Voices of the Present
Family Obligations
Part I
Thursday, Dec 7, late afternoon
"December in Astraea. This brings back memories…"
A woman in a long, gray coat with short, dark hair and glasses made her solitary way up the path from the Japan Rail line closest to the famous maiden's garden. In her right hand hung a nondescript black leather bag. It being December, the trees surrounding her were bare and the sky was a solid overcast. The only color to the image was the flowing bright red scarf wrapped snugly around the woman's neck and rustling behind her in the chill breeze.
Long past the age to be attending school here, she still had the air of belonging, a sense of dignity exuding from her diminutive ethnic Han features. To those who didn't know her well, she looked like a delicate little china doll, meant more for display purposes than accomplishing anything practical.
Before long, this path will be flooded with day students from all three schools making their way down to the station and home. Unless things have changed, most will still be wearing the bright, cheerful checkered skirt and vest of Le Rim.
And speaking of Le Rim uniforms…
"Konnichi wa, Étoile-sensei," the girl standing patiently at the gate, clad in a red sweater atop her uniform vest and wearing matching stockings on her legs beneath her skirt, bowed deeply to the approaching woman. "My name is Suzuki Miho, sixth year at Saint Le Rim Girl's School. I'm deeply honored to meet you."
Smiling, the woman responded warmly with her own slight bow when she came to a stop. "And good day to you, too, young lady. Been a long time since I've been called Étoile," she added with a wink as they both returned to standing erect. "I could easily get used to it again. Feels good at my age. Did Sister Hamasaka clue you in?"
"Oh no!" the girl protested. "We've had so few Étoile Aînée from Le Rim that we make a point of knowing about each of them. I was given your maiden name and class year when I was asked to fetch you. I recognised the name and I must admit your face is distinctive. You look exactly like you do in the yearbook photograph."
"I look like a shriveled up prune, don't lie to me child. And by distinctive you mean my ancestry." The woman raised an eyebrow wondering how the girl would respond to the gentle challenge about the undeniable fact that, while her father might have been ethnic Japanese, her mother most certainly was not.
"Not at all, Étoile-sensei," the girl assured with a guileless smile. "I have many friends of mixed ancestry here on the Hill. You broke a lot of barriers when you were here, and whatever distinctions were made about such things then matter not anymore, at least not at Le Rim. Heavens! We had a student not terribly long ago who wasn't even always a girl!"
"I'd heard about that. Hamasaka-sama wasn't terribly thrilled at the time, if I recollect," she chuckled, apparently greatly amused at the thought. "Still, Le Rim has always been the maverick school. It was created to be that way. What of the others?"
Miho rocked her head back and forth as she considered her answer, then smirked as she apparently decided to just dive in. "While Miator remains tradition-bound as you must certainly know, I'm sure you've heard the strides Spica has made in the past ten years. Their most recent past Étoile, a Cadette, was a Swiss exchange student and the current President of Spica was born in America and looks for all the world to be Brumhilde herself straight out of Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries!"
The woman reached up to push her glasses up her nose as she arched an eyebrow in response to Miho's revelation. She knocked back her bangs absently as she brought her hand back down. "I hear things about Le Rim, of course, and now Miator, but I don't get much news about Spica. I had heard about Étoile Carina. Still, an American President of Spica? I look forward to seeing that. I have a very nice letter from her apologizing for the food poisoning incident, but I didn't realize Tomori Shion is a western name."
"She's not exactly American…" the young Le Rim girl said as she attempted to clarify and then gave up. "It's a long story but she's as Japanese as you are…and as I am."
The point the girl was attempting to make was not lost on the woman. You don't need to be pure ethnic Japanese to be Japanese, despite the prevailing opinions of so many ethnic, 'Yamato' Japanese.
The former Étoile had looked down as she pondered the direction the discussion had taken before looking up again at her young kohai with shimmering eyes. She reached out a hand and placed it on Miho's arm before continuing. "You have no idea how precious your perspective is, and how impossible hearing someone like you say it so effortlessly seemed to me forty years ago."
The girl paused a moment, cocking her head as if weighing her words. "Times change; sometimes for the better."
The woman's hand squeezed Miho's forearm gently before she took it back so she could us it to wipe away a tear. "I suppose they do. So, shall we proceed?" She gestured in a direction and began moving that way. "I know exactly where I'm going, but like the best destinations it looks like the journey will be the best part."
