The result came as no surprise and we have stated this continually in this format to the public. We were once again reminded that we have no choice but to command ourselves at the highest levels and follow the unique set of ethics taught to us by the attendants of the Fields. We had some loose fittings. They were quickly fixed. All need to be aware of ethics and self-command fell away.
What I just wrote is not new information. This has been discussed for millennia. It is a known shamanic path. We use slightly different words and we exposed the details of that path more clearly than can be found in ancient texts. We did it for the language and social constructs of this time. Each of the three of us has had a new door opened to us. DJ and I, in particular, are recluses.
Her path differs to some degree. DJ and I are now moving toward silent mode which is the only path to the most powerful part of the art. We are now alone from humanity to take on a level of this art no one ever guessed would happen: It just got worse, unless we surrender totally.
This spiritual consortium believes in punishment if that pain will create a turn of the student in a direction of commanded and endless power represented with honor and liberty tied to respect and traditional wisdom that is spawned from responsible action. We now chop wood and haul water as Kali. Or as Kali Kikou. We will never be the same as we once were. But, of course, that is what happens when you grow.
Her Force is frightening. And more than any other time we faced the fact of what that dangerous force is and this works against almost all philosophies now known to this society. The most dangerous and powerful force in the universe is love. It is how you use it that determines its power as well as its direction and its effect on all that come into contact with it. It turns out that love is both the devil and the saint. How are you going to flip that coin? Tuesday, July 10, Inquiry 2: How Did we Start?
The Ayame Kikou Research Team. From the words of grace and beauty to the harsh words of warning. From mesmerizing statements that come from us but not, to the deep dives into Fields of Ki that none of us can ever really describe, it was all placed to make the reader think outside of the box. It is that simple. We have brought many into our work stunned and excited that we finally said things they have always wanted to hear.
Others find us to be despicable. Some are furious with us that we refuse to give all that we know. Even if it is just animal instinct, both groups have, at the very least, an active animal mind looking into an inquiry that they have not seen at this angle before. We have given you less than one tenth of what we do. It is impossible to describe the jump from sitting on your couch to standing in a field of hard-pan and looking into the eyes of another human of unbelievable beauty that draws you further into the blackest of black only to find that the black you are being shown is a ruse, an underdeveloped idea placed for you to finish.
We were all brought into the Ki Fields and handed brush and paint. Never allow an ending. When you allow yourself to fall into me, you will fall into endless. Do not be banal. Use it in ways that are forbidden, that are cherished and know that both are exactly the same. We are angels and demons. All humans are the same.
Now begin to paint and find the power that allows you. You are one Torii away from the next trillion that all give birth to endless.
Soul Mating with your Sacred Twin moves from the initial work in Soul Mating and into the use of personal energy to intimately connect with your physical mate. Soul Mating (Ayame Book 1) (English Edition) eBook: D. Jon Harrison, Patricia Nan Anderson The books, Soul Mating and Soul Mating with your Sacred Twin are the Keine Einschränkung; Verlag: Ayame Kikou Publications; Auflage: 2 (6.
Friday, June 29, Where there is. Where there is stupidity, there is greed.
Where there are the foolish there are those who will take advantage of the foolish. Where there are no roads there is no right of way. Where there is no dimensional focus, there is no right of way. Where there is no Force, there is no life. A tiny drop of rain is Force. A thug on the football field is a thug. Where there is rain, there are rules and the ruled. Where there is Honor, there is a way. Where there is no Honor, no respect, no responsibility, there is only destruction ahead. Tricky causeways that are flanked on all sides by different factions call for sensitive ways and clear minds that do not react.
Every faction begins with a stick. Every faction has many larger sticks in reserve. Every faction can seduce you into their constraints. Every faction eats, produces, allows, kills, and makes way for larger factions. Factions that are thriving are wise. We were granted right in the Yellow Field. We were invited into the Black Field. We were Forced into the Brown Field, each of us given a sword, unsheathed, told never to put the blade down and were taught never to use it. In the Fields, the sword has only one value: The sword is symbol.
