… denotes narration
--- denotes a change of time and/or scenery
Italicized are thoughts.
---
In the crisp morning air, a boy walks down the sidewalk alone. He is tall by Japanese standards at 188 centimeters, though his slumping, thin shoulders give him a lanky way of walking. He checks the time on his cell phone. For whatever reason he feels like wearing a watch is something that only businessmen and old folks do.
The time is 7:58. The boy smiles cryptically- or so he likes to think. To any casual observer he would just look crazy.
This is the perfect time of day.
He shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his blue jeans. He vaguely realizes that his “probably one size too small” black KISS T-shirt definitely isn’t enough protection against the cool wind, but the fact doesn’t really bother him. After the band swept through Japan the previous winter, KISS was all the rage with high school girls, just as they had been off and on for thirty years.
He runs a hand through his short black hair, which juts out oddly in certain directions despite its length. This is not some kind of hairstyle; it is simply how he awoke that morning. His hair is short for that reason- so he doesn’t have to choose a hairstyle and maintain that look every day. The black skate shoes on his feet clap against the sidewalk in a regular rhythm.
In his mind he is the epitome of American style. In actuality he is some tall, scrawny guy who sticks out and blends in at the same time. He sits down on a bench. Not just any bench, though. This bench has been specifically chosen for a special purpose. Its location is one which has been staked out for months. Its very existence has been handed down from young man to young man for nigh on four years now.
The bench is nine years old. So, one must wonder why the bench became such a landmark in the past four years of its life.
Mitsugi Jirou sits down casually, pulling his foot up over his opposing knee and letting it rest there. From his backpack he pulls out an American magazine and begins to read it. The setup, in his mind at least, is perfect. The time is perfect. Everything is perfect- the same way it has been for three days now. Jirou mentally sighed.
Three days of work with no results. Today, on the fourth day, I will succeed.
Sitting in the exact area between two train stations and a four-year old local high school, Mitsugi Jirou waits for his next… first… chance.
…
That was how the story started, in Jirou’s mind at least.
Mitsugi Jirou is a pathetic excuse for a human being. Sitting there on that bench, freshly returned from yet another trip to America to visit his parents, he attempts to pick up high school girls on their way to school. Jirou himself is two years past his own high school graduation.
Chapter 01: Missed Lunch
...
“Helloooo? Jirou-senpai?” The older boy looked up slowly, his eyes focused on something far, far in the distance that probably didn’t exist. Next to him sat his acquaintance, Tanaka Kentaro. The younger one was thin like Jirou, but a relatively normal 162 centimeters in height. He wore a simple untucked white buttoned shirt with a dark green tie and black pants: a school uniform. His hair was longer than Jirou’s but still short, pulled into even clumps by sticky hair gel. Kentaro leaned in front of his companion’s face and looked into his blank eyes.
Finally, he tapped lightly on the center of Jirou’s forehead. The older one’s eyes slowly came back into focus. A few long moments later, he finally realized that he was not alone on his bench. “Oooh,” he drawled, his voice scratchy from disuse.
“Jirou-senpai, are you OK?”
“What time is it?”
“Everyone who was walking towards the stations gave you strange looks.”
“’Towards’? Time, what is?” Kentaro checked his watch, prompting a grim frown from Jirou.
“About four in the afternoon, I guess.” Jirou tilted his head back and slowly drew in a large breath of air through his nose. “I guess your plan was unsuccessful today as well, considering how spaced out you were. Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting there since this morning.” Kentaro didn’t speak with a word of surprise; his elder was a very weird person with an infinite number of quirks, none of which were handsome or endearing.
“Yeah,” Jirou responded as he let the breath out. He stared up at the budding maple leaves on the tree above the bench. “After so much planning, even going so far as to advertise the fact that I’m bilingual and have just come back from a trip abroad… This is ‘no success number four’.”
“Perhaps you’re expecting too much from them,” the voice of reason Kentaro suggested. “You of all people should know that most Japanese wouldn’t approach you just for those reasons, even
if they somehow noticed them.” Jirou still stared upward, a discontent frown spreading across his face.
“I thought high school girls these days were easily infatuated with foreigners.”
“’These days’? It’s only been a couple years since you graduated, senpai. Girls haven’t changed that much. Besides, you hardly look like a foreigner.”
