Disclaimer: KuroKapibara does not own World Trigger, the credit goes to its creator ASHIHARA Daisuke.

English is not my native language and it's not beta-ed, but I wanted to practice. So please bear with me and feel free to correct me wherever I made a mistake.


Chapter 4: Behind the act.

The prime of the day was marked by the radiant celestial orb known as the sun by occupying its rightful place at the peak of the blue sky, promising a beautiful harmonious time to spend with love ones until the end of the day. Of course, it was all wasted away when an impenetrable fort of clouds halted the warm luminescent rays of light from gracing the skin of the citizens.

Instead, shadows were inflicting upon the land below.

Three figures were left standing beneath the threatening clouds, uncaring of what they may bring. Their focus solely captivated by a faraway silhouette growing faint with each jump it took until it disappeared completely, swallowed by the sea of buildings in the distance. And even after the silhouette was long gone –leaving no trail that it was once present, the three sets of colorful eyes continued to gaze at the horizon, as if expecting the figure to pop up again at any moment.

No one could predict what the elite's next move would be.

"Aaand he is gone" The boy in stasis portrayed no care in the world. With both arms behind his head, it gave the impression that he had no rush to go and face the outside. "Aaand it looks like we are on our own."

However, the same could not be said for the other teen. The smoothness the little guy displayed despite his stature, the boy with glasses could only dream to attain. Awkwardness embraced him –like a parent to a child, and molded him to the person he was today.

Be as it may, he was a leader, their team's leader. Elected by unanimous choice and that has come to be respected by agents and directors alike.

"It seems to be that way." Because apparently the other agents had no problem in dismissing the wave of enemies. Which was good, Osamu wasn't someone to complain about the small break they were given. But he also knew someone who would, so... The black haired teen, always true to his role, adjusted his glasses and turned his emerald orbs with the intention of addressing his two peculiar companions. "Alright. Since we are not needed at the front any longer, and the immediate danger to the school has passed. Our best option is to reunite with Natsume-san, and help her evacuate the remaining students."

He was not looking forward to the response.

"Hai, Osamu-kun."

The voice caught the interest of the addressed boy, since it definitely wasn't what he had expected. It enticed him, captivated him –just like a moth to a flame, making Osamu feel the pull to come to it. However, instead of encountering with his demise (like the bug would have had), the young leader was met with an angelical face smiling sweetly at him; smile he found himself returning with equal sentiment.

Well, it was not she Osamu was referring to.

Rather...

"Huuuh? You really meant it?"

... Him.

A certain albino appeared not to share the same acceptance his teammate had. And as outspoken as he was (quality attributed to his lack of human common sense due to him being a Neighbor), his thoughts would clearly come blurting past his mouth. "We are really going to be stuck here, while other squads get to deal with the enemy?"

As teammates, an agreement among the individuals of the triad was one of the fundamental parts for a harmonious friendship. Hardly any difficulty for our heroes... And yet, this situation seemed not to be the case.

A sigh of exasperation unwillingly escaped the oldest teen's mouth. To think that Osamu believed this mission would have been carried out smoothly. Yeah right, not likely.

... Then again, when did they ever go the way he wanted them to go?

Osamu, knowing Yuuma's attitude towards the chance of a good encounter, understood that making the friendly Neighbor come willingly equaled a battle with a Rabbit: challenging and exhausting (at least for him). But naturally, as a leader, motivating his teammates was a task that entered in the description of said position. Perhaps if Osamu reminded the albino that it was a request for a friend (not an order, never as an order since his friend never cared for them and tended to disregard them), it could change Yuuma's stance.

"Yes, Kuga. That's the favor Jin-san asked us to do. Remember him? Jin-san, the same guy who stood up for us since the three of us entered Border?" Extremely obvious? Perhaps. But there were times the situation had to be spelled out for the young Neighbor to understand.

With the charming and serene atmosphere no longer present, Osamu broke contact with the welcoming sight that was the smiling girl (who, by now, she too had imitated the action) for a less inviting end: a face that screamed displeasure and lack of comprehension, all crunched up like if he had just spoken in a language the albino was foreign with.

"Heeeehh"

Alright, that option had not worked out. Maybe if he tried another approach... "Kuga, sometimes you have to slow down a bit, take a breath from all the action." The boy with glasses suggested, and mentally added 'For my sake, that is'.

The Neighbor possessed too much energy for the no-adept-for-physical-activity boy to keep up. Some would have thought that the absence of slumber would take its toll on the hyperactive teen, and would eventually settle down. Well, Osamu would like to differ. No factor took part against the small teen's everlasting energy; he would always be ready to take on any challenge. "Besides, the sooner we start, the sooner we get to finish and join the fight."