Eat with the masters in harmony. Destroy no one or no thing. You know nothing of these things. Settle for what you can get when you stand among the giants and treat the mice as if they were your own children. Always know that the one testing you is your mother, your father and your spouse all at once. She is also a general who will quickly use your own sword against you. Her own sword is stained with the blood of millions and each use of the sword caused seas of tears by the one wielding. The general uses her sword at a cost higher than you can afford.
I have been watching this for an eternity but only just now allowed to see through the eyes of humanity. I am an old woman and a child simultaneously. I am holding the sword in a child's hands, and whispering gifts to those who would listen through lips of the ancient. Ways to separate the fools from the Warrior.
The warrior does not raise the sword. He raises its honor. Where there is choice, there is a way. Thursday, June 28, The Way of Deception. Those who read our work come in three forms: There are those who delight in the challenge. There are those who are easily angered, seeing our written deceptions as attacks instead of actions that are made to move the mind. Those angered are comfortable with their current place. We move their minds. Those who do not care and walk away. Those who do not care will not matter. Those who delight at the challenge are already being invited to use their wits.
Those easily angered have no business inviting themselves into this work and will soon dispose of themselves if they try to enter the door. We will have nothing to do with this. We do not tell the truth of who we are or where we are from. Always, in this work, there is a deception that is given as a rule that is not a rule. It is followed by a deception that is given as a rare and extraordinary event that is instead common. That is the way of Field Kasshoku. We give exact discussions of the work we do and the systems of behavior we use to survive this effort. We discuss little of what we do in the physical world and what we tell is shrouded.
We deceive to make your mind come alive and we give exacting truth. This is the way of the Ki Fields and it is the way of the world. Entering this action, live, means you have to know the ways or you will lose more than you can afford to. If your enemies have advantage, bait them; if they are confused, capture them; if they are numerous, prepare for them; if they are strong, avoid them; if they are angry, disturb them; if they are humble, make them haughty; if they are relaxed, toil them; if they are united, separate them.
Attack where your enemies are not prepared; go to where they do not expect. We have spent three years appearing near when we are far—appearing active when we are inactive. We said this work is not for the meek. It is not a healing art although it can heal. It is not a warring art although victories are won and loses leave injury.
We do not attack. We pour Force where there is void. We act only as directed. Otherwise we remain silent. We give hope and we give deception. We never give all the answers, all the questions, all the players, all the Fields. We gave you far less than there is. The rest is up to you. Joe stated that the field is plowed and we now wait to see what grows there on its own. On its own is a deception. D Jon Harrison and Paimon Consequence. Monday, June 25, Apostasy.
We follow no known path. This makes us distasteful to the traditions. We have renounced old ways. We set for ourselves patterns of behaviors that will allow us passage through the Fields. When a new tool arrives that works better, we add it to our repertoire. There are no mysteries to what we do. We trance into bilocation. We compete for space in Field Kasshoku. We are protected there and we are attacked there. We are loved and hated.
Tell me, how different is this from the humanity that we live in? What is different about us? Many of us are celibate. Married to the very energy that guides us. If we are not commanding ourselves we are being commanded by that which we believe in. We are physically healthy but for our injuries that come from entering the darkest regions of the Fields.
We are mentally sound. We know how to bow to those who deserve to bowed to. In the Ki Fields, we are seen. If one thing were to describe us most it would be a combination of two things as one. Primordial Tara and Chaos. It has been a very long time since I have written with this group. Over a year, I think. After a year of silence and watching everything, I have a few words to share about this research group and the Ki Fields.
For the most part, when the writers of this group focus on a subject to discuss, they are attempting to demonstrate what it is they do. They want to share the results. We know this now. They still go forward and practice the art as their counterparts in the Fields request. Their dedication is monstrous and their dedication is practical at every level.
That is the academic side in these people and they will not let that go because they understand that the logical mind has a place in this work. They, and that means me too, by the way, are not advocates of religion. We are advocates of sacred and ALL of us practice that daily. By D Jon Harrison. By Orchid and Moon Dunayevskaya this was discussed in more academic terms but was one of the most sacred posts we have ever created. In my opinion, that is the opposite of what it should be but I do not contain the minds of readers. They do as they please.
