehow, it makes texting this number easier.

Hello~~~
Today~~~~ my friend got married.
It's weird to think we are at that age now!
At some point, I feel like i said... "I'"m not thinking about it much because I'm young."
Was that to you?
Well, when you watch it in front of you, it's easy to think about it. But I don't feel like there's much of a desire to get married in me.
That might be strange, but it's just natural to me.
...I just thought to tell you this!
Maybe that's the weird part~~~ Wow

There is no response.

It's been six years, and Hajime Ichinose does not remember Akira Midousuji. She doesn't remember a thunderstorm laden confession, nor does she recall attending a gala together. She doesn't remember a lonely Christmas, she doesn't remember a Valentine's Day where he eats glue. What she does remember, one movie night, is teeth shredding through her flesh. It's a sudden, sharp memory, as if bumping into an old bruise, and she yelps in surprise as the horror movie continues to unfold. Rui assumes that Hajime is just as terrified as he is, and offers to turn it off. She doesn't respond, and the film continues in its gore.

At midnight, she remembers survival tactics that lead her and another person to eating each other. Feeding off the other until the fourteenth day peters out. It's a horrific dream, but it feels like a turning point, a moment where her life was thoroughly entwined with someone else's. When Hajime sits up in bed in the morning, she checks the old scar in her side. Tracing it, she thinks she can almost make out the shape of teeth marks. A trick her mind is playing on her, she rationalizes. Her day begins the same as it always does.

...That scar.
I thought I had it for a long time and just never noticed. Things like that happen, right? You wake up with a scratch, or something.
But...
The truth is...

It storms one day, in Tachikawa. She watches the rain from the sitting room and drinks a cup of warm hojicha, her hair pulled up and away from her neck. Even in this weather, the beginnings of summer's heat sticks to her skin. The grey haze of rain, the fog that raises from the concrete... the colors of the city sit desaturated now. Neon lights burn brightly but there isn't a hint of the yellow sunshine she admires in the sky. This is fine, too. You have to water a sunflower for it to grow, after all. ]

Yellow, huh...

[ "Yellow" sticks to her lips, rough and dry, a far off memory that knocks on the door of her mind. She thinks, repeats the word over and over. She pictures it in a wheel of shades, all kinds of yellows that burn with-- ]

Happiness.

[ She's not really sure where that came from, but it holds strong and true in Hajime's heart, a heavy burden that she can't ignore. She thinks about the sticker sheets, Akira Midousuji, the color yellow, a mysterious scar, and the memory of skin being broken against teeth. They mingle with the mist of the rain, and Hajime feels another word on her tongue as she remembers a shock of yellow down a dark scalp: ]

Grossss...?

[ She hesitates, wrinkling her nose in thought.

Hey.
This is like, the thirtieth one, right?
Totally. It's definitely number thirty.
Anyway~
I just wanted to say you're not gross.

From balcony on her apartment, she watches two birds soar across the horizon. They flap their wings, effortlessly, looking free and pretty. Hajime takes a bite of her popsicle, humming. ]

...Akira, huh.

[ Bright sunshine is what she pictures as she says that person's name--

And she imagines a thin, knobby finger tapping at display paper, where she's scrawled the kanji.

No, no, it's more like sparkles, fireworks going off in every direction as an unsavory personality bites back at every turn. A red carpet of insults rolls out with his tongue, and he grins down at her, flashing a "real smile". A memory, and she feels like she could spread her wings again. ]

Nice to meet you, Akirakira.

[ A voice mail is sent when the pieces line up. Bits of it are still gone, but she's confident now. She knows something for sure; the sticker sheet was deliberate, but the only person who could have put it there was herself. The text message was deliberate, but the only person who could have even thought or cared to send it was-- ]

I looked at the date on my first message! Eeeeeight whole years, huh! I've been waiting that long for you to come find me, but you're really dedicated to keeping a girl waiting, aren't you? Is this what they mean when they say fashionably late? But I remember that purple suit, and you would still look better in something double breasted, Akirakira. 'Cause you're actually really handsome. Super adorable, and cute, and--!

Did I ever tell you? I didn't have a wish back then. But I do now. Can't you hurry it up? I'm getting restless! I can't hold myself back, you know. I remember you, Akirakira. I love you! I told you that I'd say it whenever I wanted to, didn't it?

I'm so worked up! I can't contain myself anymore, I'm gonna eeeeeeexplode! I'll do it, so... so I'll find you, okay?

[ It ends there.

The most recent text message is marked with today's date, timed at around five am. It's a blindingly bright picture of the sunrise, neon yellows stretching across tall buildings and a skyline that looks more whimsical than the one Akira can see. It's the same Tachikawa, but it's like her eye for cute things has influenced the photo, drawing out a personality you might not always spot in the city's buildings.

