EXTRA SCENARIO ONE: "BLUE SKY DAYS"

Carried on gentle winds, cherry blossoms scented the air.

The Amane are righteous, the Amane are together. They gathered as one in the Houtengeki's divine halls to share rites. Forever unwavering, all for those that might follow. In the Spring of 2042, Atsushi Amane stilled preached this dogma- to his beautiful wife, to his two wonderful sons, and to a broken world that questioned the Amane's veracity.

Akashi Amane, then eighteen, truly admired the kindness of his father. Violet eyes, clear like the midday horizon, which claimed knowledge of the world and all its wonders. Stalwart confidence aided by familial warmth and all the kindness of an era bred Akashi Amane. Not just Akashi, either. The red-haired youth watched his distant sibling.

Little Aoi, you know not how these people care for you.

The boy of nine years, adorned in the too-large kimono of an Atsuhi Amane from days past. A dawn of brilliant blues and vibrant golds, inlayed within the print of the enduring peony. Still a child, he carried himself as such- a serious expression undermined by faint shaking and unsteady steps.

Aoi Amane stepped down the hall. Those that looked up with admiration, and those who looked down with warm eyes, they didn't dare look away from that boy's high-headed posture. Unbeknownst to he himself, Aoi Amane carried more than the fate of the Amane on his shoulders. And yet, thought Akashi, if it were someone like his little brother—

The world might remember its smile.

With eyes as blue as the sky above, the young boy faced forward. He knelt at the altar, thin fingers straightening his garb. Before him sat the mightiest of all, he with the greatest of dreams. And yet, faced with the mighty existence of a father, Aoi didn't waver. Today was his day.

"Youth of the Amane," spoke Atsushi, "Blood of the brighter tomorrow, my precious little Aoi. It is my great honour to speak with you on this stage, on this day, as a father before a leader. And so I ask you, my son, has this world's beauty captivated you?"

The boy's blue hair fluttered as he considered this. Gently, as if carressed by the world itself. He smiled. A brilliant arc, brighter than any rainbow. He couldn't stop the voice of his heart, the answer he gave—

"I love this world."

Truly, Aoi Amane felt this.

-EX1-

In the often mocked words of Aoi Amane, "Women are more trouble than they're worth."

After a week, they're clingy. After a month, they're possessive. After a year, he'd get tossed aside. The logic of "I don't know what you're thinking" never resonated with him. Someone other than Aoi Amane knowing Aoi Amane's thoughts never sat well. Perhaps out of fear, or perhaps because of two words that always came to mind: "So annoying."

Every time a girl asked to come over. Every time she asked to hang out. Every time she wanted his opinion. Time and time again, no matter what, Aoi Amane found it annoying. He'd never considered this a fault of his own character. At some point, twisted teenage selfishness manifested a worldly realization: "There's no point faulting your own feelings."

This dogma sparked Aoi's discontent.

To Aoi, the notion of rationing happiness didn't exist. The sun shone, no clouds in sight, a beautiful Thursday on all accounts. He'd woken up, received a call from his father, then walked to school. No classroom complaints came to mind, but he'd eagerly awaited his lunch break. Aoi wanted to relax on the school roof, to soak up sunlight in all his perennial glory.

Yet there he stood, behind the school on his lunch break. Healthy skin, wild cerulean hair, and sky blue eyes. At two-hundred centimeters in height, Aoi Amane filled the role of Sougetsu General Academy's tallest student. None could compare. Not his peers, and not the person before him.

"Amane, um-"

The girl barely reached Aoi's chest. She cemented her resolve, pushed a pink envelope forward, then pulled it back before Aoi could take it. The million dollar question shifted from "why" to "when" in an instant, but to whose merit?

Come on, out with it.

"Amane, for a long time now-"

As she spoke, Aoi's breast pocket vibrated. The first year didn't notice, or so it seemed. She continued with her all-too-slow mumbling. Seeing this, Aoi retrieved his phone without a word. Lo' and behold, he found a text message waiting for him. Aoi read the contents with a sigh.

