Arina Tanemura Novels & Stories

She knows what this means. Aronohai Miyamura has chosen her to question him. Even with the three fingers he raised, showing that he would only answer three questions, she is not deterred. Just the fact that he has chosen her has secured her a once-in-a-lifetime promotion. Or maybe even more. As a seasoned veteran, she wastes no time. “My name is Tohru Wakashima, and here with me today is the entrancing Aronohai Miyamura…”. She drags her eyes over his frame appreciatively.

Roy nodded absentmindedly, vision frolicking over the shelves with beginners interest. "Want to check out some books? Let me help you." Jeremy swayed in the direction of a random shelf with a bar hanging―Japanese Fiction written in caps. Jeremy pulled out a white and black designed tiny, thin book from the compactly stocked shelf and waved it at Roy. Roy saw Jeremy coming over with a book and caught it's cover design. A simplistic art with profound hidden meaning. The name 'Birthday Girl' conveyed a sense of aesthetic complexity. "This is a thriller short story by Murakami Sensei. He is a widely known novelist across the globe. His every work is phenomenal." Jeremy said, voice dripping with

I decided to follow the sound hoping for the best. I got to the kitchen, suddenly heaving a sigh of relief as soon as I laid my eyes on her. She stood by the sink, slowly stirring a mix of flour and cocoa in a bowl. Her white Apron had a few stains but she looked relaxed and engrossed in her work. She hadn't noticed me in the tensive room full of maids who were tensive at my presence. The woman close to the entrance shakily went down on her knees and they all stopped what they were doing, drawing Lena's attention to me. She stopped stirring, slowly dropping the bowl and dusting her hands on her apron.

Sakura was praying very hard Jane would miraculously appear and sort out this mess when she heard a commotion on the other side. She looked up to see the famous Japanese designer Mr. Tachibana coming toward them, his long hair—dyed bleach blond—flying and his long white robe fluttering about him. Beside him was the woman Sakura had been waiting eagerly to meet in person, the woman who had given birth to her twenty-five years ago, Haruka Tanaka, also known simply as Ms. Ruka. She was tall, Sakura realized, with strong, angular face, and thin nose that sat nicely on her face. She was very beautiful.

“Aria.” She looked at him, and in that moment Ryan saw the truth clearly. For the first time since he had met her, she appeared untethered. Not unstable or broken, but simply a young woman who no longer knew how to exist outside of constant survival mode. He opened his arms, and she came to him willingly. The instant his embrace closed around her, the last barriers inside her crumbled. Months of torment, years of hardship, and the accumulated pain of two entire lifetimes finally broke free.

"Yes, ma'am." "Please wait," she said before wearing her glasses. I had only one word for Annabelle Siromani. Unpredictable. When she wore her glasses, her facial expression changed. She looked like an evil Egyptian queen. She literally looked that way. I began to wonder how someone could change in a matter of milliseconds.

Her brothers walked out and shut the door behind them, leaving her in her cold room, with her damp tears collapsing in on themselves and her loud sobs that she kept to herself. 🌹 The tailors measured dutifully, whispering to themselves. They’d secretly give her pitying looks as if knowing the fate before her, but she caught those looks. If they thought they were sly, then she was James Bond. But it wasn't just them, though, all the maids, the guards, so-called henchmen, they all gave her those pitying looks. “Anaya,” She jerked furiously and accidentally knocked the tailor down,

The humongous woman left with a sarcastic laugh together with her men. Ara felt her life coming down. But she's not going to stay still. She approached the most calm of all girls with her. She saw a yawning girl who's casually going to go back to sleep in her bed as if she's done this before. "Hey, can I ask you?" "Argh, same old shit," the girl probably a few years younger than Ara mumbled. "What the hell do you need?" Ara knelt beside the girl's bed. "My name is Ara. Where are we?"

Arash asked Zaya in return. "Do you know about the author of this novel?" Zaya asked again. "Oh ...!" Arash clapped his hands and walked back towards the table where Zaya was sitting, smiling proudly at her. "That's a romance novelist from Indonesia, as far as I remember ... each of her novels always uses a different flower photo, right?" Arash asked again.

Andrew’s mumbled words fell between them; Elaine’s bread remained mostly uneaten in her palm. “Naomi- her name is Naomi Sher, and she’s fifteen.”