#dncember2020

DNcember 29 - Ancestral Night art by @fugitivehues​ & writing by @keikotwins

Side branches were no match! She had the blood of a thief running in her veins and more training than any of them could have dreamt of behind her! She only needed that first-hand experience to become whole as instructor of future Phantom Thief Dark.

Her costume felt light, the fabric shimmered just enough and didn’t rustle, allowing her to remain entirely silent. She had given it so many of her evenings and it was perfect: feminine and sleek, even a bit daring compared to her usual style.

Excitement was building up in her body as she jumped to a window and crouched on the border to unlock it. A beautiful thief, bathing in moonlight, fascinating like a cat’s eye… She regretted not being able to experience the noisy crowd and agitated police she had heard about, but that would come soon enough.

With a sharp noise, the window gave up and the security device bent under a well-placed rock. Easy. Abandoning the hard part of her infiltration, Emiko jumped inside the building. She had warned the owner of the mansion that one of his ancient ceramics would be taken that night, and he had apparently not taken the message seriously. Warning while avoiding a commotion were their goals anyway. The rest would be a piece of cake: she could easily avoid an old couple, if they had bothered staying awake at all!

She had however not expected the presence that awaited her at the end of the corridor. The office she was aiming at remained lit at this advanced hour, and a young woman sat in an armchair, her light hair falling on her graceful shoulders. Whoever she was, she didn’t belong to this household, and yet, she held the pottery on her knees, obviously waiting.

But Emiko’s objective wasn’t to converse with residents. Holding her breath, she jumped on top of the heavy bookcase and crawled to approach the guardian from the side. The spray was ready. Made by her father, could put anyone to sleep in a few seconds, a beloved family classic. The woman’s eyes remained unfocussed. Emiko could approach her, if she was fast enough-

She wasn’t. As her arm was raising, a sharp hand grabbed it. Stopped, a few centimetres away from her target, she froze. The woman’s eyes turned to her, emotionless, her other hand still holding the bowl.

“Good evening,” Emiko tried, hiding the pain that was spreading in her wrist under a polite smile.

“I wondered who could have an interest in this old thing. Of course it would be a Niwa.”

Emiko’s smile tensed. A Hikari. Who else? She had never thought she’d meet the current generation, with her activities remaining a secret. Reaching out to this person in particular… The old couple had unusual reactions. Or maybe she had invited herself. That would have made two unwanted guests in one night.

The Hikari glanced at the bottle Emiko still held the wrong way and the fingers dug deeper. So, so rude. So, so full of hatred. Her face looked delicate, almost fragile, a feeling enhanced by her frail neck, and yet her hands held like iron, pressing nerves and flesh, numbing fingers. A dangerous, two-faced snake.

“My apologies, miss, but I do need to borrow this.”

Refusing to hurt a woman had always been an ancient principle, and members of the Niwa family mastered the subtle art of pushing people out of their way; Emiko swiftly grabbed the pottery as her father’s bottle was falling on the ground. The Hikari looked down, surprised, and the distraction was enough for her opponent to free herself.

DNCEMBER 2020

Day 28: Cursed Weapon

Day 29: Ancestral Night

Day 30: Archive

Day 19: Suspense

It was a normal day at class.

Yet Daisuke had a feeling that he was forgetting about something. 

What was it that was so important besides the heists that the teen had to prepare for…...Or even telling Riku-san the truth about Dark? 

Not to mention wanting to coexist with his other self and worrying about Hiwatari-kun.

So where was that strange sense of foreboding coming from?

It wasn’t until the teacher had told all the students to put their books away and take out their pencils did he know.

Daisuke had completely forgotten to study for today’s math test.

DNcember 31 - Eternal Connection art by @fugitivehues​​ & writing by @keikotwins​

Three girls in matching uniforms chat, sharing the same giant ice cream; one, plastic straw in hand, tells a joke that makes her friend laugh. The third one gazes fondly at them with obvious joy, silently savouring a bite of the rose-flavoured treat.

Half-eaten sandwich in hand, a middle-aged man blinks in the afternoon sun. It has been days since work has allowed him to see the sun, or so it feels. For a second, he considers running to the mountains and feasting on roots for the rest of his life.

