Survivors, Gods, and Angels

Syura stays childlike as she grows up, and is pretty oblivious to a lot of things. That's not to say she's stupid though, or that she misses everything.

Thistle becomes an actress in high school, and Hidou acts as her agent since she's a minor.

When Thistle introduces herself to people in the industry, they worryingly ask if Hidou is "working with minors now", to which she responds that this arrangement is because he's her dad.

Despite the lawlessness of NnK, they do have rules in place to protect the children. Though, some people can be lax about them with teenagers (encouraging them to smoke/drink, for example).

Linaria has noted that Hidou and Thistle are both extremely intelligent, and both act on their own and hide a lot more than they let on. No one in the family has ever successfully lied to Hidou. He always sees through it.

Thistle tends to only lie to her father when she's trying to not make him worry about something. Sometimes he won't call her out on it because he understands this.

Syura and Thistle didn't get their phones until around high school. Since Thistle always seems to be doing her own thing, Hidou set hers up to where he could hack into it if something ever went wrong. He truthfully never invaded her privacy until the day she almost died, and in doing so, he was able to save her life.

When Thistle had woken up in the hospital, it was the first time Hidou ever raised a hand against either of his children. Syura felt bad for Thistle, but Thistle told her that she "had that coming for a long time", and that it likely didn't hurt as much as the moment Hidou thought she had died.

Linaria spoke with Thistle afterwards, holding back her own anger since Hidou already read her the riot act and then some. She tried to reassure Thistle that Hidou cared about her, and was mostly angry with himself about the things he didn't do that may have led to this moment, but Thistle responds that she can tell all of that.

Hidou never apologized for hitting her, and Thistle never asked for an apology.

Everyone comments about how much Thistle reminds them of Hidou and she hates it.

It was Hidou's idea to get Thistle glasses that matched his when she started losing her vision when she was little. However, as she got older, he offered to let her change them up, but she declined. If Syura is with her when she tells the former story to people, Syura will call her out on the fact that Thistle chose to keep the same frames.

Thistle often insults her father and calls him things like "degenerate". He usually brushes it off unless he's in a bad mood.

Unlike how Syura calls their parents "Papa" and "Mama", Thistle politely uses "Dad" and "Mom". She also tends to refer to Syura simply as "Sis".

Syura is the shortest one in the family, and Thistle is taller than Linaria.

Syura doesn't tend to take responsibility with things (like household chores), but will readily join in if she sees Linaria and Thistle doing them together.

Syura and Thistle are banned from Hidou's lab, but Thistle tends to go in there anyways to help Linaria clean. They've all had quite a few arguments about this. Hidou didn't enforce it as much once they became adults though.

Hidou never did and never will bring up the idea to his daughters that they could be in his av films. Someone asked Thistle once if he ever pitched this idea, to which she responded, "Well, we are his kids. He has a limit, believe it or not."

When Syura and Thistle are talking with all the other archdemons' kids one day, the group will turn to Jork, and Thistle will comment how he's the only "normal one" amongst them.

Syura gets excited to see Thistle appear in shows and movies, but Thistle's first few gigs caught her off guard because she acts cheerful in them, unlike how Thistle tends to be very calm and aloof.

I like to think that Hidou taught Syura biology with hands-on teaching, but never encouraged her to join his work as an assistant. Instead, she may work as an apprentice for someone else, potentially in Lec's hospital.

Hidou taught both the girls how to fight properly, but they both actually use their magic differently. Thistle uses her magic more similarly to Hidou's, but Syura is much more creative with hers.

The infant giggled delightedly.

“Ow ow ow—have you fed him yet?”

“Not yet. Is he hungry?”

“Hungry or vengeful.” He flicked the water from his hand and dried it on a towel close by. The small wounds soon after repaired themselves seamlessly.

“I’ll take care of it as soon as I figure this out.”

“I’m sure Jork will understand just this once that you only made above-average preparations this time.”

She huffed. “It would help if we weren’t always running behind on things like this.”

“Well, it wasn’t only my fault this time,” he said, sauntering close with a smirk. “We may even need a new tank.”

She returned the look with a roll of her eyes and gently whacked him with her tail.

“Hand it over. I’ll give it a shot.”

“Alright.” With the knot finally out of her hands, she collapsed onto the sofa. “I told you not to wind it like that.”

