Fates Supports/Beruka Mitama(PC)

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C Support

Beruka: ...

(Beruka leaves)

Mitama: ...

(Mitama leaves)

Beruka: ... Mitama. I know you are in there. It is time to go.

(Beruka leaves)

Mitama: I cannot get up / My fever burns brilliantly / A fire in my bones.

(Mitama leaves)

Beruka: Unacceptable. Do not try that again. You have been ordered to attend the war council meeting. You will not miss it. I have no time for this. You are going even if I have to drag you.

Mitama: Please, honored Mother / Exercise some small mercy / Spare pitiful me. Besides, I would just fall asleep. I am too tired to attend.

Beruka: This is no excuse. An assassin must be ready for all events at all times. Sleep is a crutch for the weak. The weak become the dead. Do you want to be dead? In any event, you are only tired because you were up all night reading poetry. Why did you become so obsessed in the first place? Perhaps I should burn your books.

Mitama: The answer is clear / A gift from Father did it / A brush and paper. I remember it like it was yesterday...

Beruka: That cannot be all. A brush and paper can be used for many things.

Mitama: Hm... I must ponder this. / Other paths I left untrod / Why did I begin?

Beruka: I imagine something must have happened when you were a child.

Mitama: Oh, Mother! I just had an idea! Perhaps we should now / Try to solve this together / Mother and daughter.

Beruka: You are not talking your way out of this. We are going to the meeting. Now.

Mitama: My ruse discovered / I have no choice but to go / It was worth a shot.

B Support

Beruka: Mitama. What are you doing?

Mitama: Cryptic Memory / She leaves only threads behind / For us to follow.

Beruka: What?

Mitama: To reclaim the past, we begin by seizing upon a single vivid memory—a clue. This in turn reveals other memories to us. And we follow this thread of memories until the object of our search is found. My first poem is the end of one such thread. And it is here. Somewhere.

Beruka: And what is the object of your search?

Mitama: Before there was verse / Mitama existed not / Wherefore Mitama? I want to understand why I am who I am. I was not myself until I learned poetry. If I find my earliest self, I find my current self. In the beginning, the end. Therefore, the search.

Beruka: I see. And have you found it?

Mitama: No. How long 'til it's found? / In a blizzard of poems / A single snowflake. It has been many days. But I am determined.

Beruka: Perhaps I can help.

Mitama: Mm. Maybe you could— Ah! Wait! I may have found it / The Alpha of Mitama / Omega, my search.

Beruka: What does it say?

Mitama: Mother does not come / I count the days with chalk lines / But my chalk grows short.

Beruka: I...

Mitama: Yes, I remember now. You'd become very busy, and my caretakers told me you couldn't come to visit. I began writing poems to comfort myself while you were gone. Left waiting for you / My world turned inward to verse / Structure to sorrow.

Beruka: Mitama...I am sorry.

Mitama: Don't apologize / You had a duty, a cause / The world needed you. I am sorry. I didn't want to upset you. And I want you to know I understand. You fought to protect me. I know that now.

Beruka: Maybe...but maybe I could have done better. Though regrets are without use. We still have not found out why you turned to poetry in particular. Perhaps we should write your caretakers.

Mitama: More clues to my past / Hidden in old memories / The search continues. You are right. They are bound to know something. I will draft a letter immediately.

Beruka: Perhaps I should do the writing. Fewer poetic flourishes will be appreciated.

A Support

Beruka: What? This can't be right.

Mitama: Mother? Is that the letter from my caretakers? Please, let me hear it / Perhaps the source is revealed / The search now bears fruit.

Beruka: ...

Mitama: Yes?

Beruka: It says that you got your love of poetry from me.

Mitama: I don't understand / You have no great love for it / What else do they say?

Beruka: I don't understand either. Give me a moment... Hm.

Mitama: Yes?

Beruka: Your caretakers say that you told them I used to recite poetry for you. And you asked them to help you find more things like those poems. Luckily, they had many books of traditional verses—tanka and haiku especially. And after that...the rest is history.

Mitama: Mystery dispelled / I know now the catalyst / My life's prime mover. So it was you, Mother. But why would I have told them you recited poetry to me?

Beruka: I never recited poetry for you, but I did sing you songs.

Mitama: I-I think I remember that. Beneath the surface / A gem in shifting waters / A mother's soft song.

Beruka: I believe that I told you they were my favorite verses. You must have told your caretakers this, who thought you meant poetic verse.

Mitama: To think that so much of my life has hinged on a simple misunderstanding. A single mistake / Like ripples on a still lake / Echoes across life. But this means—

Beruka: Yes. We have me to blame for your little obsession.

Mitama: Heehee. So it wouldn't be right for you to take my books, would it? Yourself the wellspring / Can the source of the river / Choose to flow uphill?

Beruka: I suppose you're right, Daughter. Perhaps I should be more lenient in the future.

Mitama: Poetry and song / Daughter and mother allied / Invincible bond!

Beruka: Heehee... I think I might actually like that one. Thank you, Mitama.