'ur late hurry up'

Aoi's expression soured. A confession hadn't been on his wish list. He couldn't have known the first year's intent, not with the bored tone she'd called him with. Unfortunately, hindsight was twenty-twenty. Aoi returned a text, but kept his eyes on the girl in front.

'someone is confessing'

'nvm stop texting and listen'

"For a long time now, I've-"

The first year held her envelope out. Aoi's brain once more kicked into overdrive. This'd be the one, he thought. Slow like a snail, cautious like a predator, Aoi reached forward. At the last second, however, the girl clutched the letter to her chest.

Again, huh.

They reached a stalemate. Aoi checked the time- 12:59 PM. The possibility of missing lunch sank in. He couldn't dare imagine such a future, why ruin a good day? No reasons came to mind. He fell back on his usual get-out-of-jail-free card.

Aoi assumed his stance. Arms straightened, legs stretched, back erect. His form refined, his craft perfected, Aoi prepared his secret technique. Twenty rejections gave ample time to practice his sure-kill move. Aoi leaned forward and, with a bow—

"Not interested, sorry."

—He crushed another heart.

-EX2-

A gentle breeze circulated the classroom.

"Little Aoi turned down another first year."

"Heard this one was cute."

The class held an open-air discussion about Aoi Amane's patended "heartbreaker" routine. The time for gossip had long-since passed. After Aoi's first rejection of the year, hushed voices became the norm. After the eleventh time, they became too much of a hassle. Mocking discussions turned from cold to warm. This came fast in small circles, and Aoi's class certainly fit the bill.

Class 3-A consisted of eight students, after all.

The term "special" didn't apply to it nor its few students. Save for the lethargy attributed to aimless third years, nothing stood out as overtly wrong with 3-A's students. No, the quirk of this small eight-person class came from one simple fact: Classroom 3-A housed the school's only third year class. It'd be wrong to call this abnormal.

Free space surrounded all eight of Classroom 3-A's desks. Not because other classrooms were smaller, but because 3-A's student count equaled less than half that of other classes. Such classes consisted of twenty or so pupils, most excited to learn the time-honoured art of demonslaying. They usually stayed for a year or two, took the demonslayer examination, then left the island.

But what of the leftovers?

"Aoi, Aoi."

The girl before Aoi fell under this category. Straight black hair fell over her shoulders to her lower back. A ghost-themed hairpin, one result of her recent occult fever, kept the hair out of her face. Dark, tired-looking eyes reflected Aoi's gaze. Aoi often compared her eyes to a dead fish's, but never out loud. Nothing stopped him from internally doing so.

"My eyes are pretty, hm?" said the girl.

Aoi sighed. "What, Hazuki."

She frowned. "At least make it sound like a question."

"Pass."

"You're terrible."

The girl- Hazuki Schneider- leaned forward and planted both elbows on Aoi's desk. Her uniform's black blazer and knee-length skirt clung to the slender figure beneath. With one stocking-clad leg crossed over the other, she kept her dark gaze on Aoi. Rather, her eyes focused more intently on the titanic youth.

"What, Hazuki?" Aoi rolled his eyes.

"You shouldn't text me when someone is confessing. Imagine if you confessed to Tomoko and she texted the entire time. Doesn't look good, hm? Makes us third years seem like villains if little Aoi, our mascot, is doing the deed—"

"Why Tomoko? She barely comes up to my chest. You're jumping the gun, 'Zuki. I'd get detained if a cop saw us holding hands." Aoi shivered as he considered this. "Jeez."

Hazuki frowned. "I wonder, what do those girls see in you?"

As if on cue, a small redhead girl stepped into the classroom- Tomoko Tanaka. Sandwich in one hand, cell phone in the other, she walked over to her seat. She'd either missed the ruckus or hadn't allowed it to bother her. Even still, 3-A's student body continued to gather.

Hot on Tomoko's heels, a boy of average height. Silver hair in a long tail, school bag in hand, the boy sauntered into Classroom 3-A. Yellow eyes swept from one corner to the other, then focused on Hazuki and Aoi. At the same time that Hazuki called out, Aoi glanced out the adjacent window.

"Ban, Ban," Hazuki turned to face him.

"Yeah?" As he spoke, the boy- Ban Kishimoto- took a seat.