My point here is Sacred, with a capital S. Until you have seen us doing our work and the way we present ourselves to the Ki Fields and what you may call Tara, or Quan Yin, creative energy or whatever jargon you wish, you would not understand just how important this work is to us.
NEVER, not ever, do we act without asking first. We do not know the full ramifications involved in any action, any written word, any speech. We are slow to act although it would look like the opposite on this site because we create so much content. We are not religious people. Field Kasshoku is a sacred dwelling place for all that is.
That means it is sacred to even the worst offenders of ethics. They still see themselves as sacred. That is the way it is in the Brown Field. A field of impurities joining forces to create new. THAT is a sacred act, the creation of life. It is the energy patterns of pure Yin, that which creates from void. When you combine the two fields, if you have a mind for such thinking, it become immediately clear that EVERY single spirit and energy in those two Fields is just as sacred as the next.
Without the power, and the forces and the passions of those we might see as tainted, we do not have the inspiration to move into realms we might not have explored. That is called courage and we see huge amounts of courage in the ones that guide us that call themselves the Daemon Fays, the Uva, and the Seraphim.
And, they know how to love at levels I have felt from no one else. Case in point, several of us are tightly guided and protected by spirits that everyone in this group knows to be terribly selfish and in fact evil. But even the spirits that you may see as vile know very well the importance of the whole and so they act accordingly. It is only a very few spiritual energies that are typically insane. Those are the ones that we are mostly protected from until it is time that we have something the spirits do not and we are released into battle with the mad ones.
What do we have: We are seen as the most tenacious of all that dwell in the Fields. I am laughing because I know how that sounds. Yes, they honor us as sacred. This society has done a good job of washing sacred out of the picture in everyday life. That has not affected the residents, the spirits, the fays, the daemons and the rest. They know that they are sacred and they are determined to maintain sanctity, growth and continued lessons that make all who reside there and visit there become wiser by the day.
They do this because they know what the opposite will bring: They are not too fond of that kind of loss. What is the weapon we bring with us in battle? Those two actions obliterate even the worst offender in Field Kasshoku. My Duty as a Warrior. It is high time I put down my defensiveness and wrote my viewpoint of this work that our group is doing, and yes, I am still a very active member of this organization, if you will.
I am sacred in what I do. I do not like discussing matters of angels and demons versus daemons. There is a difference. Because they cannot ever be described without error, ever. DJ got under my skin with his last post. I was not angry with him. He just put a spotlight on me that made me see what I was doing. I need to attest to the things that I do or I am not a fully active member of this organization. I could have kicked DJ squarely in his lower regions and the second the anger came up I dropped my head and sighed. I was born Muslim. I am not Muslim now.
I have had many death threats over this issue which is one of the reasons I remain non-Muslim. I can never go home now but my old home is no longer home. Neither is the United States where I am a citizen. My home lies in the saints that reside in my prayer room. This is a very personal thing for me. I am going to let the personal down and let you in my door. I still practice my prayers five times a day. I still use the word Allah. I still love my God because my God loves me. I have never, ever, believed in the violent ways of the splinter groups of Islam. Those actions are ungodly, in my opinion.
They are political and selfish. They are driven by mad men, many of whom are not Muslim at all. I am a very active member of the people on the road right now. I spend hours a day in vigilant prayers for them and my prayers are very much more than prayers. That are acts of grace and power.
My grace and power. The grace and power of the spiritual world too.
When I am in my little room of prayers, after preparing myself for presentation to the powers that protect me, I am graced immediately with the love that I come to see. They fill me with such energy that it is impossible to describe the grandeur of it all. It is all too very much to describe so I usually do not. I am their daughter, one that they love, and they express this in embraces and words. I break into tears and ask for their forgiveness of anything I may have done to upset them and then we go to work. My little prayer room fills with the angels that are my angels. I can feel them.
I ask them to go and to protect my brothers and sisters in the Ki Fields and my brothers and sisters on the road who are doing battle at this very moment against the energy that would absorb the minds and hearts of the innocent. The energy explodes from my body. I have to hold myself up. I become a target.
