VOLUME #2 - EPISODE 4
[NARRATOR: Family confrontations. The kind of conversation where everyone sits down, drinks tea, and calmly discusses their feelings like mature adults. Just kidding. This is the Shiko family. Nothing is calm. Nothing is mature. And someone's probably going to throw a teacup before this is over. Buckle up, because we're about to witness a mother's confession that will recontextualize everything you thought you knew about Riyura's childhood. And yes, there will be tears. So many tears.]
The House That Held Secrets
The Shiko household looked deceptively normal from the outside—a modest two-story home in a quiet neighborhood, with a small garden that Riyura's mother tended on weekends and a mailbox that leaned slightly to the left like it had given up on standing straight years ago.
Inside, however, the air felt thick. Heavy. Like walking through invisible molasses made of unspoken truths and years of carefully constructed lies.
Riyura sat at the kitchen table, his purple hair slightly disheveled from the hospital discharge, his yellow star hairclip catching the afternoon light, his crooked red bow tie somehow even more crooked than usual. His star-shaped pupils were fixed on the empty chair across from him.
Beside him sat Yakamira, his silver hair still showing traces of dried blood the hospital hadn't quite cleaned away, his white mask back in place, his pale gray eyes unreadable but alert.
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: This is it. The conversation I've been dreading since Yakamira showed me those messages. The moment where I have to look my mother in the eye and ask her why. Why she lied. Why she conspired. Why she made my brother hate me for years. And I don't know if I'm ready for the answer.]
The clock on the wall ticked. Each second felt like a small explosion of anticipation. Then the front door opened.
Their mother entered carrying grocery bags, her expression weary but attempting brightness—the kind of forced cheerfulness that came from years of practice hiding uncomfortable truths behind domestic normalcy.
"Oh! You're both home! I wasn't expecting—" She saw their faces. The bruises. The bandages. The way they sat side by side like soldiers preparing for battle. Her smile faltered.
"We need to talk, Mom," Riyura said quietly. The grocery bags slipped from her hands. Apples rolled across the floor like small declarations of the chaos about to unfold.
The Evasion Ballet (Part Two: Electric Boogaloo)
"Talk? About what? The weather? It's lovely today, don't you think? Very sunny for winter—" Riyura's mother moved toward the kitchen counter with aggressive casualness.
"Mom," Riyura said, his voice firmer. "Sit down. Please."
"I really should put these groceries away first—" She picked up a bag, turned toward the refrigerator, and immediately tripped over absolutely nothing, crashing into the counter with Olympic-level commitment to avoidance.
"I'M FINE! COMPLETELY NORMAL! NOTHING TO SEE HERE!" "Mom, you just fell over air," Riyura said flatly. "The air was VERY aggressive today!"
Yakamira stood slowly, his movements precise and deliberate. He walked to the refrigerator, placed himself between it and their mother, and spoke with that flat, emotionless tone that somehow conveyed more threat than any shouting could:
"Sit. Down." Their mother looked at him—really looked at him—and something in her expression crumbled. The forced brightness. The desperate evasion. It all fell away like a mask finally removed after years of wearing it.
She walked to the table slowly, like someone approaching an execution, and sat in the chair across from her sons.
[NARRATOR: And so begins the most uncomfortable family dinner conversation since the invention of families. Except there's no dinner. Just three people, a table, and years of lies about to be unpacked like the world's worst Christmas present.]
The Confession Begins
Silence stretched between them like taffy pulled too thin—sticky, uncomfortable, threatening to snap at any moment. Riyura took a deep breath. His hands were shaking slightly, so he folded them in his lap where his mother couldn't see.
"Yakamira showed me the messages," he said quietly. "The ones between you two. The plans. The lies about him being adopted. The whole 'different mothers' story."
Their mother's face went pale. "I can explain—"
"Then explain," Riyura said, and his voice broke slightly. "Explain why you made me think I had a half-brother when he's my actual, full-blooded brother. Explain why you kept him hidden. Explain—"
His voice broke completely. "—explain why you made him think I was the favorite when I didn't even know he existed."
Tears were already streaming down Riyura's face. He wiped them away angrily, frustrated at himself for crying, for being vulnerable, for caring so much when he should probably just be furious.
