Himitsukichi

It turns out that meeting with Mr. C was my last one. Apparently, the governor of the state wanted to know the real names of the PearlCoin members coming to visit us, and after enough arguing with PearlCoin he was able to get the names. This caused an uproar in the state as it was revealed that several of the members who regularly came to visit us were Jewish, most notably an Avi Cohen. Some states of HOME are fine with members of other races visiting them. My state is not one of those states.

The people here may tolerate non-Italians who are still of European descent, but anyone who doesn’t fit the description of ‘European descent’ are forbidden from entering our state. The people here also tend to have a strong disdain for those of Jewish descent in particular. Jews are the ones who refuse to accept the Son of the Father, no matter how much God punishes them. Jews are the reason why Christians split away and infight with each other. Jews are the ones who forced usury, sexual degradation, and the destruction of basic morality and human decency the world. But most importantly, Jews are the ones responsible for the creation of LOVE. That’s what’s taught in my state at the very least.

“I can’t believe those PearlCoin bastards tricked us!”

Mother was the most furious out of us all. I didn’t really have any thoughts on the matter.

“I knew there was something suspicious about the potato prices! Don’t those cryptocurrency people understand that just because they come from lawless hellholes doesn’t mean that they can’t follow the laws of civilized societies!?”

After some furious discussion, the governor and PearlCoin came to an agreement. All PearlCoin members visiting the state will be required to have their genetic ethnic backgrounds and real names pre-approved by the governor before being allowed to enter the state. As soon as the controversy ended, everything went back to normal as if it had never happened in the first place. Another month passed by and it’s time for the next visit from PearlCoin. I’m curious to see whose replaced Mr. C. The closer that winter approaches, the more the landscape is covered with colorful fallen leaves. The weather’s getting cold too, and we’ve started bringing out the warming pans at night.

Arriving at the border and nothing seems to have changed too much. Makes sense, the only real changed that’s occurred is that certain PearlCoin members aren’t allowed to visit anymore. Father and I park the horse carriage as per usual and we head to the truck that used to be run by Mr C. The new figure standing by the truck is a man with long blonde hair and light green eyes. He’s tall, lean, and has a slightly effeminate face. He may not be Jewish, but he still doesn’t look like the kind of man who’d fit in around here. Or to put it more bluntly, he looks like a homosexual. Father seems to agree with me as looks uncomfortable approaching the man and whispers to me.

“…Tell me if he tries to touch you.”

I don’t respond but nod my head slightly and approach the man.

“Hello, I’m Marco and this is my father, Manuel. He doesn’t know English, so I’m here to speak for him.”

Father steps into the truck as I introduce myself.

“Well, you seem like a smart young man. I’m Elliot, it’s nice to meet you.”

Elliot reaches out for a handshake, but I don’t recuperate, and he pulls his hand back after a few awkward seconds of silence.

“So, what kind of farm do you guys run?”

Elliot doesn’t seem to be bothered by me refusing his handshake and still wants to engage in small talk. I figure it’s probably for the best to indulge in his desire. His voice is surprisingly deep considering his effeminate looks.

“It’s nothing special, just a small farm that was started by my grandfather. We also like to sell leftover fertilizer that we make from last season’s crops.”

“Wait, fertilizer isn’t just cow shit?”

“Nope, fertilizer can be made from any compost. We don’t really bother with cow manure because it’s expensive and the smell’s too much.”

I remember Mr. C asking me a similar question about fertilizer. It’s interesting how these PearlCoin members have access to more technology than us, yet don’t really understand the basics of farming. I know there are farms in the territories, but I guess none of the people from those farms join PearlCoin. Father is looking through the truck, browsing the items. It’s the middle of the season, so he most likely won’t buy too much if anything at all.

“Ah, well. That’s interesting. Forgive me for not knowing better.”

Elliot leans back against the truck and raises his arms behind his hand.

“Your father looked pretty uncomfortable with me…I get it. I’m not the kind of guy who’d fit in around here, but at least I’m not a Jew.”

He smirks playfully. Is he admitting to being a homosexual? He should be careful that others don’t overhear. I’m not the only person who knows English here.

“I’m pretty weird, but my girlfriend and baby are happy with me.”

…Girlfriend? …Baby?

“Surprised? I know having children out of wedlock’s illegal in your parts, but where I’m from only the devoutly religious bother with marriage, especially since there’s none of the legal bullshit involved with marriage in the old world. Honestly, I might as well just buy cheap shitty rings for ourselves and call my girlfriend my wife. We’re really not all that different from a married couple in the old world.”

Well, no, I’m shocked that you’re not a homosexual. I had heard about how common babies out of wedlock were in the territories and LOVE before.

“…Ah well, you seem happy.”

I’ll have to have children of my own someday. Most likely it’ll be with Gloria. But if I’m to continue my bloodline, I have to get used to the of sexual activity and my body…

“You got anyone special in your life kid?”

Elliot doesn’t notice anything wrong with me and keeps talking.

“Ah well, there’s a girl from school I’m seeing, and it’s looking likely we’ll be wed once school is finished.”

“Oh, you love her?”

“Well, I like and care about her, and that’s what’s important.”

People who aren’t raised in religious societies always go on about ‘marrying for love’ and other such nonsense. But relationships shouldn’t be viewed in such a childish manner. All that does is give people far too high expectations that cause them to live a life of loneliness. As long as you like the person and aren’t repulsed by them, it’s really not an issue if that person wasn’t your first choice for marriage or your ‘true love’, which is a concept that only exists in fairy tales.