I am attacked each time I send the protection. My associates have stated many times that this Brown Field that we work with has all manner of spirits within and many are fiercely angry. The fiercely angry are now angry with me as I protect my friends with shields of love. Those ones that attack me I call demons, not daemons.
There is a very large difference between the two words and this should be taken very seriously because we are here speaking of the sacred world.
The difference can be described easily. One is hatred at all levels. The other is parent, one that will punish if you step out of line and will love you beyond all limits if you show your resolute form of love and compassion and responsibility as a human soul on this earth. I listen to every kind of vile name thrown at me all night. I feel tiny pokes in my skull and on my back. They beg me to let them in. So I am punished by fever and illness. I feel the parents by my side, holding me up. Why does this happen?
Why do I not become better protected than this? I was born for this work. I was born to be a warrior of God. I was born to endure and my life has led the way in preparing me for this task. I will not stop. I do not spend my time entering the Brown and Black Fields unless led there by a parent. This happens as I fall asleep and when I wake up, with the scent of flowers filling my room. We were reminded by a few of our writers that we have indeed discussed the attacks that we endure on several of our posts in the last year.
We tend to forget exactly what we write because we write so much. DJ eventually stopped posting them.
Several of us at a meeting, that did not include DJ, discussed posting warnings about every ten posts and that is roughly what we did for awhile. We decided to do this as it was a more impacting way to catch readers. Readers ignore disclaimer footnotes anyway and this work is important enough to us and powerful enough that we felt an obligation to let this hit you in the face.
The amount of times we did this was not so much to hit the same readers over and over. We did it because we get a number of new readers constantly. It had to be done. There is no clean way to do this and have the discussions be seen and remembered by readers, and we are also very aware that when you put a warning like this on a page, it will of course invite certain people who are ignited by such dangers. That kind of thinking also came up in our meetings where we concluded that we needed to reopen the websites so the information was somehow available to the public as this work is also being used against the public by certain forces in play within governments and business.
In the end, it is up to us to explain ourselves the best we can. It is up to the reader to understand and act in a manner for his or her own interest. Determinate factors of language and action. Responsibility vs laissez faire language. I grew up in a small Idaho town where baseball was the main pastime with countless baseball fields in the region.
One of the most entertaining parts of baseball was the umpire getting into it with one of the coaches. The crowd went wild. We have our share of drama in our group but we have taught ourselves to avoid debate for the sake of debate. We work toward consensus very fast. One of the biggest arguments that comes up in our large group of researchers: This is a discussion mostly with the writers.
Where does responsible reporting end and dangerous attitude begin? We took our books off the market and shut down all our sites for several weeks a couple years ago over this issue. There is no clean answer to this problem. That fiasco about shutting the sites down is discussed in the preface of every book published in detail if you want to look. It turns out that depending on the way you were raised, there may be no right or wrong, except in extreme cases involving safety. Even there it is fuzzy.
Where to you draw the line of giving too much information? I have come under attack a couple times for discussing Yin and Yang as effeminate energy and masculine energy, which is the term definition from the region from which the terms come. At least that is what I was taught by my teacher. In the age of changing facts as fast as people change their underwear, that may be wrong too. Many people see the terms as evil and good instead and will argue this to the death. Rather sexist to an extreme in my opinion. Kami-sama knows that it will help you fit in better. If you don't, your stay here will be very miserable.
I am more than capable of dealing with individuals who are as quick-tempered as my future homeroom teacher or who possess an overabundance of pride…". Lilith slid open the door and stepped into the sick bay, "Though, at least, you have reason to be. Yuko was unable to answer, momentarily wrong-footed by the girl's wordplay and the disturbing fact that the latter had somehow read her mind. Before she could reply, the door had already slid shut to the tune of Wagner's 'The Valkyrie' 3. Shizuka Hayame had lived and worked in the Church of the Blessed Mother ever since her parents died over a decade ago.
The Church's Mother Superior, Melissa Chan, her father's classmate and childhood friend, had taken her in within days of the accident and raised the girl like her own daughter — an act Shizuka was grateful for. Though ordained as a nun only three years ago, Mother Melissa had made it clear that if she should one day choose to return to the life of a normal girl, all she needed to do was ask.