Their mother's hands trembled as she reached across the table—then stopped, as if remembering she'd lost the right to comfort.
"Riyura, I—" She took a shaky breath. "I need you to understand something first. What I did was wrong. Unforgivably wrong. But the reasons... they started in a place of fear. Not malice. Fear."
"Fear of what?" Yakamira's voice was cold.
She looked at him—her eldest son, the one she'd made feel invisible—and something in her expression suggested she'd been waiting years to have this conversation and dreading every second of it.
"Fear that I'd fail both of you the way I'd already started failing."
The Story Of Two Sons And One Broken Mother
Their mother's name was Haruka Shiko. She'd been twenty-three when Yakamira when was her only son—too young, too unprepared, too desperate to prove she could handle taking care of him despite everyone telling her she couldn't.
"Your father and I—" She paused, choosing words carefully. She looked at her eldest son with something that might've been regret or grief or both.
"You were perfect. Too perfect. You rarely cried. You learned everything quickly. You were quiet, obedient, exactly what a 'good child' was supposed to be according to every parenting guide I'd obsessively read."
Yakamira's jaw tightened.
"And I—" Haruka's voice broke. "I convinced myself that meant you didn't need me. That you were self-sufficient. That I could focus on being the 'perfect mother' by making sure you had perfect grades, perfect behavior, perfect everything."
"You mean you ignored me," Yakamira said flatly.
"Yes." The admission came out like a gunshot. "I ignored you. I praised your achievements but never asked how you felt. I celebrated your test scores but never played with you. I turned you into a project instead of treating you like a child who needed love."
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
[NARRATOR: Oh wow. Here we go. The part where family trauma gets layered like a terrible psychological lasagna.]
"Riyura was the opposite of Yakamira in every way," Haruka continued, her voice distant, like she was narrating someone else's life. "He cried constantly. Had trouble sleeping. Was easily distracted. His teachers said he'd never 'apply himself.' That he was 'too imaginative,' 'too energetic,' 'too different.'"
She looked at Riyura, and her expression softened in a way that made Yakamira visibly flinch. "And I... I hated him for it at first." The words hung in the air like poison.
Riyura felt something cold settle in his heart. "What?"
"I hated you," Haruka repeated, tears streaming down her face now. "Because you represented everything I'd been told was 'wrong' in a child. You didn't follow rules. You didn't care about grades. You wore ridiculous clothes and made weird noises and saw the world in colors that didn't exist in any parenting manual."
She laughed bitterly.
"I tried so hard to 'fix' you. To make you more like Yakamira. Disciplined. Controlled. 'Normal.' But nothing worked. You just kept being... you." Riyura's hands clenched into fists under the table.
"And then—" Haruka's voice dropped to a whisper, "—something changed."
The Moment Everything Shifted
"You were seven years old," Haruka said, staring at her hands like they held answers she'd been searching for. "It was a Tuesday. Completely ordinary. I'd spent the morning yelling at you about your homework, about your messy room, about everything you were doing 'wrong.'"
She took a shaky breath.
"That afternoon, I found you in the kitchen. You'd made me a card. Construction paper, crayon drawings, glitter everywhere. It said—" Her voice broke. "—it said 'I love you, Mommy. Even when you're sad.'"
Riyura didn't remember this. But something about the story felt familiar, like a dream half-forgotten. "I realized in that moment that you'd seen through everything. You knew I was struggling. You knew I was unhappy. And instead of resenting me—instead of hating me back—you tried to make me feel better."
Tears dripped onto the table.
"That's when I understood. I'd been wrong. You weren't broken. You weren't a problem to fix. You were—" She struggled with the word. "—you were kind. Genuinely, impossibly kind in a way I'd never taught you to be. It came from somewhere inside you that had nothing to do with my parenting."
She looked up at Riyura, her eyes red and swollen.
"And I started loving you for it. Not because you were perfect. But because you were real. Because you felt things deeply and expressed them honestly and refused to hide who you were even when the world punished you for it."
Yakamira stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a sound like nails on a chalkboard. "So that's it?" His voice was shaking with rage. "You hated him, then loved him? And where was I in all of this?"
"Yakamira—" "WHERE WAS I?!" He slammed his hands on the table. "I was being PERFECT like you wanted! Getting the grades! Following the rules! Being the 'good son!' And you just—you just IGNORED me because I didn't need fixing?!"
