Fresh Meat I

[Meinos Kaen]

So, me and TK were discussing a manga called 9 to 1, and I suddenly felt like writing a story that would deconstruct the Harem Comedy genre or, at least, plant a normal person in it and enjoy the trainwreck.

Here's the first snippet. Enjoy!

Carpaccio Arata hated intercontinental flights.

It had been the second one in his 16 years of life, and he was barely more than a toddler when he took the first one, so he only had that one mind-numbing trip of almost twenty four hours from Roma Fiumicino to Tokyo Narita with a middle stop in Moscow Sheremetyevo to judge from.

And his conclusion was: che schifo(1). The movies were crap, sleeping in the chair had given him cramps all over, and the less said about the food the better.

"Thanks! Enjoy your stay in Japan!"

"I'll try. Appreciate the sentiment, though." A small smile was all Arata could muster. The circumstances weren't exactly the happiest. The urn of ashes made his backpack weight much more than his luggage.

And his suitcase was huge.

So big that he blocked both sides of the escalator. An old lady cursed at him in spanish. He didn't speak it, but he suddenly felt like checking if his family jewels were still attached as he listened to her.

'... Will I even be able to recognize her? My own mother.' In a crescendo of grim thoughts, Arata worsened his own mood. Moto Hikari. He hadn't seen his mother in years, and the only photo his father had left of her was fifteen years old. He collected it from his pocket again.

Long black hair framed a pretty face, with a petite nose and blue eyes. She wasn’t spectacularly tall, but she made up for it with a voluptuous body which she put to good use even with the evident swell of pregnancy. His father was scarlet, in the photo. Hair, eyes and nose were the only things he took from his mother physically, his father always said.

He never got why he always sighed in relief every time he said that. His father took more than one mystery to the tomb.

Like, what the hell happened to his Five Samurai toys from when he was seven? He went to sleep on Epifania with them neatly placed in a pyramid by his bed, all back in their boxes, and the following morning they were gone! The only people in the house were him and his father!

Where was a Zenigata when you needed one?

Anyway, his mother had been a beautiful woman in her youth. 'Now she should be 42, right?' As he finally reached the ground floor, he wondered how much she could have changed.

"Arata?" A familiar voice. Musical, sweet. He turned to the right... "Arata!" His jaw met the ground.

Then it was forcefully set back in its rightful place. 'ARGH!' His neck screamed in pain because of the abuse as he was caught in the mother of all bear hugs, arms pushing him into the darkness.

Of breasts.

Giant breasts. Titanic, even.

"Arata~! My Arata! I missed you so mu~uch!" Belonging to the person who, by the scent and voice he recognized, was his mother.

Scent and voice, because he couldn't trust his eyes. There must had been something in the aircraft food. Probably the aircraft food.

He gasped for much needed air as he was released. He gasped some more. "Look at you! You're so big, now!"

'Sangue del demonio(2), my eyes work fine?!' The passing of his paternal grandparents and his father thought Arata a harsh lesson in biology, which the woman in front of him -his mother, he had to remind himself- had apparently steamrolled on with extreme prejudice. She looked like she hadn't aged a day! No changes at all from the photo he possessed!

Well, not exactly. Her breasts were bigger and she had gained a few kilos, but all in the right places. She wasn't fat, she was pleasantly plump! His mother was a grade AAA Milf who could have easily passed as someone years younger and get more attention than them, easy!

The knowledge made him strangely uncomfortable.

The green tank-top and jeans also contributed to the WTF impression. How many mothers in their forties could afford to dress like that? “How was your trip?! I bet it was tiring, wasn’t it?”

“Ehm, yeah, a bit. Uhm...” His brain was almost done rebooting. Now, all his focus was on himself, his inner game. On what his first real words to his mother, after not having seen her for thirteen years, would be. He had to choose something that would sum up the intensity, the pathos, the emotions of that reunion. “Thanks... For picking me up?”

Yeah, that works. The whole thing was awkward as fuck.

“My pleasure, Arata! Here, let me help you with that!” Then, something else happened that made the whole thing even more awkward for the sixteen years old jappo-italian.

As stated before, his suitcase was fucking huge, and with mass usually comes weight. He saw the workers struggling to get it out of the cargo hold without dropping it on their feet, and ultimately failing. That poor worker would go on to develop a phobia of magenta suitcases.

So you can understand Arata’s surprise, which was more of a ‘Whaaaat the fuuuuuuck?!’ when his mother didn’t just grab it, but hoisted the thing up on her right shoulder like it was... Well, not a suitcase with no less than forty kilos of weight!

Also, fuck the pounds system. So. Much.

“Let’s go! I can’t wait to take you home!” And the pull on his left arm left the shell-shocked teen with no doubt about it: his mother was strong as an ox on Popeye brand spinaches.

You’d think that his neck swearing in tongues would have been indication enough, but...

‘I think I’m starting to get why father never told me the reason why they got a divorce...’


(1) Che schifo: roughly translates to ‘it sucks’.
(2) Sangue del Demonio: literally ‘blood of the devil’.