3-A's desks fell into two rows of four. Hazuki sat in the front row, farthest on the left. Ban sat to Hazuki's right. Aoi sat directly behind the girl. This flipped ninety degree angle served as the trio's desk layout all through childhood and well into the present.

Hazuki snickered. "Little Aoi turned down another first year."

"I know." Ban hastily rummaged through his bag.

"Yes, but Aoi was texting the entire time. Terrible, hm? Almost as bad as Auntie Sylvia's son. He's a little mean, but always happy when someone compliments him."

Aoi squinted. "Sounds like a pain in the ass."

"You'd know," said Ban.

Mind your own business, Ban.

With a sigh, Aoi focused on the sky outside. Azure, the colour attributed to the Amane clan and its lore. Soaring birds, green trees, and a townscape that stretched into the distance. Aoi had lived there his entire life, but the view never lost its value. Every time he saw it, the strange recognition of "This is my home" washed over him.

Prettier than Niflheim, larger than Muspelheim- those were Aoi's thoughts. Other artificial islands couldn't compare. Not in size, and definitely not in atmosphere. To him, this place never felt bigger than a small town. There were trains, but most people walked. There were urban areas, but large sections of the island lent themselves to agriculture.

Vanaheim, the land of blue skies, represented peace.

"Settle down, I'd like to get started."

Mister Kuronuma, who'd stealthily entered, stated this with a nod. Clad in black formalwear, the brown-haired man scanned the classroom. Maybe satisfied with the lack of absences, he turned towards the blackboard. The man selected a stick of chalk and wrote "DEMON-HUNTING SCENARIOS DUE" in large white print.

Tomoko's brow twitched. "W-Wait, those are due on Thursday."

"Today is Thursday. I want them by the end of class."

Groans came from all around. A normal reaction.

Aoi opened his backpack and readily pulled out a thin folder. His confidence couldn't be understated, not in this situation. Many of Aoi's clanmates went into demonslaying. As a result, his work possessed a more "professional" touch to it. At least, that's what he thought. Now Aoi's eyes fell on Hazuki.

The gloomy girl produced a folder like Aoi's own, but many times thicker. Aoi eyeballed her folder at a full inch in thickness, perhaps larger. In Aoi's experience, Hazuki Schneider always aced assignments of this nature. Even so, Aoi wouldn't be beat. Not this time.

Extra fluff and shitty diagrams can't contend, 'Zuki.

Followed by the Ban and Hazuki, Aoi dropped his work on the teacher's desk. He paused, making sure he'd properly signed his name, then returned to his too-small desk.

Mr. Kuronuma cleared his throat. "By the way..."

The classroom fell silent.

"Vanaheim and Alfheim will be docking sometime today. It's not often that I can show off my precious students. That being the case, I'll ask one more time. Who here has signed up for the joint tournament between Vanaheim and Alfheim?"

Only two hands came up- Aoi Amane's and Ban Kishimoto's.

"Got it. All right, I'm taking roll call."

-EX3-

The concept of "dreading" school never took root in Aoi Amane. Due to his upbringing, schoolwork struck him as a normal part of life. Never aiming above his weight class, but never slacking off. These simple tendencies defined Aoi Amane's study habits. As a result, certain thoughts often gripped him. Thoughts he gauged as, how to put it, abnormal.

"Isn't it weird to hate school?"

Aoi never considered why people disliked going to class. The idea of school-related stress never made sense to him. Aoi didn't care when school started or ended. Common as it might sound, school simply existed for him. And so, from Aoi Amane's perspective, afternoon classes ended without fanfare. But what of the walk home?

"Aoi, Aoi, How long has it been since our last game?"

"Four days."

Two students walked along the roadside. The shorter student, Hazuki, walked in front of the taller student, Aoi. Both lived in Vanaheim's rural southern area, and thus followed the same road. They moved at their own pace, an exaggerated and goofy saunter that might've irritated other pedestrians. Today, however, they walked alone- just the two of them.