It's a good morning! So bright! Yellow is the color of happiness, right? Isn't it? ]

[furtherforward]

[Akira opens his eyes before he checks his phone. He opens them in response to the change in senses, and really, this Tachikawa's no different from before. Then why did he get such a strange feeling that reality itself felt like it was shifting, making way for something? Maybe...

In a way, he was hoping something different would happen. Hoping. Even though Tour de France is coming up fast, even though he has careful calculation put into the structure for every day and every possibility, standing in Tachikawa made him wonder if he couldn't just... blend their existences.

It's completely irrational. He's busy, anyway. A text from his sporting manager will be a reminder of that, he thinks, and he blinks around the city with those characteristic darkened circles hanging under his eyes – either to seek something that really pops as odd or different, or to find that there's nothing at all. Whatever. Akira clicks the power button on his phone.

There's a number texting him that he doesn't recognize. 48 times. The preview on the screen is enough to freeze time and Akira lifts his other hand to clutch onto his phone in disbelief. "No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I defini..." A pretty name... What? Who is this? He squints closer to his screen, a queasy wave crashing over him at the possibilities that he won't allow himself to get... hopeful for. Hopeful used loosely – there's no way Akira would let himself hope for something like this! It's just not feasible.

But he remembers the message he sent ten years ago. It was short, so it's hard to forget. His skin prickles, and he unlocks his phone to see the damage as he leans against the wall right behind his bike.

"No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I definitely would remember." That's the very first message he reads, and it's from so long ago. So long, that Akira's convinced this number belongs to Hajime – but along with the message is a VCF for contact details. He applies them, and her name shows up with a picture of her just the way he remembers her.

Akira stops there. He holds the phone at a distance from his face, eyes locked on her picture, and something he doubted for years becomes real. No longer is Hajime just a memory, but there's a photo, there are texts and her number in his phone once again, if the scar on his chest from her teeth wasn't enough. His eyes scroll to the tops of buildings and he takes in details that suddenly seem sharper than before, but it's not because anything looks different. It's a moment he's living, isn't it?

Tour de France isn't waiting, but Akira decides he'll shift his schedule around a little to give himself some time. Some things only happen for a time so fleeting, it nearly escapes you ten years in the future, he's found. Some things don't last.

He taps his screen to power it back up and unlocks the device again to continue reading as Hajime sends messages to what she naturally assumes is an alien, and he supposes one of them qualifies as an alien, depending. Whose Tachikawa is this, anyway? He snorts at the thought and watches the progression of a Hajime that has miraculously forgotten all about him as she tries in vain to reach out to him somehow. He scrolls down past more messages, eyes drinking up the sight of them and her attempts to call out to him like she could just summon forth this elusive "alien" like that. He finds himself baring his teeth and clicking them together ever so slightly until he comes across another more remarkable message, one where...

One where she's found that purikura sheet from Setsubun. He finds himself feeling colder under the mid-morning sun, colder than he should while standing under the filtered light from an overhead tree isolated in a sea of sidewalk. He no longer has the sticker from that sheet that she offered him, but she managed to find it in there... Did the Witch truly not check?

Before, he thought about not hoping. But he finds himself doing just that, hoping that with the combination of those photos and the message that she might... quit this. That she might remember. Akira doesn't know why he has all of these messages now, but it's odd, watching as she spends years, here and there, wondering aloud about the identity of this mysterious Midousuji Akira via bounced text messages. All he can do is continue reading in this saga. He takes another breath in and continues down, past her connecting the dots between him and the name he gave her ten years prior. Painful, she describes it, and his eyes linger on the word. Painful. Is that what that would be? Whenever he feels pricks in his legs at far too late, wondering how and when and where and if he'd ever be able to see somebody lost to him. Even being in another world isn't as final as death is, but it creates this weight over his body that, without fail, he feels compelled to leave behind with each pedal of his bicycle.

He continues scrolling, distracted by the concept of painful, even as he reads about her realization that the scar she has might be more than she thinks. When Akira thinks pain, he thinks about that and realizes nothing's hurt that much, not even the worst spill he's had. He fancies himself lucky at times, but strategic at others – a guy who usually knows how to avoid getting involved in a wreck. But he's had his share, and every time, he remember the pain of being eaten alive. None are quite the same as that – it's hard to forget. Hard to forget, so maybe for her...

Akira keeps scrolling. Few and fewer unread messages remain, and his eyes linger one each one with interest he hasn't had in a lot of things in too long. Finally, the log marks... she tried calling him two years ago. There's a voicemail. Leave it to Hajime to keep him on his toes, and he finds his insides tying up in knots as he pulls the phone up to his ear to listen.

And he recoils at the sound of her voice right away.]

Whaat—!?

[It's a lot to take in at once. Despite being able to remember, the sound of her voice has faded from memory. It hits him like a truck, the quality of it, and he remembers why his memory serves him with the thought that it's grating and loud. Because it is, and he wrinkles his nose as he listens, and that look of disgust intensifies as she describes him in a double-breasted suit. As if I'd take advice from somebody who dresses like her, he finds himself thinking again. But his face smooths out and his eyes dart to the ground – anybody watching his reactions would find his facial gymnastics to be something, with how easily his expression morphs at the mere thought of this or that. This time, it's her gushing over him again as cute and handsome. Reading it was one thing, but hearing her say it...