To devote one's life to God's word and will was to renounce the freedom of choice that others had, the Mother Superior had told her. And, for a girl as young as her to make a decision without understanding what it was she was giving up made the older woman melancholic. She loved her father, Melissa had told Shizuka, and had been his first love before being diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Because of that, she could not have children — something she hoped Shizuka would have and love someday. The thought of having children had made Shizuka blush. She loved children but was uncomfortable with the act that would lead to their creation.
It was something most other girls in both the junior and senior years had little problem talking about, even if it led to matters that was best discussed behind closed doors. Though sheltered compared to her schoolmates, Shizuka's keen sense of observation had allowed her to learn about the darker underbelly of society that some of her classmates were part of. It had taken her a while to find out the reasons why. The degeneration of morals and ethics in Japan was due to its desire to become an economic powerhouse; children were left without the guidance of their parents and, as a result, lived their lives as they wished.
As a result, most of them viewed the opinions of their friends in higher regard than those of their parents. This, Shizuka thought sadly, was because familial ties were not as treasured as it used to be. The extreme end of the spectrum was that some of her schoolmates did not have the acceptance or love of their parents, who were more interested in making money than in the welfare of their children. Because of this, they sought it elsewhere. She was aware that some of the girls in school had multiple partners — or were cheating on the ones they purported to be in love with.
While Shizuka had conservative views of love and marriage, she was not about to go imposing her beliefs on them in the way Yuko-sensei or Enishi-sensei did.
Alienating the listener often meant that the message the speaker wishes to impart would go unheard. Shizuka had, instead, utilized a tactic that the Mother Superior used often: It had taken Shizuka some time to master it, but using that method had allowed the young nun to speak her mind, and not be alienated by or lose her standing among her schoolmates. And some of them had been convinced by the young nun. One of the girls, Tomoe Hisako, who was a member of Tokiya-chan's Athletic Team and her friend, had explained to Shizuka that the reason that some girls sleep around was mainly due to one of three reasons: Tomoe did not hide the fact that she enjoyed sex, and that she sometimes had guys pay for the service.
And besides, there were no shortage of guys who liked bad girls, Tomoe had pointed out with a lecherous grin. As Shizuka turned a corner, she saw Yuko-sensei escorting a beautiful female student. So this was the transfer student that Tokiya had been talking about. The girl was lean but curvaceous, her long gleaming silver-amethyst hair gleaming in the sunlight. There was a smirk on her face and a swagger in her walk that Shizuka had seen in many of the girls she counseled. The young nun sighed inwardly. There was no doubt in her mind that the girl walking towards her was a rebel who lived by no one's rules save her own.
As the girl came closer, Shizuka saw the girl's strange, ruby eyes fix on her. The arrogant smirk on the latter's face became one full of malice; the young nun swallowed — the hate-filled look in the girl's gaze was capable of twisting steel. A scent, faint to the point of undetectable, assailed her olfactory senses.
It took a while before she recognized it: It was the scent of temptation and ruin — and the source of the smell was the transfer student Yuko-sensei was escorting. Who was this girl? The correct question was not who she was, but what. Impossible as it was to even think it, Shizuka sensed that this girl was not human — and that the latter knew it.
As they stepped past each other, the girl spoke in a language that Shizuka did not comprehend but somehow understood. Shizuka watched the girl's departing back, the discomfort that assailed her earlier fading with every step the latter took. Life was good, Mikage Sahaka thought, when one was the son of a powerful and wealthy family whose existence had dated back centuries.
Everything he wanted was there for the asking — or for the taking. He looked at his gang, who lounged around, smoking or exchanging stories of their exploits. Sahaka leaned back, one arm snaking around his latest conquest, stroking the curve of her breasts that were revealed by her unbuttoned blouse. The girl turned towards him and grinned, cocking an eyebrow that dared Sahaka to go further. Not that, the young man thought, it would stop him.