“…Well, okay. If you’re fine with it.”

Elliot has the face of someone who wants to say more, but he probably wants to avoid an argument based off of cultural differences.

“It’s just…I can’t help but think about how miserable I’d be growing up here. You seem like a nice kid, and the other people I’ve met seem okay enough, but I know I’d never fit in here. Even though I’m not a LOVER. But the people here would see me as no different from a LOVER because I don’t agree with how HOME does things wouldn’t they?”

He’s not wrong. Although we may rely on the people from PearlCoin to sell us goods and protect us from LOVE, people around here still see the territories as a light form of LOVE. Some think that the territories are even worse than LOVE since there aren’t any laws or governance whatsoever.

“Well, it’s not like I agree with everything in my society. And there are things that I could never talk about to others about. But that’s life. I’m sure it’s the same for you. Just because the territories don’t have governments doesn’t mean they don’t have social norms.”

“Sure, I get what you’re saying, but I’m really not a religion kind of guy, and I like having access to modern technology. I also just don’t like the idea of government controlling me whatsoever.”

“Couldn’t it be argued that you cryptocurrency people are the ones controlling the territories since you all have the most power?”

“…I guess, but it’s not like we’re forcing people to share ideology with us. We only bother people when they don’t pay for the services we provide. I’d say it’s more like a business.”

Isn’t that what a government is? The government provides you with comfortable living and protection, and in return you follow the rules. I brought this up with Mr. C once before, and it only led to an argument, so I don’t feel like bringing up the argument again. Father soon comes out and he looks ready to leave. Sometimes we don’t buy anything during the monthly visits, although it isn’t common.

“Well, we’re going to be heading on our way.”

I give a goodbye to Elliot.

“Sure thing kid, and uh, if there’s anything you ever want to talk to me about, feel free to do so. I promise not to tell anyone else about it, especially if it’s one of those things you could never talk to others about.”

What an odd thing to offer. Is he trying to befriend me? That seems foolish. Father and I proceed to head home.

“So…How was the new guy?”

Father asks with concern in his voice. That’s right, he was worried about Elliot doing vile things to me. It wouldn’t surprise me if his suspicion of Elliot was a factor in him not buying anything today.

“He’s a bit strange, but I wouldn’t say he’s a bad guy.”

“Sure, but you said that about Mr. C as well…”

The two of us get into the horse carriage. I can’t help but feel bothered by his comment about Mr. C, but I know it’s best not to say anything. Me and father don’t talk much on the way back home, and my thoughts are focused on Elliot’s promise about having me talk to him about anything that I felt I couldn’t talk to others about. This is of course a chance for me to talk to someone who’s not a priest about the camisole, about the strange discomfort I feel in my own body, the mild unsatisfaction I feel whenever I think about my future. But is it really such a good idea? Being from a completely different culture most likely means that Elliot’s not going to look down on any of that, and he may even encourage my strange proclivities. But it’s obviously not good if he tries to encourage any deviant behavior in me.

The days seem to pass by swiftly, and my mind’s been feeling blank. I can’t seem to stay focused or really pay attention to anything. My grades aren’t falling, and my relationships aren’t faltering, but life just seems to be moving on. I believe Mr. C would’ve referred to my current state of being as ‘being on autopilot’ as a reference to auto-driving vehicles in more technologically advanced areas. It doesn’t help that outside of the freakout regarding Jewish members of PearlCoin visiting in the area, nothing interesting has been going on here. It doesn’t take too long for Gloria to notice my ‘autopilot’ behavior, and brings it up during a walk home from school.

“Marco? Is something bothering you? You’ve been acting strange for the past week.”

I don’t know how to respond to her. I’m just living life as I should after all, it’s just that life isn’t very interesting.

“…I’m fine. What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“It’s just…It seems like your soul’s not in you most of the time. You just seem to be existing. Sure, I’m not sensing any sadness or anger from you…But I’m not sensing any joy either.”

“I mean…Isn’t that just life most of the time? Not feeling any real emotion regardless of if it’s positive or negative?”

I messed up. Gloria’s face grows far more concerned after hearing my questions.

“What!? Of course not! Life is something to enjoy! It’s a gift the lord gave us, and to not be happy with the gift of life…Well that’s just a tragedy!”

Gloria gets close to me, the concern on her face being deep.

“…You don’t need to keep any secrets from me Marco. Please, if there’s anything on your mind, don’t be afraid to tell me!”

I can’t help but feel irritated. I get it, she’s my future wife, she means well and care abouts me. But I really doubt my lack of strong emotions is really much of a problem. But Gloria’s more of an innocent optimist. The type to think that the world could all be at peace if we just showed each other enough kindness. Someone like her doesn’t understand that just because someone’s not brimming with joy it doesn’t mean they’re miserable.

“…I…I get why you’re worried, but trust me, I’m fine.”

Gloria seems willing to drop the subject but it’s clear that she doesn’t believe me.