The island's scenery wrapped around the two. To the left, a grove of elderly maple trees. Vermilion mingled with deep blue skies, which took on a warmer tone near the horizon. To the right, past a crossing sign, rice fields stretched on for as far as the eye could see. If Aoi squinted he almost saw the distant Kusakabe District.

Left to their own devices, the two engaged in tomfoolery.

"What constitutes a rival for love?" asked Hazuki.

Aoi tilted his head. "For love? Not in love?"

"You're not my type."

"Yeah, I'm not."

Satisfied with this, Hazuki nodded. She spun around, panning her gaze across Vanaheim's splendor, then continued walking backwards. Aoi couldn't help but observe her footwork. Step, step, spin, step, step, repeat. Her rotation needed work, Aoi determined this at a glance.

Hazuki cleared her throat. "Four days. 'Love' is a four letter word with one syllable. Compare and contrast, little Aoi. Crows and ravens, for example. Different, but aesthetically similar. Find an equivilent for the word love. Find love's rival, if that makes sense. Shall we play?"

Aoi nodded. He found no reason to decline. "Which definition?"

Hazuki paused to consider the Aoi's question. Her face turned sullen. She gave her surroundings a final once over, then turned back to Aoi. Hazuki swept a finger across the scenery, then towards the sky. All the while she, continued with her exaggerated backpedalling.

Silence reigned until a truck drove past.

"Feeling stupid?" Aoi squinted.

"Just a bit."

Yes, Aoi Amane couldn't stand women. Even so, every rule had an exception. In Aoi's case, Hazuki Schneider fit that bill. Perhaps because Hazuki respected his boundaries, or perhaps because of her odd sense of humour. Aoi appreciated both, but never said so out loud. He didn't have to.

Let's see...

An equivilent for the word love. Similar in form, different in nature. After five seconds, nothing came to mind. After ten, he got frustrated. Aoi tossed the idea back and forth, as if playing tennis with himself. The answer came to him fairly quickly. Or rather, it'd been obvious.

"Your answer?"

"Maybe love?" said Aoi. "Like, tennis?"

Hazuki frowned. "Love does describe you in that context."

"I won, don't talk shit."

Their conversation met an abrupt end. Aoi realized that he'd passed, a fact confirmed by Hazuki's all-too-rare scowl. But at what cost? At what point, Aoi wondered, did victory become phyrric? He couldn't tell, not with Hazuki. Landmines came in many forms. Still, Aoi relaxed.

Silence opened room for ambience. Vanaheim's sounds filled Aoi's ears. Cicadas chirped, winds whistled, trees rustled. Such noises always calmed Aoi down, even in Hazuki's presence. Then, as Aoi's mind began to wander—

"—Aoi." Hazuki waved a hand in front of him.

Aoi flinched. "Yeah?"

Hazuki cleared her throat. "Barring talks of love and love—"

"Which is which?"

"Witches are wishes."

They got sidetracked in an instant. Both parties waited for the other to speak, but neither wanted to pursue a discussion about witches and wishes. Tempting, oh so tempting, but they couldn't. Aoi felt it, Hazuki wanted to discuss a more serious topic.

"Barring talks of love and love," Hazuki continued, "You signed up for the tournament?"

"Yeah."

"Anger and worry aren't mutually exclusive. Still, I'm no tyrant. I'll let you defend your case. One sentence. Two if you absolutely must. Three if you're desperate. Wait, let's reuse 'four' as our jumping-off point. Aim for four sentences, little Aoi."

"The slayer exam. My family pushes the future. A hassle, for sure." Aoi smirked. He counted his sentences, three in total, then followed up with the fourth. "By Aoi Amane."

"A very bad haiku," murmured Hazuki. "Can you win four tournament rounds?"

"Should I?"

The gloomy girl tilted her head. "It doesn't really matter. Aoi Amane will reach the finals no matter what I say. Good grief, what an unruly puppy. It's fine to worry, hm? You wouldn't worry me, hm? With that in mind, go back in time and fix your mistake. I won't wait for you."

"You better wait."

"In any case," Hazuki continued, "Are you fine entering a combat tournament? It'll be tough. You might have to face Ban. Barring that, there's still Alfheim. Barring that too, you still have to take time off, don't you? Confidence is cool, little Aoi, but arrogance is not."