Focussed and slow, an old man prunes a bonsai in the shadowy garden of the family house. This activity is always a perfect occasion to meditate and put his mind in order and at peace. Nothing else matters but this moment and the sharp sound of scissors.

In the main hall of the library, facing a window, a young teacher negligently puts her pen into her hair tied in a bun, to-be-corrected copies spread before her. She will soon forget where it went and desperately look for it, messing up her display. Meanwhile, one of her pupils stares at her through his glasses, head resting on a hand, definitely unimpressed.

Carrying heavy shopping bags, a boy dressed as a butler follows his “lady”, who takes notes on a list, a smile floating on her lips. People stare as they pass, wondering if he’s into cosplay. He doesn’t notice, focussed on the tall buildings. She notices, and smiles more, while her husband walks slightly behind, unwilling to feel the weight of attention.

A man with white hair, dressed in a white suit definitely too elegant for the occasion, checks his reflection in a window before going to a meeting that will negotiate funds for the museum he’s in charge of. He has good hope that he will be allowed to recruit someone new very soon.

In the living room of a large house, a maid energetically scrubs the parquet with a dry floorcloth, eager to polish the house in advance for the special dinner the family has planned for the evening. She does her best to ignore the boy in a peculiar suit and hat who stares at her, comfortably resting on the couch, and indicates remaining spots and hairs she missed with no sign of being willing to give a hand.

Hands in pocket, frowning in concentration, a teenager walks in great strides, ignoring his friend who follows behind. Or is he his friend? He’s taking notes as they speak, unperturbable, briefly acknowledging information thrown at him.

A boy looks up, enjoying the early spring sun. A rabbit on his shoulder, still holding his school bag, he’s about to meet with two friends in town. He can already picture them in his head, sitting side by side at the crossway, one chirping about the activity of the Newspaper Club, the other sipping some drink – last time, it was bubble tea.

The last club gathering of the school year has filled him with melancholy, and he thinks, enjoying the sight of white clouds above him. He thinks about this street he likes, about the weight of his beloved companion resting on him, about the face of the person he cares the most for, about the nice meal his mother has promised, about the fresh air that fills his lungs and makes him feel alive, connected to this town, and entirely, without any doubt, happy.

He has spent so many years in doubt, trying to make his way into a world that threw obstacles over obstacles his way, even reaching despair and abandonment. But, on this day of March, at this exact moment, everything is where it belongs, his future seems thrilling, he feels loved. He belongs. He doesn’t know whether he has earnt it, whether he truly deserves it, but this sentiment remains.

On his shoulder, the rabbit gently pokes his cheek with his nose, and he raises his hand to pet him.

DNcember 09 - Hallucination art by @fugitivehues​ & writing by @keikotwins​

His consciousness would resurface for a few seconds which felt like an eternity, and images would return: people talking in a low voice, pronouncing words he couldn’t comprehend, a large mansion with metallic shutters, standing massive in a garden, a blinding clear sky, and it tasted like salt, but it may have been sweat on his lips. In a hallway, rows of students in white and red uniforms, their faces indistinct; dark mist approached from a corridor, but they stood still. A song comparing existence to explosives resonated as he was contemplating a plastic cup of juice with a colourful straw; small, creepy animals he could only perceive from the corner of his eyes crawled on the floor of the café. No one but him could see them. In front of him, a large, dark wall, cold and hungry. That one he refused to see and summoned another image, anything… Two shiny eyes appeared instead.

With gigantic effort, he woke himself up and let the blinding light chase these images away. This time, awareness stayed, and calm filled him after the overwhelming display of images and sounds. Breathe. In, and out. It was probably around midday. Too tired to leave bed. Couldn’t remember ever feeling that sick. Sweat made his skin sticky.

Suddenly, a noise. Someone walked in the adjacent room. He pulled the cover over his body again, crawling to the side, facing the wall, to hide his face. Not many adults both walked in a slow pace and were eager to come in uninvited. In fact, he only knew one.

Steps came closer, and he feigned sleep again, forcing his erratic breathing into a steady rhythm. He was caught off-guard, weakened, uncertain that this strategy was the right one, but his body felt too heavy to move. The person placed a full glass of water on the table, a few centimetres behind him.

DNcember 25 - Jubilation art by @fugitivehues & writing by @keikotwins

What is this sensation, when your chest feels about to burst?