 

[byakuryuu]

I suggest that if you want to go to deconstruction levels is that you can bring up the topic of "You can't fall in love with anyone you barely know just because you've seen them do ONE thing" or "people don't fall just declare they love you out of the blue". Maybe bring in clashing lifestyles, a little bit of the main character having inherent flaws that he does overcome, while the girls themselves actually start questioning why in the world they're falling for a guy they've known for, at the best, 36 hours for no discernible reason.

Or you can build up the harem from "friends" > "good friends" > "middle ground" > "crush" > "affection" > "love". Have the harem contain more problems than accidental looks and shower accidents.

 

[Herdo]

"The passing of his paternal grandparents and his father thought Arata a harsh lesson in biology"
thought should be taught.

This snippet is making me think of sex novels and the crude language (repeated use of fuck) in the narration is a little off-putting to be honest. I assume it is like that because the protagonist is only 16 years old and depressed by the death of his father?

The foreign words are also a slight bother. Please stick to one language unless you really have to use not-English words.
For example, which is better:
"Djävulens blod, my eyes work fine?!"
or
"Blood of the devil, my eyes work fine?!"
I prefer the second one. It's more easier to read imo.

I have high hopes for this due to the fact that you're writing it and because it is a deconstruction. Is it possible for you to add a yandere girl in the harem?

I want to read more. Please write more.

 

[TkMacintosh]

Is it possible for you to add a yandere girl in the harem?

Hehehehe....He already has a scene for the Yandere done in his head, but whether or not he uses the yandere I specified is up to him.

It was fun coming up with the ideas with him on the IRC channel :3

 

[Meinos Kaen]

Alright. Updated the first part, and added some more. Enjoy!


Carpaccio Arata hated intercontinental flights.

It had been the second one in his 16 years of life, and he was barely more than a toddler when he took the first one, so he only had that one mind-numbing trip of almost twenty four hours from Roma Fiumicino to Tokyo Narita with a middle stop in Moscow Sheremetyevo to judge from.

And his conclusion was: they sucked. The movies were crap, sleeping in the chair had given him cramps all over, and the less said about the food the better.

"Thanks! Enjoy your stay in Japan!"

"Can’t make any promises.” Arata grumbled, jerking his head away. Now, that was gratuitous. The immigration guy couldn’t exactly know that his circumstances weren't exactly the happiest. The urn of ashes made his backpack weight much more than his luggage.
And his suitcase was huge.

So big that he blocked both sides of the escalator. An old lady cursed at him in spanish. He didn't speak it, but he suddenly felt like checking if his family jewels were still attached as he listened to her.

'... Will I even be able to recognize her? My own mother.' In a crescendo of grim thoughts, Arata worsened his own mood, even if the spectrum changed from irritation to sadness.

Moto Hikari. He hadn't seen his mother in years, couldn’t remember her face clearly, and the only photo his father had left of her was fifteen years old. He collected it from his pocket again.

Long black hair framed a pretty face, with a petite nose and blue eyes. She wasn’t spectacularly tall, but she made up for it with a voluptuous body which she put to good use even with the evident swell of pregnancy. His father was scarlet, in the photo. Hair, eyes and nose were the only things he took from his mother physically, his father always said.

He never got why he always sighed in relief every time he said that. His father took more than one mystery to the tomb.

Like, what the hell happened to his Five Samurai toys from when he was seven? He went to sleep on Epifania with them neatly placed in a pyramid by his bed, all back in their boxes, and the following morning they were gone! The only people in the house were him and his father!

Where was a Zenigata when you needed one?

Anyway, his mother had been a beautiful woman in her youth. 'Now she should be 42, right?' As he finally reached the ground floor, he wondered how much she could have changed.

"Arata?" A familiar voice. Musical, sweet. He turned to the right... "Arata!" His jaw met the ground.

Then it was forcefully set back in its rightful place. 'ARGH!' His neck screamed in pain because of the abuse as he was caught in the mother of all bear hugs, arms pushing him into the darkness.

Of breasts.

Giant breasts. Titanic, even.

"Arata~! My Arata! I missed you so mu~uch!" Belonging to the person who, by the scent and voice he recognized, was his mother.
Scent and voice, because he couldn't trust his eyes. There must had been something in the aircraft food. Probably the aircraft food.
He gasped for much needed air as he was released. He gasped some more. "Look at you! You're so big, now!"

'Bloody hell, my eyes work fine?!' The passing of his paternal grandparents and his father taught Arata a harsh lesson in biology, which the woman in front of him -his mother, he had to remind himself- had apparently steamrolled on with extreme prejudice. She looked like she hadn't aged a day! No changes at all from the photo he possessed!

Well, not exactly. Her breasts were bigger and she had gained a few kilos, but all in the right places. She wasn't fat, she was pleasantly plump! His mother was a grade AAA Milf who could have easily passed as someone years younger and get more attention than them, easy!

The knowledge made him strangely uncomfortable.

The green tank-top and jeans also contributed to the WTF impression. How many mothers in their forties could afford to dress like that? “How was your trip?! I bet it was tiring, wasn’t it?”

“Ehm, yeah, a bit. Uhm...” His brain was almost done rebooting. Now, all his focus was on himself, his inner game. On what his first real words to his mother, after not having seen her for thirteen years, would be. He had to choose something that would sum up the intensity, the pathos, the emotions of that reunion. “Thanks... For picking me up?”

