Important information: This is a personalized story, meaning (like the game), Chizuru's name is in here as a placeholder. It is not actually about Chizuru herself. So if you want, feel free to download the story and replace Yukimura with a last name of your choice and Chizuru with whatever first name you want. The Protagonist has a basic personality and is never physically described, specifically for that purpose.

[Okita x Protagonist – Modern day AU. A new home, a new family, a new country—and who said anything about learning Japanese?]

TK: This chapter is named after a great movie with Bill Murray and Scarlet Johansson. It's about two people (the aforementioned actors) who have to spend a couple weeks in Japan and end up meeting up and becoming interesting friends. It's different and provided a little inspiration for this story.

Sweet Silver Lining

TK Grimm

Chapter Two:

Lost in Translation

There was plenty of room in the closet for all of my clothes and then some. I wasn't sure about fashion in Japan. So far it looked pretty normal. But it couldn't hurt to save up some money and add a couple things to my closet and drawers.

Speaking of money, I'd have to start looking for a job once my papers were processed. I wasn't technically a citizen, but I couldn't exactly get deported either, having been born on Japanese soil to a Japanese citizen. It was enough grounds to make a plea to grant citizenship due to extraordinary circumstances.

In the meantime, my father told me to let him know if there was anything I needed. He was already being generous enough, though, so I didn't want to ask him for anything unless it was absolutely necessary.

Once my clothes were put away and my purse and coat were hung up, I sat down on my bed and pulled my acoustic guitar out of its case. I propped it into position and sat there with my fingers on the strings for a moment.

I was a mess. The more I sat there, the more I thought about my mom, my dad, the strange new house… mostly my mom. She was all I knew, my pillar, the one thing in my life I could depend on. I didn't know how to survive on my own. I was eighteen and not ready to leave the nest. I was scared.

I was so, so very sad.

I resigned myself to hiding in my room most of the time. Heisuke-kun seemed nice, but I suffered from some serious stranger-danger, so I didn't want to chance bumping into anyone. I played my guitar until a couple hours later when I heard a knock on my door.

I stopped playing. "Yes?"

The door slid open, and my father stepped inside with a smile. "You sound very good, Chizu-chan."

I blushed a little. "Thanks."

"I came up to tell you dinner is ready," he said. "Will you come down?"

Would it have been completely cowardly to ask to take dinner in my room? Probably. It would definitely show the other guys that I had zero balls whatsoever. And it was probably also quite rude, but I really, really didn't want to go…

"Can you… give me a quick course on food etiquette?"

Dad chuckled a bit. He slid my door closed and then sat down on his knees in my floor. He gestured to the spot in front of him, implying that he wanted me to do the same. I mimicked his pose. It was pretty uncomfortable. My knees started to ache fairly quickly, and I felt my feet start to go numb within a few minutes.

Father gave me a few tips with holding chopsticks and some basic table manners. They were the sorts of things most kids are taught as small children and then grow out of as they get older and things become more laid-back. Please, thank you, don't talk with your mouth full, chew with your mouth closed, don't reach over someone else's plate, etcetera.

"We are a very easy-going group though, Chizu-chan," Dad said. "Dinner is always lively. You don't have to worry about it."

When it all came down to it, I didn't really have a choice. I nodded, and Father stood up. I followed him out of the room and down the stairs in that room with the staircase. Seemed strange to have a full-sized room dedicated to being a stairway, but I wasn't going to question it. It was pretty low on the strange scale compared to some other things.

My father led me into the dining room where the five students from earlier were already sitting down. Gen-san was there, too, as was another man I hadn't met yet. He wore a dark, faded violet kimono tucked into a pair of white hakama pants. His black hair was very long and thin, and he wore it pulled up in a high ponytail. His narrow face and slender features made him look a little feminine, but not so much I couldn't tell he was a man.

"Took you long enough!" Nagakura-san complained. I was beginning to wonder if he was more muscles than brains. Still, I appreciated that he was using what broken bits of English that he knew for my sake. "I'm starving!"

Thankfully, Dad didn't tell him we took a few minutes extra to go over table manners. I think I'd have died of embarrassment if he had.

"Wari, wari," Dad chuckled. He sat down at the end of the room next to the man in the purple kimono. They looked to be the seats of the heads of the house—two seats rather than one. My father must have thought this man an equal then or something? I wasn't sure.

Everyone else was sitting across from each other in a long line of seats. The closest seat to my father was taken, however. Okita-san sat there, staring at me with a half-smile that didn't look particularly friendly.

