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Shin Hyakuji High School Tvtropes
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
| ♣ Start Digging.; Takamachi Miyuki. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 4 2010, 01:41 PM (377 Views) | |
| North | Dec 4 2010, 01:41 PM Post #1 |
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The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at his best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at his worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. -"The Man in the Arena" Excerpt from Citizenship in a Republic. 26th United States President Theodore Roosevelt. April 23rd, 1910 It's a chill you can't shake out of your fingertips. You don't think about it when you're warm, but when you're not? When your body tells you, gives you the warning signs, that something is wrong, you know it's there. And you despise it. It's not cold enough that there's any true danger of death or frostbite, but it's uncomfortable. It's mainly uncomfortable because you were recently dumped off in Japan a John Doe - for all intents and purposes. No wallet, no money. No license, no social security. No credit cards. Nothing but the clothes on your back and the knife in your boot - literally. If it weren't for Aurora, he'd be even worse off, but she'd given him an extra change of clothes. Clean jeans, shirt, dark hoody, and a leather jacket. He hadn't worn leather in years, but having it around his body now, was a nice comfort. It didn't keep all the cold out, though. He tugged at the strap of the backpack around his body, let it to wrap arms around themselves, rubbing, furiously. He had the chance to stay with Her, he did. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't impose on her, not anymore. Besides, he was strong enough to make it on his own... Right? There's a line between Pride & Chaos Ryan C. Knox was wrestling to the ground. He was losing. Judging by the waning gibbous of the moon, it's rotation around the rock on which he stood, it had to be getting close to 0200hours. Maybe more, maybe less. He looked for the north star, but walking amongst the city, he couldn't make out the sky between the scrapers and the lights. He needed warmth. He needed cigarettes and coffee. He needed food; he needed a place to close his eyes where it didn't come with the fear of being shanked and left for dead. That's when he saw it; a building taller than the rest. It was still a ways off, but it was better than nothing; at at this hour, with the lights still on? Office building. Late-night secretary and people grinding out hours. That meant lobby; that meant heat. That meant attached cafe/cafeteria. That meant, or the next few hours? Home sweet home. So, the homeless man made his way towards the BOARD HQ. It wasn't long before the revolving door allowed the monster right in; no contest, no fight. It was nice. Since the shipyard, he hadn't felt quite right. He'd be fine, once he was back on his feet. Right? Sure. There was a rush of warm air as the door broke into the lobby; his fingertips numbed out due to temperature change; rubbing them together in a vain attempt to get blood to recirculate. There was a secretary. Reading a book. Now, there's two options here. Stay and chat, or make a beeline for the cafe like he worked there. He saw the sign for cafe, he saw the arrow pointing down the hall. If he hadn't shaved off that grisley adams beard at the apartment, if he didn't look relatively clean, he'd have never made it through. He barely looked the part as is; American as he was. But he nodded, he smiled cordially, and he read the name on the desk in one felt swoop. He used it to address her; he used the weather outside being chillier than last week and dropped her name. She stared at him. Then she smiled, agreed, and went back to her book. Can't blame her. With this many people working here? Maybe she did just forget. All's well... The cafe wasn't secure. Thank God. Crumpled up yen in his pocket he took from the gang-bangin' thug who tried to do him in at the pier was all he had. The dried blood on it could pass for ketchup, hotsauce. He hid that bill between the others, ordered his coffee, and stole away. Sugar, cream, and he took a sip. He almost spit it right back out. Japanese coffee. He should have remembered. This isn't no starbucks. No dunkin donuts. It was still bitter, still strong; so he added in enough sugar, he couldn't taste it; the stick sludged around the bottom of the Styrofoam cup. He found an empty seat near the middle of the room, facing the door; facing the exit. He dropped his bag, grabbed another chair, and put his feet up. Who was to stop him, this late? He looked like another worker who just needed a break from paperwork for a few minutes. Little did they know... You know what they say. Once you hit rock bottom, you can only go up? Ryan got himself a shovel. He could get lower. Maybe it'd all work out. But then again. Maybe not. Edited by North, Dec 4 2010, 01:43 PM.
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| Katyusha | Dec 5 2010, 02:48 AM Post #2 |
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少し, 頭冷やそうか...