Yeah, that works. The whole thing was awkward as fuck.

“My pleasure, Arata! Here, let me help you with that!” Then, something else happened that made the whole thing even more awkward for the sixteen years old jappo-italian.

As stated before, his suitcase was huge, and with mass usually comes weight. He saw the workers struggling to get it out of the cargo hold without dropping it on their feet, and ultimately failing. That poor worker would develop a phobia of magenta suitcases, from that day.

So you can understand Arata’s surprise when his mother didn’t just grab it, but hoisted the thing up on her right shoulder like it was... Well, not a suitcase with no less than forty kilos of weight!

Also, screw the pounds system. So. Much.

“Let’s go! I can’t wait to take you home!” And the pull on his left arm left the shell-shocked teen with no doubt about it: his mother was strong as an ox on Popeye brand spinaches.

You’d think that his neck swearing in tongues would have been indication enough, but...

‘I think I’m starting to get why father never told me the reason why they got a divorce.’

-I-

“I’m sure you’ll love Meguro! It’s very quiet and when it’s march the cherry trees by the river bloom all together! It's beautiful!"

"That... Sounds cool." Even if his voice didn't portray it that well, he really was excited at the prospective. After his parents' divorce, growing up in Italy, the only contact he had had with Japanese culture had been Hokuto no Ken and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure.

And the works of Inui Haruka, but we're trying to keep this PG-13.

Anyway, the famed cherry blossoms were a memory he wanted to make. He would not allow himself to wallow in his depression forever. His father would kick his butt, if he did.

On that note, he wondered why he had put that note in his will. Cremating his head. Maybe it was a japanese custom? "Uhm, mom, I was wondering... About dad's ashes."

"What about Lucio-san, Arata?" That gave him pause. His mother didn't lose her upbeat tone at the mention of her ex-husband's charry remains currently laying in his lap.

"Ehm, nothing." 'Something, actually. Many somethings!' "I was just wondering where we were going to keep his ashes."

"Oh, right. Arata has grown in Italy." Chuckling, the woman ruffled his hair like he was a small child. He flushed but let her do so. He guessed she owed him a few years of missed on pampering. I mean, HE owed her.

It's not like he was lacking in physical affection, growing up. No, sir.

... Arata suddenly wanted a hug.

"We're going to keep Lucio-san in a shrine in the house. It wouldn't do to separate the family again." Weirder and weirder. She was talking like his father was still- "Even if I would have preferred it happened another way..." Ah. There it was. Sorrow. "Noa-chan doesn't remember him at all."

"... Noa." His heart almost skipped a beat. Hina. He had almost forgotten about his little sister. She was a baby when he left Japan. "How-How is she?" For some reason, the thought of meeting her made him more nervous than the thought of meeting Hikari. If he had his dad’s stories to at least a suspect of what his mom could be like, he had no idea of what to expect from Noa.

"She's well... Ah, by the way!" Hikari suddenly beamed, giggling like a school girl. "She doesn't know."

Cue blink. "About what?"

"She doesn't know you're coming. I wanted it to be a surprise!" Arata stared. Hard. Hikari just smiled, her eyes on the road.

"... You didn't tell her dad died because you wanted me coming to live with the two of you a surprise?"

"Yes! She's going to be soooo surprised!"

"... Oh, she will be floored." Arata kept his silence the rest of the way to Meguro. His sister was in for one hell of a surprise.

That was the first hint to Arata that his mother wasn't... All there.

 

[zerohour]

Well, his mother is certainly entertaining. I'm not sure if Arata is going to be an interesting character on his own, or just an unfortunate vehicle for our entertainment.

So, how much of generic!harem comedy can we expect? Is Arata going to be the only sane man, are their going to be a few other characters both within and without the harem who are normal, or is everyone going to be fairly normal, and just sucked into by the slightly insane qualities of Arata's mother and possibly sister?

I would definitely appreciate more of a background to this, either posted here, or in PM. There seems to be a decent amount of things left unsaid, and it's difficult to give a full evaluation without seeing the whole picture.

 

[TkMacintosh]

Well, his mother is certainly entertaining. I'm not sure if Arata is going to be an interesting character on his own, or just an unfortunate vehicle for our entertainment.

So, how much of generic!harem comedy can we expect? Is Arata going to be the only sane man, are their going to be a few other characters both within and without the harem who are normal, or is everyone going to be fairly normal, and just sucked into by the slightly insane qualities of Arata's mother and possibly sister?

I would definitely appreciate more of a background to this, either posted here, or in PM. There seems to be a decent amount of things left unsaid, and it's difficult to give a full evaluation without seeing the whole picture.

I have the chat logs saved if you want to see them. Shoot me a PM and I'll see what I can do for you...if it's okay with @[Meinos Kaen] that is.

 

[Meinos Kaen]

Alright. Day one, over! I revamped Arata's characterization completely. And for those who like those kind of things ( @[TKMacintosh] ), the little sister is introduced.

Day One

Carpaccio Arata didn't care much for intercontinental flights.