“Yes, I remember.”

Giving a chuckle, she hopped up and fetched a sardine from the kitchen. Dangling it over the water until she got the baby’s attention, she smiled back and dropped it in, watching and cooing as it was rapidly shredded with tiny, sharp teeth.

Observing them, the archdemon commented, “Sometimes I forget you have sharp teeth.”

“Oh yeah?” She flashed a shark's grin.

“Up until each time I get a rather dangerous reminder."

“How about I give you another one after the tree is decorated? I’m a little hungry too~”

He laughed nervously. “How about a smooth and painless one instead?”

“Nope. Take it or leave it.”

An uneasy laugh rolled from his lips. “...We’ll see.”

She chuckled.

Soon after, the front door swung open again. “I’m hoooooome.” Jork trudged inside just as his father feverishly undid the knot holding the ball of string lights together. His steps halted abruptly. “We told you not to wind it like that.”

“But it's undone now.”

He shook his head with a smile, jogged to the tank, and placed both palms on it. “Hey, buddy!”

The baby gleefully imitated the gesture.

As Sirena stood to help with the lights, Jork stuck his fingertips in the water. “Agh! Did you just feed him? He’s kinda nibbly.”

“Yes, I did. Be careful not to dangle your fingers over him.”

“Got it.”

After the two adults got the bottom lights strung, Sirena put on a firm hat, neatly rolled the remainder of lights onto her arm, and placed the roll around her single, fin-like horn for Yagi to pull from as he made his way up.

Meanwhile, Jork joined her to start the garland on the base of the tree. “Hey, Sirena?”

“Yes?”

“Can we make this a family tradition?”

His two parents stopped to watch him, surprise filling their features. They traded a glance before she responded, “Of course we can.”

“Can he help too?” A thumb jammed towards the baby.

“If you can hold him without him slipping out again.”

He dashed back to the tank. “I won’t let him slip again, promise!”

.

Sometimes I collab with other Utubers, but I rarely get along with them off-camera. Mostly others in my field, but I’ve branched out to others—playing the “ditzy makeup girl” can garner a lot of negative but mostly positive attention in many other online fields, if you’re pretty enough.

I suppose my comments are right—people don’t watch my videos. They put me on in the background if they think they support me, or just watch my face with envy or perversion.

So, I don’t really care that my videos are fake, and that I’m just in it for the money. Isn’t it everyone else’s fault for not doing their research?

.

Keeping her head down, she stepped onto the city bus.

.

My dad left us, and my mom passed away shortly after I moved out to my own apartment. I guess she was the lucky one out of the two of us, but she had to suffer far more before it was all relieved. I’m glad she doesn’t have to suffer anymore.

When you’re pretty, and you learn how to use it properly, money comes to you easily. 

An older man put up a listing on his house, far out into the countryside. He told me there were a few others interested in it, but he’d make a decision before he moved back in with his kids since he was getting to that age.

Well, he was hospitalized soon after, and passed away not long after that. I don’t know how much he suffered, or maybe that was simply life running its course.

Apparently, I was the only one that chose to visit. The son’s daughter watched my channel, so her fondness of me managed to get me that house of my dreams.

.

Departing from the now-empty bus, she took her bike and headed down the dirt path.

.

It’s in a remote area—quiet, and hard to find. The city bus only knew of it because the previous homeowner asked them to make an extra stop for him, but they only do it at certain times of the day. Luckily, they make sure all other passengers have left before taking me home.

The elderly man told me something—that his house was blessed by a god. And that if I were to purchase it from him, I would need to pay my respects to this god, for he blesses the land with peace and sunlight.

But, I don’t really believe in that stuff.

But, I asked the family if they could leave his altar anyway. Lighting incense and saying a prayer or two every once in a while wouldn’t be that hard. It felt right to do so.

I pray to the god once every Sunday, right before the week begins. I pray for the peaceful afterlife for my mother and the elderly man, and the safety of his family. I pray that my father has straightened out his life, or, if he hasn’t, that I’ll one day get to watch him get hit by a truck. That would be funny.

.

Once she arrived to the massive building, she parked the bike, trudged inside to put her groceries away, dropped her backpack onto the floor, and rolled into bed. With a stretch, she grabbed a manga she’d left on the nightstand.

.