"Yes." Haruka didn't look away. "Yes, I did. And it destroyed you. I see that now."
The Conspiracy Revealed
"When did it start?" Riyura asked quietly. "The plan. The lies. When did you and Yakamira start working together?"
Haruka exhaled slowly. "Yakamira was thirteen. You were ten. We'd just moved—your father got transferred, and we had to switch schools. It was chaos. Packing, organizing, trying to keep everything together."
She glanced at Yakamira.
"You came to me one night. Asked me why I spent so much time with Riyura. Why I went to his school events but missed yours. Why I laughed at his jokes but barely acknowledged your achievements."
Yakamira was staring at the wall now, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. "I didn't have a good answer," Haruka continued. "So I lied. I told you it was because Riyura needed more help. That he was 'struggling' and you were 'fine.' That you were so capable you didn't need me the way he did."
"And I believed you," Yakamira said hollowly. "I believed I was too good at everything to deserve attention."
"Yes." Haruka's voice was barely a whisper. "And over the next few years, that belief festered. You started resenting Riyura. Started seeing him as the reason for your loneliness. And I—" She paused, as if the next part physically hurt to say. "—I encouraged it."
Riyura's head snapped up. "What?"
"Not directly," Haruka said quickly. "I never told you to hate each other. But I... I allowed the distance to grow. I let Yakamira believe Riyura was my favorite. I let Riyura stay oblivious to Yakamira's pain. Because it was easier than addressing my own failures."
She stood slowly, walking to the window, looking out at the street like she wished she could disappear into it.
"When Yakamira was sixteen, he told me he wanted to transfer schools. To get away from watching me dote on Riyura. To escape the constant reminder that he wasn't 'special' enough to be loved the way his brother was."
Yakamira's voice came out strangled: "You said yes immediately." "I did." Haruka didn't turn around. "And then you asked me something that terrified me. You asked: 'If I disappeared completely, would anyone notice?'"
The room went very, very quiet.
"That's when I knew," Haruka said, her voice thick with tears, "that I'd broken you. That my neglect had turned you into someone who believed their existence didn't matter. And instead of fixing it—instead of apologizing and trying to rebuild our relationship—I panicked."
She finally turned around, her face a mess of tears and running mascara. "I proposed the plan."
The Plan That Destroyed A Family
"I told Yakamira we could make him 'disappear' properly," Haruka said, each word sounding like it was being dragged from somewhere deep and painful. "We'd stage an adoption. Say his biological mother was someone else. Make him a 'half-brother' instead of full. Transfer him to a private school across the city. But in truth, none of that was true."
"Why?" Riyura asked, his voice hoarse. "Because—" Haruka laughed bitterly. "—because in my twisted logic, I thought it would help. I thought if Yakamira had a 'fresh start' away from being compared to you, he'd find his own identity. His own happiness. And you—you'd never know you had a brother suffering because of you, so you'd stay innocent and cheerful."
"That's insane," Riyura whispered.
"Yes," Haruka agreed. "It was insane. But I was desperate. And Yakamira—" She looked at her eldest son. "—you were desperate too. You agreed. Not because you thought it would help, but because you wanted to see if I'd actually go through with it. If I'd actually choose to erase you."
Yakamira's hands were shaking now. "And you did. But i realized your truths were lies soon enough. And the pain only grew even deeper."
"I did." Haruka's voice broke completely. "I erased you. Made up stories about adoption, about different bloodlines, about 'complicated family situations.' Paid for your private school. Set up a separate bank account. Made sure you had everything you needed materially while denying you the one thing you actually wanted—"
"A mother who gave a damn," Yakamira finished. "Yes." Riyura felt like he was drowning. Every revelation made the water deeper, colder, harder to breathe through.
"But why—" His voice broke. "Why did you keep working with him? Why plan for him to come back? Why—" He gestured helplessly at Yakamira. "—why let him think murdering me was an acceptable solution?!"
Haruka flinched like she'd been slapped. "I didn't think he'd actually try to kill you," she said weakly.
"YOU SENT HIM TO MY SCHOOL!" Riyura was shouting now, his usual cheerful demeanor completely shattered. "You transferred him to Jeremy High! You had to know what would happen!"