It had been the second one in his 16 years of life, and he was barely more than a toddler when he took the first one, so he only had that one mind-numbing trip of almost twenty four hours from Roma Fiumicino to Tokyo Narita with a middle stop in Moscow Sheremetyevo to judge from.

And his conclusion was: the movies were uninteresting, sleeping in the chair had given him cramps all over, and he suspected some of the food submitted to him was banned by the Geneva Convention.

"Thanks! Enjoy your stay in Japan!"

"I will. Thanks.” Arata promised, his spirit a mixture of eagerness and extreme nerves. His circumstances weren't exactly the happiest. The urn of ashes made his backpack weight much more than his luggage.

And his suitcase was huge.

'... Will I even be able to recognize her?' He swallowed, thinking of the meeting waiting ahead for him.

Moto Hikari. He hadn't seen his mother in years, couldn’t remember her face clearly, and the only photo his father had left of her was sixteen years old. He collected it from his pocket again.

Long black hair framed a pretty face, with a petite nose and blue eyes. She wasn’t spectacularly tall, but she made up for it with a voluptuous body which she put to good use even with the evident swell of pregnancy. His father was scarlet, in the photo. Hair, eyes and nose were the only things he took from his mother physically, his father always said.

He never got why he always sighed in relief every time he said that. Lucio Carpaccio took more than one mystery to the tomb.

Like, what happened to his Five Samurai toys from when he was seven? He went to sleep on Epifania with them neatly placed in a pyramid by his bed, all back in their boxes, and the following morning they were gone! The only people in the house were him and his father!

Where was a Zenigata when you needed one?

Anyway, his mother had been a beautiful woman in her youth. 'Now she should be 42, right?' As he finally reached the ground floor, he wondered how much she would have changed.

"Arata?" A familiar voice. Musical, sweet. He turned to the right... "Arata!" His jaw met the ground.

Then it was forcefully set back in its rightful place. 'ARGH!' His neck screamed in pain because of the abuse as he was caught in the mother of all bear hugs, arms pushing him into the darkness.

Of breasts.

Giant breasts. Titanic, even.

"Arata~! My Arata! I missed you so mu~uch!" Belonging to the person who, by the scent and voice, he recognized as his mother.

Scent and voice because he couldn't trust his eyes. There must had been something in the aircraft food. Probably the aircraft food.

He gasped for much needed air as he was released. He gaped some more. "Look at you! You're so big, now!"

'My eyes work fine?!' The passing of his paternal grandparents and his father taught Arata a harsh lesson in biology, which the woman in front of him -his mother, he had to remind himself- had apparently steamrolled on with extreme prejudice. She looked like she hadn't aged a day! No changes at all from the photo he possessed!

Well, not exactly. Her breasts were bigger and she had gained a few kilos, but all in the right places. She wasn't fat, she was pleasantly plump! His mother was a grade AAA Milf who could have easily passed as someone years younger and get more attention than them, easy!

The knowledge made him somewhat uncomfortable.

The green tank-top and jeans also contributed to the WTF impression. How many mothers in their forties could afford to dress like that? “How was your trip?! I bet it was tiring, wasn’t it?”

“Ehm, yeah, a bit. Uhm...” His brain was almost done rebooting. Now, all his focus was on himself, his inner game. On what his first real words to his mother, after not having seen her for more than fourteen years, would be. He had to choose something that would sum up the intensity, the pathos, the emotions of that reunion. “Thanks... For picking me up?”

Yeah, that works.

“My pleasure, Arata! Here, let me help you with that!” Then, something else happened that made the whole thing even more awkward for the sixteen years old jappo-italian.

As stated before, his suitcase was huge, and with mass usually comes weight. He saw the workers struggling to get it out of the cargo hold without dropping it on their feet, and ultimately failing. One poor worker would develop a phobia of magenta suitcases, from that day.

So you can understand Arata’s surprise when his mother didn’t just grab it, but hoisted the thing up on her right shoulder like it was... Well, not a suitcase with no less than forty kilos of weight.

“Let’s go! I can’t wait to take you home!” And the pull on his left arm left the shell-shocked teen with no doubt about it: his mother was as strong as an ox on Popeye brand spinaches.

You’d think that his neck swearing in tongues would have been indication enough, but...

‘I think I’m starting to get why father was relieved I didn't get anything else from mom.’

-I-​

“I’m sure you’ll love Meguro! It’s very quiet and when it’s march the cherry trees by the river bloom all together! It's beautiful!"

"That... Sounds cool." Even if his voice didn't portray it that well, he really was excited at the prospective. After his parents' divorce, growing up in Italy, the only contact he had had with Japanese culture had been on books and manga. Fortunately, Italy was like a second home for Japanese comics.

And for the works of Inui Haruka, but we're trying to keep this PG-13.
Anyway, the famed cherry blossoms were a memory he wanted to make. With his family.

On that note, he wondered about something. "Uhm, mom, I was wondering... About dad's ashes."

"What about Lucio-san, Arata?" That gave him pause. His mother didn't lose her upbeat tone at the mention of her ex-husband's charry remains currently laying in his lap.

"Ehm, nothing." 'Something, actually.' "I was just wondering where we were going to keep his ashes."