"Ah, Chizu-chan!" my father said. He appeared to be looking around for a place for me to sit. His eyes landed on Okita-san, and I knew right where that was going. Judging by the look on Okita-san's face, he did, too.

Against my better judgment, I actually jumped in before my father could make Okita-san move. I already had this guy's animosity—I didn't want to make it any worse by having him move seats. Instead, I quickly turned away and said, "Heisuke-kun!"

Heisuke-kun jumped. He was sitting next to Okita-san and across from Harada-kun. "Chizu-chan?"

"May I sit next to you?"

Nagakura-san grinned and said something in Japanese that sounded suggestive, but I had no way to be sure. Heisuke-kun turned pretty red, though, and he shouted some protest at him that I didn't understand.

Harada-kun turned toward me, looking up between strands of long red hair. "Of course you may, Chizuru-chan. No one is sitting there, across from Shinpachi."

Shinpachi was Nagakura-san's first name, I guess, since he was sitting across from the empty seat. I quickly walked around the table and sat down on my knees on the floor. It was a very low table, only a few inches off the ground, but there was an impressive spread of food on it. I knew a little about Japanese food from restaurants, but I'd never seen anything quite like this. I was surprised to note I was actually eager to try it.

"Ano, Chizuru-chan!" called my father. I leaned forward so I could look at him. When our eyes met, he smiled. "Let me introduce you. This is Hijikata Toshizo, my assistant master at the dojo. Toshi, this is my daughter Chizuru-chan."

The man with the long black ponytail looked at me and bowed. "Douzo yoroshiku. It is nice to meet you."

I bowed in return. "Douzo yoroshiku."

Father was right—dinner was a very lively affair. Heisuke-kun and Harada-kun had me try a little bit of everything on the table, and most of the time, they wouldn't tell me what it was until I'd already eaten it. A lot of things were really good, better than I expected.

At one point, Heisuke-kun and Nagakura-san had a battle with their chopsticks over a small silver fish. It still had the head and tail attached…

My dad carried on an amiable conversation with Hijikata-san and Okita-san while Saito-san, who sat across from Okita-san, listened quietly. The two seated after Okita-san and Saito-san were Heisuke-kun and Harada-kun, then myself and Nagakura-san. Gen-san wasn't around, so I guess he might have gone home. I think father mentioned he only stayed sometimes.

"Did you get all settled into your room, Chizuru-chan?" Harada-kun asked.

I nodded, making sure to swallow my food before I opened my mouth to speak. "I unpacked all of my clothes, but the rest of my things won't be here for a few more days."

"That's no problem," Nagakura-san said with a grin. He had a very loud voice, but he seemed friendly enough. "When it gets here, we'll have Heisuke bring it all up to your room!"

Heisuke-kun gaped at him for a moment before his face screwed up in annoyance. "Why do I have to carry all of it? Shinpachi should get off his ass and help me!"

Saito-san closed his eyes with a sigh and then spoke with a displeased tone. "It isn't polite to use foul language in the presence of a woman."

I raised my hands in a placating gesture. "Oh, no, that's okay. It's very different in America. It doesn't bother me."

Unfortunately, Saito-san's displeased expression then turned on me. "Sou desu ka."

"What's meal time like in America?" Heisuke-kun asked me. He was looking at me like a zoo exhibit. Actually, his question made me have the attention of most of the people in the room.

"Um," I began, unsure of how to describe it. "It's… normal, I guess. We sit at a table, eat, talk. Sometimes we get our food and sit on the couch and watch TV while we eat."

Nagakura-san's eyes widened. "On the couch? Really?"

"It's true," Heisuke-kun said, looking as if he just remembered something. "I've seen it in movies!"

"Is America really like the movies?" asked Nagakura-san. He looked over at Harada-kun. Heisuke-kun looked at him, too.

Harada-kun set down his bowl of rice and placed his chopsticks on top of it. He brought his hand to his chin as if in thought or going through his memories. "It was very different from here. Not as… polite or formal. But it was fun, too."

"You've been to America, Harada-kun?" I asked.

He smiled at me and spoke as he reached up to pull his red hair behind one ear. "Yes, I studied abroad in L.A. when I was in college."

"Oh, that's really cool," I said, genuinely impressed. "What did you study?"

"Not much," he admitted with a chuckle. "I was there on a baseball scholarship. I don't play, though," he added, before I could ask. "I just wasn't going to turn down free education."

