Fanfic Title: Tales of the Blood Iris Citadel
Game: Tōken Ranbu (刀剣乱舞 Pocket)
Synopsis: A journal-entry/travelogue-style fic that chronicles the everyday happenings in the citadel of my Tōken Ranbu account. Written from the first-person perspective of a female saniwa. The modern girl has crossed dimensions using a mystical spell and is cast into a feudal-style acropolis, where she is given the ability to anthropomorphize ancient swords, in order to ward off evil spirits and keep time from being permanently altered by magecraft-using revisionists. There is no romance in this story — only a cozy, slice-of-life fic.
＊ This is meant to be a fun fanfic exercise — so instead of my usual narrative restrictions, 1.5K ～ 3K words, this will vary from a few sentences to a few paragraphs per day.
9/9/2021 ～ My shoulders are stiff, the post-summer heat wave has me feeling lethargic, and I strongly have the compulsion to rest under the turrent of a buzzing A/C.
No, I tell myself — slapping my cheeks for emphasis, there is work to be done!
Right now, we are exploring the catacombs of Osaka Castle, like a team of deep-sea divers. Prior to the event arising, there was a mission to acquire all of the Gō brothers; I could rant all day about the disappointment of collecting all except for Samidare Gō… but, I’ll save that for a seperate story.
It basically happened because I couldn’t budget correctly, and since then, I have left all financial culpability to Kikkō; as shifty as he may seem, megane characters seems to have a natural knack for financial allocation. I spent my starter funds on rainy day landscapes and I bought Kōsetsu Samonji some comfy, casual clothes… since he is naturally a doomer.
The precipitous weather décor, while being a euphoric antecedent for me, contains a teru teru bōzu doll. If you didn’t know, a teru teru bōzu is said to have originated from a myth of human sacrifice; the legend goes that a village left a young girl alone to drown in a flood, in order to appease the gods of nature and, thus, hanging a cloth doll in the window became a tradition of appeasing the unseen rain-makers.
Despite spending my hard-earned koban on these designs, I see it as an ill-omen to set either one of them as my default background. Though, when I do, Kōsetsu folds flower origami and seems genuinely at peace with the sky’s lacrimation — probably because, for once, it isn’t him mourning!
Raring to go, I do my daily summon and standing before me is a Tantō… he looks a little bit older than the rest of his class and has the same color scheme as Asuka Ninomiya from The iDOLM@STER: Cinderella Girls: salmon-hued hair with stark streaks of purple highlights — a sort of rocker aesthetic.
“Hey, I’m Gotō Tōshiro,” he asserts, while confidently placing his hands on his hips, “I know, I know; pretty tall for a Tantō, right!”
Albeit, he’s around the same height as me, and I’m fairly short for a girl…
My spine crackles loudly while I extend my hand to him. It often feels like my torso is made of doll parts, wooden joints and all. My newest danshi interjects into my internal-angst with, “Hehehe, leave this to me — the dependable and wise Gotō,” I think I heard him ramble on with watashi no ani or something with a similar meaning.
Whatever was said, it’s clear that he wants to be an older brother to me, probably a falsity formed from some sort of Napoleon complex. And so, he balls his fists and starts pummeling my backside like an angry child. It’s okay though, even if his character is comically absurd — I want him to feel comfortable and grow into who he wants to be.