And besides, his friends would most likely enjoy the show. His technique was better than theirs, after all. Why else would most girls who went to bed with him ask for a second round? What was the girl's name? Sahaka frowned, the last name causing a bitter taste to well up in his mouth and the same nameless, primordial fear to claw its way out from the shallow grave from which it had been buried. The Mikage scion was not one easily frightened, but that day a year ago had taught him the true meaning of fear. It did not take Sahaka much effort to remember the events that had led up to that day.
Hayase Ruri had been one of the more popular girls in Kyoto High. Beautiful and athletic, she had been the star swimmer of the school team, and whose playful smirk could turn a man's blood to steam. But, unlike most girls Sahaka knew, Ruri wasn't easy. Expensive gifts and the promise of an elevation in social status did not even cause her to bat an eyelid.
What she wanted, she found in that loser of a cousin of his, and it was one returned tenfold. Sahaka's attempts had been rebuffed time and time again, until one of his newer gang members found a way to worm his way into the Mikage scion's good graces: That girl had gotten Ruri drunk after a girl's night out and taken her to the love hotel where Sahaka and his friends took turns fucking her.
Sahaka remembered the strangled moan that left Ruri's lips as he popped her cherry, as he slammed his thick penis into her cervix again and again, until he filled her womb with his seed. He remembered looking down upon Ruri's abused, semen-covered body and at the apex of her thighs where the thick, viscous fluids worth of five guys' semen mixed with the girl's virginal blood. Sahaka remembered how Ruri had changed after that day. Gone was the outgoing girl before, and in her place was one both quiet and introverted.
She had quit the Swimming Team days later, much to the disappointment and consternation of the coach and her team-mates. He remembered the way she had looked at him; it was the look a chicken would have when it realized that a fox had gotten into the coop. The way Ruri had reacted around him and his friends soon aroused Makoto's suspicion, and the rumors he had heard soon prompted Sahaka's cousin to investigate. Makoto was not stupid; he put the pieces together in less than a week — and went to a towering rage in less than a second. The green-eyed Mikage scion remembered the carnage his cousin had left in his wake as he tore up the school looking for him.
Makoto had been indiscriminate in his hunt, ruthless in a manner that would have put the yakuza to shame. Whether or not they had been involved in the act of raping Ruri, as long as they were part of Sahaka's inner circle or were members of his gang, they were targets. Sahaka's friends in America had called such people who had gone berserk as having gone postal.
Most Americans who went postal did so with a gun. Makoto went postal with a bokuto — and left just as bad a mess. Had his third cousin, Kasumi, not stopped Makoto, Sahaka did not doubt that that day would have been his last on earth.
That one brief moment of hesitation on the second's part gave the first all the opening she needed to take him down. Sahaka — and what was left of his gang — had attempted to take care of matters then, but Kasumi had turned her bokuto on them instead, the gleam in her golden eyes venomous. It was a silent warning for Sahaka to leave — and leave quickly — or to suffer the same fate as those Makoto had beaten within a footstep of the ferry. That incident had almost cost Makoto's place in the school, and all but dragged the Mikage name for that brief moment of time through the dirt.
Sahaka's father, Mikage Yoshi, had been furious. He explained that he had to buy the silence of the Hayase family among other things in order to ensure that the family name was not sullied further and had to apologize to the family he had wronged. The older man had also put his foot down; Sahaka would be ferried to and from school, so as to avoid a repeat of what his father called the 'Ruri Incident'.
Fortunately, his father was hardly ever in the country and the servants that were tasked to watch over him were in his pocket; they did not care who he brought into his apartment, as long as he kept his 'activities' discrete. Sahaka chuckled and shook his head, "Nothing. Just thinking about how boring this semester is going to be…". He tells me that there are two new students transferring in today. Sahaka looked up, an interested expression on his face, "Who are they? Where did they come from? Both of them are foreigners. And both of them are bloody gorgeous. Lilith raked an appreciative eye over the lush, strong body of the school doctor, even as she nodded inwardly in approval at the younger woman's 5 strength of character.