I nodded. "That's a good point."

"What about Chizuru-chan?" Heisuke-kun asked. "Have you thought about going to university here? If you wait until I graduate, maybe we can go together."

"Quit tryin' to hog the only girl, Heisuke!" Nagakura-san drawled.

"I'm not!" Heisuke-kun protested. "I'm being friendly!"

"Too friendly!"

I quickly intervened. "I'm not sure if I will or not. I don't know if there's anything I want to study."

"Really?" Harada-kun asked, sounding surprised. "What about music?"

"Music?"

"I heard you playing your guitar upstairs," he said jovially. Even though his words were casual and light-hearted, they still made me blush. "You sound really good."

Nagakura-san just got confused, though. "If she's already good, then why would she need to go to university for it?"

"To get a degree, baka," Harada-kun said. "You know, that thing you said was a worthless piece of paper?"

Nagakura-san snapped something back in Japanese, and Harada-kun had a smooth response in turn. I wish I'd had a translation, but it was funny enough that I still found myself snickering quietly.

Harada-kun heard me and turned his face toward me with a gentle look. "There's the real smile I've been waiting for. You should smile more. A house feels more like home if there's a pretty girl smiling in it."

I felt my face turn a stunning shade of scarlet as Harada-kun's words caused a commotion to break out between Nagakura-san and Heisuke-kun, who protested against Harada-kun in Japanese. I wasn't sure what was said, but it sounded like they were getting on his case about something, and Harada-kun turned up his nose and brushed them aside. Saito-san murmured something in Japanese, and it made Nagakura-san shrink back, looking a little sheepish.

Then Hijikata-san heaved a heavy sigh and looked at me. "Don't mind any of them. They clearly are lacking in proper manners."

I held up my hands again. "It's really no big deal. No worries."

The rest of the meal continued on in much the same way. When it was finished, Heisuke-kun and Nagakura-san got stuck with the dishes, so I offered to help them out. I was well on my way to a friendship with Heisuke-kun, but it wouldn't hurt to get on Nagakura-san's good side, too. They were all too eager to let me help out.

When everything was clean, I went upstairs to my room. I sat down on the floor and leaned my back against my bed. My knees were aching from being unused to sitting like that. I noticed not everyone at the table did. Some sat cross-legged, and Okita-san even sat with one knee bent up in an even more casual pose. I guess maybe a house full of men wasn't as strictly formal as a standard Japanese house, thankfully.

I leaned my head back against the bed and looked up through the window. The sun was down, and the moon illuminated the night sky through the trees just outside. After being on a plane and flying over nine time zones, I was insanely jet-lagged. I wanted nothing more than to sleep the next few days away. Maybe the next few years.

That wasn't an option, though. I didn't have much to do, either. Luckily, my father came upstairs to my room again with a solution for just that.

"Chizuru-chan?" he said as he stepped inside. "I have some things you might like."

I looked up at him from where I was sitting and gave him a small smile. "What is it?"

My father placed a stack of three books and a small device that looked like an MP3 player in a pile in front of me. "This is a Japanese-English learning program. Toshi picked it up at the store for you."

My eyes widened. Toshi was what my father called Hijikata-san, the man with the long ponytail whom I'd just met. Why would he do that for me? "I—wow—really?"

Dad nodded with a smile. "He said he wants you to learn Japanese as soon as possible. But with all of us here to help you, it won't take long. You just have to practice."

I looked down at the books and the MP3 player. "Well, I guess I have plenty of time…"

I'd always wanted to learn a foreign language, but who hadn't? It was one thing to download a pirated copy of Rosetta Stone and use it once or twice before forgetting about it or deciding that it's too much work. But it was another thing entirely to be suddenly thrown in another country and not have any way to communicate if you're alone.

I also wasn't kidding about having plenty of time. With only my guitar to pass the time, I took to learning Japanese with surprising zeal and ambition. I worked on it the rest of the night, starting the introductory courses while I followed along in the book until I went to bed.

【新選組】

The next day, old-man-Gen-san-who-looks-like-a-samurai came to get me for breakfast. It was as lively as dinner was the previous night, though most of the guys were dressed casually and still had bed hair. Hijikata-san expressed disapproval (I think) at their state of appearance, and Harada-kun explained to me that he was trying to leave a good impression about the manners of the dojo.

It was Saturday, which was apparently a busy day for them all. My father told me that he wanted to take me out around Kyoto, but that it would have to wait for tomorrow, Sunday. He and Hijikata-san had classes to teach at the dojo today.