The result: Same face, same attitude. Still not good enough motivation for Yuuma.

Did Osamu have a tic? He wasn't sure. But judging the action his eyelid was doing, the tall teen was certain he was starting to develop one. By now, his emerald orb was beginning to twitch, and if it continued to be the way it was, well... Osamu would consider passing to a more drastic action (even for a pacifist guy like him)…

...Cover the Albino's mouth.

The bickering had caused, yet again, to disregard everything that composed the duo's surroundings. Including the presence of their female teammate, same friend they had sworn to protect. And fine job they had been doing. At the moment anyone could have kidnapped her, their beloved companion, right under their noses and the pair would have been none the wiser.

Thankfully, that had not been the case.

Secretly, times like these were the ones Chika treasured the most. Not because of what someone would think if they knew. Nope, it was none of that. In the pair of warm violet orbs complaints and arguments were overlooked, and focused into what it truly represented:

The bond they had with each other.

No soldier front, no serious self, no emotionless façade. There were no masks to hide under at the moment, not when they were among family (regardless of blood). When it was just them, their true selves flourished, and no secrets stood between them… or at least that is what Chika would like to believe.

But perhaps the notion might had been merely hers and no so much Osamu's.

With each passing second the girl got to witness the sight before her, the sympathy Chika had for her childhood friend increased exponentially at the predicament he found himself in. And so, Chika decided it was time for her to intervene. "Osamu-kun is right, Yuuma-kun. Our classmates need us right now, and as Border agents it is our duty to them all…"

A pause.

If there was something the gifted girl had learned during her time in Border was that before engaging in (any kind of) battle, a strategy must have already been established. Including the secret weapon.

And well, it usually meant her.

Therefore, when Chika witnessed their combined attacks do nothing against the hard, thick wall of stubbornness her feisty teammate had. She (figuratively) took a Breath. Aimed. And…

" … Besides, I made balls of rice for lunch to share it with you and Natsume-san. Maybe after we finish this mission, we can all enjoy them. I think the four of us deserve a break."

The proposition held similitude to a melody of a lullaby for the young Neighbor's ears, as it beckoned him to heed its words. There was no need to say she instantly got his complete attention. "Made of Plain rice?"

The memory from the time when the knowledge of him being a Neighbor was unknown to most, presented no difficulty to be recalled from its storage in the foreign boy's mind. Border and ranks were yet to form part of the daily conversation between the two close friends –strangers back then, only the promise of the taste of fine food.

A sweet delicate smile made itself present on the girl's features when she saw the pleading scarlet eyes waiting impatiently for an answer. "Yes, plain rice."

"Yosh!"

The small smile morphed into a soft laugh.

"It's a deal! Chika-chan's cooking is the best!" In that moment it was known, Yuuma had been won over. Even if there would have not been a loud reply announcing his acceptance, the smug duckface plastered all over the albino's face and pleased stand, spoke on his behalf.

Osamu could only watch with hidden astonishment as the scene unfolded upon his eyes. Amazed at how easily resulted for Chika to change the stubborn boy's mind. Well, it was how the saying went: The way to a man's heart (mind?), was through his stomach.

Especially if that stomach was a bottomless pit.

Maybe he had allowed himself to overthink stuff again, that as soon as the situation started to present some degree of difficulty, his mind had made a whole ordeal out of it.

After the current mission, a well-deserved vacation was due for the team.

But for the moment, Chika's proposition sounded really appealing.

Closing his eyes, the leader finally permitted himself to relax; a smile graced his lips. No more thinking. No more planning. Just enjoying the moment. And when eyelids opened to revealed jade orbs, he realized what both of his close friends had realized some time before him:

This was good.

"Errrm, just don't tell Konami-senpai I said that, or I would never feel my head ever again."

And suddenly the looming darkness did not look as menacing as it was before.

-WT-

-WT-

(change of scenery)

-WT-

"Sir, our Trion Soldiers have been deployed successfully."

Scarce thoughts could be express about the scenario in sight. Because majority of earth's population would not be able to understand the nature behind it. Only that, if a word could be used to describe it, it would be 'otherworldly'.

Indeed, the scene was beyond any resident from Meeden's comprehension. However, for a native of the Neighborhood, this had nothing out of the ordinary.

A room - or 'cabin' for a better word - no larger than a combat room from Border rank wars, was the stage where the event was unfolding itself. The interior design was that of a beehive, formed by aggregations of pentagons as walls, housing hundreds of miniature luminescent Trion Cubes. Just like the eggs of a bee in a nursery, waiting to hatch; or in this case, deployed to another world.

