Asura

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time

---

The walk through town was more depressing than Ryusei had expected it to be—he knew it wasn't going to be anything like downtown Kobe, but even the main streets seemed dead as dirt. Shiori seemed to have given it her best shot, pointing out a few things here or there when she wasn't busy brooding, but he could tell she was at a loss for items of interest. It wasn't like he could blame her though. He had come to Utsubyo expecting nothing and it had still managed to disappoint him almost every step of the way. Their arrival at the FamilyMart was welcome, if only because it gave him a sense of familiarity despite its rundown exterior. The alleyways beside a conbini were no strange frontier to the teen either, so he readily followed his redheaded companion when she ducked off.

"You're that desperate to get my clothes off, huh?" He cracked, hands already busying themselves with his tie. He pulled it free and tossed it to Himawari, his jacket following shortly thereafter. As flattering as Shiori's implication that he could look a businessman was, he had little interest in playing pretend. The teen wasted little time popping the first few buttons of his shirt—just to mess with her a little—and rolling up his sleeves so they rested around his elbows. Figuring he looked casual enough, he proceeded to snag the offered bills.

"I'll be back." He muttered as he stepped back out into the open, figuring it best he hurry along and get the cigarettes before his luck ran dry and she started making good on those threats of hers.

____________________________

It didn't take him long to return. The interior of the store had been about as dead as the exterior, with only a few errant youths stopping by after class to stock up on drinks and snacks. For his part, Ryusei wasn't especially nervous. He had bought cigarettes and worse plenty of times back home, supplying his delinquent friends with all they could need with his admittedly generous allowance. The key was to just be confident, to not act like a fucking spazz, and if all else failed, look mean enough that you weren't worth the risk to question. If the cashier had any misgivings about the cigarettes when he rung them up, he didn't voice them—the teen's perpetual scowl had undoubtedly informed the man that he was not inviting idle chitchat, nor a rejection of his purchase.

With a couple packs held between the digits of one hand, and a wrapped sandwich in the other, the teen returned to the alleyway. He tossed the former towards his partner in crime, and began unwrapping the latter.

"Hope you didn't want menthols. They were out," He declared before taking the first of many bites. "Not that I mind. Menthols taste like shit."

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time

---

Ryusei simply stared at the redhead for a few good moments. The hell did she mean, resupply? It was only when she insisted that she would share with him during school hours that he caught on to what she was getting at. Why the hell would he go and buy her smokes if he could get away with buying them for himself? It made more sense for him to just buy them for himself and make her beg for the privilege. Of course, then he would need to find a place to stash them—his grandfather had a nose like a bloodhound, and he'd taken to immediately showering once he got home to wash the stink of smoke off before the old coot caught on to his little lunch breaks. Using Shiori to hold the pack was probably for the best, especially with how badly she seemed to need her daily fix.

But he couldn't just let her win unopposed. He quirked a single brow at the mention of her doing something in return for him.

"Another favor, huh? Might not be a bad idea. How wide can you get your jaw again?" He asked, rising up from his seat as if to better inspect her lips, "... Eh, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. C'mon, show me where this store is. You're also paying for 'em."

With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door, content she would be flustered with the implication. If she wasn't, well, that was good in its own way too.

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time

---

The bell brought to a close yet another shitty day, and perhaps for the first time that week he was truly happy to hear it. The boxing club's beloved senpai had better things to do that day than coach his underclassmen, and their overseer was apparently too incompetent to do his job without one of the students doing all the heavy lifting, so he was free from the incessant monotony of throwing the same punch four hundred fucking times a day. It was for the best—he was honestly getting pretty sore. Not from the practices themselves, of course. For all the shit he gave the club, they took it relatively easy for the first week to ease the new arrivals in. It was the after school workouts he had to do afterwards that were really kicking his ass. Whether the old man had devised it as a form of punishment after finding out the real reason he joined up with the club, or his grandfather actually was thrilled by the idea of his grandson being a world champ was beyond him, but if he had to spend one more evening running the hills of Utsubyo...

"Yo,"

His irate monologue was brought to a halt by the arrival of an increasingly familiar young woman. After the debacle with the newspaper, most of his peers had given him a wide enough berth that he didn't have to worry about fending them off himself. Most of them. But Himawari Shiori was probably the classmate he had spoken with the most since school began that prior Monday. Not for nothing—he had dragged her down with him. It seemed she had something to request of him, as well. That much tracked. Why else would anyone spend time with him? Still, humoring her was probably better than wandering home this early. Knowing his luck, he'd be lugging around bags of topsoil for some 'impromptu weight training'. As if he didn't know the old bastard didn't just want the back garden redone.