“O-Okay…”

The rest of the walk home was spent in awkward silence. When I arrived home, I immediately went to my room and locked the door. I searched through a drawer in my desk before finding the camisole (I have to move hiding spots for it every now or then or else I risk mother finding it while cleaning). And take my school shirt off in exchange for the camisole. I’ve been wearing the camisole more often lately. It gives me a sense of peace and comfort that I can’t really explain. But it seems to be getting bad. I’m going to get caught eventually if I keep this up, yet I can’t stop indulging in my habit. Ideally, I should burn the damn thing, but then I’d be burning one of Isabella’s possessions…But if I simply placed the camisole back in her room, I’d feel dirty seeing her wear it again.

 ‘…If there’s anything you ever want to talk to me about, feel free to do so. I promise not to tell anyone else about it, especially if it’s one of those things you could never talk to others about.’

Those words from Elliot spring into my mind. Should I bring this up to him? It’s not that I doubt his promise on spilling the beans to everyone else, it’s that the lawless degenerate culture of the territories means that he’ll say some crap about how I just need to learn to accept myself and how this isn’t a big deal. If I am going to bring this up to him, I need to make sure that he knows I don’t want my questionable behavior rewarded, I want to purge myself of it. I take the camisole off, put it back in the drawer, and put my shirt back on. This behavior needs to stop, and if Elliot proves to be useless, then I’ll just have to figure it out on my own.

I spent the next week forcing myself to not wear the camisole. I thought this was something I could easily do, but it turned out to be far more difficult. There were far more times than I could count where I had to stop as soon as I locked my bedroom door or picked up the camisole. I tried moving it to another place every time I was tempted, but that obviously didn’t work since I would know the new place it’d be hiding. While I did manage to avoid directly wearing the camisole, the temptation wasn’t going away, in fact, it got worse, as if I had a drug addiction. I found myself feeling more anxious and fidgety. God, is that camisole really that important to my mental state? What a joke.

“…Marco, I know you’re not fine. Talk to me.”

And of course Gloria was able to pick up on my stress during a walk home. I’d been struggling to sleep the previous night, and it must be showing on my face. There’s no way I could lie and tell her ‘No I’m actually fine’, because I’m not and it’s clear to anyone who sees me. I’m a disgusting pile of excrement who can’t function without wearing a camisole that I stole from my older sister at least once every few days. There’s no way I can confess this to Gloria.

“I…I guess you could say I’m feeling anxious about the future.”

Thankfully, I’m smart enough to avoid speaking the truth without lying. It is true, I am somewhat anxious about the future, but isn’t that the case for most people? Gloria squeezes my right hand tightly.

“Oh no, has the harvest this season not been good?”

“N-No, we’re doing great actually. We’ll have plenty of extra money to hold us over during winter. It’s just…Well, I get nervous thinking about the future.”

Again, not a lie. And this causes Gloria to stop walking.

“…Marco, look at me.”

I turn to face her way, and Gloria puts her hands on my face, staring directly into my eyes.

“I know that we’ll be adults very soon, and that we’ll have new responsibilities hoisted upon us once we’re finished with school. And that’s terrifying. But that’s why we have our families, our friends, the church, and each other. No one can live in this world alone. People need other people to survive in this world. There’s nothing more tragic than a human being who spends their whole life in isolation.”

Gloria leans in to give me a warm embrace.

“You’re not alone Marco. I know the future is scary, but I’ll always be there to support you no matter what.”

I can hear how genuine Gloria is with her words, and I truly believe that she earnestly cares about my wellbeing…But I also know that it’s far too risky to admit what I’m anxious about.

“…Thank you, Gloria.”

I hug her tightly in response. It was at this moment I realized that perhaps I should talk to Elliot about my problem. Even though I know he’ll try to convince me that there’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing and that my perversion isn’t destroying my life, I also need to at least open up to an outsider about this.

Author’s Note: Yeah, my struggles aren’t improving much are they? Is there any point to me continuing to write this dumb story? I’m getting far more success with working on AI bots and I just feel frustrated and annoyed when I come back to LOVE. I originally started the story due to some writing group I joined that’s pretty much dead and people rarely if ever post on these days. I doubt anyone who visits this website even enjoys reading it and just wants to check out posts related to my AI bot work. I dunno, I guess I won’t completely give up on this story, but I also have to realize what gets me anything resembling success on the internet.

Tonight’s dinner is frittatas with minestrone. Mother always makes sure to cook us meals that are delicious and filling. Isabella will sometimes help out and while she’s also a great cook, mother can be a bit over controlling and prefers to cook by herself. There is plenty of conversation about how we spent the day. The beginning of the season means riding the fields of the old summer crops and replacing them with the seeds for the autumn produce. Father and mother work on the farm together. Isabella also helps out on the farm occasionally, but she’s at the age where it’s time for her to find a husband, so she can’t spend all of her time at home. Isabella’s been showing interest in the son of a nearby ranch, but his family doesn’t want the two to be married until she knows how to handle the animals there.

Dina and Erica are children, so their responsibilities are far fewer, but Dina’s boundless energy and unladylike behavior has been causing some mild conflict between her and mother. Erica doesn’t get into trouble as much and it’s clear that Dina’s jealous of her. I do worry about Erica and Dina coming to resent each other, but hopefully nothing too serious will occur. I too, also discussed my day with the others, specifically the part about the ‘unique’ stuffed bear that Gloria made for me, which caused some light discomforted laughter from the older family members. Once dinner was finished, father went back to reading a book and mother went to wash the dishes.

“Ready to head to the bath house?”

Isabella asks our younger sisters. Wednesday evenings are the ideal time for visiting the bath house as that’s when it has the fewest number of people inside. Dina and Erica nod their hods.

