sai-ai-no-midori

The silence of the dead is profound. It is long past nightfall, so far that sunrise is now closer, and were he outside, he would see the first grayish-pink light starting to colour the edge of the world. But he is not outside, and the light stays hidden to him, as he has progressed far enough, along bends and steps and crawling through tunnels on his hands and knees, into the heart of a late king's tomb. The deceased god-king has been so for a few men's ages, and if he was good king, no-one truly knows. Could Bakura, once an ordinary child but now something else, read beyond the few symbols that he is able to puzzle out with difficulty, he w

When he thought about it a bit more, it was only natural for Alfred to have a shooting gallery in his basement. The young nation was downright obsessed with guns, to the point of frequently cleaning his extensive collection and practising with the rows of vaguely human-shaped targets. Until now, Toris had always found some excuse that kept him from coming along – there'd always been some dishes to wash, or laundry to do, or even a fence to be painted. Alfred was rather notorious for littering everywhere, and didn't really mind the mounds of rubbish that tended to collect. But today, everything had been cleaned to perfection, the windows