Aoi sighed. "Listen—"

"Hazuki, Aoi," called a third voice.

A familiar arm hooked around the titan's neck. Aoi glanced towards the person who'd appeared on his left. Silver hair tied in a tail, yellow eyes like gemstones. He, Ban Kishimoto, glanced from Hazuki to Aoi. He clicked his tongue. With a smile, Ban turned back to the gloomy girl in front.

"Ban, Ban, you're coming this way today?" asked Hazuki.

Ban nodded. "Got out of club activities early. I'm preparing for the tournament. My underclassmen want me to make our kendo club look good. Maybe it's abusing their trust, but I kinda felt like walking home with you two. The three of us haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true. Thought I'd be walking home alone after Aoi joined the Basketball team. It was a false alarm, really. He never attends, even when they threaten to kick him out. Why is that, little Aoi?"

"No point," said Aoi. "They're all shit."

"Then leave?" Ban's gaze narrowed.

Aoi shrugged.

"By the way, Ban," said Hazuki, "You might end up against little Aoi in the tournament. Do you think you can win? He's fairly strong. Besides, little Aoi seems confident. I'd like a comparison."

"Aoi, huh? Tournament rules state that someone loses when they can't fight, or when they're removed from the ring. The former might be a little difficult, but the latter is easy enough. Aoi is strong, but he's got no range. I deserve to get thrown if he catches me—?!"

"Caught you," said Aoi.

It happened in an instant. With his left hand, Aoi lifted Ban by his uniform's collar. It hadn't been hard. Ban, who weighed less than a normal human, commented on Aoi's strength. Ban, who claimed that Aoi lacked ranged ability, placed himself within arm's length of the titanic youth.

Aoi glanced skywards. Nothing could get in the way up there. Thinking that, he decided to play a little rough. With his free hand, Aoi measured a good distance. About eight meters. He gathered power in his muscles and planted his feet. The titan's blood began to boil.

Ban's brow twitched. "You're stretching my collar, Aoi—"

"I caught you, Ban."

The ride began. Step, step, pivot, step. Aoi spun as he channeled a childhood dashed by endless martial training. The scenery around him blurred, winds twisting and contorting under his brute strength. One revolution, two revolutions. With the third, Aoi directed his cetrifugal force upwards—

"That means it's fair game!"

—And released his fastball special.

The silver-haired boy spun into the air like a top, like a rubber band fired off the thumb. Like a rock from a giant's hand, in more respectful terms. Two meters, four meters, six meters. At the eight meter mark, the ride finally came to an end.

"Enough!" hissed Ban.

A small whirlwind gathered beneath the boy. Black feathers scattered from his back. They fell to the ground, like cherry blossoms on the wind. He corrected his orientation and glanced down at the blue-eyed boy. Ban's eyes lit up with red-hot anger.

"Oi, Aoi!" he yelled.

Aoi cracked his neck. "Shut it. I'll put you in the concrete."

"You wanna go?!"

Hazuki sighed. "Honestly, you two—"

A heavy clunk quickly silenced the trio.

The ground's low rumble caught Hazuki and Aoi off guard. With a clearly perturbed expression, Aoi grabbed the gloomy girl by her forearm. Hazuki heaved a sigh of relief. When she realized who'd grabbed her, the girl hastily regained her footing. She and Aoi separated faster than the eye could register.

"Sorry," said Hazuki, "Are you—"

"Don't." Aoi's face darkened.

The rumbling ended soon afterwards. The entire event struck none of the trio as odd, even if it'd caught them by surprise. They'd been warned over and over again by Mr. Kuronuma, and also by varying news outlets. The groan of machinery and the rumble of earth had but a single meaning.

January 3rd, 2053. Vanaheim and Alfheim docked on a windy Thursday.

-EX4-

An orange sky loomed overhead.

"In any case, we're splitting up here."

Hazuki stated this after they'd reached the urban Isuka District. She gave a worried look, as if sizing up the two boys. Afterwards, the girl got into a nearby car that waited for her. Aoi often went with Hazuki due to her home's close proximity to his apartment. This time, such didn't happen. Fate snickered- Ban and Aoi walked in the same direction.