It showed in the latter's fiery-cored radiance, shrouding her lean frame like folded wings. With the black low-cut, body-hugging dress she wore beneath her white doctor's coat, Megumi Yuki was the image of a bad girl who made good. The cross-shaped ear-rings the female doctor wore reinforced the 'bad girl' image she was reluctant to put aside. Megumi, unaware of the other girl's scrutiny, ran a hand through her long, violet locks as she studied the second transfer student's medical records, sent by the latter's school in northern Germany, with a practiced eye before proceeding to transcribe the information there to her computer.
The female school doctor was impressed with what she saw. Like Sophia, the amethyst-haired girl was athletic, though the latter's preference in sports were clearly geared towards combat. Megumi felt a kindred spirit in Lilith, but sensed that she was way out of the girl's league. Something about the latter spoke of extremes; the glint of near-madness she saw flicker in Lilith's crimson eyes was disturbing.
This one would, to take a quote out of the book Makoto's father had written, fight and fuck with equal abandon. There was no doubt in Megumi's mind that the German fraulein sitting behind her would get into Enishi-sensei's bad books for no other reason than being a hated foreigner.
Best to warn her, all the same; dealing with a hot-tempered and proud Sanyo Yuko was different from dealing with a xenophobic Enishi Honda. The female doctor saved the document on her computer before printing it out. And believe me when I say that your homeroom teacher is capable of making that fall a painful," and humiliating, "one. But I will keep what you said in mind, Megumi-sensei. I may be proud and hot-tempered, but careless and stupid I am not. But, correct me if I'm wrong but is Enishi-sensei's full name Enishi Honda? Lilith shook her head, "Oh, nothing.
Just that the name is similar to that of a girl I was once acquainted with. That responsibility will fall to the vice-class representative. I have to return your file to the main office — and meet with the school principal. Now where is that girl? She should have been here long ago," Megumi looked at the clock, "What's keeping her?
Megumi rubbed her temples, but before she could answer, the door slid open, and the lithe form of Marimo Tokiya, vice-class representative of Class 4 of the second year, stepped in. She had you do her work again, right? Lilith, this feisty girl who is many times better than Yuko-sensei," the brown-haired girl fired Megumi a look that could have melted concrete, "is Marimo Tokiya-san.
She is your vice-class representative. Feel free to torment her to your heart's content. Kagoshima Saori sat back down at her desk, amused and pleased at the events that had taken place just an hour ago. It had been a long time since she had seen Makoto so flustered and shy in the presence of a girl he clearly was attracted to. Saori, seeing the chance to have her morning dose of fun, pounced on Makoto like a cat would a mouse, and had proceeded to ask when the marriage invitations would be sent out.
The class teased Makoto mercilessly, and twisted the knife by asking a smiling Sophia to take care of their class's premier troublemaker. Sophia's reply had left half the class in fits, a third blushing at the perceived sexual innuendo in it, and the remainder exchanging thoughtful looks — looks that caused Saori to quickly release the headlock she had had Makoto in. The knowing look that the German girl had given her had made the young teacher self-conscious, and drove home the fact that she was treading in dangerous waters.
That gesture of playful affection could easily be misconstrued as a gesture of genuine affection — and bring the wrath of the school board crashing down on her head. But, the look had nonetheless left Saori confused. There had been neither malice nor jealousy in Sophia's gaze, and the honest, open smile on her lips was somehow…thankful? It was hard for Saori to miss the fond looks the lovely German girl threw in Makoto's direction. Despite it being their first meeting, it was as if the second knew the last for years, knew his flaws, and loved him all the more because of it.
The young teacher turned to look out her window at the gardens below. The way the sakura petals wafted gently in the wind, covering the brick pavement in a carpet of pink and light crimson, brought back memories of her childhood. It was not so long ago that Saori had been a student herself, not so long ago that — like many of them — been in love. Saori had to admit that, while the relationship between her boyfriend and her had been short, it had been fulfilling. They parted ways amicably, each promising the other to make good of their lives.