“Marco, do you want to come as well?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The four of us walk outside, where the world has been tinted orange from the sunset sky. The local bath house is a short walk from our farm, so we don’t have to fret too much about walking back home in the dark. Still, Isabella makes sure to keep Dina and Erica close to her. Even if the chances of something bad happening are small, you can never be too overprotective with children. We reach the bath house quickly and Isabella pays the owner at the front. I then part ways from my sisters as they enter the women’s bath and I enter the men’s bath. As expected, there’s no one else inside for me, and I can presume it’s the same on the women’s side. I begin to undress, and the more I strip, the more tense I feel.

Once I’m fully naked, I grab a bar of soap and sit inside one of the tubs. It’s odd, I have no real reason to dislike my body. I have good musculature, and the amount of female attention I got before getting serious with Gloria tells me that I have a handsome face as well. Yet there’s something about the times when I’m exposed during bathing, or even when I’m simply relieving myself at an outhouse, that makes me feel a strange sense of discomfort. As if my body isn’t my own and I’m merely inhabiting the body of a stranger. But this is obviously the God given body I’ve had since the day I was born, so the idea that this isn’t my real body is ludicrous.

It’s one of those things that I know I can never be honest about, less I want to risk becoming a target of ridicule. At the same time, I can’t deny that this is a problem. What’s going to happen if my and Gloria’s parents decide to approve of marriage for us, and the time comes for us to consummate that marriage? I can’t even imagine what life would be like for me if I had been born in a part of the world that was more hedonistic and sexual perversion was more rampant and encouraged. There’s no way I could survive in that environment. I remember a particularly vulgar classmate of mine once talked to me about ‘pleasuring himself’ and the idea made me feel sick to my stomach. Me not being overly lustful is obviously not a problem, but the reason why I’m not lustful is.

Despite these anxieties I have, I still make sure to clean myself properly. When I return to the front of the bath house my sisters aren’t there, but they show up not too long after me. The sun finishes setting as we walk back home. We don’t talk much during our walks to and from the bath house, but the sound of crickets chirping helps keep things from being too silent. Once we return home, it’s time for me to head to my room and start winding down before bed. Being the only son means that I have my own personal room, which is good for me because there are things I have in here that I can’t have anyone else know about. I lock my bedroom door and crawl under my bed.

“…Where is it? Damn it’s dark…”

I mutter to myself while searching under my bed before feeling a soft fabric.

“There it is.”

I crawl out from under the bed with the white camisole gripped in my right hand. It’s one of Isabella’s that she lost one day. It turns out she merely misplaced it while doing laundry, but I’m the only one in the house that discovered it and…I don’t know why, instead of doing the right thing and returning it to her, I took it back to my room and…I put on the camisole. Ever since that day, I’ll sometimes wear the camisole while alone in my room. I don’t know why, I have no romantic feelings for my older sister, and I find the idea repulsive. All I know is that wearing this camisole helps me relax. This is by far my most shameful secret. I dress down to my undergarments and put the camisole on. Isabella’s shorter than me, but the camisole isn’t so tight on me. I think this may be due to her large bust size.

I go to my desk and open the English textbook on there. I’m the most fluent in English out of all my family, and because of that whenever PearlCoin members make their monthly visit here, I always accompany father on his trips to purchase seeds and farming equipment from them. Our state’s relationship with PearlCoin is a strange one as PearlCoin is a cryptocurrency group and cryptocurrency being a modern technology is banned in all states of HOME. However, cryptocurrency groups like PearlCoin help protect us from possible attacks by LOVE, and thus we do need to tolerate some parts of the modern world in order to survive. Lately, my family’s been purchasing goods from a “Mr. C” who is one of many PearlCoin members to visit. He stands out with his modern hair and clothes, but he seems to be a nice enough man.

Creeaaaak

A door opens and I jump in my seat freaked out, with my heart beating at the speed of a modern day vehicle. I know my door’s locked, and it’s most likely just someone going out to get some water, but the possibility of being caught dressed like this is too much to bear even with that in mind. I decide to take the camisole off and place it back under the bed. I take a few deep breaths, and by the time I’m calm, I hear the footsteps return back to their bedroom door. I should probably get to bed.

The week passes by uneventfully. I spend my days at school, walking home with Gloria, being with my family, and hanging out with friends. Sunday is the day of the monthly PearlCoin visit, which means that after Sunday Mass, my father and I take a horse carriage to the borders to see if there’s anything interesting to buy. There are several other people traveling in their own carriages, and more will show up the closer we get to the border.

“…Potatoes, carrots, beets, broccoli…Oh, I think your mother said she wants to try making pickles, so we should get some cucumber seeds too.”

Father reads out the list of seeds to purchase to me as we ride to the border.

“We need to get a new axe too. The old one’s getting rusty…You know what, you’re at the age where I should teach you how to get fire wood.”

Father keeps talking out loud, not really needing a response from me. My nodding along is more than enough for him. It was raining quite heavily yesterday, giving today’s scenery a special ‘freshness’. A few leaves on the trees are starting to darken, showing the change from summer to autumn. It takes about two hours to travel to the border from our home, making these trips an affair that takes all day. Although it takes a while, a sign reading in Italian saying ‘YOU ARE NOW LEAVING THE STATE OF LA CHIESA CATTOLICA ITALIANA DISAPORA AND ENTERING INTO THE TERRITORY OF BUTTE. BE WARNED: THERE ARE NO LAWS HERE’ appears in our vision, along with some large trucks and men standing out in front of them.