"Oh, right. Arata has grown in Italy." Chuckling, the woman ruffled his hair like he was a small child. He flushed but let her do so. She owed him a few years of missed on pampering-HE owed her.

It's not like he was lacking in physical affection, growing up. No, sir.

…

Arata suddenly wanted a hug.

"We're going to keep Lucio-san in a shrine in the house. It wouldn't do to separate the family again." Weirder and weirder. She was talking like his father was still- "Even if I would have preferred it happened another way..." Ah. There it was. Sorrow. "Noa-chan doesn't remember him at all."

"... Noa." His heart almost skipped a beat. Noa. He had almost forgotten about his little sister in the confusion. She was a baby when he left Japan. "How-How is she?" For some reason, the thought of meeting her made him more nervous than the thought of meeting Hikari. If he had his dad’s stories to at least suspect what his mom could be like, he had no idea of what to expect from Noa.

"She's well... Ah, by the way!" Hikari suddenly beamed, giggling like a schoolgirl. "She doesn't know."

Cue blink. "About what?"

"She doesn't know you're coming. I wanted it to be a surprise!" Arata stared. Hard. Hikari just smiled, her eyes on the road.

"... You didn't tell Noa that dad died because you wanted me coming to live with the two of you a surprise?"

"Yes! She's going to be soooo surprised!"

"... Oh, she will be floored." Arata kept his silence the rest of the way to Meguro. His sister was in for one hell of a surprise.

That was the first hint to Arata that his mother wasn't... All there.

-I-​

“We’re here! Your new home!” Arata was surprised by discovering that Meguro was a residential area. And even more surprised when his mother opened the door to their apartment.

The foyer was just the corridor, but it snaked around in a U, connected to all the other rooms of the house via various doors. He counted the kitchen, a dining area, two bathrooms -one with a sauna-, two bedrooms, a tatami room where he correctly guessed the shrine to his father was, and balconies on both sides of the house. Those were a lot of square meters.

"Wow... This is so big..." Then, his attention to his surroundings stopped as he realized the house missed something. Or better, someone. "Noa is not home?"

"She's out with her friends. She'll come back this evening." Hikari said, moving past him and opening the door to his right. "This is going to be your room!"

"Ah?" Arata peeked his head inside, and he found... Pink.

The room was big. Way too big for one person, and it had an overabundance of the color pink. On the furniture, the PC, the posters, the bed and the stuffed animals. His confusion turned to sudden clarity as he saw the brand new bed, desk and closet, all in neutral shades of white and brown. "I'm going to share the room with Noa."

"Like you should have when you were younger! You owe us lot of family time, Arata!" The black haired youth blushed profusely as he was caught in another embrace -this time thankfully painless-. "Now, make yourself at home. I'm going out to shop for dinner! We're going to have a feast!"

"Okay! Thanks, mom!" Dropping his bag on the bed and letting go of his suitcase, Arata breathed deeply in and out. 'Well, this is it, Arata. Your new home, your new life.' He then slapped his face with both hands. "Alright! Watch me, dad! I'll keep my promise! I'll be the best son and older brother in the world!"

-I-​

"You sure you don't need a hand, mom?"

"Of course not, Arata! Mommy is stronger than what she looks like!" Oh, he noticed. The way she moved stacked plates around like they were empty boxes was a big hint.

Not exactly a good start for his mission, but he guessed his mother would let him out of the coddling phase soon enough.

Then, the doorbell rang. He froze.

"That's Noa-chan! Oooh, this so exciting!" Hikari squealed while Arata swallowed and turned in the direction of the entrance.

The door opened.

"I'm ho~ome!" A young, vibrant voice echoed from the foyer. Doki. Doki. Doki. Arata's heart beat faster and faster as he heard shoes being removed and then slippers coming closer and closer... "Mom, that smells great! What-!"

A very surprised fourteen years old stood at the kitchen's entrance. Long blonde locks framed the sides of her face, the rest gathered in a low ponytail, and a red circlet stopped the front ones from getting in her green eyes. She was petite, slim, her skin pink and soft looking.

Arata was aghast. His sister was beautiful. And he hadn't been there to protect her from boys during the first stages of puberty!

Someone needed to break the silence. "H-Hi, Noa-chan. I know this may seem, uhm, weird but-"

"Onii-chan?" Wait, what? "O-Onii-chan? Is it really you?" How could she have identified him when-Oh god she was crying. "Uuuh..."

"Ehm, Noa-chan, I-"

"UWE~EN! ONII-CHA~AN!" Arata almost lost his balance. Not because of the strength of the tackle, but because of the suddenness of the whole situation. His sister had recognized him with a single glance and then broke down into tears, clutching the front of his favorite shirt and crying against his chest. "ONII-CHAN! IT'S REALLY YOU! I'M SO-SHO-SHOOO HAPPY~Y! UWEEEH!"

"N-Noa-chan!" She gasped and pulled away. "W-What?"

"... You remembered my name! UWEEH! ONII-CHAN REMEMBERED MY NA~AME!"

"O-Of course! You're my sister! How could I forget you?!" Noa just cried harder. At a loss, Arata turned to his mother. "Mom, please do why the hell are you recording this?!"