Miho nodded with a smile at the praise and turned to walk alongside her guest.
"So, do we get many ethnic Chinese or Koreans nowadays?"
"More than you might think," Miho responded in crisp Korean.
Surprised, the woman turned to regard her guide, looking more carefully at the smiling girl's features. "Are you?"
"My grandmother attended Our Lady of Reconciliation from 1952 to 1958."
"She did, did she? The first class. Well, it looks like things turned out well for her, too. I'm glad."
The two women moved briskly along the bare-tree lined path. The cold wind from the north continued, but both seemed oblivious to it so deep they were in their conversation.
"As cobbled together and temporary as it was," Miho shared, "that school got her off to a good start. To this day you and your class, the first after the school moved up here and became Saint Le Rim, holds something of a rock star status with her. She lived with me growing up, hence why I know the language. She'd tuck me into bed with stories of her time at the old school at the base of the Hill, dreaming of the day that a girl like her would be admitted at the top. I've known I wanted to be Le Rim since I was weaned."
"Strange," the former Le Rim student mused to her new young friend. "To me, the true rock stars are girls like your grandmother. She'd have been eleven or twelve in 1952, which means she was old enough to have memories of her mother as a 'comfort woman'." The woman's expression made clear her distaste at the euphemism and the forced prostitution it really entailed. Chinese and Korean women, among others, forced into slavery throughout East Asia to service the men of the Japanese Army during World War II.
Miho smiled conspiratorially. "I agree with you. She is a rock star to me. I tell her that every chance I get"
"She's still alive?"
Miho nodded.
"She must be very proud of you, Étoile-sama."
Miho's face turned bright red. "Um, I should have warned you. I'm neither Étoile Aînée nor Cadette. I'm just the Secretary of Le Rim."
"Oh?" the woman responded, looking embarrassed herself. "I assumed…"
Her embarrassment not subsiding in the least, as Miho interrupted she did her best to bow apologetically even as they kept walking. "I know. It is a function of the Étoile to greet their graduated peers on visits. Please accept my apologies for the slight you must feel."
"Not at all, Suzuki-san" the woman assured. "You're lovely company. I just know how focused on propriety the other two schools normally are. I can't see either one not following protocol. Where is the Étoile?" She couldn't hide her intense curiosity that came with those last words.
"This year's Aînée is Ootori Amane, one of the Five Stars of St Spica and their reigning Prince," Miho explained proudly, before her posture fell and she became decidedly sheepish. "Unfortunately, we…um…seem to have…er…misplaced her."
"Misplaced?" Concern began to replace the previously curious expression on the woman's face.
"As in she went somewhere off campus during lunch break and we've lost track of her."
"And her Cadette?" The older of the two raised her eyebrow again in query.
"Also from Spica, and we…um…hope also with her Aînée."
"And her Serviteur?" The other eyebrow rose as her astonishment grew. This was starting to sound like a retelling of the old children's song 'There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly.' She had to wonder how far the litany was destined to go.
"Likewise, along with all the officers of St Spica's student council as well as the acclaimed rising star of the Saintly Chorus."
"I'm sure the Sisters must be in quite a tizzy." By now the alumna's face showed her shock at the extent of the situation at Saint Spica Girl's Institute, the academic star atop the Christmas Tree of women's secondary education in Japan.
"You'd think," Miho shrugged, "but Sister Carina is assuring everyone she knows what they're up to if not where they are and that she has things under control."
"Um, then where is Hanazono-san? She seemed like a responsible enough girl when I met her in the hospital just prior to her Cadette's passing. I would have thought the former Étoile would have filled in." She almost dreaded the answer, but like watching a train wreck, she just couldn't bring herself to look away.
The girl's left arm, the one opposite her walking partner, rose so her hand could grab the back of her neck in further embarrassment. "Well…you see…we've kinda lost her too. She wasn't in class today and no one seems to have seen her since breakfast either, although Miator President Rokujō-sama indicates she knows where she is and we're told that it's excused."
"So Miator's leadership hasn't fallen off the face of the Earth?"
"Oh no, ma'am!" Miho said emphatically. "The Princess of Rokujō-in is the very face of propriety…not that the Snow Princess isn't either, of course!" Miho suddenly realized she'd dug herself a hole and chose to abandon it rather that try and dig out. "Rokujo-sama hasn't left campus in anyone's memory save for summer school in her early years and a few overnights with Shizuma-sama. And last I heard Miator Vice President Togi-san and my Secretary counterpart Mizuho-chan are also present and accounted for."