Excluding the peculiar wall pattern, nothing else of the interior could be distinguish. Not because of the simplicity of the room, but for the darkness that threaten to swallow the cabin whole, as well as bestowing it some kind of mysterious atmosphere.

It was all thanks to the scarce sources of light that the blackness was kept at bay. The Trion supply residing in the walls radiated their own luminescent power. However, regardless as how much they might had tried, the diminutive cubes weren't enough to cover the total area, not even with all the glowing cubes combined.

Fortunately, a much brighter source was present, lighting up not only its perimeter but the residents of the room as well.

A virtual monitor, spread from one side of the place all the way to the other, resulted to be said source. Diverse windows of various sizes were being displayed through the screen area, broadcasting scenes from different moments of the battle presently developing in the world below.

"Status: Meeden warriors have engaged our Trion Soldiers and have commenced civilian evacuation."

Having a reduced space did not mean it was almost vacant. On the contrary, in cases of war in another dimension, it was deemed absolutely necessary to fill the maximum capacity of the compartment, with the intention of having the majority number of fighters available. Yet, not over exceeding the determined capacity or they had the risk of decreasing the efficiency of their forces.

Currently, six individuals occupied the inside space of the cabin. All occupants clad in black armor from head to toe concealing their identity, yet never repeating the same style once. They were positioned in a way that would allow them a clear visual of the projection, and simultaneously exhibiting some kind of formation were the difference of rank was noticeable.

Three humanoids Neighbors were located in the opposite side of the room. Covered eyes watching silently the monitor before them. However not truly focusing on it, just enough to have basic knowledge of the conflict they were responsible of, as they waited patiently for the orders they would have to carry out.

This indicated that they held no power other than being merely a soldier. A high-qualified soldier, selected from an elite squadron. Like each Neighbor Nation did for an expedition such as this –Meeden not being the exception. Still a pawn nonetheless.

Time passed where silence reigned, the lingering vibrations of the voice as proof it had been worded soon faded into nothingness when it failed to be acknowledged; at least verbally. Clearly, all presents had heard the statement being said loud and clear; nevertheless, it wasn't in their assigned role to give commands based on the information stated.

The one assigned for such duty was situated not far from the soldiers' position, but much closer to the virtual monitor than the others. He was apparently not doing a good job at it. Why? Well, surely an individual standing near the screen pretending that no other living soul besides himself existed in the confines of the cabin, his focus solely in the visuals up ahead instead of his subordinates, could be classified as such.

However, the crew knew better that this kind of thought –product after watching their general at work, could not be more amiss. What the unit was truly witnessing at this moment, was a mastermind in action.

Orbs went back and ford, right and left, up and down, behind the vizor; never ceasing their movement for the most minimal second. And no matter how fast they went, nothing –not even the most minuscule detail– escaped the man's perception. So later, every section of the battle along with the diverse possibilities that could occur depending on each individual's decision, would be taken into consideration when developing a plan that would lead them into attaining their desired goal.

Quite like the famous fictional character of the classic books, Sherlock Holmes. Not that the Neighbors would know anything about him.

It was mesmerizing, and in a way creepy. The high ranked neighbor had the capability to create infallible plans just by observing his surrounding, and with the items he had at his disposal in that exact moment. It was a Side Effect highly praised among the rulers of their nation, when victory upon victory were achieved since the bearer assumed command of the military force.

Other Neighbor Nations would tremble at the simple thought of being a target, and immediately surrender without any opposition, knowing they would be fighting an already lost battle. The planets soon arrived to a conclusion where it was believed opposition was futile for small and medium nations alike.

Exceptions were made, of course –although not willingly, when it was very well known neighbor planets of their size could never be at equal level as the nations like Aftokrator, Kion or Leoforio, among others. Regardless, it was only matter of time when their glorious Nation would prevail, greedy as it may be, it was the future the rulers had envisioned.

That was until the invasion nobody dared to speak about, took place.

Not only because it was banned to do so in order of not to remember the dark moment of the Nation. But also, because the general was a high respected being, and it was considered a degradation to his status in doing so.

And it would not be a false accusation if someone went and declare that there was fear present toward their superior. But it was justified, since it was well aimed. A reputation preceded the general, both good and bad. While it was true he was consider an eminence, the human Neighbor could increase his knowledge in his sympathy skills.

Although, it would bring no result, being as his heart had been frozen solid over the years. Perhaps only being rivaled by Heiren, the Aftokrator heir.

"Report" A simple word was all the general said. It had not been a whisper, yet it hadn't been a shout either, but it was strong enough to carry throughout the small container the group resided in.