"But Arata, the first meeting of brother and sister after thirteen years apart only happens once in a lifetime! And not for everyone!" Hikari answered, holding a digital videocamera in front of her.

"WHY WOULD YOU WANT THAT TO HAPPEN TO PEOPLE?! Ah!" Arata gasped as he realized he had slipped into an old habit again which, in turn, had made him raise his voice at his mother. "I-I'm sorry, mom!"

"Don't be! It just adds to the authenticity of the scene!" Cue facepalm.

"Higu... Onii-cha~an..." Cue tearful facesnuggle.

-I-​

In the end, the situation had settled down, and the reunited family had managed to gather at the table for the veritable banquet waiting for them. His father had made Arata study japanese and japan's culture, but he didn't know half the dishes presented to him.

"Aaah, this is wonderful!" Hikari declared, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief. "We finally have the whole family reunited again!"

"Y-Yeah... The whole family." Arata gulped, his father's picture placed on a chair beside his mother making him uncomfortable. "Ehm, I'm sorry you had to discover it like this, Noa."

"It's okay, onii-chan. I don't mind." His little sister's smile was thankfully infective. It was easy to forget about ‘father’, as long as he avoided looking in ‘his’ direction. Although...

"Huh, Noa, isn't it uncomfortable? Eating like this?" While she wasn't crying anymore, Noa was still physically close. Her chair was plastered to his own one, and her head was planted on his left shoulder.

"Hehehe... It's okay." As to prove her point, she brought a slice of yakitori to her mouth, chewing it and swallowing it with no impediments whatsoever. "Arata-nii owes me lots of onii-chan time."

"Not too much, Noa-chan. Arata has to prepare for his entrance exam." Hikari gently chided, and Arata nodded.

Indeed. He had to prepare himself thoroughly.

His father had a friend in a very prestigious private school in Meguro, who could work in his acceptance as a second year transfer student, but only if he could successfully pass the interview and the first year entrance exam. Even before coming to Japan, the period between his father's passing and the trip had been filled with nothing but study.

After all, getting good grades was one of the requirements for being a great son and older brother! But, could he really do it? He'd heard that Japan's scholastic system was really unforgiving, and very different from most of the world.

"O-kay! But I'm sure Arata-nii will pass!" Noa's declaration made Arata flush in embarrassment. It was kind of weird how accepting and loving Noa was when he had been absent most of her life, but he wasn't about to turn down an injection of confidence.

-I-​

"It's been a while since the house has been this lively. Right, Lucio-san?" Hikari received no answer. Of course, getting words out of a shrine with the ashes of your dead ex-husband was a difficult task to accomplish. "All living under the same roof again... It's like a dream."

She emptied her glass, refilling it soon after. Red italian wine. Taurasi, her late husband’s favorite. “... Lucio-san, when you first left me I was heartbroken. At some point, I think I almost hated you. For abandoning me, when you said you loved me. For taking my baby boy away.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping as she stared at the crimson liquid. “But then… Then I understood.” She sniffled. “You were right. My father was wrong. And I thank Kami that I understood that soon enough. For Noa’s sake.”

She downed the entire glass, much to her dizziness. “Heh, she was so cute growing up. For some reason, she never really asked about why her dad wasn’t there. But Arata?” She chuckled. “How’s my onii-chan like? Where’s my onii-chan? Why can't I see my onii-chan? And things like that. I was so sad, not being able to answer her most of the time…” She hiccuped, and giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. “I’m grateful she can now get her answers directly from the source.”

-I-​

Skype - Conversation with Orcomario

<So, mister Carpaccio. How was your first day in Japan?>

<Eventful. The house is big, I had a feast of traditional japanese cooking and of course, I got to meet my family.>

<Nice! How are they?>

<My mother is... It's like someone cast an anti-age spell on her. And my sister, Noa... How big is the pervert problem in Japan, again?>

<Ahahah! Big enough, onii-chan! You'd better start carrying a katana around. Or get a Stand. I suggest Echoes.>

<Sorry, but I aim to become an awesome family man like Joseph.>

<... You do remember he had Josuke when he was already married to Suzie Q, right?>

<You do remember how protective he was of Holly, right?>

<Meh, whatever. Speaking of which, I heard that your break-up wasn't that good.>

<Already? Why do women have to be such gossips? And yeah, Carolina wasn't exactly destroyed.>

<I heard she shrugged her shoulders.>

<She did. Damn, I understand we're sixteen, but shrugging her shoulders?! Six months together and she just... *grumbles* ... Did she get another boyfriend already?>

<Not that I know of.>

"Onii-chan, can I come in?" Arata blinked, and turned away from his laptop and towards the door. Peeking from the corridor, Noa stood freshly out of the bath, her hair loose and her feet bare, wearing her frilly blue pyjama.

"Of course you can, Noa. It was your room first, after all. No need to ask for permission." The girl pranced in carefully.

"Yes, but, I didn't want to interrupt onii-chan. Maybe onii-chan was... Muuu..." Arata raised an eyebrow, confused. Maybe he was what? "Huu... I heard that boys... Like to watch ecchi stuff."