"Hmmm…so are the Le Rim President and Vice President missing too?" It was the next obvious question given her greeter was the third in line at her alma mater. "Minamoto Chikaru struck me as the epitome of responsibility when I met her in the hospital with Sakuragi Kaori-san. While she certainly seems, shall we say, a bit less intense than her mother, I can't imagine that girl ever neglecting her duties."
Miho smiled as she sidestepped the last comment and answered one she finally could. "I am pleased to say I know exactly where the Vice President of Le Rim is right now."
The woman couldn't miss the emphasis on the word 'Vice.' The girl obviously didn't want to broach the apparently questionable whereabouts of her President and, despite her intense curiosity to know the whereabouts and circumstances of the daughter of Minamoto Chihiro, she chose to respect the clearly intended evasiveness.
Someone must have cursed this place with interesting times…
Miho continued speaking, unaware of her charge's inner thoughts. "My roommate is currently camped out in the school commons reassuring everyone that she won't disappear too. I think the most popular club on campus now, well beside the swelling Mystery Club, is a new one coordinating shifts of students in pairs to watch her around the clock to ensure she keeps to that." She paused a moment before adding with a evil grin, "I'm still trying to decide if the night shift has to cool their heels outside our door or if they get to share the unused bed in our room. I guess it depends on if the pair seems particularly snuggly or not."
Despite her apprehension at all she was learning, the former Le Rim Étoile couldn't help but giggle at the look of the younger girl's face. I like this one, she thought to herself. "My word, it sounds like things have truly been exciting this week."
"Indeed they have," Miho added cryptically as they completed their way along the paths to the convent. They approached the door where two women stood, one very old and one very young, the young one in a Miator winter uniform.
"Well, this would be were my time as your guide will come to an end. I hope I have been…um…helpful?" That sheepish look again.
"You have been a most lovely hostess and the walk has been a joy," she assured the embarrassed girl who was looking relieved to be no longer required to explain disordered current Astraea events to one of her heroes. "Please give my regards to your grandmother. If she is ever in the need of my skills, I would be happy to provide them for the simple fee of the stories she told you as a little girl."
"I'm certain she'd feel positively horrified being served by the first Le Rim and the first Chinese Étoile. But if you are ever in Nagasaki, I'm sure she would greatly enjoy sharing tea with you." Miho pulled out a notebook and scribbled down an address and phone number. As she handed the paper over, she added, "I will be out of the country over the holidays with my friends, that President of Spica I mentioned as well as the Le Rim Vice President. Still, I'll be seeing my mother before I leave and will give her a heads up in case she hears from you." With that, the Le Rim Secretary bowed and made her way briskly back to the fulminating chaos of her school.
The visitor watched a bit as her former guide made her way up the path before turning her attention to the two waiting at the door. She made her way to join her new hosts.
"It's good to see you again, Hamasaka-sama."
"You know you can dispense with the formalities, Ai-sensei. You graduated over 30 years ago, were the first Étoile of your school, and now are respected by peers two decades your senior…not to mention male. It's Mizue."
"Old habits die hard, you know. I also shouldn't provide a bad example to your young charge here." The woman turned to shine a warm smile on the now blushing girl.
"Mom, you're embarrassing me," the diminutive child in her gothic, dark uniform looked like she was trying to sink into the pavement.
"Isn't that what mothers are for, Chiyo-chan? Seriously, I hadn't seen you in almost five months and then the time we spent next was in a hospital. A hospital I might add which treated me like some kind of devil. Just what is it with western-tradition doctors?" She shook her head. "Anyway, seeing as you'll be travelling to Europe to be with your father over Christmas I won't have time with you then. This may be the last I see you until March."
The girl nodded, still looking uncomfortable – more so than would have been expected by simple embarrassment or even the events of the prior Sunday and its aftermath.
Speaking of interesting times, Tsukidate Ai thought as she noted a bruise on her daughter's right hand and a slight favoring of her leg on the same side. It looks like she's had an exciting day already…
Doubtless sensing the awkwardness of the silence, Sister Hamasaka continued her greeting. "I am grateful for your willingness to come and care for my colleagues, Ai-sensei."