"Meeden's militia has been reduced by 65%. Majority of the percentage consisting in, according to the information acquired by our spy in Aftokrator, low rank agents and middle rank agents. High ranked classes are standing their ground. 25% of our Trion Soldiers remaining."

The correlation of the given information with the formulated strategy was none existent for the soldiers clad in black, impossible to achieve when the individuals did not possess the knowledge to connect both ends.

And that was exactly what they lacked. Ignorant of their own objective, the elites were recruited and launched into an invasion. Astonished as they might have been of the sudden and rushed departure, that was what they were trained for, therefore only the best performance was what they would give.

"Excellent." The voice sounded pleased, indicating that even if there was no plan to follow yet, the general's expectations were at least met. "Any Black Triggers?"

"One so far, although Aftokrator confirmed three Black Triggers in Meeden's possession."

"I see."

As tempting as it was for the rest of the soldiers to share a thousand words with a single glance, no one dared to do so. The faint spark was quickly grabbed and snuffed before it could grow, propagate, and consume them; leaving them at the mercy of the general's fearsome wrath.

The crew carried on with their assigned chores, deaf to other that wasn't an order, like the good little soldiers they were.

Once again, the cabin succumbed into silence.

Well, not quite. The continuous distinctive sound produced by rapidly tapping of a keyboard and a mix of sound from the videos displayed on the wide screen, that have come to be known as background noise; were still present.

Time went on…

… and on …

… and on…

"Sir, our Trion Soldiers have been reduced by 10 %, only 15 % left."

… Until the warnings could not be ignored any longer.

"Very well."

At the moment, gathering more information seemed futile to the general. He had observed enough, assessed the target's defenses, and collected general data from the opponent. Because that was what all of it was 'basic information'. Some kindly provided (stolen) by the country where god lays.

Implementing a strategy as simple as this one could only show so much.

If Meeden believed the same battle tactic used to defend themselves against Aftokraftor would work equally towards them, well then… they were partially correct.

It repulsed the general the simple idea of practicing the same method their contender once used, and yet that was precisely what he was doing. The strategy used back then was all carefully constructed and it showed in its performance, as much as it pained him to admit it.

Well no matter, it would do. And as time went by and the situation dictated it, it would be required from the general to make some modifications. However, with the little intelligence that he owned and the lack of target in sight, for now, he would have to proceed the way it was.

Sharped eyes narrowed dangerously with such passion that, if a stare alone could kill, then each shot his metal minions inflicted, might as well have been him behind the trigger.

'I am not a patient man. And yet, that is precisely what I have been doing. But I have grown tired of your defiance. And now, time is over.' After all, even the most merciful god would run out of patience eventually, especially when mere mortals defie his will.

Naturally, his internal turmoil went unnoticed by most members of his crew. His body resembling a safe: strong and unyielding; where jailed emotions stayed forever trapped deep in his self, remaining stoic to the outside world.

The general, with all and his perpetual charade intact, finally left the sanctuary that was the ominous monitor to give the attention his squadron had been denied. "What are the remaining resources in our arsenal?"

The answer came without delay. "Seven sets of Mod Marmods series, sir."

The numbers left much to be desired. Granted, ideal would be triple the digit, but he was known for making do with what he had. No exceptions. And this one was no different.

"Permission to speak, sir." One of his subordinates broke formation to address his leader. A single step forward and he had gained the superior's unwavering attention.

"Granted."

In an instant the present ceased to be, and time rewinded itself for the warrior. Back to when he was less of a soldier than a rookie ever was. For the once cadet, yearn to be noticed by the general was indoctrinated into his very being, as it happens when instructors and trainers lived to praise the floor their leader walked on. And more than once the intruding belief formed the sole foundation of his dreams.

But the wishful thinking hailed from his naïve past.

Fast forward to the here and now. Being subjected to a gaze so penetrating, capable of freezing the soul if it wishes so, and that could only serve as a nightmare fuel for the freshmen; no longer did he found himself wanting the gaze that could bore through his very soul, nor would he ever wish for it ever again.

Oh, how quickly was the mind to discard years of imposed discipline, as it was nothing but an unchained memory.

Sadly, time could not be reverted as it would in the mind. If only. That being said, nothing else could be done but to stand his ground and face the what's to come, armed with a determination that was nonexistent.

"Would not be better to send us instead, sir?" Asked the soldier.

The spotlight had switched focus. Gone were the judgmental stares, and passed onto the new subject in question. But unlike him, the new target never let himself falter against the audience.