"Ecchi?" 'What did that mean ag-Sweet mary mother of Jesus!' "N-No! I wasn't-I mean, in your room?! With the door open?! No!"

"Oh." She blinked slowly, crossing her arms behind her back. "... But you like to watch ecchi stuff?"

'Sonuva...' He turned to the computer again.

<Gotta go. Little sister crisis!>

<What?>

Arata then shut the laptop close, his face aflame as he slowly turned around to face Noa again. She was waiting. 'Oh, god. My first day as an older brother and I already have to deal with something like this?!' He swallowed. Better to be honest, his father always said.

Arata didn't believe that, but this time? It was better if he got clean with it. Siblings shouldn't keep anything from each other. Also, better she learned it from him. "Yes, Noa. I like to watch, and think, and do ecchi things with girls. It's natural. Nothing wrong with that. All boys do. Girls, too." He joined his hands together, looking away. "They just know how to hide it better."

"So Noa will want to do ecchi things too?" Arata forced himself to nod. His body was suddenly very very stiff, at that particular thought. "Okay. Thank you, onii-chan."

"You're welcome." Arata sighed. Crisis averted, but he suddenly felt very tired. "I'm going to take a shower too."

"Okay, onii-chan." With a small smile, Arata grabbed his bathing accessories and his nightwear -he had prepared everything after declining to take a bath before his mother and Noa- and headed for the bathroom.
His little sister stood, perfectly still, in the middle of the room. Then, when she heard the door to the bathroom close…

Noa was standing near the door.

In a split second, she was across the room, grabbing onto Arata's jacket. She started rubbing it against her right cheek and inhaled. "Onii-chan's scent... It's exactly like I remembered it. Fuaaah..."

She threw it over her head, and inhaled even more loudly. "No... No, it's so much more manly! My onii-chan's manly scent... Uuuu, onii-chya~an!" She pirouetted till she fell on her bed, squealing as she rolled, jacket firmly grasped in her arms. "Silly onii-chan, of course girls want to do ecchi things too! Do ecchi things with Noa, onii-chan! Yaaa~aaan!"

No matter how warm the furo kept the water, Arata had a permanent case of the shivers for the duration of his soak.

 

[zerohour]

Pretty good, though I was expecting his mom to burst in and demand they bathe together. Of couse, there is plenty of time for that later.

Is Hikari her first or last name? I'm assumign first name, since that seems more appropriate, but you might want to add in a little bit to clarify it.

Something like:

Hikari Moto... no, Moto Hikari. He was in Japan now, better start getting used to surnames coming first.

 

[Meinos Kaen]

More. Day of the interview!

Day Seven

“Hmm…” Like a hot blade through butter, clarity quickly took hold of a sleeping Arata. He had always been a light sleeper, which translated into quick awakenings. "... Noa?"

"Hmmm... Munyaaa..." The sleeping girl wasn't stirred by his words. She remained in dream world, his chest used as pillow.

'This is starting to get uncomfortable.’ Arata sighed. Since day one, his little sister had insisted on sleeping together with him. He found no harm in it, since it was one of those moments he owed her as a big brother, but he quickly came to realize that the bed wasn’t big enough for two people, so he and Noa were pretty much crammed together. “Noa?”

“Hmmm-nii-chan?” The petite girl moaned cutely as she woke.

“Remember when I asked you if I could sleep alone, since I wanted to not wake up sore for my interview? You said ‘Okay, onii-chan.”

“Hmm-hmm. I di~id…”

“Then, why are you in my bed?”

“Hmm, it’s just…” Noa snuggled further into his chest. “Arata-nii looked so much more comfortable than my bed. I couldn’t help it...”

“... Okay. Whatever. Can I get up, now? I’m kind of hungry-GK!” Arata froze and almost choked on his own tongue. ‘NONONONO! WHY?! WHY TODAY OF ALL DAYS?! WHY NOW?!’ Contrary to common knowledge, nocturnal penile tumescence doesn’t always happen in the morning. As in, most people don’t get morning wood in the morning, but during their sleep, most usually in the REM phase. Arata had always been one of the latter.

But it seemed his physiology had suddenly decided to screw with him. ‘EMERGENCY EXIT!’

“WAH!” Noa cried as Arata suddenly threw the covers off and dashed out of the room, causing her to nearly fall off the bed. The door to the bathroom slammed close in a few seconds. Noa pouted. “Muu, silly onii-chan…”

-I-​

“Huu, mom, isn’t this a bit… Pretentious?” Arata commented as the woman finished fussing with the green tie, which completed the school uniform he was wearing. Black pants and jacket over a white long-sleeved shirt. “Wearing the uniform to the interview?”

“Ah, but this is actually a requirement, Arata.” Hikari chuckled, admiring her handiwork. “Oh, you’re so handsome!”

“Ehm, thanks.” He blushed, the whole situation making him feel like a kid. In Italy only elementary school students wore uniforms.

“Noa, we’re going!” Hikari declared as she collected her purse.

“Wait!” The fourteen years old girl was in the foyer in a fraction of second. She gently grabbed on his right sleeve to make him bend down, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “Ganbatte!”