It was two years ago, he reminds himself.

The message continues, whether he's ready for it or not, and that queasiness overcomes him full-force when she proclaims her love for him. It's ten years after the fact and even still, he gets that feeling when he hears her say it. When he just remembers it, it's not quite as strong, but hearing I love you! on her voice again is dizzying. Hearing that she remembers him... It feels like took years for him, too, even if he only watched those years unfold compacted into 48 messages.

...47. There's still one left. It's dated to this morning, and Akira first wonders what she was doing up so early. But that answer comes to him easily. It's not like he's forgotten.

The text box beneath all of these messages is highlighted when he reaches the bottom, and tapping it again summons the keyboard. 48 whole messages, and she's still chattering away... She'd keep going, even if he never replied. Would she ever give up? (What was that bit about her wish that she mentioned in her voicemail? What was all that debt about, anyway?) Right away, his fingers go for the keys – there's not a long pause to figure out what he should say or anything.

Ten years and you're still chattering away? STILL?? Gross
Gross grooooss

Tours are a lot quieter than the Inter-High ever was, with language barriers abound. There's less opportunity to badger his opponents with words, but talking to somebody from his past pulls the attitude right back out of him where it's never left. He hits send, but he realizes afterward that his heart is thudding loud in his ears.]

Yuno Gasai | Mirai Nikki

[bloodteller]

[ once again, ota with the exception of nsfw/smut. here's my rp wishlist, which has a list of my favorite aus, if you need help coming up with an au! but i'm super into anything, i love aus. ]

Keith Kogane | Voltron: Legendary Defender

[calltoarm]

Yosuke Hanamura | Persona 4

[garudynamic]

wow I need to get my paid back

[cherryblooded]

[In his defense, Mettaton couldn't have had an easier target than Cherryblod. He did sleep in his room on Thursday nights, after all. Cherryblod was asking for it.

In his defense, he was a kill switch for the Kingmaker - until it was revealed that he wasn't.

In his defense, he had accepted being killed by the remaining survivors, Yosuke included, with grace and dignity.

When the participants of this round emerge from their pods, victims and culprits and survivors alike, Cherryblod takes a moment to steady himself against the machine, not looking to move or to greet anyone just yet.

He has to calm himself down first.

When his eyes meet Yosuke's, there's something like anger in them. Not at Yosuke, specifically, but real anger nonetheless.]

[garudynamic]

[He had seen Cherryblood angry before (not REALLY angry. Not the way he could be back in the day. But as far as Yosuke knows he has) but never, EVER at him. Or even aimed at him.

He wants to run over and hug him- he never thought he'd see the man again, after all.

...but he also never thought he'd have to answer for Mettaton's death to anyone that still cared. That someone that still loved Mettaton would have seen the mob he had riled up at the end. So he shows his absolute bravery and maturity-

-and tries to slink away]

[cherryblooded]

Where are you going, Yosuke?

[Don't think he doesn't know a retreat when he sees one. 'Retreat' may be too kind a word.]

Not even going to greet me after all this time?

[It's only been a few weeks. Maybe Yosuke's moved on, but Cherryblod knows he hasn't.

If he moved on just because he was upset with someone, he wouldn't be in this situation at all.]

[electrostruck]

[Yosuke had promised Kanji that everything would be fine in college. There'd be no problems and that he'd come home a better man, ready to have a full on adult relationship with Kanji.

And when Kanji came to the college campus, he saw way too many girls walking around, wearing short clothing. And his immediate jealous flags went up. Girls were looking at him and flirting and he got the fuck out of there real fast.

Finding the cafe on campus, he quickly ran to it and entered, taking a deep breath before grabbing a coffee, and a table near the back. He was here about five minutes early, and he knew Yosuke would be here on time.

He hoped. But dammit, he couldn't shake it from his mind that Yosuke wasn't being as honest as he promised.]

[garudynamic]

[Yosuke shows up a few minutes later with a few other people- male and female, all laughing at something he said. Outside of highschool he had done much better socially. Both due to being away from Junes and being more mature then he once had been.

He sees Kanji and waves, his friends seeing him off before he jogs over]

Hey! You're early!

[electrostruck]

Uh... hey! Yeah, my train got in a lil' early, so I went walkin' around campus trying to find this place.

[He looks at all those friends for a moment, and shakes it off. No, no way. Yosuke promised. He'd keep it, right?]

Was worried you had forgotten! Y'always seem like you're runnin' off to something fun.

Takashi "Shiro" Shirogane| Voltron: Legendary Defender

[winterpaladin]

Kogoro Mouri | Detective Conan

[sleepingkogoro]

.