"The fuck could you need from me? Some skate boarder giving you trouble or something?"

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

Albrecht von Varley | Major Crest of Lamine

Name

Albrecht von Varley

Age

17 _{Born the 5th of Blue Sea Moon}

Country of Origin

Adrestian Empire

Social Standing

Noble of House Varley

Crest

Crest of Lamine
_{Albrecht's crest bestows him with supernaturally good fortune, significantly increasing the likelihood of positive outcomes in tasks he undertakes while reducing the severity of negative outcomes.}

Starting Class

Soldier

Weapon of Choice

Sword

Strengths

Swords, Faith

Weaknesses

Bows, Reason

Personality

Albrecht strives to be the very definition of what a young nobleman is meant to be; for much of his life, he has lived a blessed existence, something he attributes to the Goddess' favor, and he attempts to repay this favor by conducting himself in a way which honors her benevolence. He is kind to both his betters and his lessers, patient with all those he counsels, diligent in his studies both academic and martial, humble almost to the point of fault and steadfast in his piety. To call him 'saintly' would not be misplacing one's words, although he would assuredly refute such as a compliment he did not deserve.

While he is a fundamentally gentle, nurturing soul, it would be a mistake to underestimate his resolve—although he has a deep appreciation for the mercy preached in Seiros' teachings, he possesses an equally strong sense of justice, and will not hesitate to intervene on behalf of the downtrodden or victimized. He thinks himself chivalrous, and cannot help but respect those who conduct themselves with courage and honesty, qualities he considers fleeting in the veritable den of vipers that is the upper echelons of the Empire. It is therefore needless to say that one of the few things he can truly be said to dislike is politicking, and the idea of inheriting his father's Duchy weighs heavier on him than any self-imposed code of conduct.

History

Fairy tale romances were far and few between in the lands of Fódlan, but every so often the Goddess gives her favor to a lucky couple. The tale of Siegfried von Varley and Odette Galatea is one such tale. Having met at Garreg Mach in their youth, the pair were practically inseparable during their year of tutelage. Their whirlwind romance was such that when the year came to a draw and they were forced to go their separate ways, Siegfried could not bear the loss, and rode to Faerghus in order to ask Odette's father for her hand. He was, of course, flatly rejected, but even the disapproval of their families could not keep the couple apart⁠—they eloped later that very month. By the time House Galatea discovered the young lovers, they had already consummated the match. To save face, both families gave the two their blessing, and Siegfried brought Odette back to the Adrestian Empire as his wife, where he would eventually succeed his own father as the Duke of Varley.

Their hard fought victory was well rewarded. The Goddess blessed them with four healthy children, two of whom bore Crests; their eldest son, Ulrich, and their youngest, Albrecht. Raised on tales of chivalry and romance, it was perhaps a foregone conclusion that young Albrecht would grow to become a wide-eyed idealist. His worldview was colored early by these stories, of heroic knights and a benevolent Goddess, one which favored him personally—his Crest's abilities made themselves known early on, ensuring any endeavor he undertook seemed to go his way, regardless of circumstance or importance. He came to attribute much of the success in his young life to Sothis and her blessing, and intended to spend it serving in her honor; with his elder brother also in possession of such a blessing, and several siblings between them, he was unnecessary to the line of succession. Albrecht had every intention of swearing fealty to the Knights of Seiros when he came of age, a choice inspired by the knightly orders of his mother's homeland, and something that would undoubtedly reflect well on his father's position as Minister of Religion.

But the Goddess had other plans for him. The Black Death swept across Fódlan for much of Albrecht's life, but it did not reach Castle Varley until he was a boy of fifteen. It took his sister, Astrid, first. Then Wolfram followed her two weeks later, having caught it when he forced his way into her room to see his ailing sister. Despite the best efforts of the garrison, Ulrich too caught the malady, and perished by the end of the month along with his fiancée.

Even Albrecht felt the looming specter of death over him, but was spared the fate of his siblings by either chance or miracle—his fever broke on the dawn of the eighth day, and the plague was gone the following moon, having taken half the staff with it as it burned its way through the castle. His parents had, mercifully, survived the ordeal, but were made lesser for it. His father became stoic and stony, retreating into himself to cope with the loss, and his mother, once the fiery dame of many a song, found the spark in her eyes fading as they buried three of her beloved children.