We go to park the horse carriage, of which there’s a PearlCoin member to help us out with, and then head over to meet with Mr. C. He’s a tall man with dark short hair who always wears a tacky flower print shirt regardless of the season. I’m just amazed that there’s enough different tacky flower print shirts that someone could make it their entire fashion. My father’s English is terrible, so all the communication is left to me.

“Good afternoon Mr. C.”

I wave to him and he recognizes the two of us.

“Hey Marco. How’ve things been?”

He greets me casually, I guess you could say he likes me. My father tends to take a while to figure out what to buy, so the two of us like to talk together to pass the time. Although it’s inappropriate, I am curious about life outside of HOME, especially the lawless territories. But Mr. C doesn’t really like to devolve too many details about his life growing up. I kind of understand it, but at the same time, it’s not as if anyone in any state of HOME will ever care about who in the territories gets murdered by cryptocurrency groups or the rivalries that occur. My father steps into Mr. C’s truck to browse and I stay outside to chat with him.

“It’s the beginning of a new season, so we’re just here for seeds, and a new axe.”

“Ahh, you know, we got our hands on some pumpkin seeds, you think your family might want to grow pumpkins this fall?”

“I don’t know about that…”

Pumpkins don’t have the greatest reputation in our state. They’re association with the pagan holiday Halloween causes discomfort among older people here. Sure, most people my age don’t really care, but I’d rather not risk my family’s reputation right now.

“You sure? Pumpkins sell for good money.”

“Our farm’s small, so we like to stick with trusted crops.”

It’s not as if I’m lying with that statement.

“Alright, then, suit yourself.”

I peer into the truck and see my father still browsing around. Since PearlCoin only comes once a month, my father likes to take his time purchasing goods, and we’re usually some of the last people to leave.

“Anything interesting going on the territories?”

It’s something I always ask Mr. C when we meet. The first time I asked, he was a bit hesitant to reply, fearing that I’d be too disturbed by some of the events that occur in the territories, but I managed to convince him to tell me anyways, and regaled me a tale of a man getting castrated because he was a spy from a rival cryptocurrency group. I can see why he was hesitant about telling that story, but I’m the kind of Christian who enjoys the darker stories of the Bible, so disturbing tales like this intrigue me more than anything else.

“Ah well, not much has been going on.”

I hate answers like that.

“…I see. Is there anything we could talk about?”

Mr. C puts a hand behind his head.

“Well, uh…I’m not sure. I don’t want to talk about my personal life outside of PearlCoin for confidentiality reasons. I don’t know, what do you want to talk about?”

I think about it for a few seconds before responding.

“Have you ever been to LOVE? What’s it like?”

That response makes his eyes widen.

“…You’re an interesting one, but the answer to that is no. Only citizens of LOVE are allowed in LOVE and LOVE hates people in the territories just as much as they do HOME. In fact, I’d argue they hate the territories even more than HOME. The only information that we have about LOVE is from people who left LOVE for the territories.”

“And what have those people said about LOVE?”

“A lot. And almost all of it negative, but I’ll try to be as neutral as I can. Advanced technology and medical science, everyone lives in fancy towers and never go outside, there’s this whole thing about ‘killer spores’ that the citizens religiously believe in…It might as well be a different planet from the way people describe it.”

“Spores?”

“Yeah, it’s some crazy shit, everybody in LOVE sees the world outside of LOVE as some apocalypse where everyone is dead, sick, or fucked up from the effects of killer spores. I’ve met people from LOVE who despite hating everything else about LOVE, still believe in the spores and just think that everyone out here’s immune or somethin’.”

“Well, what’s to say they’re wrong?”

Mr. C is taken aback by my question.

“…Obviously they are.”

I hate answers like that.

“And how do we know? It’s not like the territories have any official means of studying that.”

He seems shocked by my response but tries to keep his composure.

“We have doctors and scientists who’ve studied this you know. And besides, if LOVE really was right about this spore stuff, do you think the world would’ve split off like it did?”

“I don’t see why that scenario is impossible to envision. Human beings love conflict, division, and ruining peace.”

Mr. C stares at me for a bit, unsure of what to say.

“…You’re a weird kid.”

Before I can say anything back, father comes back out with items he wants to purchase, forcing the conversation to end. After we finish buying our items, we start to head back to our home and my mind drifts back to the conversation I had with Mr. C.

Since HOME started off as place for people who rejected the ideology of LOVE, this means that for the past several decades, every person born and raised in HOME is taught about the evils of LOVE, but I’ve always been somewhat skeptical if everything that I’m taught about LOVE is true. There has not been a single person from any state of HOME that has lived in LOVE ever since the old world ended, so how could our people know everything there is to know about LOVE? Sure, there are cryptocurrency groups that visit, but they’re from the lawless territories and are obviously biased against any form of governance.

Of course, I’m not dumb enough to question what I’ve been taught. I remember once as a child, a friend of mine asked a teacher if it was really true that government officials from LOVE installed a pro-LOVE pope into the Vatican and was smacked with a ruler for it. I don’t blame my elders for that. A society can only stay strong if there’s cohesion and questioning the history of your society can destroy that cohesion. Sure, you have people like me who aren’t sure if they fully agree with everything they’re taught, but what the hell can I do? Just leave and go into the territories where someone could rape and murder me with ease?