"I thought—" Haruka pressed her hands against her face. "I thought maybe if you two met again as 'half-brothers,' as near-strangers, you'd have a chance to build a real relationship. One not poisoned by my mistakes."
"By lying MORE?!" Riyura stood, his chair falling backward. "By building our relationship on another layer of deception?! How was THAT supposed to help?!"
"It wasn't." The admission came out flat. Dead. "It wasn't supposed to help. I just—I couldn't face the truth. Couldn't admit to you that I'd hidden your brother for years. Couldn't admit to Yakamira that I'd failed him so completely that erasure seemed kinder than honesty."
She looked at both her sons—one burning with righteous fury, one frozen in cold rage.
"So I kept the lie going. Kept the conspiracy alive. Let Yakamira believe you were the enemy instead of another victim. Let you believe you were an only child instead of one of two sons drowning in their mother's inadequacy."
When The Host Finally Breaks
Riyura stood there, trembling, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles had gone white.
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: All this time. All this time I thought my childhood was difficult because I was weird. Because I didn't fit in. Because the bullies saw something wrong with me. But it wasn't just that. It was her. It was Mom, deciding I wasn't good enough, then deciding I was too good, then lying to keep me in some twisted middle ground where I'd never know the truth. And Yakamira—Wow, Yakamira had it worse. At least I knew I was loved eventually. He spent years believing he was too perfect to deserve love at all.]
"You know what the worst part is?" Riyura's voice was quiet now. Dangerously quiet. The kind of quiet that preceded emotional hurricanes. Haruka looked up at him with red, swollen eyes.
"The worst part," Riyura continued, his voice shaking, "is that I defended you. When people asked why my mom was so strict, why she was so hard on me, I defended you. I said you were just trying to help me. That you cared. That everything you did came from love." Tears streamed down his face.
"And now I find out that for YEARS—for YEARS while I was being bullied at my old school, while I was being used as a 'play thing' by kids who pretended to be my friends—I had a BROTHER. A full brother. Someone who could've understood. Someone who could've been there. But you kept him from me because it was EASIER than admitting you'd failed as a parent."
His voice rose to something between a shout and a sob.
"Do you have ANY idea what it was like? Being alone like that? Thinking I was broken because I was different? Believing the bullies when they said I deserved it because I was 'weird'?"
"Riyura, I'm so sorry—" "SORRY ISN'T ENOUGH!" The words exploded out of him with years of accumulated pain. "Sorry doesn't give me back those years! Sorry doesn't fix what you did to Yakamira! Sorry doesn't—" He stopped, breathing hard, his whole body shaking with emotion.
"Sorry doesn't make us a real family." The silence that followed was absolute. Even the clock seemed to stop ticking, as if time itself was holding its breath.
The Brother's Rage
Yakamira had been standing perfectly still throughout Riyura's breakdown—his expression unreadable behind his white mask, his pale gray eyes fixed on their mother with laser focus.
Now he spoke, and his voice was ice:
"You said you did this out of fear. That you were afraid of failing us." He took a step toward Haruka, who instinctively backed up. "But that's not entirely true, is it, Mother?"
Something in his tone made Riyura's blood run cold. "Yakamira—" Haruka started.
"You didn't just fear failure," Yakamira continued, his voice getting quieter, more controlled, more dangerous with each word. "You feared being judged. You feared what other mothers would think if they knew you had one son who was 'perfect' and another who was 'problematic.' You feared the social consequences of having children who didn't fit neat little boxes."
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages.
"Should I read them? The conversations we had? The ones where you told me Riyura was an 'embarrassment'? Where you said his uniqueness made you look like a 'failed parent'? Where you asked me to help you 'fix him'?" Haruka's face went from pale to ashen.
"I never said—"
"YOU DID." Yakamira thrust the phone toward her, screen displaying damning messages. "Right here. Three years ago. You said: 'Sometimes I wish Riyura had been born more like you. Normal. Manageable. Not a constant reminder of everything I did wrong.'"
Riyura felt like he'd been punched in the heart. "Mom?" His voice was small. Broken. "Did you really say that?" Haruka opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I—" She looked between her sons, trapped, desperate. "I was having a bad day. I didn't mean—"
"You meant it," Yakamira said flatly. "Just like you meant it when you told me to observe Riyura at school. To 'document his weaknesses.' To help you understand how to 'correct his behavior.'"