"Oh, it's nothing, Mizue-san. Seriously, this place gave me so much. I'm grateful I can help give something back. Given what my young kohai was sharing with me during the walk from the gate, it sounds like the food poisoning is just the tip of the iceberg of what you're dealing with right now." Ai chose not to mention the injuries to her daughter, rather she expected it would become part of the conversation she would share with the girl, one way or the other.
The old nun grimaced. "It has been a very eventful week, sensei," she said evasively.
Tsukidate-sensei got the hint. "Well, I may not be able to find our wayward successor to the greenhouse, but I can at least ease the suffering of your peers." She lifted her hand to indicate her bag. "I suppose we may as well get started."
/*/
(One hour earlier)
"Chiyo-kun, stay focused!"
Pain shot up from Chiyo's left side where the Captain of Saint Miator Girl's Academy Kendo Team and her bamboo shinai had just placed a hard slashing blow that would possibly bruise her hip despite the thick fabric tare now covering it. She was determined not to show weakness in spite of the tears that she could feel running down her cheeks, obscured from the view of her opponent by the sturdy men covering her head and the metal grill protecting her face. The two of them were the only ones present in the Miator dōjō.
"Gomen nasai, Togi-senpai," she apologized to her mentor and current antagonist, Miator Vice President Togi Hitomi. With supreme effort she resisted the reflex to sniff back the fluid draining freely from her nose. She could taste the salty indirect tears that flowed unrestrained down her upper lip and into her mouth.
"What is it with you these days, Chiyo-kun?" Hitomi exclaimed in clear vexation, holding her shinai now to one side as she vented. "I've sparred with you for almost four years now, ever since Master Tsukidate brought you for training by his friend Master Iwamura as a kendōka and I was assigned to be your partner for one-on-one Hikitate-geiko. I daresay I know you better as a kendōka than anyone, certainly better than your father. Ever since you came to Miator you've become timid and uncertain. Weak."
The last word had been practically spat out and older kendōka paused a moment before crying out one more diatribe, this one to the otherwise empty room in general, in clear exasperation. "What the Hell is it about this school that makes everyone so damned weak!"
At the moment, little Chiyo wanted nothing more than to run and hide, but that would only serve to prove her critic right and whatever pride she had left wouldn't allow that.
Whether I run or not, she's still right. I am weak. I just can't find my heart in sword arts anymore.
Not since Akio died.
While Hitomi might often be brusque, even harsh at times in her word choices, she had always been fundamentally patient. Chiyo certainly knew she wasn't the easiest student to teach, especially not now. Her skill borne of genetics, family tradition, and intense exposure to koryū, or the Old Way, since before she rose to walk suggested she should be well on her way to attaining mastery of the Way of the Sword despite her tender years. Certainly at the forefront of her peers. Her brother had been when he was her age. When she'd stop thinking and just be, she could display remarkable acumen.
But then she'd start thinking again…and worrying…and her confidence would shatter and she'd be back to baseline again. Either that, or she'd find her mind wandering to her books and studies. Truth be told she was more like her mother than her father, as inconvenient as that might be given her destiny, her family obligation now as the sole heir to her father's ancient tradition or ryūha. She felt far more at home in the library than the dōjō.
Surrendering to the inevitable humiliation, she sniffed loudly to clear her sinuses before responding to the woman before her dressed securely in her protective bōgu. Her opponent's frustration had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, several minutes ago during their usual Thursday afternoon one-on-one sparring practice. For the life of her, Chiyo could not figure out what could possibly have brought out such vexation in the girl. Practice had been perfectly routine until something seemed to just click.
Yes, Hitomi had always been passionate and intense, but her current behavior was something else. Certainly there was no sign now of the 'light' practice that today was supposed to entail given Chiyo's recent encounter with food poisoning and her resulting stay in the hospital earlier that week.
"Togi-senpai, I really am sorry to be such a disappointment. Please don't see it as a reflection on St. Miator. You know as well as I do that I was easily distracted even before I came here." It was true. Father had often chided her for woolgathering and lamented her ever attaining mastery. His solution to the problem had been very straightforward for the strict teacher – he advanced her into drills with a real sword. There was nothing like steel swinging around you, no matter how prescribed the movements and well supervised the spar might be, to focus one's mind.