“Jeez… I thought I had found the perfect way to introduce myself to girls…”
“To do that you would have to approach a girl first, senpai,” Kentaro pointed out in an even, nonjudgmental tone.
“Hmm…”
“You realize that’s the root of this particular problem, right?”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Even if you don’t admit it, it’s still a problem. Besides the fact that you’re…” Jirou’s eyes narrowed as his acquaintance trailed off.
“That I’m… what?” he questioned.
“A NEET,” came the smooth and bitter truth from Kentaro’s voicebox.
“Oh, that,” nonchalantly replied Jirou.
“You shouldn’t brush that fact aside so easily, senpai. Did you fill out those university applications I gave you last week?” Jirou, still staring upwards (though now past the tree and up at the afternoon sky), scratched his cheek. “I assume that’s a negative answer.”
“You should never assume; it makes an ass out of you and me.”
“Huh?” Finally Jirou brought his chin back down to Earth and smiled at his friend.
“Nevermind, it’s kind of an English play on words… kind of thing. Even though it’s only one word, though… I can’t remember the exact term.”
“See, senpai? You are really intelligent! They say English is one of the hardest languages to learn. You can speak better English than most of my teachers. Why not try to become an English teacher?”
“Because I can’t stand kids,” Jirou swiftly countered.
“You can teach high school English!” Kentaro replied with the same quickness. Jirou opened his mouth, but his companion interrupted him. “And before you try to say that you can’t stand high school
kids, keep in mind the fact that you sat here all day waiting for one of those exact same high school
kids to approach you so you can have some kind of female social contact.”
Without missing a beat, Jirou said, “Oh, I thought you’d get mad because I implied you were a kid.”
“I am a kid… compared to you, Ojisan.” Kentaro couldn’t help but laugh a little at his own joke, even though Jirou had no reaction besides an unrelated yawn.
“Right about now I should be getting a letter from a long-lost aunt, who is on her deathbed and needs me to watch her all-female dorm. Or an acceptance letter to an all-girl university which got put into the wrong envelope and arrived with my bank statement…” Jirou sighed loudly.
“You read too much manga, senpai.”
“That, young man, I admit to be true,” he stated with a reserved nod. “What a waste of a day.”
“Oh, did you have something planned?” Kentaro piped up again, suddenly curious if his senior was making some kind of turnaround in behavior.
“Yeah, I was supposed to meet some girl this morning and walk her home tonight. Oh! Your parents are away on business? Mine as well! And they left you home alone? Well, that’s not a bad thing. I’ll step up and be your bodyguard.” Jirou laughed raucously as the conversation continued in his muddled brain.
“You have serious issues, senpai,” a disappointed Tanaka Kentaro spoke to deaf ears.
“Someone’s looking awfully cheerful today!” Jirou suddenly sat straight up at the female voice, but slumped over once more when he recognized its source. “Jeez, Hikikomori-chi, don’t look so happy to see me.”
“I am not a hikikomori, and I recall asking you before to stop using that phrase around me!” Jirou objected, suddenly jumping to his feet. Tanaka Hikari stood her ground firmly, though Jirou was much taller than she. Her black hair was pulled back in a single ponytail, with a few stray strands escaping to the left side of her forehead. She wore a white shirt and dark green tie just like Kentaro, though her sensible-length black skirt and long stockings set her apart from him. Her breasts were a large B-cup, by Jirou’s estimations. After just a few moments of mental battle, Jirou was defeated and fell back to the bench.
“Hey, sister. Newspaper club ended early today?” Kentaro asked softly. She smiled and nodded at him. His younger twin sister, Hikari, had recently become interested in his older friend Jirou. She shoved her body between Kentaro’s and Jirou’s, intentionally rubbing her thigh against Jirou’s. Jirou scrunched himself against the bench’s armrest, but found it to be nothing more than an encumbrance to his escape.
“Jirou-chi, how come you’re always slinking away from me like that?” her soft voice called, sending shivers down Jirou’s back.
“You’re only sixteen, Hikari-san; that’s why!” he explained in a strained voice.
“Even someone as lecherous as him has to have some kind of minimum age limit,” Kentaro added with a light chuckle. Hikari leaned towards her target, pushing her breasts against his arm.
