Fates Supports/Oboro Mitama(PC)
C Support
Oboro: Mitama! Mitamaaaaa!
(Oboro leaves)
Mitama: Nnnnnnngggh...
(Mitama leaves)
Oboro: Hey! Hey! I know you're in there! How long do you think you can keep this game up? The war council meeting is in 10 minutes. You need to get up. NOW!
(Oboro leaves)
Mitama: Shoo now, little fly / Leave Mitama to her sleep / Do not buzz so loud.
(Mitama leaves)
Oboro: Oni's breath! Mitama! Do you hear me? You can't just skip this! Do you have any idea how it will look if you miss another one? All right. You've forced my hand. I'm coming in!
Mitama: Please, honored Mother / My bed is warm; you are cold / Do not part us so. Besides, I am too tired to attend. I would just fall asleep.
Oboro: You're only tired because you were up all night reading poetry again! Sometimes I'm of half a mind to just lock all your books away. Gods above, what started you on this whole obsession, anyway?
Mitama: The answer is clear / A gift from Father did it / A brush and paper. I remember it like it was yesterday...
Oboro: That can't be it. You can do a million things with a brush and some paper. You could have written stories or kept a journal or chosen to draw. But you chose poetry.
Mitama: I must ponder this / Other paths I left untrod / Where did I begin?
Oboro: I can't imagine what started you on it. None of your caretakers were poets...
Mitama: Oh! I just had the most wonderful idea, Mother! Perhaps we should now / Try to solve this together / Mother and daughter!
Oboro: You know, that does sound nice. Maybe we could— Oh, you dirty... You think you can get out of your duties so easily? We're going to the council meeting. Now. Hurry up and get ready!
Mitama: My ruse discovered / I have no choice but to go / It was worth a shot.
B Support
Oboro: Mitama? What are you doing? Why are all these poems scattered across the room?
Mitama: Sly old Memory / She leaves only threads behind / For us to follow.
Oboro: What are you on about now?
Mitama: I am talking about threads of memory, clearly. To reclaim the past, we must seize on a single string and follow where it leads. This being the case, I must find my first poem.
Oboro: Your first poem? Why are you looking for that?
Mitama: Before there was verse / Mitama did not exist / Whence came Mitama? I wish to understand who I am. I was not myself until I learned of poetry. If I find my earliest self, I find my now-self. In the beginning, the end. Therefore, the search.
Oboro: Oh. I see. You've been thinking about our last conversation. And you think that finding your first poem will tell us what drew you to poetry?
Mitama: How long 'til 'tis found? / In a blizzard of poems / A single snowflake. It has been many days. But I am determined to find it.
Oboro: I see. Perhaps I can help you find it?
Mitama: Yes, that would— Ah! Wait! I may have found it / The Alpha of Mitama / Omega, my search.
Oboro: Oh, what does it say?
Mitama: Mother does not come / I count the days passing by / Days without number.
Oboro: I-is that really your first poem?!
Mitama: Yes. I remember now. You'd gotten 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.
Oboro: I-I'm so sorry, Mitama... I cannot imagine the pain I've caused you. Can you ever forgive me?
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.
Oboro: Maybe. But maybe I could have made more time, somehow. I don't know... Hm. And we still don't know why you turned to poetry in particular. How about we write a letter to 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 write them immediately.
Oboro: ...Er, maybe I should help. I think they'll appreciate fewer poetic tangents.
A Support
Oboro: What? This can't be right.
Mitama: Mother? Is that the letter from my caretakers? Please, let me see it / Perhaps the source is revealed / The search now bears fruit.
Oboro: Well, it's a bit embarrassing...
Mitama: What happened?
Oboro: It says here that I'm the one who started you on poetry.
Mitama: That makes little sense / You have no great love for it / What else do they say?
Oboro: Give me a moment.
Mitama: Mother?
Oboro: They say that I used teach you the lyrics to the lullabies I sang you. You had trouble singing, so I taught you by reciting them. Eventually, you forgot they were songs, but you never forgot the lyrics themselves. So when you wanted to find more things like them, you asked for poetry. So they gave you books on the traditional verse forms—especially tanka and haiku. Dozens of books, from the sound of it. And after that...well, the rest is history.
Mitama: Mystery dispelled / I know now the catalyst / My life's prime mover. But 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. Well, I suppose that means—
Oboro: Yup. You've got me to thank for this mess. More importantly, I'VE got me to thank.
Mitama: Heehee. So, then...it wouldn't be right of you to tell me to stop, right? Yourself the wellspring / Can the source of the river / Choose to flow upstream?
Oboro: Heh. I guess not. But maybe try not to let it cut into your duties, OK?
Mitama: Poetry and song / Daughter and mother allied / Invincible bond!
Oboro: Heehee. I think I like that one!