"Not like this, Chiyo-kun," the frustrated girl answered quickly. "Perhaps your heart hasn't been solely on your sword art since your brother died, but you've never been this distracted before. This is something new, and it worries me. If Master Iwamura or heaven forbid Master Tsukidate see you like this, I will never be able to hold up my head around them again. I won't accept that dishonor! You have a destiny to surpass everyone someday, and I'll see to it that you achieve it!"
Even if it kills us, Chiyo mentally finished the implied words.
Chiyo watched as Hitomi returned to a fighting stance before her, and Chiyo quickly collected herself as the two made to begin another spar. The two bowed and resumed their feint and parry.
"Your strikes are half-hearted, Chiyo-kun," the older of the two admonished after several more minutes of increasingly frenzied effort on the part of the senior to bring out Chiyo's passion. "Put some heart into it or I'll bruise your right side so you won't be favoring your left any more."
Chiyo took a breath and strove to clear her mind of the dull pain from what she was certain was a growing bruise on her left flank. Oh Akio, why did you have to die? It was supposed to be me who died, not you. Why did you have to be so brave?
A sudden sting from her right hand broke her distracted reverie and she realized she was no longer holding her shinai. A blow from Hitomi's own bamboo practice blade had knocked the weapon from her grasp and sent it skittering across the wooden practice floor.
"Dammit Chiyo! Pay attention!" The older girl's angry voice reverberated off the stark wooden walls of the dōjō.
Chiyo couldn't see the face of the girl now menacing her, but Chiyo didn't need her friend Kagome-chan's strange insight into people to know that Hitomi was furious. As passionate as the Miator sixth year may be in life, she rarely cursed like she was doing today. And those foul curses had become more frequent as the practice went on. Her stance right now, even when viewed through the bulky traditional practice armor of the sport, was brimming with tense, barely restrained emotion.
What is going on with her? I've never seen her like this.
Although she had felt it when live steel was in use around her during koryū training, she'd never before felt naked while unarmed in a kendo dōjō. At this moment, standing before the taller and armed Hitomi, even if the weapon was made of bamboo, she felt vulnerable. If the older girl wasn't standing between her and the exit, she most certainly would have run now. As it was, she swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in the back of her throat, trying to tamp back her fear as she carefully watched what her unpredictable senpai would do next.
"It's her, isn't it? I get it now," the angry voice turned mocking as she made some unknown realization.
Chiyo didn't know what Hitomi was talking about, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end at the tone she was using. She backed away and began to turn to retrieve her own practice blade, but was stopped by the sting of a blow on her right thigh…an illegal hit in kendo, but than again any blow to an unarmed opponent was illegal.
This was no longer a spar.
"Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you, Tsukidate!" The larger and stronger…and armed…Togi Hitomi yelled. Chiyo watched as the girl raised her off hand to her head, flipping up the protective men off her head and flinging it to the floor.
Knowing this was her only chance to at least even the odds a bit, adrenaline giving her focus she had never before felt with kendo, Chiyo dove for her shinai while her opponent was blinded by the removal of her helmet.
Chiyo heard a loud, visceral, almost inhuman growl behind her as she reached down and grabbed the hilt of the dull bamboo weapon. She was just spinning back around with her blade in her hand when she felt weight descend on her, twisting her to face up whilst pushing her down to the ground.
She's tackling me! Chiyo realized in shock as her body impacted the hard floor under her and the breath was knocked out of her by the weight of Hitomi descending upon her. Although Chiyo maintained her grasp of the shinai hilt in her right hand, the fact the fight…yes fight…had degenerated into a full-contact wrestling match didn't allow effective use of the long stick.
At least not as it was intended to be used.
As Hitomi came down on top of her, she swung the hilt in her hand around and cuffed her attacker in the temple with the hard butt end of the sword.
It was at that moment, when Chiyo had intended to take advantage of stunning her opponent to escape, that she finally made contact with Hitomi's eyes…and she hesitated.
The Miator first year had never seen such a wild expression before. Despite the blow to the head she had just received, the girl was smiling.
Chiyo felt a powerful hand grasp the wrist in which she held her weapon and a firm squeeze made her drop it. She could hear the sound of bamboo chattering on the wood just to the right of her head. The stronger and heavier girl above her then wiggled to reinforce her hold on the younger girl under her. Weight kept the smaller girl pinned to the floor, with hands holding each of her wrists.