"Is it okay if I watch?" I asked. I was very curious to see how things went in a dojo.

"Of course," Dad said. "Just make sure you leave your shoes outside. You can sit at my side."

I was eager, but I also thought myself pretty clever. I brought along the MP3 player Hijikata-san gave me and a pair of tiny ear buds so I could watch the kendo practice and listen to Japanese lessons at the same time. When Dad saw this, he beamed and reached over to proudly pat me on the head.

It made a warm feeling rise in my chest. When he did that… it hurt a little less to think about Mom.

As the master of the dojo, my father had a seat in a place of honor. He was sitting on a small cushion he told me was called a zabuton. There was one next to him that he gestured for me to sit on. I sat down and tried to make myself comfortable even though I was sitting on my knees. I hoped I would just get used to it, but after about a half hour, I couldn't take it anymore and switched my legs to the side. It was still lady-like, so it would have to do.

The first part of the lesson consisted of Hijikata-san running through a group of students that all looked to be my age—including Heisuke-kun, Okita-san, and Saito-san—through a series of exercises and drills while my father and I watched. Dad explained each step to me and pointed out notable things about various students like a good swing or excellent form.

Most of it went over my head. I listened to my father, and when he wasn't speaking, I listened to the woman in my ear buds try to teach me Japanese. I was learning, slowly but surely, but it was easy to become disheartened every time I forgot something or something confused me. It helped that I had people I could ask for clarification, though.

Apparently, it wasn't common during lessons for students to spar. Most of it was based on perfecting technique and exercises. Near the end of the lesson, however, I did get to see a few matches. I wasn't sure if it was normal or if someone requested, because the only language spoken the entire time was Japanese. Either way, I got to see the boys pair off and use the center of the dojo to spar, two at a time.

Of the twenty or so boys (two of which were girls) in this age group, I watched the three live-in students the most. They all seemed to take to swordsmanship in ways that reflected their personalities. Heisuke-kun was rambunctious and energetic. Saito-san kept a level head and neutral expression. And Okita-san laughed and made sarcastic comments. My father told me that the three of them were the best in their age group, and that Okita-san was actually his top student in the entire dojo.

"What, him?" I asked, incredulous. Okita-san, the green-eyed monster who said my Japanese was ear-gouging? "He's your best student?"

Father nodded enthusiastically. "Souji has lived here since he was nine years old. He's able to defeat any of the men in the higher age group, too. The only one who gives him trouble sometimes is Hajime-kun."

That was Saito-san. My eyes drifted over to the quiet boy and I watched him hold his practice bokken at his side. Wooden swords didn't have sheaths, but if it were an actual katana, he would be holding it in his sheath and preparing to draw. Apparently, Saito-san was left handed.

"He is a master of iai," Father explained. "The… quick-draw. Watch."

Saito-san's neck-length black hair, which I thought would be an inconvenience since he wore it in that emo style which covered one eye, did not seem to obscure his vision in the slightest. His opponent raised his sword over his head and charged. With a blur of movement that I could hardly follow, Saito-san drew forth his sword and dodged his opponent's strike before bringing his own wooden sword to the unfortunate boy's back. Saito-san's opponent fell to the ground, and I heard Hijikata-san shout something in Japanese. It must have meant that Saito-san was the winner, for he lowered his sword, no longer in fighting stance.

I turned back to my father. "And… Okita-san is actually better than that?"

"Hmm… they might be evenly matched," said Father. "It's hard to say. Souji is very good, though."

"He just seems like he doesn't take it seriously," I said, frowning.

"He seems that way," Dad agreed. "But actually there isn't anything Souji takes more seriously."

I watched Okita-san's next fight to see if I could find any traces of what my father saw in him. He had a sort of lazy, joking attitude and always seemed to be smirking. If anything, he looked more mischievous than serious, even in his duels. Despite that, he didn't lose a single one. In his last match, my father lightly tapped my knee to draw my attention to Okita-san.

"He is going to use his favorite technique," he explained. "Don't blink, or Chizuru-chan will miss it."

My curiosity was piqued, and I watched as Okita-san got in front of his opponent and performed three thrusts that were so fast, they happened in less than a full second. The other boy fell backward and onto the floor while Hijikata-san shouted out a victory for Okita-san.

