AN: LIFE UPDATE... I'm alive?
Let's not dwell too much on whatever plot life has thrown at me atm.(pretty effed up tbh)
Oh yeah. ADVANCE chaps like over 40 or sumthn for this twilight FF and some chaps available already for the new novel available in Patreon and KoFi.
If you just want to dump some donation so I can have an easier time going through life's quests for me, at thia point it can be called trials and tribulations tbh, I recommend KoFi instead of Patreon.
Anywho.. Heres the chap, someone reminded me in the comments that i haven't updated yet... (Insert TEHE~) gif 😅😇
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1990 Somewhere in Japan
3rd Persons POV
The cozy little izakaya sat on a quiet street in Kyoto, its wooden beams and paper lanterns giving it a warm, inviting glow. Inside, the faint hum of conversation mixed with the clink of glasses and the sizzle of food on the grill. Robin stood behind the counter, flipping skewers of yakitori like she was born to be a chef. Her long white hair was tied back with a red scarf, and her striking pink eyes scanned the grill as she hummed an enchanting tune that somehow made everyone within earshot feel a little happier.
Rosalie, on the other hand, was far less enthusiastic about her role as a waitress. Balancing plates of edamame and bowls of miso soup, she moved through the small space with a grace that belied her inner annoyance. Her golden eyes glimmered, but her tight-lipped smile screamed, If I drop this plate, I'm quitting forever.
"Why are we doing this again?" Rosalie muttered in flawless Japanese as she passed Robin at the grill.
Robin smirked without looking up. "Because we're supporting my list of life experiences. You said you wanted to be more involved, remember?"
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I meant the fun ones, like eating ramen or seeing cherry blossoms—not serving drunks and dodging awkward pickup lines."
Robin chuckled. "You're doing great, though. And you look cute in the uniform."
Rosalie shot her a glare but couldn't hide the small smirk tugging at her lips.
As the clock ticked closer to closing time, most customers had left, except for one woman slumped at the bar. She clutched an empty sake cup like it was the last thing holding her together. Her dark hair was messy, and her face was red from drinking and crying—silent, soul-crushing sobs that tugged at even Rosalie's reluctant heartstrings.
Rosalie sighed heavily. Why me? But her conscience got the better of her, so she approached cautiously, her voice unusually gentle. "Excuse me, miss? Are you alright? Do you need help getting home?"
The woman looked up, her glassy eyes meeting Rosalie's. Without warning, she let out a loud, dramatic wail that echoed through the izakaya.
Rosalie froze. "Uh… okay, that's… loud. Really loud. Please stop crying—people are looking. Oh wait, no one's here. Still, I'm looking!"
Robin poked her head out from the kitchen, clearly already aware of the situation but pretending she didn't know. "What's going on out here?" she asked in flawless Japanese.
Rosalie gestured wildly at the sobbing woman. "She's having a breakdown! Do something!"
Robin wiped her hands on a towel and walked over. "Alright, alright. Relax, Rosie."
"I am relaxed," Rosalie snapped. "Totally calm. Super chill. Definitely not panicking."
Robin gave her a knowing look before turning her attention to the woman. She crouched slightly and spoke in her soft, melodic voice, which sounded even more angelic in Japanese. "Hey there, it's okay. What's wrong?"
The woman looked up at Robin, her tear-streaked face going slack for a moment. Then she cried even louder. "Why are you so beautiful?! It's not fair! And her too!" she said, pointing at Rosalie. "You're both too perfect! Why is life like this?!"
Robin bit her lip to keep from laughing. Rosalie, however, looked like she was ready to either combust or flee.
Robin sat beside the woman, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Shh, it's okay. You're beautiful too."
Rosalie folded her arms, leaning against the counter with a deadpan expression. "Really, Robin? Right in front of me?"
Robin shot her a playful look that said, What am I supposed to do? She's crying.
The woman sniffled and began pouring out her woes. "I'm… I'm an aspiring mangaka. I want to make the best manga ever, but it's so hard. And then I met this guy—he inspired me so much. I even based my lead character on him. But then… he rejected me! He didn't even explain why. He just… left!"
Robin nodded sympathetically. "That sounds awful. But you know what? Maybe this is a chance to focus on your dream without distractions. You're clearly talented if you've come this far."
Rosalie chimed in, her tone a mix of reluctant kindness and sarcasm. "Yeah, and honestly, that guy sounds like an idiot. You can do better. Like… way better."
The woman sniffed again, her tear-streaked face showing a glimmer of hope. "Do you really think so?"
Robin smiled. "Absolutely. And hey, use this pain as inspiration. Turn it into something amazing. Some of the best art comes from heartbreak."
Rosalie added, smirking slightly, "Yeah, and maybe don't base your next character on some random dude. Pick someone cool. Like yourself. Or, you know… us."
The woman blinked at them, her drunken brain trying to process their words. "You two… are you… together?"
Robin and Rosalie exchanged a quick glance. Robin's cheeks turned pink, but Rosalie leaned casually against the counter. "Yep. We're married."