Last she heard of him, he was already married to a French woman and was looking forward to the birth of his first-born. Saori sighed; her parents were determined to ensure that their daughter would follow in her ex-boyfriend's footsteps. She shook her head, remembering the perverted grin on her father's face, and the playful remark that had gotten him a bop on the heard by his wife, who went on to say that whichever man Saori chose to marry, he couldn't be as bad as the pervert of a husband she had married over two decades ago.
Her father had deadpanned that if her mother had not enjoyed it so much, they would not be blessed with three lovely daughters — more, he had added, had age not caught up with them. Her mother, mortified yet laughing , had whacked her husband a second time. Standing next to Saori's desk was the school principal, Hayashi Ayame, whose radiant expression was a far cry from the sober expression the young teacher had grown familiar with in the time she had worked in Kyoto High.
It was as if the older woman had found something she had lost long ago. The school principal was no longer as austerely dressed as before, and her long, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in thick, gleaming locks. Saori shot to her feet, mortified to have been caught day-dreaming by her boss, but the latter put a firm hand to her shoulder and gently pushed the former back into her seat. I came by hoping to find someone to have a chat with.
Do you have time, Saori-chan? Hayashi Ayame, headmistress of Kyoto High, was 33 years old and had been married for 10 years. The marriage had been arranged by her parents at the behest of the Mikage family who was the Hayashi family's Head House to a man who was twelve years her senior. It was a loveless marriage that had left Ayame with two young children — one seven and the other five — who rarely saw their father and responsibilities she could not walk out on. She had long been aware of her husband's affairs, but had chosen to turn a blind eye to them.
In the eyes of the community, they were a stable, happy family. But, deep inside, Ayame longed to be free again. She would have sold her soul to have the things she was forced to give up long ago. And for ten long, painful years, wishing was all Ayame could do. Until two months ago; she smiled inwardly, remembering the handsome, foreign man who had come into her life. Ayame's mother had warned her about men with silver tongues when she had been a teenager, but this was the first time she had ever met one as witty and humorous as Areil Arikel.
Nor had she met a man as sympathetic — or as knowledgeable of — her problems as him. Every time they met, Areil would tell her stories and recite poems that not only took her mind off her problems but which re-invigorated her tired soul and, indirectly, provided her with solutions to her many problems. Some of the stories and theories Areil-san had discussed with her over the course of their many meetings had eerie similarities to that which had been written into a series of novels by Kusakabe Reiha, the father of one of her students who was related to the Mikage family by marriage.
He had written many novels, but his finest work was the bestselling Circle of the Fallen series that had sold over 12 million copies worldwide — and left the major religious institutions of the Messianic religions up in arms. Ayame, having read through the books, could see why: It drove home the fact that the moral dry-rot, hypocrisy and corruption that had plagued religious institutions for centuries were problems that had pre-dated the coming of the three monotheistic religions. While the moderates of the three religions rebutted the author's accusations and pointed out that his works were fiction , their extremist brethren were driven to punish anyone who owned the books and levied a price on the head of the man they claimed to be an enemy of God.
When news reached their ears of his death, the wild celebrations they held in the streets offended many.
Here, some had said, is the worst excess of the faithful. The school principal remembered the harsh words spoken by one of the characters in the fourth book of the series, which had been set in the Fourth Crusade when Constantinople was sacked by the Crusaders and which history — and the Pope of that era — had deemed a fiasco.
His was the voice of those without power, hated and hunted by an institution that spoke of love without understanding what it was. What was that character's name? He was one of the two illegitimate children sired by a revered noble, and whose fall from grace was as breathtaking as it was tragic.
Ayame had, on a whim, introduced the first book of the series to Areil. Within days, he had purchased every book there was, and had been caught red-handed reading the third book of the series when they met days later. And that was when Ayame had taken their relationship a step further; she had had enough of her husband's infidelity. She was, in his eyes, an object and not a human being. And when they rested in the afterglow of coitus, Areil started asking about Makoto and his relationship to the Mikage family. She did not have the answers to all his questions, but she was determined to get them.
And that was why she would get them from the one person her nephew if Makoto could be considered that trusted — his teacher, Kagoshima Saori. Saori was guilty of a trespass as great a magnitude as hers. Though the younger woman had yet to step over the line, it was only a matter of time before she did.