My eyes were wide, my lips parted in equal shock. I didn't know anything about combat or swordplay, but even the biggest idiot in the world would have been impressed by how quickly Okita-san struck. Dad was right; had I blinked, I would have missed it.

"Sandanzuki," said Father. "It requires extraordinary speed and precision to perform. Souji did it perfectly."

"Wow," I said, unable to keep the awe from my voice.

My father gestured to Okita-san, but I missed it because I was too busy staring in mild shock. Okita-san trotted over to him with a pleased grin on his face, especially then Father started praising him. I wasn't sure what all was said, but it looked like it made Okita-san's day.

I watched the two exchange words with open curiosity. Okita-san had been so hostile before (at least, he seemed like it, even if he claimed he'd been joking), but the way he interacted with my father, I would never have guessed he was the same person. He smiled widely at Father's praise and replied to him with excitement and sincerity.

"Even Chizu-chan was impressed!" Dad said with a cheerful smile.

I watched as Okita-san's wide smile faded into more of a confident smirk when he looked at me. "Hmm~?"

I suppose this was the part where I had to praise him. It wasn't hard to make myself sound sincere, as I did actually mean what I was saying, even if I was reluctant to say it to him. "Yes, I was. You are clearly a master, Okita-san."

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "Oh? Are you a master of the sword, too, that you can recognize one when you see him?"

I couldn't help the immediate scowl I had as a reaction, but Okita-san started laughing.

"Wari, wari," he apologized, waving his left hand in dismissal a couple of times. "Just kidding."

Sure he was.

As irritating as it was, my reaction to Okita-san's personality seemed to gradually change over the course of the day. Most people, when faced with someone treating them the same passive-aggressive way that Okita-san treated me, would make an effort to avoid that person. I did, too, at first.

But the more he did it, the more I started to take it as a challenge. Clearly Okita-san had something against me, or there was something about me he didn't like. I didn't know what that was, and I didn't want to ask anyone, either. They were all his friends, after all, and would likely take his side or just not tell me anything.

That being said, my American side was much less intimidated by hostile behavior. It wasn't just a challenge—it was like a quest. Whatever his problem with me was, I wanted to change his mind. I became bound and determined by the end of the second day that I was going to win that bastard over if it was the last thing I did.

That didn't mean I liked him. I thought he had a horrid personality and was the last person living at the house that I wanted to be around. But I wasn't going to give him any more reasons to hate me, either. In fact, this way, I would be defying him even more, just by proving to him that he was wrong to dislike me without getting to know me. It was mostly stubbornness on my part, mixed with a bit of spite, but I was confident that I could pull it off if given enough time.

The best part was that since he apparently seemed to idolize my father, Okita-san couldn't really ignore me, nor could he be openly rude without saying just kidding or something after. So he had to deal with it while I was sugar and rainbows in response.

It drove him nuts, and it gave me something to giggle about in my room.

【新選組】

I didn't spend the entire day watching kendo practice. I took an hour to practice my music, too. It was a bit disheartening because I was in a band back in America. We didn't get to play together often, but when we did, it was some of the best times of the year. I loved it. Now, I lived thousands of miles away, and a part of me wondered if I would ever get to play with them again.

That spoiled the mood of practicing music, so I put my guitar away and put my full focus on learning Japanese. Heisuke-kun joined me for a while. At my request, he only spoke to me in Japanese and helped me piece together sections of his sentences until I was able to translate what he was saying. He had to speak slowly and clearly, but with him helping me, I learned a lot. It was like having a one-on-one teacher rather than listening to lectures and following a textbook.

I was getting better at pronunciation. Once you got the hang of it, Japanese words didn't have that many different sounds. Everything could be brought back to the smaller, easily manageable katakana alphabet. Heisuke-kun had walked me through it, mostly for practicing the sounds, and I found it pretty straightforward. Kanji, on the other hand, was extremely difficult and could apparently take years to learn. I tried not to think about that and focused on understanding what I was hearing and being able to respond. That was the priority.

With so few things to occupy my time, I was stuck spending most of it learning Japanese. Sometimes, I grew frustrated, and passed the time by staring at the wall. It was hard to play music when I missed my friends… and my mom.

【新選組】

After dinner, Dad came up to my room. He brought with him a photo album. His smile was tentative, and a little unsure. "I kept this for many years… I thought maybe you might want to see it?"

I felt conflicted. Part of me didn't want any more reminders about Mom. I didn't want to think about her, because it hurt, so I kept trying to bury those feelings where they couldn't reach me. But… the other part of me, the one that felt warm when Dad patted me on the head or smiled at me like a loving father would, it longed to see those pictures. I wanted to see what we looked like during those few short years were we were almost a family.