Father and I arrive back home just as the sun starts to set. I can see Isabella braiding Dina and Erica’s hair, and they seem to be wearing flower crowns as well. She looks up and greets us.

“Oh, you two are early! Dinner still isn’t finished yet.”

I give her a light greeting before going into the backyard with father to put away the seeds and axe we purchased into the toolshed. I’m still in school, so I don’t need to help out with the farm yet, but since I’m the only son in the family, I will be inheriting it after I’m done with school. To be honest, I can’t say I’m thrilled at the prospect of spending my life growing food for the community, but someone has to do it, and I can’t just escape my future responsibility. I walk back to the front of my house to spend time with my sisters before dinner is ready. It looks like Isabella has finished braiding the younger ones’ hair, and even her hair has been braided as well.

I can’t help but feel a bit frustrated watching them. I do get along with my sisters, but because I’m male, I can’t really bond with them in the same way I could had I been born a girl. This feeling is another one of those things that I simply can’t be honest about. The most I’ve done is vaguely reference it around Gloria and she said something along the lines of “Well, you’re just a sensitive boy who understands women, no need to be ashamed of it, in fact, that part of you is what I love the most about you”. While I do appreciate her positive outlook on it, there’s just something that gnaws at me. This feeling of ‘not fitting in’ and ‘not feeling right’. These are emotions I know I can’t speak about to most people, and because they’re not really sinful thoughts, I can’t go to confession for them either.

Well, I did go to confession once about the camisole thing but…The fact that I’m still doing it shows how well that worked.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay. I’m struggling a bit with this arc. I think it’s because I’ve had to create an entire cast of new characters whom practically all of them won’t make anymore appearances beyond this arc. There’s other issues as well (real life stuff as I work on becoming less of a NEET, mixed with general procrastination), but I think that’s the main struggle I’m having with this arc.

The classroom is filled with the boisterous sound of students loudly talking. Everyone seems to be excited for the weekend. Can’t say I blame them. The new school year only just started, and the summer heat hasn’t died off yet. I am not part of the noise, however. I was up late last night out with friends, and the fatigue is really hitting me. The fact that my seat is by the window, and I can feel the sun’s afternoon warmth only makes me even more sleepy.

“Alright class, settle down please.”

The history teacher Sister Adelaide enters the classroom. Unfortunately for her, none of the other students have heard her and are continuing with their noise.

“E-hem! It is time for history class, so quiet down!”

She raises her voice to try and get the class to calm down, but to no avail. My classmates aren’t getting quiet, and one of the boys even brandishes his middle finger towards Sister Adelaide. This is the last straw for her.

*Thud*

“Quiet! All of you! Right now!”

She furiously slams a textbook onto the desk while yelling at the top of her lungs. It’s more than enough to quiet down the class and wake me up. All the students rush to their seats and settle down in a flash, but it’s not enough to quell Sister Adelaide’s anger.

“Damiano! Come to the front of the class!”

She points a ruler at the boy who gave her the finger. His face has been drained of all color. I don’t know what he was expecting, he should’ve seen this coming. He’s violently shaking and petrified by fear.

“I said, come to the front of the class!”

Another thud sounds out from another textbook being slammed down. This is enough to get Damiano moving. He slowly but surely makes his way up to the teacher’s desk. Sister Adelaide looks at him with pure disgust as he does so.

“Pull your trousers down and bend over.”

Damiano looks like he’s about to burst into tears as he knows what’s going to happen. As he starts unbuttoning his trousers, I can’t help but feel baffled by his actions. If you hate punishment that much, why go out of your way to upset a teacher like that? What a moron. Once his pale buttocks are out, some of the students start snickering and whispering to each other.

“I suggest the rest of you keep quiet, unless you want to be punished too.”

Sister Adelaide is able to get the class to quiet down again and she walks over to Damiano with her ruler in hand. The sound of the ruler slapping against Damiano’s skin soon fills the room. It’s a light punishment, only ten lashes. Regardless, Damiano’s rear end is quite red by the end of it and a few tears are falling down his face. He gets redressed and then somberly walks back to his desk.

“…Now that we’re through with that delay, let’s get started.”

Sister Adelaide begins to write on the blackboard and proceeds to start class normally, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Today, we’re going to be discussing the history of the Vatican. Specifically, how LOVE managed to steal it away from The Catholic Church.”

Ah, I know about this, my father told me about it years ago. The Vatican was once the most vital area to The Church long ago. Where all high ranking members lived. To make a long story short, the wealthy elites behind the creation of LOVE despite being atheists knew that they needed to gain control of the most holy spots on the planet if they wanted to control most of the world’s population. It was surprisingly easy for them; all they had to do was bribe the members of the Roman Curia to let them kill the then current pope and then install a new pope who would act as a puppet for LOVER politics.

Soon enough, the pope declared that Vatican City would become a province of LOVE, which lead to disarray among Catholics. Although groups such as Old Catholics and Sedevacantists used to be controversial among Catholics, once LOVE took over the Vatican, every Catholic outside of LOVE had to deal with the Protestant nightmare of high amounts of branching off into various different groups. Where I live, we simply refer to our church as La Chiesa cattolica italiana Disapora It’s essentially the church for Italian Catholics who aren’t from LOVE and are far from our motherland of Italy.