Urban ambience surrounded the two. Cars, chatter, so on and so forth.

Both students hastily walked down the road. Any outsider could see the flames between them. But why? On all accounts, the bad blood between Aoi and Ban made no sense. When did it start? Why did it start? Indeed, neither party could answer these questions.

"The hell are you looking at?"

"Shut it, Ban."

Even still, they hated each other.

The Amane and Kishimoto clans never got along. Aoi and Ban represented a mere fraction of that feud and they couldn't stand each other. Not the other's face, not the other's gait, and most certainly not the other's voice. The two played nice in front Hazuki, or at least tried. Otherwise, they actively denied each other's existences.

And so manifested their current stalemate. Aoi, with one earbud in. Ban, who texted to stave off boredom. The two gave it their all, tried their best. Why spark conflict? Both hated each other, yes. Both hated conflict, yes, yes.

And yet, they couldn't stop fighting.

"Aoi." Ban's eye twitched.

Aoi quietly hummed.

"Aoi, shut up."

He didn't.

"I swear to god, Aoi."

Aoi cleared his throat and hummed even louder.

Ban scowled, but ultimately decided to ignore Aoi. A wise decision, even if brief. Within seconds, Aoi settled into his quiet hum once more. Moments such as this made up the bulk of their engagements. Violence couldn't be used under a crowd's watchful eye, both parties knew that.

"Tch, why are you even here today?" Ban quickly went back on his decision.

Aoi kept his gaze forward. "Amane clan business, not yours."

"A Kishin tribunal, huh? Animals, all of you."

"Eat shit."

Still, Aoi couldn't deny Ban's comment. The Amane clan head called Aoi to his real home, the Houtengeki, for a "tribunal." The definition didn't fit, but the associated dread did. The call came before school, from Aoi's own father. That struck him as odd. Why would his own father call him? After Aoi thought about it, nothing came to mind.

No, that's wrong.

One scenario jumped out at Aoi. A worst-case scenario, one he prayed didn't play out. Aoi slowly exhaled. He turned up his music and tried to tune out his surroundings. A worst-case scenario needn't be given consideration. Or rather, Aoi didn't want to think about it. For better or for worse, he pushed the thought aside. And so, Aoi hummed.

"The hell are you listening to?" said Ban.

No response.

Ban clicked his tongue. "Kotetsu? Really?"

"I'll put an earbud through your face. You tell me, Ban."

"That man's filthy. How can you listen to him? He's got no presence, his words have no weight, he doesn't even write his own songs. Got tons of input for you, Aoi. Guy only spits about material wealth. It's not good for the soul, makes you rotten. Makes sense that you'd like him—"

Aoi sighed. "That's petty, but I'll play. Insulting me for my taste in music? I have you beat. Couldn't get Hazuki, now you're macking on first years. Read a light novel lately? You're a riot, Ban."

"Yeah? That's your angle?" Ban scowled.

"Go for Tomoko if that's your type."

Ban snickered. He chewed on Aoi's words for a moment, after which he laughed louder. The boy slipped his cell phone into his uniform's pocket. He glanced forward, but kept his gaze off the adjacent titan. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"My type, huh? You're the last person who should be talking about type."

"Yeah?"

"Tomoko isn't my type, Aoi, but at least I have a type. Hazuki mentioned something about four days, yeah? Come on, I'll play too. Four days, four letters. A rival for love, one with four letters and the same meaning. Let's tailor this one to Aoi Amane. Wanna play?" Ban smirked.

"No."

"Heck, I'll play by myself. Gotta get the juices flowing, you know? Let's see, a rival for love. Four letters with the same meaning. In relation to Aoi Amane, right? Got it, here's my answer. Fe—"

Fwoom. Smashed bricks fell to the sidewalk near Ban's feet. He glanced left, where he found Aoi's fist lodged in the adjacent building. The titan's knuckle smashed deep into the concrete. Dark red blood- Aoi's own- dripped down the cracked wall and onto the sidewalk.

