Why We Write What We Write!
Published by Atari in the blog Nothing Better to Do Than Read Blogs? Then this is the Blog for You!. Views: 130
Akira stood with broad shoulders, soft, handsome features and at six feet and change. Short blond hair was cut neatly atop his head and his blue eyes shown with dignity and kindness usually found only in the insincere looks of the noble and royalty.
Draped over his back was a black, heavy leather cape, buckled to his shoulders with maple leaf pendants that sparkled with gold.
He was built athletically, having more grace and maneuverability than one would expect possible for his size. Muscles lined his arms and the word 'perfect' comes to mind when I attempt to describe them. Lean and tight, his chest adorned with solid, masculine bosoms and on down to his stomach where the abdomen muscles ripple thick but not bulky.
The first man comes up to him and asks, "Why is your name Japanese? You should not have a Japanese name! You are not Japanese! In fact-- I think you're. . . what, pure Caucasian?"
Akira shifted in his light-weight boots that came up to his mid-shins, reflecting confoundedly before replying in a voice that reflected his state of mind, "What is Japanese?"
It would seem that for him to be copying Japanese-- Japan would have to exist. In his world, Glodias, there is no such thing, and his name came about purely by chance.
Could it happen?
Seems perfectly reasonable to me. Reinende (ree-in-in-day) sounds perfectly Japanese, though it was invented by a boy named Joseph who lives in Louisiana. It probably has a meaning in Japan, but it would not matter, because he did not need to hear the Japanese name to create the (nonexistent) word.
The second man approaches as the first fades away, retreating amongst the confines of his own mind to ponder a good rebuttal.
Akira glances down at the man whom he towers over, and regards his height, coming to the conclusion that the man must be a mere 5'5".
"You there!" The short man exclaims, his head pulled back until the base of his skull touches the apex of his spine, "Why are you so tall! You cannot be tall, and muscular, and handsome! Why, don't you know; that's a Gary Stu, or Lary Stew, or Harry Glu!"
Akira, now somewhat ready for another odd question, though not quite oriented as he should like, considered this with two muscled arms across an iron chest; his eyes darted here and there as he thought.
Finally, he put his hands on his hips and responded, "I do not know why I am tall. Neither my father nor mother were tall."
It would seem that you do not need tall parents to be tall, sometimes, that's just how things work out. It happens in real life. There's no big deal about it.
The second man shrinks back, realizing his scientifically fallible and loose arguement.
The third man comes up, having an even height and with dark brown hair cut so short that it spiked of its own accord. A large sword latched to his hip bounced against his thighs and the decidedly huge silver shoulder guards made him look bigger than he must have really been.
"Why," he asked, gripping the blade and pulling it out with a slice that might have taken Akira's head off, but instead halted with the tip of the blade resting on his jugular instead, "are you the center of the story? Why is a guy like you doing so many great things? What are the odds that a person such as yourself would end up accomplishing such feats in succession and in a grandiose manner?"
This time, Akira had no need to think on it. A large, thick leather glove adorned his left hand and, shifting the weight of his body onto his right foot, he turned and grabbed the blade and pushed it harshly away.
As his opponent faltered, Akira took a step toward him and then drove his left knee into the enemies' gut.
The man released his sword and backpedaled several steps away as he held his stomach, slowly sinking to a pained crouch.
Akira dropped the weapon and ceremoniously - slowly - stepped forward, his feet making impressions in the grass, then knelt in front of his broken foe, "Because," he calmly stated in a low voice, though a humored smile tugged at his lips was subtly evident in his tone, "Otherwise, the story would be boring."
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