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The door opened. "Working late again Captain?" the man behind the counter asked, as someone stepped in. "Full day shift. You know the drill when a major case goes on." Miyuki was dressed in her usual attire, and was surprisingly neat for someone at this hour. She'd spent the better part of the day here, but it wasn't obvious. The creases were still there on her suit, and everything was still in place. She didn't even look fatigued, except that her hair wasn't quite as neat as when she clocked in. Well, that was a perfectionist for you. She took a seat by the bar area, and got comfortable. The man didn't even wait for the order, and poured a cup of coffee. It was her usual when she was working late. "Heading home after this?" he asked her, sliding the cup over. She shook her head, and took a sip before responding. She didn't bother with things like sugar or creamer. "No, we're still on standby for another 3 hours in case the investigation team finds something. The division really needs more field people, but you already know how recruiting goes." |
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| North | Dec 5 2010, 02:21 PM Post #3 |
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If it weren't for seeing her face as she walked through the door...If he had just dozed in his own private paradise until she'd sat down, he'd have assumed the person sitting at the cafe bar to be an older, thin male with metrosexual tendencies. Pant-suit, creased, longer silver hair and a lithe build. But he had seen her face and had been around enough People in his day and age to know that hair color didn't mean a fucking thing anymore. People were born with bright fuchsia hair because they could piss excellence and manipulate clouds and rainbows, sunshine and puppies. He groaned. Some things would just never change. But she spoke articulate and accented Japanese. She seemed young. To be working here? Talking of Field Agent? That was all he'd gleaned; that, and the word recruiting. It was around that time, the Monster made his way over to the bar. It's a simple concept. Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'. He needed money; he needed something to occupy his day. He needed a job, and a reputable day job would be better than just the people he were talking to down at the bar for their open Bouncer position. He had a shiner under his left eye, must have been a day old, at best. A cut across his nose; must have recently been broken. If it weren't for the bruises you'd think he were an upstanding gent. But, let's face facts. He was anything but. So he turned to this woman he didn't know, and prayed, if even for just a moment, that she spoke a language he could relate to; because Japanese just wouldn't cut it. He tried English, first; "You're recruiting for Field Agents, are ya? Did ya put out an ad on Craigslist yet?" Well, if English didn't work, there was always Italian... |
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| Katyusha | Dec 7 2010, 02:30 AM Post #4 |
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少し, 頭冷やそうか...
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Who was this guy? she thought, her eyes shifting towards him in mild confusion, then back at the guy behind the counter. He her mind, and simply shrugged. That made him just another customer. It wasn't at all unusual to have customers at this hour really, considering BOARD's cafe was a public area. It was also about the only open place that sold coffee in this area at this time. Of course, it was also plain he wasn't from around here, and most people here at this hour didn't also smell like a battlefield, and she gave him a weary look "Yes, clearly, just put an ad up and go to 'agents 'r us' in the yellow pages." she nearly rolled her eyes. The English was eeriely perfect. It actually sounded... well, English, with the remnants of an Oxford accent. Maybe Cambridge. "American right? Such things don't exist here." |
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| North | Dec 7 2010, 11:31 AM Post #5 |
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There's a look in those eyes, like black holes in the skies... To think he wouldn't get a look like that would have been vain... So what was it, right off the bat? Business woman. One of those My career comes first types. Hard worker; diplomatic, tactful. But her hands weren't soft; you could hear the scratch as she touched her coffee-cup. Callouses; but not your average looking handyman; boxer? No...Maybe she was into arts and crafts. Maybe she liked pottery class on a lazy sunday afternoon. Who the hell knew. All he did know, was that she had a sense of humor about her, albeit sarcastic, and spoke English just as fluently as he did. But it had traces of England; just barely; the ends of her words, the way she pronounced American, the lightness of which she sauntered around her speech. She was old for her age. Or maybe just old. Her face was young, but that didn't mean a damn thing in this day and age - twelve year olds looking legal on the street with enough makeup on. Go ahead hunny, hike up that skirt another three inches. Euch. Kids today... "Well, it seems they do now, don't it?" He smirked. "Well, y'ever do need an extra hand out there, let me know. Just figured I'd offer." " It was an easy, practiced move. He slid off the barstool near the counter and took his coffee cup with him. Arm out and bent, you could see the old, leather bracelet around his wrist; most of it covered with that leather jacket. Back to the table to grab his backpack. All he needed was a stuffed animal and he'd look seriously out of place. Not that someone his size didn't already look out of place in Japan, but, hey. That's karma for you. With a slow sigh he fell back into his chair and put his feet back up on the one next to him. Arms behind his head; and you could see a sliver of steel attached to the inside of his wrist. Just barely; like a bracelet gone wrong. He shut his eyes. If no one was going to object, he was going to stay in the warm as long as he could. But, if he could score a semi-legitimate job in the process? Well, the more the merrier. Working at an office would be better than selling crack on the streets anyways. Edited by North, Dec 15 2010, 10:51 PM.
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