Nervous chatter sounded from all around, but the taller boy didn't care. Aoi turned to Ban. Neither pain nor anger registered on his face. Aoi's eyes shone with a cool glint. He didn't care if people were watching, not when it came to that topic.

"You're playing it wrong," said Aoi.

"Tch."

Ban ducked under Aoi's arm without a word. The taller boy watched as his nemesis sauntered to the nearby intersection. Ban turned west there, but Aoi had to continue south. Even if they walked the same path, their destinations were always different.

Fucking Ban.

Aoi pulled his hand free. Pristine, with no wounds.

-EX5-

The Amane clanhouse, the Houtengeki, represented generations of bloodshed.

First built in Sengoku era Japan, it housed a goliath of a man from the west. He appropriated the name of Asagi Amane not as a bushi, but as a bloodthirsty berserker. His home, a venerable palace of luxury, persisted far into the modern world- only seeing minor damage during its relocation to Vanaheim. The current clanhead at the time, hot-headed as he was, swore vengeance against the company in question. This promise carried to the current head.

Atsushi Amane, age fourty-three, lorded over the modern Amane clan with an iron fist. His gait perfected, his posture refined, few questioned his right to rule. Violet eyes saw the root of all problems, and unquestionable strength brought them to light.

"You've come, Aoi."

Atsushi Amane's words held weight, as if the world twisted to his beck and call. In this twenty-by-ten meter room, surrounded on all sides by burning incense and lit candles, he epitomized the very idea of a final boss. The click of his ebony pipe, the shuffle of his kimono, both cemented his place at the top of the food chain.

In the face of this age-old intelligence, Aoi snorted.

A sigh escaped Atsushi's lips amidst the gloom. With his pipe, he motioned towards a red cushion on the tatami floor. "Have a seat, there's much to discuss."

"Nothing to discuss," said Aoi. He pushed the cushion aside and lay down on his side, face rested in the firm palm of his calloused left hand. "Been a while, huh?"

"Alfheim has docked with Vanaheim," Atsushi ignored the boy's statement, "The matter of your marriage will be finalized today. Prepare yourself accordingly."

"Eat shit."

Atsushi scowled. He emptied the ashes from his pipe with a click. The clan head's words never reached the boy. No matter the context, no matter the meaning, Aoi refused to see reason. Atsushi could only push, and so he spoke.

"The Sekizawa have always supported us, Aoi. The home you refuse to stay in, the dirt you played in as a child, it is here on Vanaheim because of them. I know you and Akashi differ, yet I grant you the honour once afforded to him. This is not up for debate, the council meeting is a formality. This is why I said to prepare yourself."

Aoi clicked his tongue.

"The girl will visit tomorrow," said Atsushi. "Find your manners by then—"

Fwoom. A cushion-shaped blur shot past Atsushi. It hit the wall behind him, about seven meters away, then burst into white feathers.

"Manners? Fucking manners?" Aoi stood, backpack cradled in his left hand. Candles went out, but the gloomy room came to life with his deep blue rage. "You call me here, ramble about a bunch of bullshit, then tell me to find my manners?!"

"Then where are they, boy?" Atsushi hissed. "Before me stands a spoiled child that's never had to sacrifice anything. You're an adult, yet throw fits like a child. Tell me of your so-called manners! I eagerly await the tale you tease, Aoi!"

"You want it?!" yelled Aoi. "The man who couldn't keep a wife talks about marriage? Herb-snorting fuckass, you probably couldn't get it up! Round two, let's go! Where's the fire at, huh?!"

"You'd insult your father?! The Amane didn't raise you like this!"

"Yeah?!" Aoi cut towards the nearby sliding door. His heavy footsteps left imprints in the floor with each step- a testament to the rage-induced strength of a Kishin.

"Aoi, you better not—" Atsushi's words fell on deaf ears.

With a thump, the door slammed behind Aoi. Before silence fell, Atsushi pounded a fist to the ground. Once more, his child refused to listen. Akashi wouldn't have thrown a tantrum, he wouldn't bite the hand that feeds. This alone locked the insults in Atsushi's throat. He'd forgotten a simple fact- Aoi wasn't Akashi. He never would be.

Aoi Amane was an iredeemable mess.