He lowered the phone, his pale gray eyes burning with cold fury.
"That's when I started planning. Not to kill him. Not at first. But to prove to you that your 'perfect' son—the one you secretly resented—was actually more successful than me. That your 'failed' son had become something you never expected."
His voice broke slightly. "I thought if I could prove that, you'd regret what you did to both of us. You'd see that your measuring stick was broken. That your definitions of 'success' and 'failure' were meaningless."
He laughed—bitter and hollow.
"But instead, you know what I discovered? You'd already changed your mind. Somewhere between those messages and now, you'd started actually loving Riyura. Not because he 'improved.' But because he stayed exactly who he was despite everything you did to break him."
Yakamira's hands clenched into fists.
"And that made me hate you both even more. Him for being lovable without trying. You for proving love was arbitrary. That I'd wasted years being perfect for nothing."
The Confrontation Reaches Its Peak
The kitchen had become a pressure cooker of accumulated trauma—years of lies, resentment, and broken family dynamics all condensing into this single, terrible moment.
Haruka was crying openly now, her carefully constructed composure completely demolished. "I never wanted either of you to feel unloved. I just—I didn't know how to be a good mother. I still don't."
"Then why didn't you LEARN?" Riyura's voice was raw. "Why didn't you get help? Go to therapy? Do ANYTHING except lie and manipulate and break your own children?!"
"Because I was ashamed!" Haruka's voice rose to match his. "Because admitting I needed help meant admitting I'd failed! And I couldn't—I couldn't face that judgment! Not from your father, not from other parents, not from society, not from—"
"Not from us," Yakamira finished coldly. "You couldn't face judgment from your own sons. So you chose to hurt us instead." "Yes." The admission came out like a death rattle. "Yes, I chose wrong. Over and over. I chose my pride over your wellbeing. I chose comfortable lies over painful truths. I chose—"
She collapsed into a chair, her whole body shaking with sobs. "I chose everything except what a mother should choose. And now I've lost both of you. Haven't I?"
The question hung in the air like smoke from a fire that had already burned everything down. Riyura and Yakamira looked at each other. For the first time since this conversation started, they were united in something: Neither of them knew how to answer that question.
[NARRATOR: This is the part where families in TV shows have tearful reconciliations. Where forgiveness flows freely and everyone hugs and the credits roll. But this isn't TV. This is real—well, as real as anything gets in a story about teenagers who eat footwear and principals who transform via caffeine. And new characters are absolute chaos each time like the new upcoming one. But that's another tale and thus let's continue. And real families don't heal in one conversation. Sometimes, they don't heal at all.]
The Answer That Wasn't An Answer
Riyura spoke first, his voice exhausted: "I don't know if I can forgive you, Mom. Not right now. Maybe not for a long time." Haruka nodded, not looking up, tears dripping onto the table.
"But—" Riyura continued, and something in his voice softened slightly, "—I don't want to hate you either. Because hating people takes energy I don't have. And honestly? I'm tired. So tired of being angry and confused and hurt."
He looked at Yakamira. "We both are." Yakamira was silent for a long moment. Then: "I'm not ready to call you 'Mother' again. I don't know if I ever will be. What you did—it carved something out of me that I don't think grows back."
His pale gray eyes finally met hers. "But Riyura's right. Hate takes too much effort. And I've already wasted enough of my life on emotions you don't deserve."
Haruka made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "That's more mercy than I've earned," she whispered. "Yes," both brothers said simultaneously. "It is," Riyura continued. "But we're not doing it for you. We're doing it for us. Because carrying this rage around—it's killing us as much as your lies did."
He stood slowly, his legs shaky, his whole body feeling like it had been through a war. "I need space. Time to process this. Figure out what family even means when the foundation was built on lies."
He looked at Yakamira. "We both do." Yakamira nodded once, sharp and precise. They walked toward the door together—two brothers who'd spent years apart, then days trying to kill each other, now united by shared trauma and the tentative hope that maybe, possibly, they could build something real from the rubble.