I patted the area on my bed next to me. Dad slid my bedroom door closed and sat down at my side. His feet rested on the floor while he placed the book in his lap. We were sitting close enough that our sides were touching. That warm feeling spread.

The first page he opened up to was full of baby pictures. There were no pictures of my parents dating. I was told that I wasn't planned, but that I was very loved regardless. By the looks of the pictures, I was told correctly.

"Your mother was a beautiful woman," Dad told me, his voice uncharacteristically soft. I was used to him sounding loud and happy. "She didn't want to get married, so I didn't ask her to. But we raised you together for just over four years in this place."

"Here?" I asked, surprised. "At Shiei Hall?"

My father nodded. "I inherited this dojo from the previous master when I was twenty-five, and when the time is right, I will pass it along to one of my students. But yes… for those four years, the three of us lived here together."

We turned pages in relative silence, looking at the array of memories before us. It was strange to think I'd spent the first four years of my life in this very same place. Part of me couldn't believe it, but I had pictures as proof. I saw a little girl with my features dressed in a tiny yukata in various areas of Shiei Hall, including the dojo. My memories were scarce, few and far between, so I couldn't pinpoint anything exactly in my mind, but the pictures filled some gaps.

"You were so cute," Dad said with his usual smile. "You had everyone here wrapped around your finger. You spoke Japanese, too."

"I did?" I asked, shocked.

He nodded. "Baby talk, of course. You were only three. But you could communicate. That's probably how you're learning so fast now. Part of you remembers."

I didn't think I was learning fast, but I still swelled a little at his praise. "Yeah, maybe."

We looked at a few more pages. As we progressed through the book, it showed baby-me getting a little older. I didn't realize so many pictures were taken of my early years. Mom and I had a few photo albums back home, but once I hit middle school, the novelty of it kind of wore off, and we stopped taking them.

I regret that now.

"Hey, Dad?" I asked, drawing his attention to me. "Is it okay if I keep this up here tonight? I want to look at it a little more."

He seemed to sense what I was really asking, for he smiled at me in a sad sort of way. After a little hesitation, as if he was unsure if it was okay, he leaned over and kissed my forehead. I didn't pull away. That tiny part of me that wanted his approval and love was growing, like a small sprout emerging from a seed.

"Of course, Chizu-chan," he told me.

Father left me in peace, and I spent the rest of the night looking at those photos. My mom looked happy with us. She was too much of a free spirit to settle down, though. But seeing these pictures, I almost wished she had. Maybe we could have been a family for a little bit longer.

Maybe she would still be alive.

【新選組】

Today's Topic: FFN's lovely aversion to copy/paste

What the hell, man? It's fan fiction. Who cares if we copy-paste? I mean, sure, I understand not wanting people to steal other people's work; that's fine. But I'm one of those people who likes to copy-paste stories onto my computer to read them later. Or like, when I was in high school, I'd put them in a word doc and put it in teeny tiny font and print it out at school so I could read fan fiction in class.

Yeah, I was one of those.

Ahem.

In other news, I don't like FFN's page breaks. I mean, the lines are pretty and all, but I use my own now, and for a very specific reason. Since FFN took away the ability to copy and paste stories (yes, I'm still ranting about that), I started keeping permanent copies of my favorite stories. What if they get deleted?

Anyway, some of you were asking how to download the story since we can't copy-paste.

I use a tiny program you can find on google. It's called fan fiction downloader. Not that I'm like, advertising or anything, but I like to save stories on here. While that program makes lovely copies of the stories in doc form, it doesn't save FFN's fancy line page breaks. So I stopped using them. That's why I have the kanji instead of the lines as my page breaks. Just in case there's anyone who also saves stories and finds themselves lost in a maze of words without page breaks.

Cuz the world needs page breaks! 'N shit. So yeah.

As a side note, I also like to keep pretty, polished .pdf versions of all my stories, too, and I email them out to people when they ask for a permanent copy. You just never know when something might get deleted. I've lost a couple stories to the anti-lemon rule and even the anti-song lyric rule, and it's just so tragic… *dabs tear from my eye*

But yeah. If you still can't figure it out, when the story is finished, just message me and I'll e-mail you a copy of the story with whatever name you want for the Protagonist.

Seriously, though. Copy-paste, man. It's not a sin. Give it back.