“Oh, Jirou-chi, when will you come to realize that a four year difference in age is no big deal?” she pouted.
“It’s simply a matter of principle,” he said through gritted teeth. “Ask me again when I’m 24 and you’re 20. Rookie, can’t you do something? She is your twin sister, right? Don’t you have some kind of subliminal link with her that you can use to take over her body?” Kentaro smiled happily.
“That’s only for emergencies.”
“This
is an emergency!” he cried as Hikari nuzzled his shoulder.
“And on that happy note, I’m going to get some juice. You guys want some?”
“Peach for me!” Hikari cheerfully replied as she wrapped her arms around Jirou’s, seemingly doing everything in her power to be as close as physically possible to him.
“Yes, please abandon me in this hopeless situation,” Jirou added despondently.
“OK, so it’s peach for Hikari and Yakult for Jirou?” Kentaro asked with a smile before disappearing in the direction of some vending machines.
“How can you drink that stuff?” Hikari asked after a moment of silence, slowly inching away from Jirou’s stiff carcass.
“It’s good for intestinal health. Because I’m not a good cook and I live alone, my stomach is assaulted with all kinds of foodstuffs not normally intended or designed for human consumption. Yakult helps me take care of my stomach and digest these food-like items,” he replied as he brushed his shirt off.
“With the ease of that explanation, it seems like you’ve been asked that question before,” she said in a modest tone that was far too similar to her brother’s to seem acceptable to Jirou.
“Hey! A lot of people drink Yakult! It’s very popular!” he yelled in defense of his preferred beverage.
“I could come over and cook for you sometime, ya know. I’m actually a pretty decent cook; just ask Kentaro!”
“It’s pointless!” he yelled, holding up a hand between them. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. We’ve only know each other for a few months.”
“I offered! How can you say no to someone offering a well-cooked meal, especially after you just complained about how horrible your cooking is? Kentaro can accompany me if you’re worried that something would happen.”
An image of Hikari unbuckling his belt as his hands and feet were tied, a baseball bat in the background and a huge bump on his head, popped into his head as loud ‘DOOOOM’ sound rang out. His face suddenly paled.
“I’ve purged my mind of all thoughts about girls younger than eighteen,” Jirou responded nervously. Hikari thoughtfully put a finger to her mouth.
“Oh, I always thought you’d be one of those lolicon types, ya know?” With a cry of resignation, Mitsugi Jirou fell forward onto the ground face first. “Those kinds of theatrics only happen in manga, ya know. Keep doing that kind of thing and you’ll break a bone.”
“No… only my pride,” he muttered from the pavement.
“Oh, I see we’re having a good time,” Kentaro stated lightly as he returned. He handed Hikari her can of juice. “And one Yakult for senpai’s stomach condition,” he added as he placed the small bottle on Jirou’s upended rear.
“Thank you,” he grunted as he finally pulled himself off the ground, but only after a couple women walked by and pointed out the tall, narcoleptic kid on the ground. “So, you’re in the Newspaper Club, Hikari-san?”
“You don’t have to call me ‘Hikari-san’, ya know,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes. “But yes, I am. I’m the club vice president’s assistant.”
“Oh, such a high position,” Jirou noted sarcastically.
“For a first-year member, yes. Unfortunately it keeps me away from my beloved Jirou-chi, who only appears in the afternoons after school for some reason.”
Thank God Kentaro hasn’t told her my reason for being here. Even if she is only sixteen, she’s the only female contact I have. To understand women… is a man’s greatest achievement.
“Oh, he comes here in hopes that some third-year student will hit on him,” Kentaro explained casually. “But lately he’s been coming before class as well.” Hikari turned from her brother to look at Jirou, whose face was nothing short of that of Death itself. He was mortification personified. However, Hikari simply shrugged.
“So he’s shy. That’s so cute! At least he’s out here trying instead of sitting at home on his PC looking at online personals all day.” Jirou remained mortified as he remembered doing just that for a period of six months just after graduation.
“It’s getting kinda late. We should be on our way,” Kentaro said quietly.
“Jirou-chi, my offer still stands,” Hikari stated as she stood. “Call me anytime! Oh, but not tonight. I’m having a meeting with some of my club members to discuss the end-of-semester issue coming up.”