At the door, Riyura paused. Turned back. "Mom?" Haruka looked up, her face a disaster of tears and messy neat hair. "Get help. Real help. Therapy. Something. Because if you ever want a chance—even a small one—of being part of our lives again, you need to fix yourself first."
"I will," Haruka whispered. "I promise I will." "Promises from you don't mean much anymore," Yakamira said flatly. "But we'll see." They left. The door closed with a soft click that sounded like finality.
The Walk That Changed Everything
Riyura and Yakamira walked down the street in silence—the late afternoon sun painting everything in shades of orange and gold, the winter air cold enough to see their breath, the world continuing its indifferent rotation despite the emotional apocalypse they'd just survived.
Finally, Riyura spoke: "Where are you staying? Not there, right?" "No." Yakamira's voice was tired. "I have an apartment. From the adoption arrangement. She pays for it."
"That's—" Riyura tried to find words. "That's really sad." "Yes. I know brother." They walked a few more steps. "You could stay with me," Riyura said suddenly. "At my place. It's small. And weird. And probably violates housing regulations. But—"
He glanced at his brother. "—but it's real. No lies. No schemes. Just... a place to exist without pretending." Yakamira stopped walking. Stared at Riyura like he'd just suggested something incomprehensible.
"Why would you offer that? After everything I've done? After I tried to kill you? After—" "Because you're my brother," Riyura said simply. "Full brother. Blood brother. And I don't want you to be alone anymore. Neither of us should be alone. Even if you were you were my half brother. Your still my brother none the less."
[YAKAMIRA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: This is the moment. The moment where I could reject him. Push him away. Maintain my cold, controlled distance and prove I don't need anyone. That I'm fine being isolated. That I—]
"Okay," Yakamira heard himself say.
[YAKAMIRA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: —wait, what? Did I just agree? Why did I agree? This is illogical. Counterproductive. It goes against every self-preservation instinct I've carefully cultivated and—and I don't care. I'm tired. So tired of being alone. And if this ridiculous, purple-haired idiot with his crooked bow tie and sunshine personality is offering me something real—maybe for once in my life, I should just say yes.]
"Yeah?" Riyura's face lit up with that signature smile—the one that survived bullying and trauma and family betrayal. The one that chose joy even in darkness.
"Yeah," Yakamira confirmed. For the first time since arriving at Jeremy High, he felt something unfamiliar settle in his heart. Hope.
EPILOGUE: The School Gates And The Shadow Watching
Monday morning arrived with typical Jeremy High chaos—students shouting, Subarashī already doing anime poses, Miyaka humming something, Headayami yelling about posture violations, and Shoehead quietly eating what appeared to be a winter boot's laces.
Riyura and Yakamira walked through the gates together—not side by side exactly, but close enough that it was clear something had changed between them.
"RIYURA!" Subarashī appeared like a summoned demon. "YOU'RE ALIVE! AND YOU BROUGHT YOUR BROTHER! EXCELLENT! NOW WE CAN HAVE SIBLING RIVALRY TRAINING ARCS!"
"Please no," both brothers said in unison. They looked at each other. Then actually smiled slightly. Miyaka recorded this on her phone. "Historic moment. The Shiko brothers smile simultaneously. This will be preserved for future generations."
"Delete that," Yakamira said. "Never." As the group walked toward the building—chaotic, loud, perfect—a figure watched from across the street. Hidden in shadow. Observing with intense focus.
A notebook in hand. Notes being written:
"Riyura Shiko: More resilient than expected. Survived family trauma. Brotherhood seems genuine now. Interesting. Very interesting." The figure had gray, fuzzy hair that seemed to smell faintly like something between detergent and distant memories.
A slight twitch in the movements. Eyes that looked at the school like someone seeing a feast they'd been denied.
Smelly Socksiku. And he was smiling. Eating some socks. And may or may not be Shoehead's greatest eating rival. For eating footwar.
[NARRATOR: And so begins the next arc. Family trauma temporarily resolved—though let's be honest, that's going to need years of therapy. Brothers tentatively bonded. And a new character waiting in the wings with his own brand of chaos and trauma to unleash upon our unsuspecting cast. Volume 2, Episode 4 is going to be a ride, folks. And yes, there will be socks and shoes. So many socks and yes Shoehead's shoes. Stay tuned.]
TO BE CONTINUED...