The pain of transformation didn’t burn as it usually did. When the breath became his, joy spread through his body in a split second. He needed to move, he craved departure, his mouth was still uttering irrationally about hands, about their duty. He knew these words would not reach the boy’s ears. He was out of his way. He was free. Yet, he wanted someone to hear, even if it would be no one but himself.

Around him, white feathers dropped slowly. He hadn’t seen that many in decades. That bell… what power did it even hold?

What is this sensation, when you can’t help but smile?

The item had suddenly broken and taken Satoshi away, hadn’t it? Such an unexpected and delightful turn of events!

He even wore clothes of his own; power rushed through him, stinging his fingers. Which, between the artwork and Satoshi’s disappearance, had fuelled his magic with this intensity? It almost seemed unreal! He would be able to do what he needed in this condition. He could do anything.

What is this sensation, when you know success is finally at hand reach?

However, his current wish let no room for any other thought: he had to reach Kokuyoku to put an end to centuries of patience and travesty. What could stop him, now? The last lock had fallen alongside its guardian and Dark had always shown his incompetence at opposing him, thanks to his custodian.

DNcember 17 - Innocence art by @fugitivehues​ & writing by @keikotwins

He hadn’t done anything wrong. They were so unfair. All of them.

He was a good artwork.

“Who are you?”

He raised her eyes. A familiar face appeared…

“… I must be wrong.”

The girl disappeared from his field of vision. Sometimes, it felt as if she could hear his voice. It always went the same way: she looked at him with suspicion, he stared back, she let go.

He liked the curiosity. He didn’t like her frowning brows. He didn’t deserve to be looked at this way. He had done nothing wrong.

They had broken his original form. All he could remember afterward was the small, rounded hand mirror. He then discovered that he could move from mirror to mirror and that even some types of glass could welcome him, even if they felt too fragile for him. He could look at the family that lived in the house, but they couldn’t see him back. They had broken him, he probably wouldn’t be able to reflect people anymore.

“What is wrong with that thing?”

The hand mirror got lifted from where it rested again. Insomnia closed his eyes; a bit of focus and he could feel the nearest mirror; he only had to “reach out”, and switched places. Now resting on the wall, he looked at her. She turned the item in her hands, lifting it to her ear, in vain.

It seemed she could really perceive him, after all. Did he however truly want to be noticed by her? She was the one who said she liked him and then destroyed his true form without a second thought. Was there any chance she could compliment him again? Was there any chance she could compliment him and take care of him as he was?

She turned and stared straight at him. Uncertainty in her eyes showed that she still couldn’t see him. He had to calm down to remain unnoticed. First, checking whether she’d hurt him again or not…

DNcember 16 - Earth and sky art by @fugitivehues​ & writing by @keikotwins

Qualia stretched arms and legs slowly, enjoying every sensation in her tense limbs. Above her, the early afternoon sky offered its greatest shade of blue; her back rested firmly on the grassy ground. She felt alive. Alive and happy. The wind felt so good on her legs.

“Yo!”

Takeshi was done with his phone call! She didn’t really understand why he needed to go on top of the hill to use his machine, but he had returned, at last! He laid down on his stomach next to her and started typing on the screen once again. Qualia rolled in his direction until she could lay right next to him, and, resting on her elbows, peeked at the text. She didn’t know how to read that well yet, despite the boy’s best efforts to teach her, but enjoyed looking at how fast his fingers could move. They could fly like these small insects that lived near fruits in the kitchen.

“Don’t bother me; this article is important, ‘kay?”

He loved articles, didn’t he? He kept on making them, as if his life depended on that. Like a Hikari. Sometimes he told her what they dealt with: people she didn’t know, in places she had never seen… She knew that, someday, she’d be able to understand everything he said.

“Do you want curry for dinner?” he asked in a distracted voice, his eyes still focussing on the cell phone.

She smiled. Everything he made tasted delicious, even these dishes that burnt the tongue. All of this was so different from these blurry times where only Argentine could brighten her heart. She had since then been fixed, could walk, eat and feel so many enjoyable things. Her hair would be brushed, pots in the kitchen smelt like heaven, and she wore the prettiest, silkiest clothes. Takeshi’s family was so fun and loud too! Sure, the pain that spread when she thought about Argentine didn’t please her, but they would probably meet again. He’d be surprised to see her so different!