“Any outgoing females? I
could drop by, in that case- Ow…” he whimpered as she flicked him gently on his forehead.
“See ya,” Kentaro said with a wave.
“Bye-bye!” added his sister.
---
Mitsugi Jirou walked home in the same manner as the morning: hands shoved in his pockets, checking his cell for the time every so often. His mind was nearly blank, as usual. After all, concentrating on today’s failures would only lead to the same result tomorrow.
So my whole life is a failure, then?
It was Tuesday, so he entered the convenience store on the same block as his apartment building. The attendant greeted him cheerfully; most of the workers knew his face well. He did the same thing every Tuesday. He filled out a form to receive a wire transfer from his parents. Although he knew this was a factor in his NEET lifestyle, he didn’t mind. Turning down free money was like turning down…
Like turning down a free meal? Nah…
Well, free money was a good thing.
Afterwards he returned to his small apartment on the fifth floor of a ten story building. In his mind it was kind of a symbol of his life, where everything was in the middle. Nothing was particularly good or bad about his life. Jirou lived alone as a NEET while his parents supplied him with money. Both of them had moved to America to pursue their careers after he had graduated.
Or, more precisely, his parents left on his graduation day. They came to his graduation ceremony with their suitcases.
But who am I to berate their odd behavior? The fruit never falls far from the tree, as the saying goes.
Jirou’s apartment wasn’t very large. The entry door was on the right side of the apartment, and the apartment spread forward and to the left of the door. The main living area was his bedroom, living room and dining room, all wrapped into one. The kitchen and bathroom were both on the far left side of the apartment, as one would see it entering from the door. His futon was on the ground in front of the wall which separated these two special rooms, thus making it the best place to be close to both the toilet and food. In the far right corner and across from the door was his TV, complete with his parent’s old surround sound system (which featured two of five working speakers) and three gaming systems. On the wall to the right of the television was a shelf half-full of DVDs- mostly anime and samurai movies- and half-full of video games. To the TV’s left was a rather tall bookshelf full of manga tankoubon. Piles of shounen, seinen and shoujo magazines were spread all over the floor of that area.
Directly in front of the TV and in the center of the room was a black couch. It was actually old and yellow; the black cloth was only a cover. A blanket lay next to the couch, as that was where Jirou had fallen asleep last night. Just behind the couch sat a simple old wood table and two chairs. On the table were a number of college applications (partially filled out), a small stack of bills, his laptop (the building was WiFi enabled and the service a part of rent), and more manga.
In the near left corner of the room, on the wall between the bathroom and the entryway, were two suitcases, a hamper full of dirty clothes, and a pile of empty cardboard boxes. Jirou was a big fan of buying things online, especially things from America. He always kept the boxes, just in case he decided to sell the product again later on.
As he stood in his kitchen, Jirou yawned and pulled a ham sandwich out of his fridge. This was supposed to have been his lunch, but since he had spaced out all day long, he’d missed that opportunity. Oddly enough, he realized that he wasn’t any more hungry than usual.
Then again, sitting on a bench all day staring out into space probably doesn’t burn that many calories.
After eating he realized that it was nearly nine p.m. The past four hours he’d spent reading new manga and playing games had passed quickly. He switched on his TV and watched his favorite anime for a couple hours, then fell asleep on his couch again.
---
What seemed like only a few moments later, Mitsugi Jirou was awakened by a pounding at his door. He immediately shivered and looked around the room. Finding nothing out of the ordinary (besides the furious pounding on his door), he approached the door, unlocked it and pulled it open.
He didn’t even see her enter his apartment. Suddenly and inexplicably, Tanaka Hikari had her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down just a little and pushing him back away from the door. After he got over her apparent teleportation, Jirou realized that she was crying, so much so that he could already feel the wet sensation seeping through his T-shirt. Behind the pair was Kentaro. Jirou noticed his face looked positively grim as his friend slowly closed the door. Kentaro silently removed his shoes and entered the apartment, taking a seat at the wood table.
Jirou was absolutely lost. Not only was he groggy due to the fact that he had just woken up, but he was totally confused at the situation which had been thrust upon him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a person cry so uncontrollably. Jirou wasn’t sure what to do to comfort Hikari. He gingerly placed a hand on her back, loosely guiding her into the room. He slowly set her down on his couch, and she finally let go of him. She pulled a pillow against her face, muffling her sobbing.