The woman gasped, her eyes wide. "Married?! That's… amazing! You're both so beautiful together. Like a dream couple. Can I… can I use you as inspiration for a manga couple?"
Robin laughed softly. "Of course. As long as we get a copy when it's done."
Rosalie smirked. "And make sure my character is cooler than hers."
The woman actually giggled at that, her mood lifting. "Thank you… both of you. I'll keep going. I'll make it. I promise."
As she left, wobbling slightly but looking more determined, she turned back one last time. "You're like… weird, sarcastic angels. But angels."
Robin and Rosalie watched her go, then turned to each other.
"Weird, sarcastic angels?" Rosalie repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Robin shrugged. "Could be worse."
Rosalie shook her head, laughing despite herself. "You're lucky I love you. Now get back to work, Chef Angel."
Robin grinned and headed back to the grill, her heart feeling lighter. Maybe this whole list thing wasn't so crazy after all.
~~
1 Year after the Izekaya encounter
Mystery Woman''s POV
The clock on the desk ticked steadily, marking each second that passed. She stared at her sketchpad, the pages filled with doodles, outlines, and messy notes. Some of the pages were torn from frustration, others smudged from where her tears had fallen. Her small apartment was a mix of chaos and inspiration—art supplies scattered everywhere, crumpled drafts tossed onto the floor, and coffee cups left half-full on every available surface.
It had been a year since she'd met those two women in that little pub. A year since her life had felt like it was crumbling around her. She could still remember their faces vividly—the white-haired chef with eyes like a sunset and a voice so angelic it could make anyone forget their troubles, and the tall, blonde waitress who radiated power and confidence but had a softness to her she didn't show often.
She smiled faintly, touching the edge of her pencil to her lips as she thought of them. They had been strangers, yet they'd given her something she hadn't felt in a long time: hope.
At the time, she'd been drowning. Her dreams of becoming a mangaka had seemed so out of reach. She'd been struggling with rejection—not just from the publishers who didn't see her potential but also from the man she thought she loved. She had based her lead male character on him, a symbol of everything she wanted to achieve and everything she thought she admired. When he walked away from her, it had felt like a double betrayal.
But then those women had come along, and they'd told her to turn her pain into something beautiful. She hadn't forgotten their words.
"Some of the best art comes from heartbreak," the white-haired woman had said, her voice gentle but steady.
"You're stronger than you think," the blonde had added, her golden eyes fierce.
She'd taken their advice to heart, pouring her emotions into her work. The male character inspired by her heartbreak remained in her story, but she refined him. He was no longer just a reflection of her pain; he became a symbol of resilience and redemption. And in honor of those two incredible women, she created two new characters—a duo with an unspoken bond, powerful and supportive of each other. She didn't dare make them openly a couple—society wasn't ready for that—but anyone with eyes could see the love between them.
"They saved me," she whispered to herself as she shaded the long, flowing hair of her heroine. "I hope this story reaches someone else who needs it."
Her struggles didn't end overnight. There were nights she wanted to quit, nights when the doubt crept in and told her she wasn't good enough. But then she'd think back to that moment in the pub—how those strangers had taken the time to listen to her, how they'd encouraged her, how they'd believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself.
Her story slowly came together. The heroine was brave and determined, a leader who fought for love and justice. The bond between her and her mysterious protector wasn't just about romance; it was about trust, partnership, and the kind of connection that could change the world.
But crafting the story wasn't easy. She had to work long hours at her day job to make ends meet, often sketching on napkins during her breaks. She faced rejection after rejection from publishers, some of them telling her that her ideas were too "out there" or that no one would want to read about a magical girl leading a team of warriors.
She refused to give up.
"I can't quit now," she muttered one night, staring at the glowing city lights outside her window. "They told me to keep going. I promised myself I would."
One day, she finally received an invitation to pitch her work to a well-known publisher. She almost didn't believe it when the letter arrived. Clutching it tightly, she sat at her small desk, staring at the final drafts of her story.
"This is it," she said softly. "No turning back."
The meeting room was intimidating, with its sterile white walls and long, polished table. She sat there nervously, her hands clutching her portfolio as she waited for her name to be called.
Her thoughts wandered as she sat there, and she found herself thinking of those two women again. She wondered where they were now, if they were still together, still happy. She hoped they were. They deserved it.
The door opened, and a sharp voice called out, "Naoko Takeuchi?"
She stood, clutching her portfolio tightly, and smiled nervously. "That's me."
As she walked into the room, she took a deep breath, her heart pounding. This was her moment. The story she had poured her soul into, the story inspired by heartbreak, resilience, and the kindness of strangers—it was finally ready to be shared with the world.
And she couldn't wait to see where it would take her.
~~
AN: Oh yes I did? Why? Why not? 😏
Haaaah...
oh question...if you had to choose, for you of course. Which do yah prefer to be, where and why:
-reincarnator
-transmigrator
-regressor
(comment here for answers)
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