“T-Thanks, Noa. Don’t worry, your onii-chan will do you proud!” Arata declared, bashful but suddenly surging with newfound determination.

-I-​

‘What is with this wait?!’ Only for the passage of time to slowly chip away at his determination bit by bit. They had reached the school in ten minutes, found the office in five, they had been waiting in an empty corridor for eighty-six.

There had been three other people before him, all accompanied by a parent. None of them came out the same way they got in. He guessed there was another exit, but it just made him even more nervous.

“Come on, Arata. Relax.” His mother’s strong hand squeezed his left shoulder. “It’s just a silly interview.”

"Silly?! Mom, if the person doing the interview doesn't like me, I won't be able to enroll!"

"Hmm, not really. The interview is really just a formality." Arata froze and turned around. The door to the office had opened. "The higher ups in the school only care that you come from a good family, that you can pay the fees and that you pass the test. The interview is just to check if by chance we're enrolling some 'unsavory characters'."

The man in the doorway had a very teacher like air around him. He wore a brown business suit and square glasses. Chocolate locks and black eyes were the cherry on top of a handsome face cake.

"Arata, this is Kyoiku Daisuke-san." Arata had a reaction. The name was familiar...!

"You're my father's friend." The one who had arranged for him to transfer into the school to begin with. Arata raised and bowed. "It's a honour, sir. Thanks for the opportunity."

"Oh, it was the least I could do. I find you well, Hikari-san." The man answered. "Shall we accommodate ourselves?"

-I-​

"So, you, mom and dad met in college, Kyoiku-sensei?"

"Yes. Your father came here for a master in Todai. That's when we met." The man answered without raising his eyes from his personal folder. Even if most of it was in Italian, he didn't look bothered by it in the slightest. "He was supposed to go back home afterwards, but... He started dating your mother."

"Hehehe, I can still remember how nervous Lucio-san was when he first asked me out." His mother held her right cheek, flushing with a big smile on her face.

"I'm proud of having been his closest friend, and I'm saddened by his departure." For a flash, he saw the man's feature morph into a sad smile, but just for a flash. Soon after, it regained the amused/calculating quality Arata came to attribute to it. "So, Arata. I read here that you were in the middle of the third year of high school, in Italy."

"Yes." Arata nodded. In Italy there are five years of elementary, three years of middle and five years of high school. "It was a Liceo Classico."

"Do you speak any languages other than Japanese and Italian?"

"English. Advanced Level."

"Very good. Most native japanese have trouble learning it because of the different phonemes, you know?" Kyoiku-sensei turned a page. "I guess you were lucky. Italian is a language with a great variety of sounds."

"That's what my father said, too." Arata commented. "Are you also a glottologist, Kyoiku-sensei?"

"Not quite. I studied sociolinguistics. How any and all aspects of society influence the way a language is used, and viceversa." Arata nodded. Kyoiku-sensei closed the folder. "Arata-kun, how do you feel about the exam?"

"A bit nervous. I tried my best to prepare in the last few months, but I wonder if that will be enough." The young jappoitalian answered.

Japan is one of the most educated countries in the world, always appearing in the top three of every chart or rankings of that kind, and his students are said to be some of the best. Italy also ranks high, but it’s very far from Japan's levels. How would he fare when faced with what was expected from a Japanese student of his age?

"What did you focus on?"

"The subjects we did not have in Italy. Like japanese history..."

"Good judgment. Considering your past grades, I'm sure you will pass with flying colours." The man smiled amiably, setting the folder to the side. "Don't put yourself down just because you didn't go to school as much as Japanese students. Do your best and hold your head high. You are your father's son, after all."

"... I will, sensei." Arata smiled with determination. "I will do my dad, my mother and my sister proud. You'll see."

"That's the spirit." The man stood, holding out his hand for him. Arata, at first a bit surprised that a vice-headmaster would offer to shake hands with him in Japan, quickly recovered and shook it firmly. "... Nice grip. But most people in Japan prefer a weak one."

"I-I will keep that in mind..."

"Thanks for your time, Kyoiku-san." Hikari finally spoke again, having kept her silence for the whole conversation. "I hope you'll finally accept my invitation to dinner, one of these days."

"Maybe to celebrate Arata-kun's passing. Until then, take care, Hikari-san."

-I-​

Skype - Conversation with Orcomario

<Seems like I passed the interview.>

<Horray! Now that just leaves the entrance exam.>

<Don't remind me... I'm so nervous.>

<Yeah, I bet. Do you know that Japanese students are some of the highest scorers ever for math?>

<And I hate it. Ugh, I think I've done more math exercises in the past three months than in the rest of my life.>

<Oh, come on. Think about the prize!>

<Prize? What prize?>

<Cute japanese girls... In sailor fuku~us!>

<... This school has blazers.>

<What kind of retarted school are you trying for?!>

<The one you can't go to. By the way, you know something weird?>

<What? The guy was staring at your mother?>

<No! Get your mind out of gutter! I mean, he didn't make any mention of my 'incident'. That's in my file!>

<Your... Oh. You mean, when you were almost expelled?>

<Yeah. Wonder why he didn't mention it or asked me further details…>