After a few moments of indecision, Jirou took a seat next to the white-faced Kentaro.
“Kentaro… What happened?”
“I… I don’t really know…” Jirou remained silent as he waited for a further explanation. The younger man swallowed hard before continuing, staring forward at nothing much like Jirou had earlier in the day. “I guess one of the Newspaper Club members was killed as she walked home from our house,” he said with utmost care, pronouncing every word as if he was reading it out of an unfamiliar book. “The police decided we shouldn’t stay be around the neighborhood for a couple days since our parents aren’t around. Sorry… I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,” the boy stated with a weak smile. “I ended up coming here based on your address in the phone book. Even though we’ve only known each other for a few months… None of my aunts or uncles live nearby…”
His counterpart held up his hand in protest. “Don’t apologize. That’s… Geez, I don’t really… I’ve never been in this kind of situation…” Jirou stuttered. “By all means, both of you can stay here until you feel it’s safe to return.” Jirou was absolutely blown away by what had just occurred. He unsteadily rose and approached his futon. Reaching under the futon for a few moments, he finally extracted his hand. In his hand was-
“W-what is that?” Kentaro asked in a small, quiet voice.
“A SIG-Sauer P232.” Jirou looked down the short titanium blue barrel of the handgun. “I bought it on a whim a few months ago and took some shooting lessons. After a while the recoil began hurting my arm so badly that I couldn’t stand it… so I dropped out of the class.” There was no sharp and disappointed-sounding response from Kentaro this time. On the contrary, he simply stared at the gun, his black eyes wide and afraid. Jirou still hadn’t seen the boy blink.
They really are just sixteen year old kids, high school freshmen. What changes a person in those short years… into a type of person like me? What changes a human from something that fears a gun into someone who feels so at ease holding one with minimal training? Am I really this strange of a person?
“I only have a few rounds… It’s just piece of mind, I suppose,” Jirou muttered quietly, making up excuses as he went along.
Why am I so embarrassed by this?
“I guess I never really saw you as the kind of person who would own a gun,” Kentaro explained slowly, showing some small signs of recovering from the shock.
“It’s not really for protection or anything… Like I said, I bought it on an impulse.” His shoulders slumped a bit. “I hope you don’t think even less of me because of this thing.” Kentaro weakly held up a hand in protest but said nothing. “In any case, the two of you should get to sleep. You’ve both got school in the morning…” Kentaro peered over his shoulder at the couch.
“Hikari already cried herself to sleep,” he said in a bland tone.
Poor girl.
“You can use my futon. I haven’t slept there since before I washed it last, so it’s clean…” Jirou stood and pulled his spare blanket over Hikari’s sleeping form. He suppressed the urge to wipe the tears from her cheek.
“What about you?”
“Hm?” Jirou responded, pretending not to hear.
“What about you, senpai? Where’re you going to sleep?” Jirou shivered again and finally realized that his window was open.
That’s weird. I don’t remember opening the window. Must have been the wind.
He spun on his heel and faced Kentaro. “Don’t worry about it. NEETs like me have a habit of sleepless nights. Oh, and maybe you could help me with these applications tomorrow…” Jirou trailed off as he heard a snoring sound. He realized that Kentaro had already collapsed onto his futon. “Geez… You must have been exhausted, Rookie.”
Jirou set the gun inside an unused drawer in his kitchen before turning off all the apartment’s lights. He waited patiently for his laptop to get up to speed, drinking another small bottle of Yakult. Wasting time was something he excelled at. Logging into his email account, he noticed a mail from an unfamiliar address. Usually this was some type of spam, but for some reason he felt compelled to open it.
‘From
xxxxxx1983@xxxxx.com
‘Remember that wonderful lunch we shared in Los Angeles? Wasn’t it just glorious? It was the best day of my life. I’m coming to Japan for a semester. I want to find you. In fact, by the time you get this delayed email, I may already be in Japan. I’ll find you, and perhaps we can share lunch again! Remember what you said, though.
‘I’ll only share my lunch with you.’’
That’s weird… I wasn’t anywhere near L.A. while I was visiting my parents. Could it be a case of mistaken identity? A mistyped email address?