The overpowered first year tried struggling briefly, but quickly realized it was over for the moment. If Hitomi had been a boy, a groin blow with her knee might have worked, but there was nothing to target on a girl. On top of that, Hitomi had shrugged off a hard blow to the side of her head. Her wildness bordered on madness now, and pain didn't seem to have much effect.
She would have to wait to see what Hitomi had in mind since for the moment there was nothing Chiyo could do about it but scream and hope someone close enough might come investigate the sound. While that thought was increasingly attractive, Chiyo didn't want to bring shame on her senpai unless there really was no other choice. So far, Hitomi had done nothing permanent. Bruises, pride or otherwise would heal. A reputation for violent assault with a dangerous weapon would never fade.
Chiyo had never been in danger like this. The closest she had been to it were live steel drills with her father and select students. Like those times when she carried steel, she didn't feel the fear she knew should be filling her. Instead, she was looking for any opening to get advantage again. That and wondering just what could possibly have caused her friend, honored senpai, and mentor of four years to crack like this.
Chiyo's resolve to not publically dishonor the Miator Vice President was shaken as Chiyo felt her two arms, which were currently pinned by each of Hitomi's hands, lifted above her head so that the more powerful girl could effectively pin them with one hand. The girl's other hand dropped down and Chiyo felt the back of her headgear grasped and pulled up and over her face. The laces holding her tsuki-dare throat guard had also been undone by the motion.
There was now nothing between Chiyo and her opponent save exactly ten centimeters of open space.
"I said," Hitomi snarled now that the two were settled for the moment, "not to ignore me when I'm talking to you, Chiyo-kun."
The younger girl cringed at the sound of Hitomi's voice, and even more so the increasingly wild look in her senpai's eyes, but she fought to keep her head about her.
"I wasn't ignoring you, Togi-senpai," she responded evenly, trying to convey confidence despite the very real fright that now threatened from the back of her mind. It was amazing the difference a mask…or more particularly lack of one…could make in threat level. "I just don't know what you're talking about."
"The red-headed Delilah that has turned Shizuma is a sniveling, weak-willed ingenue. You're her room temp, aren't you?" Hitomi's eyes narrowed. "That explains everything."
"Nagisa?" Chiyo exclaimed in surprise at the vitriol she sensed directed at her gentle friend and hero. The girl for whom she would always nurture a secret flame despite the impossibility of it ever being reciprocated. Delilah? What has Nagisa done to make Hitomi hate her so?
"I don't know what kind of magic that witch is weaving to destroy Shizuma, Suzumi-san, and you, but I see through it. I won't let her take you down like she has Shizuma, Chiyo-chan. I'll defend you from that evil bitch, I swear it!"
The frenzied look in her senpai's eyes left no doubt in Chiyo that, in that moment, the powerful girl holding her down meant every maddened word she said.
They're just words. I won't scream, I won't scream…
***Author's Note***
When this chapter tipped out at 10,000 words and looked destined for another 10k, I decided to break it in half. When I presented Part I to one of my two glorious betas as a 10k word monster, I got back an imploring- "Make it shorter." Hence, you can all enthusiastically thank CelticX for my very first cliffhanger worthy of the term.
As things look right now, Family Obligations will run about three to four chapters, each around 5k words long. After that, we'll return to wrap things up at the Coastal Mansion where Remon herself still has much to learn. Needless to say, the events at the Mansion, in the Astraea Groundskeeper's Cottage, and in the Miator dojo are closely linked.
I hope everyone will allow Chiyo to grow past her one-dimensional moe portrayal in the anime. In the novel, there was a one-paragraph throw away about Chiyo coming from a martial arts family and how she would be undergoing the male rather than the female coming of age ceremony. At the time of the novel, it was uncertain whether Chiyo or her brother would be inheriting her father's tradition. I thought this was an amazing opportunity to grow her character, especially in light of where Voices is going, and hence I have run with it similar to what I have done with Chikaru and her mom being Headmaster of Miator. Even Togi Hitomi's dislike of Nagisa, including her willingness to hurt (albeit in the novel just emotionally) the girl to drive her away from Shizuma, is taken straight from novel canon. I'm having fun taking some of the most outlandish elements of novel canon and cranking them up to eleven for my own nefarious ends.
Hopefully you all are willing to see where it takes us. I can promise it will remain a wild ride. :-)
As always, reviews and PMs are most welcome. Along with the faves and follows, they remind me I have an obligation to those who have followed me this far to see this project through to the end.