The plague left Albrecht not only with a crisis of faith, but of changed circumstance. He had been free to pursue his own desires before, to train as a squire and eventually pledge his life to the Church when the time came. But now, he was his father's heir, and only remaining child. The future of the House rested on his shoulders, and it would be up to him to do as his sire had and find a bride to carry on the family legacy. When the plague subsided some years later, Albrecht was given the chance to attend the renown institute both his parents had in their youth. A mercy as much as a means to prepare him for the harsh realities of rulership, for he could at least experience a few precious months at the Monastery before returning home, a man grown, to do his duty and take a wife.

So began his days at Garreg Mach.

Trivia

• Albrecht stands at just over six feet in height, with a willowy build that belies his physical might.
• Albrecht's favorite food is peach sorbet, something he has fond memories of eating during the arid summers at Castle Varley. It certainly isn't his only favored treat, though: the young man is known to have a sweet tooth, and the Monastery's snack cart tests his temperance something severe.
• He possesses a strong physical resemblance to his mother, and barring his height, could easily be confused with her. Consequently, he is considered rather fair to look upon, and it has been said more than once that he is prettier than a number of his female cousins. A fact which flusters him terribly.
• Albrecht is banned from gambling halls across his father's lands. While he insists he would never willingly partake in the vice, a particular incident wherein his elder brother took him out on the town as youths saw at least one unlucky establishment cleaned of its coffers, and his prohibition well earned. This reputation extends to the area around Garreg Mach thanks to its proximity to Varley.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

Albrecht von Varley | Major Crest of Lamine

Name

Albrecht von Varley

Age

17 _{Born the 5th of Blue Sea Moon}

Country of Origin

Adrestian Empire

Social Standing

Noble of House Varley

Crest

Crest of Lamine
_{Albrecht's crest bestows him with supernaturally good fortune, significantly increasing the likelihood of positive outcomes in tasks he undertakes while reducing the severity of negative outcomes.}

Starting Class

Soldier

Weapon of Choice

Sword

Strengths

Swords, Faith

Weaknesses

Bows, Reason

Personality

Albrecht strives to be the very definition of what a young nobleman is meant to be; for much of his life, he has lived a blessed existence, something he attributes to the Goddess' favor, and he attempts to repay this favor by conducting himself in a way which honors her benevolence. He is kind to both his betters and his lessers, patient with all those he counsels, diligent in his studies both academic and martial, humble almost to the point of fault and steadfast in his piety. To call him 'saintly' would not be misplacing one's words, although he would assuredly refute such as a compliment he did not deserve.

While he is a fundamentally gentle, nurturing soul, it would be a mistake to underestimate his resolve—although he has a deep appreciation for the mercy preached in Seiros' teachings, he possesses an equally strong sense of justice, and will not hesitate to intervene on behalf of the downtrodden or victimized. He thinks himself chivalrous, and cannot help but respect those who conduct themselves with courage and honesty, qualities he considers fleeting in the veritable den of vipers that is the upper echelons of the Empire. It is therefore needless to say that one of the few things he can truly be said to dislike is politicking, and the idea of inheriting his father's Duchy weighs heavier on him than any self-imposed code of conduct.

History

Fairy tale romances were far and few between in the lands of Fódlan, but every so often the Goddess gives her favor to a lucky couple. The tale of Siegfried von Varley and the lady Odette Galatea is one such tale. Having met at Garreg Mach in their youth, the pair were practically inseparable during their year of tutelage. Their whirlwind romance was such that when the year came to a draw and they were forced to go their separate ways, Siegfried could not bear the loss, and rode to Faerghus in order to ask Odette's father for her hand. He was, of course, flatly rejected, but even the disapproval of their families could not keep the couple apart⁠—they eloped later that very month. By the time House Galatea discovered the young lovers, they had already consummated the match. To save face, both families gave the two their blessing, and Siegfried brought Odette back to the Adrestian Empire as his wife, where he would eventually succeed his own father as the Duke of Varley.