According to the history books, the story goes that roughly 200 years ago, millions of poor farmers in Italy left the country in the hopes of finding better pastures. My ancestors ended up moving to the United States, a large country that prided itself on its freedom and being a “melting pot” of various people from all over the world. Unfortunately, those values turned out to be a lie. Italians living in America were violently discriminated against and seen as slimeballs who did nothing but engage in criminal activity. We were only accepted and given “freedom” once we could be stereotyped as charismatic crime bosses in entertainment.

Not only that, but as the years went by, we slowly lost more of our culture as Italians in America stopped speaking out native language and started to be seen more as just “typical white Americans” who use a lot of hand gestures. The “melting pot” did nothing but melt away our identity. In a strange way, the destruction of the old world was a bit of a blessing for us. Sure, we’re still far away from Italy and our chances of getting to return are slim, but thanks to the formation ofHOME and our state specifically, we’ve managed to rebuild some of our innate culture that was lost to Americanization. Italian has become the mother tongue again (although we do learn English in school if only to communicate with the PearlCoin members who visit), we started to celebrate holidays and traditions that had become forgotten in diaspora and have even made sure to give our state a special Italian flair in terms of how our building look.

The story of our state is always told with a deep reverence here and while there are aspects of it that do impress me, I’m not swooned with deep emotion every time someone brings it up. Don’t get me wrong, I like being Italian and I think it’s neat that my birth language is the same language as my homeland, it’s just…well, what’s the point of being excited about being Italian when I know I’ll never get to visit Italy? I once learned in class that international travel used to be a common luxury in the old world, but that was no longer the case after the collapse. These days all air and sea travel is controlled by either LOVE government officials or members of cryptocurrency groups, and you have to be insanely wealthy if you want to be able to use one of their planes or boats. Sure, there are cars and motorbikes, but those are illegal in HOME and even if they weren’t, it’s not as if I can drive across the Atlantic Ocean.

“…Marco…Marco!”

The sound of Sister Adelaide’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I can see that she’s standing right in front of my desk. This isn’t good.

“…For how many years were the Papal States active?”

Oh, good. A question that I know the answer to.

“Approximately 1,114 years Sister. They ended in 1870 with the capture of Rome which would then be followed by the unification of Italy in 1871.”

Sister Adelaide gives an annoyed sigh and heads back to the front of the classroom to continue the lesson. You see, unlike Damiano, I’m not an idiot and I know how to avoid punishment. I like to learn, but I also find school boring, so I usually do all of my studying at home and then use class time to daydream and sleep. I don’t know what it is about school that makes learning new things so painfully dull, but I guess it doesn’t matter as long as my scores are good.

The rest of the class goes by without any further incident and the bell signaling the end of the school day chimes loudly. I quickly gather my school supplies before leaving the classroom. I know Gloria doesn’t have anything to do this afternoon, so I figured I’d pick her up. Her classroom is right across the hallway from my classroom. I peer my head in the class and wave at girl with silky blonde hair and she joyously bounces up to me.

“Marco!”

Gloria wraps her arm around mine and we walk out of the school building.

“You’re not with you friends today?”

“I was with them almost all last night. I just want to get some sleep.”

“That’s not healthy Marco! You shouldn’t abuse your body like that!”

 Gloria lightly admonishes me for my poor sleeping habits. Gloria and I have been romantic for a few months now. We’ve known each other since childhood as my family likes to sell crops to her family’s shop, but it was only recently that Gloria confessed her romantic feelings for me. And although I don’t feel the same strong level of romantic affection as she does, I do like her enough that I accepted her feelings with no problem. While both of our parents aren’t fully sure if they want us married, they’re not against our relationship either. Plus, being Gloria’s lover has helped to quell rumors that some students were spreading about me being a homosexual.

“Look, I like to be with my friends, and sometimes that means staying out late. I don’t do it all the time, and certainly not multiple days in a row. I’ll be getting plenty of sleep tonight.”

I give Gloria a light kiss on her forehead. She holds my face as I do so.

“Um…You…You can kiss me on the lips you know.”

She stares at me with a hopeful look on her face. To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for me to be Gloria’s first kiss, but if she really wants it, then I’d probably be hurting her by not doing it.

“…Alright…”

I lean into her and the two of us share our first kiss together. It’s a light kiss, no need to go any further than necessary. Although our kiss was light, the two of us can’t help but gaze into each other’s eyes for what was probably only a minute or two but felt much longer.

“We…We really need to hurry home.”

Gloria breaks the silence, and we continue on our way. It’s odd. I’ve read about first kisses in stories before and have heard others talk about them. From the way adults go about it, getting your first kiss is a powerful moment, only topped by losing your virginity. And yet, that kiss with Gloria, while it felt nice, didn’t feel powerful. I don’t feel like I’ve gained anything new from it, and I don’t really understand what was so special about it. Gloria seems to feel the opposite of me though. She looks spaced out, her face has a slight blush on it, and she can’t stop fiddling with the rosary beads she’s wearing.

“Umm…So Marco, I know your birthday was two weeks ago…It’s just…”

Gloria stops suddenly and starts looking through her bag.

“I…I’ve been making you a gift for the past few months and I finally finished it!”

She pulls out a small patchwork stuffed bear from her bag. The stitching is awkward, giving the bear an odd mix of colors and patterns. Its ears are different sizes and the eyes are…”unique”, to put it politely. It’s obviously the work of a novice and would unnerve most children.