Sometimes, I ask the god if he thinks I’m pretty. Of course, I never get a response.

It’d be funny though, if human beauty standards ended up being backwards. Maybe gods would think I’d be prettier with a dog’s head. Not that dogs are ugly.

Other people think it’s ugly though. Sometimes I do my makeup or wear prosthetics so that I’m just not too ugly and not too pretty enough to not be harassed by anyone. If anyone finds me out, and a crowd starts gathering, I start a livestream for witnesses, and to get those people off my back.

I don’t really remember any of my “fans”, and I don’t really want to. I just want to live somewhere in peace.

But living takes money, and money comes from a job. Easy money comes from my looks, so I capitalize on it, I guess.

When I think about it too hard, it seems dull. Videos, tutorials, ads, Q&As, editing, thumbnails, a couple replies, a little research for the next video, pretending a day has passed in a new video so I have time off the next, rinse, repeat. I do a lot of fun things in my off-time though. The little I do make for myself.

.

Realizing the sun had started to set, she set down the 8th volume and headed to the kitchen. Her apron was still folded up nicely, and everything spick and span how she’d left it.

.

I play games seriously, sometimes online with a voice changer, just in case. Though, I favour rhythm and dancing games since they get me moving. I like to read, and I love exploring the area around my beautiful home. I hardly ever have to worry about other people being around, though I do know how to use the elderly man’s old shotgun, just in case. There’s also a hatchet by the bed.

Shopping for my livestreams can be fun. I enjoy loungewear in my time off “work”, but I try to at least wear dressy shirts depending on how much they’ll see me in the stream. I have countless bows and ties and ribbons and clips for my hair, and I even started buying custom contact lenses with cute designs for my pupils. (The viewers love it.)

And of course, I do enjoy doing my makeup, sometimes. I like the feeling of my days off though, when I don’t have to wipe it all clean and bother with nail polish or fake nails. Not too many people really know what I look like without my face caked up, since I lie and say I’m simply going with a natural look that day if I'm caught on a run to town. Then, I get complimented on how my makeup disappears, and questioned about what brands I’m using.

Off-camera, I give them honesty. Unless they’re being bothersome.

But you never tell them it’s natural, because that doesn’t sell as well. That doesn’t influence. People don’t fawn over you and give you money and sponsorships and new viewers if the pretty is as simple as “born with it”.

Some people theorize I’ve had surgeries. I’ve agreed once or twice, just to give them my word to bat around and play with for a while. I don’t know any doctors like that.

But this is getting boring.

If anyone knew what I think about my life, I bet they’d think I have it easy. I bet they’d think I’m ungrateful. Maybe they’re right. I don’t really care, in the end. I just want to live happily, like everyone else.

.

Setting down her utensils, she released another sigh, then glanced towards the altar in the living room.

After her weekly prayer, she opted for a short walk in the spacious backyard. The grasses waved in greeting, the breeze surrounding her with earthy scents. Little specks of light were sparkling to life in the darkening sky.

.

Stars are more visible out here, you know? It’s as if you can see all of space from my backyard. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

.

Holding her cardigan, she gazed up with a calm smile on her face.

.

Sometimes I wonder what’s out there.

.

She reached up her hand, fantasizing that her fingers were raking through the stars, when a bright light shined just out of reach.

Lowering her arm, she blinked.

It was a small orb, burning brightly just like the sun. It floated down like a dandelion seed, and she curiously held out her hands just for it to scorchingly hover just above them.

Amazed by the little ball of sun in her hands, she managed to avoid the initial onslaught of light that followed, causing her to frantically shield her face as the area lit up as though it were suddenly midday. She didn’t open them until the light dimmed.

“Oh? And who might you be?”

She peeped an eye open, then feasted her gaze on a beautiful man with long front strands of beige hair fluttering around him, and brilliant sunset eyes staring down at her behind red rims. He hovered above her, a cape around his shoulders with the pattern of little suns blazing behind his back.

He said nothing for several seconds, gazing at her with mutual surprise.

“...The god,” she breathed. “Are you the god the old man told me about…?”

“Oh, are you a new resident?”

“Y-Yes…”

“So that was you, then…”  He paused, losing himself in thought. “What happened to the former?”

“He…He passed away,” she managed.

“May I have your name, then?”

“It’s Agatha. Agatha Browne.”