Their hard fought victory was well rewarded. The Goddess blessed them with four healthy children, two of whom bore Crests; their eldest son, Ulrich, and their youngest, Albrecht. Raised on tales of chivalry and romance, it was perhaps a foregone conclusion that young Albrecht would grow to become a wide-eyed idealist. His worldview was colored early by these stories, of heroic knights and a benevolent Goddess, one which favored him personally—his Crest's abilities made themselves known early on, ensuring any endeavor he undertook seemed to go his way, regardless of circumstance or importance. He came to attribute much of the success in his young life to Sothis and her blessing, and intended to spend it serving in her honor; with his elder brother also in possession of such a blessing, and several siblings between them, he was unnecessary to the line of succession. Albrecht had every intention of swearing fealty to the Knights of Seiros when he came of age, a choice inspired by the knightly orders of his mother's homeland, and something that would undoubtedly reflect well on his father's position as Minister of Religion.

But the Goddess had other plans for him. The Black Death swept across Fódlan for much of Albrecht's life, but it did not reach Castle Varley until he was a boy of fifteen. It took his sister, Astrid, first. Then Wolfram followed her two weeks later, having caught it when he forced his way into her room to see his ailing sister. Despite the best efforts of the garrison, Ulrich too caught the malady, and perished by the end of the month along with his fiancée.

Even Albrecht felt the looming specter of death over him, but was spare the fate of his siblings by miracle or chance—his fever broke on the dawn of the eighth day, and the plague was gone the following moon, having taken half the staff with it as it burned its way through the castle. His parents had, mercifully, survived the ordeal, but were made lesser for it. His father became stoic and stony, retreating into himself to cope with the loss, and his mother, once the fiery dame of many a song, found the spark in her eyes fading as they buried three of her beloved children.

The plague left Albrecht not only with a crisis of faith, but of changed circumstance. He had been free to pursue his own desires before, to train as a squire and eventually pledge his life to the Church when the time came. But now, he was his father's heir, and only remaining child. The future of the House rested on his shoulders, and it would be up to him to do as his sire had and find a bride to carry on the family legacy. When the plague subsided some years later, Albrecht was given the chance to attend the renown institute both his parents had in their youth. A mercy as much as a means to prepare him for the harsh realities of rulership, for he could at least experience a few precious months at the Monastery before returning home, a man grown, to do his duty and take a wife.

So began his days at Garreg Mach.

Trivia

• Albrecht stands at just over six feet in height, with a willowy build that belies his physical might.
• Albrecht's favorite food is peach sorbet, something he has fond memories of eating during the arid summers at Castle Varley. It certainly isn't his only favored treat, though: the young man is known to have a sweet tooth, and the Monastery's snack cart tests his temperance something severe.
• He possesses a strong physical resemblance to his mother, and barring his height, could easily be confused with her. Consequently, he is considered rather fair to look upon, and it has been said more than once that he is prettier than a number of his female cousins. A fact which flusters him terribly.
• Albrecht is banned from gambling halls across his father's lands. While he insists he would never willingly partake in the vice, a particular incident wherein his elder brother took him out on the town as youths saw at least one unlucky establishment cleaned of its coffers, and his prohibition well earned. This reputation extends to the area around Garreg Mach thanks to its proximity to Varley.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

i really just wanted the 100th post ignore this

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time

---

The last chime of the day was usually a welcome sound. It meant that classes were finally over and everybody could scurry off to their club activities, or—for the hoodlums like Ryusei—go wander the town until nightfall. It was unfortunate that the towering teen would have to fall into the former category this year. As he stewed for most of the day, he found himself growing increasingly irate with the idea. It had been so absurd as to almost be funny at the time, but having to deal with a group of people he didn't know, nor want to know, every day after school, for who knew how many hours... Somehow Utsubyo managed to keep getting worse with every passing day. At least he had roped Himawari into it; if nothing else, she proved to be fun to tease, and he could take some solace in knowing he wasn't the only one who definitely did not want to be there.

Somewhere along the path between 2-C and the gymnasium, he met up with her. She seemed in a mood, and frankly, so was he, so he simply contented himself to silence until they arrived. Mercifully, the journey was not long, and their destination was everything the transfer could have imagined it to be—beat to shit and full of equipment that probably hadn't been replaced in the last decade. There weren't many folks milling about either, although he took that as more of a boon than a bane. It meant he had fewer people to talk to and consequently, fewer people to bother him. He simply grunted when their history teacher approached him and gave the typical spiel. Bastard was probably just happy to have another member to pad out his club with. Maybe they'd get more funding that way.

Of course, it couldn't just be the sensei to crowd him. The senpai of the group didn't seem especially notable, although his calm demeanor certainly stood out compared to his juniors. One of them decided to mouth off about his height, as if he didn't fucking know he was a foot taller than half the damn school, and the other one looked at him with a mixture of terror and apparent embarrassment at her own fear.