“I’ve been practicing making toys before, but this is my first completed project!”

Gloria beams in pride, not caring about how rough the bear looks.

“Thanks…You really didn’t need to do this you know.”

I graciously take the bear from her. Although the bear may be unpleasant to the eyes, it’s still a (late) birthday gift from Gloria and more importantly, the first toy she’s made. It’d be cruel to reject it.

“Of course I didn’t need to do it! I just wanted to!”

She grabs a hold of my arm again, and we keep walking. We talk a little about our day before arriving at the small farm that is my home. I can see my older sister Isabella waving to us.

“Hello you two! How was schoo-ghek!”

As she comes to greet us, she notices the stuffed bear in my hands and stops in her tracks.

“Um, Marco…What is that thing?”

Isabella is trying to stay composed, but it’s clear that the bear is creeping her out.

“It’s a late birthday present I made for him!”

Gloria answers her question before I can say anything, seemingly unaware that my sister doesn’t like how the bear looks at all.

“O-Oh really? Well, th-that’s so sweet of you…”

Isabella does her best to compliment Gloria, though I can tell that she’s struggling and wants to run away screaming from the bear.

“I can’t stay to talk unfortunately. My mother’s sick with a cold, so I need to help father out at the store. I’ll see you two later!”

Gloria waves goodbye and walks off into the distance back to her home. Once she’s out of eyesight, Isabella whispers into my ear.

“You can throw that disturbing bear away if you want. I can even make up a story if you need it.”

…I know the bear isn’t great to look at, but is this level of animosity really necessary?

“I’m not going to do that; this is a gift from Gloria!”

“…Alright, I understand, just-just try to keep it out of sight, will you? We wouldn’t want to be giving Dina and Erica nightmares now, would we?”

So she says, but it’s obvious she’s more concerned about herself having nightmares rather than our younger sisters.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I head inside of the house. Here, I can see my mother preparing dinner, and my father sitting in front of the fireplace reading a book.

“Hello Marco. How was school?”

Mother looks up from the vegetables she’s cutting to greet me. Father sets his book aside to do the same.

“It was fine. One of my classmates was foolish enough to think giving Sister Adelaide the finger wouldn’t end poorly for him. Nothing too interesting happened beyond that.”

My father starts to grimace a bit. At first, I thought it was perhaps that he was reminiscing about a painful experience with Sister Adelaide in his youth, but then he started walking closer and examining the bear Gloria gave me.

“…Marco, would you mind telling me what the hell that thing is?”

“It’s a gift from Gloria. She made it as a late birthday present.”

Father frowns as he examines the bear, scratching his beard.

“…Look, I know Gloria’s excited about learning to make toys, but she needs to understand that you’re too old for that kind of thing. You’re practically a man now. There’s no need for you to own a toy bear, and especially not one that looks like…that.”

“I understand, but I just can’t throw it out either.”

I head to my bedroom. Because I’m the only boy amongst my siblings, I have a bedroom all to myself while my sisters share a different one. I place the bear on a desk, take my shoes off, and lie in bed. The weariness of being out late last night gets to me and I soon fall asleep.

Life has always been simple for me, but it wasn’t always easy. While my father and I have a good relationship now, that wasn’t always the case. When I was little, I couldn’t really get along with other boys my age, so I chose to spend time with my sisters instead. My father really didn’t like this, especially since I liked to crochet with Isabella. Yet when I tried to get along with the other boys at school, it always ended with me being pushed in the mud, punched in the face, or both. I didn’t know why they disliked me so much, but looking back I understand now that it’s because I was a bit of a moron as a child and didn’t really understand the difference between “being feminine” and “being masculine”. It’s not that I disliked “boy activities”. I always wanted to join the other boys, whether it be playing tag in the forest or squishing random bugs. It’s just that I had a terrible habit of being too open about my enjoyment of “girl activities” such as crochet and picking random flowers in the outdoors.

It wasn’t until I was about ten years old that I finally understood that was the reason why I was so disliked by other boys. I realized that if I were to get along with the other boys, then I needed to start hiding my enjoyment of “girl activities” and stop hanging out with my sisters so much. Of course, this was a slow process, but after getting into a fight with another boy and pushing him headfirst into horse manure, I was finally accepted by the other boys. Getting male friends also made my father happy, and that was the most important part. Honesty is the worst policy, and the hyper individualism of the old world is what led to its eventually collapse and the creation of the horrid state of LOVE. If society doesn’t approve of you, then it’s up to you to change yourself for society. Forcing society to change for you is the epitome of selfishness, especially if you don’t represent the majority.

A loud knock at my bedroom door stirs me awake, and the door opens revealing Dina and her messy hair.

“Dinner’s ready Marco!”

Author’s Note: Holy shit I finally made another chapter of this fucking story after God knows how long. Not only were there the typical issues of procrastination and laziness, I also lacked a general motivation to write more, but I guess posting my writing online has given me that motivation I needed. Still, it is a bit stressful trying to flesh out the HOME part of this world a bit more (especially trying to portray Catholics when I grew up protestant). I actually have a bit of my own personal ‘bible’ to use for writing this story and I’ve actually been changing a lot of what I originally wrote in there because it wasn’t satisfying. On a final note, I want to make it clear that I didn’t invoke the whole thing of the pope being killed by LOVE because of Pope Francis’ recent death. That is merely a coincidence.