Try as he may, he couldn’t recall anything about the events described in the email and eventually decided it must have been someone’s mistake. However, by the wording of the mail, the writer seemed kinda… well, insane.
And coming from me, that’s an insult.
---
Later that morning Kentaro’s eyes cracked open. For a few sleepy moments, he pondered his surroundings. The events of the previous night flooded back into his mind, and he began to feel a headache already growing in the back of his skull.
He squinted in the sunlight which poured through the apartment’s window.
Wait a sec; sunlight?! Crap! I’m gonna be so late to school!
Kentaro jumped to his feet and was quickly greeted by his senior and his sister sitting at the small table in front of the couch. “Good morning,” Jirou commented calmly from behind a newspaper.
“What time is it?!” Kentaro demanded.
“Check it yourself, Mr. Watch-wearer.” Ken did as he was told.
“It’s 10-
freaking-thirtyyyyy!” After the echo had died away, Hikari stood and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder.
“Jirou-chi called the school. Of course they already knew the situation… and agreed that we are allowed to miss classes today,” she explained in a sure and confident way. By her tone of voice Kentaro could tell that she was still shaken up over what had happened, but she seemed to be handling it well. “Why don’t you sit down?” she asked, and he did so.
Kentaro finally noticed that Jirou was sitting on some kind of old barstool across from Hikari, with an empty chair sitting between them. Jirou pushed the chair out with his foot, though his face was still hidden behind the newspaper. “Jirou-chi even went out super-early and got us doughnuts and coffee.”
“Actually I made the coffee, so don’t expect Starbucks.”
With a small smile on his face, Ken asked, “There’s Yakult in this coffee, isn’t there?” Jirou chuckled lightly behind the paper. Kentaro took a bold step forward and grabbed the coffee cup which sat in front of his chair. “Well then, here’s to my stomach’s health,” he stated, then downed a quick gulp of the neurotoxin. “Wow, this actually isn’t too bad.”
“That’s what I said,” Jirou announced. After he allowed that snippet of information to permeate the room for a moment, he continued. “So later today we’ll see if we can’t swing by your house for some clothes. If that’s OK, I mean.” Kentaro gave his sister a worried look.
“I’ll be fine, if that’s what that look means,” she said. “I would never wear the same clothes two days in a row.” The attention of both twins slowly came to rest on Jirou, who was still hiding behind the paper.
“Jirou-senpai,” Kentaro called. “How many days in a row has that outfit been through?” After a moment of thought, he responded.
“The shirt or the pants?”
Both twins fell back in their chairs, crying out in mutual disgust. Jirou threw the paper down. “What the hell’s wrong with that?! I’m a freakin’ NEET; what do you expect?” he exclaimed in an intentionally humorous tone. Maybe on the inside he really was crying out against the label, but he wasn’t ready to admit that fact at all. The two younger ones pulled themselves together and returned their chairs to the upright position. Kentaro stretched his arms above his head with a yawn.
“Oh!” Hikari suddenly cried out, pointing at Jirou.
“Now that really
isn’t a surprise to me,” Kentaro stated, crossing his arms and nodding.
“W-what…?” Jirou asked quietly.
“Jirou-chi is wearing glasses!” Hikari squealed. True enough, a pair of square frameless glasses were sitting on the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, these? I have to wear them when I read,” he explained in a simple tone. “This kind of thing happens to a lot of old people,” he added, staring at a grinning Kentaro.
“Senpai, just don’t forget to age gracefully.”
“I’m only four years older than you, Rookie!” he countered; this was a mistake.
“A-ha!” Hikari yelled as she jumped to her feet. “You just said it! You just implied that four years isn’t a large difference at all!”
If there was ever a way that a human face could look like a deer frozen in a car's headlights, this was the look on Jirou’s face. Hikari skipped around the table and wrapped herself around Jirou’s arm, causing him to push the newspaper off the tabletop. Kentaro’s chuckle grew into full-blown laughter. Jirou played along as Hikari taunted him.
They’re both in denial. As soon as we get to their home, this happy time will be over again. So who am I to point out that fact to them?
End of Chapter 01.
Afternote: This is the first chapter (obviously) and the start of the 'Email Lunch' story arc. Jirou's preferred drink is an inside joke for my fellow Rozen Maiden fans. -the.Merines