"Totsuka Ryusei," He eventually grunted, although his eyes eventually fell on Kei, "And I'm already in shape, in case you were blind."

It took a fair amount of restraint to not add 'as well as dumb' to his little quip, but that was probably for the best. The teacher was still around, as evidence by his request that Ryusei go change. Grumbling to himself, the teen took the excuse to get the hell away from his fellow club members before they did anything else to piss him off, and disappeared into the nearby locker room. He did not return until he had shed the stuffy school uniform provided to him and replaced it with the equally irritating gym clothing they had given him.

"Alright, I'm ready. What the hell are we doing? I don't wanna be here all day."

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
i don't fucking know pm

---

"Does it matter that much? They still chose to plaster us all over the front page—all of them are guilty on some level."

Maybe it was a little overzealous to condemn the entire club for the actions of a single member. But they all sat idly by and let it happen. Hell, the majority of them probably relished in it—they were all wannabe journalists, living in some backwater podunk town nobody cared about. This was probably the most exciting thing to happen in recent memory, maybe the only exciting thing to happen in recent memory. Like vultures to a fresh kill, they couldn't help themselves. The more he thought about it, the less the idea of beating the entire clubroom senseless seemed out of line. There had to be consequences for this, or he would have to deal with them trailing him for the rest of the school year, hoping desperately for him to do something that would sell their stupid little rag.

"Whatever you decide to do, take me with you when you go. I wanna exchange some words with their editor." He eventually decided, tucking his hands into his pockets, "We still got like fifteen minutes. Wanna have a quick smoke? Could use one after all this bullshit."

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
i don't fucking know pm

---

With how prone to mouthing off she seemed, Ryusei hadn't expected that his comments would get her so tied up in a knot. If they ended up hanging around each other regularly—a silly hypothetical, considering he had all but ensured that moments ago—he would make sure to exploit that going forward. She did make some good points though. Dragging her down with him was a bit of a bitch move to pull, but he didn't know who all were part of the team, so ensuring he had at least one friendly face among them would hopefully make the coming weeks more tolerable. Not that Shiori's face was looking especially friendly at the time.

"What do you mean? We're gonna be hanging out every day after school now. This is just a... non-conventional proposal, is all." He insisted, ever the smooth talker, "'Sides, I wouldn't mind you hopping in the ring—maybe you can throw the punches you learn there at the person who got us into this mess. The hell was her name? Short, black hair, annoying glasses. My 'stalker'. You said she was on the school newspaper, didn't you?"

It didn't hurt to make his intentions for her a little better known. Frankly, he expected her to go off and seek vengeance all her own, if her reputation was at all warranted. He was just pushing the inevitable conclusion forward a little bit.

Where It Always Rains

TOTSUKA RYUSEI
戸塚 竜星

---

a date where smartphones exist
i don't fucking know pm

---

As the words left his mouth, he almost felt bad about it. Almost. But the way Shiori's head nearly flew off her shoulders in response to his 'helpful' suggestion nearly managed to bring a grin to his face. If she was that expressive, he'd make a note to continue taking jabs at her here and there whenever he could; Utsubyo was far too boring not to try and drum up some kind of amusement. As they were shooed off to complete the rest of their break, he had more than prepared himself for the outburst to come. She shook in her wrath, firing a glare at him like she could kill him right then and there with it—it was almost cute. Of course, the shrill yelling came shortly after that. Much less cute. But he had an easy response for all her rage.

"Hey, I saved you from spending the next week scrubbing desks and cleaning boards. You should be thankful," He told her, although it took a great deal of his self-restraint to keep his expression stoic in light of the absolute bullshit he was spewing. "Besides, if you weren't out there smoking, I wouldn't have been tempted to join you. It's honestly your fault for being such good company."

That was sure to rile her up good and proper. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could redirect some of that aggression towards the half-pint he had encountered behind the dumpsters. She was undoubtedly the one who snapped the pictures that had apparently incriminated them both. As much as he'd like to get back at her, punching out a girl on the second day of school wasn't a good look. But if another girl did it—and he was sure Shiori was the type to throw a punch—then it would be fine. Given his own propensity to vent frustration with his hands, he decided his provocations weren't just thinly veiled excuses to have a good laugh, but an attempt at justice.

"And I mean, the comment was justified. You don't strike me as the type to dye your hair. Unless, y'know, you shave, I guess..."

It never hurt to be thorough.