"No. Not yet." The general promptly dismissed his subordinate's curiosity, without even offering his time to consider the question. "Let the machines do the work for now. Their usefulness has yet to be lost."

With the interrogation seemly over, the high ranked officer was soon to resume his work (hopefully, without further interruption). Leaving the situation behind him to retake the monotonous atmosphere it once was.

Or so he thought.

His Side Effect was both a blessing and a curse. It subjected him to perceive - willingly or not - everything and anything that constituted his surroundings, including the way people behaved. This implied that if there was any alteration in the person's demeanor (regardless of how big or small the change may have been), no doubt the general would be aware of it.

And so, the head of the squadron took notice. There was something amiss, yet subtle, about his subordinate's behavior. Could have been the soldier's stance, aura, mannerism, or perhaps the combination of the three that told the general what it was.

Doubt.

Doubt towards his actions.

Doubt toward his decisions.

Doubt towards his being.

And doubt meant distraction, one he could not afford to have. Therefore, it was of his best interest to pluck the shameful feeling from its root before it could infect its host and spread to the rest of the residents.

"Speak your mind, soldier." The general ordered. His voice labeled, yet firm, leaving no option but to obey.

"Sir?" The underlying questioned, as if not knowing the why behind the command.

The general gave a mental scowl. 'Very well, feign ignorance. However, do not take me for a fool who would obliviously swallow your pathetic lies with ease'. For this undoubtedly serious offense, it accredited the facing of his entire body to the wrongdoer, and ascertain the lackey knew the severity of his actions. "You still have some queries on the attack. Or am I wrong?"

"U-uh n-no, sir. You are not wrong." Came the unsteady response. All right, it could be that he might have possessed an idea of why his superior was calling him out, but the subordinate was sure as hell he would not say it out loud. Nobody on their sane mind would.

"Out with them then."

And yet, it had been established that the Neighbor pawn's mind left him some time ago, when he arrogantly decided to question his given orders. "Sir, we are far capable of dealing with Meeden's warriors than a Trion Soldier. Not to mention, our prowess is greater to face the adversary's top combatants. If we were to engage them in combat now that they are spread thin, their defeat would be imminent."

Yes of course, it was a reasonable thinking. "Hmmm. I understand your reasoning." Yet, simple minded. Indeed, his men were skilled and quite capable, or else they would not be here. Even so, so were the fighters of his adversary. "However, allow me to rest my mind by answering this question I have: what about Meeden's Black Triggers? Surely, soldier, your arrogance has not inflated your pride enough to believe you –regardless if it is you alone or with the aid of the machines– may be capable of taking on all three."

"W-well, yes." The low ranking neighbor blurted. "Y-yes, a-actually. Why…Why else would have we been chosen?"

The frail thread of respect –formerly solid but gradually thinning as his crew unraveled before his eyes– finally snapped without any effort. And with it, any feeble sense of worthiness their leader had bestowed upon his subordinates. In any case, no great lost was suffered today.

"No. The correct answer is no, soldier." Snapped the general at the presumptuous declaration. The superior survey each of one of his underlings, because despite the declaration being spoken from one soldier, no doubt the belief was shared among the crew. Not for one more second. First and foremost, he would terminate with this foolish way of thinking. "You – who has no achievement, no merit, no influence – to truly believe to be able to achieve such feat, it is utterly and downright ridiculous. You are nothing but a tool for me to exploit. It will be in your best interest, soldier, to know your proper role in this regimen once and for all." Finalizing berating down his subordinates, the general no longer deemed worthy to grant them his full attentiveness and turned away – arms behind his back, posture straight and rigid – to face the neglected screen. But not before adding more salt to the wound with one last statement. "Such disappointment."

After that, no one else dared to utter another word.

Their lesson, learned.

However, their fates had already been sealed.

'Much time wasted over such a petty matter.' The high-ranked Neighbor closed his eyes at the thought, mentally massaging his temples. 'Bothersome.' Nevertheless, it had been dealt and was over with. Now, onto more crucial affair –namely the strategy (or the rudiments of one) left in development by the audacious interruption.

Very well, shall he continue, then?

"Deploy a set of the Mod Marmods to each point where there is a high population concentration. Most likely, the rookies were dispatched to guide and protect the civilians, while more capable combatants are to deal with the machines. Rookies won't be able to hold against the modified Marmods, therefore they'll be forced to mobilize their units in order to engage them. However, with the common type continuing to be a danger to the city, yet not presenting the same threat level as a Mod Marmod; they are sure to send only the strong members, while the remaining warriors stay behind."

Chaos was sure to reign in the midst of the ambuscade (as Aftokrator had previously demonstrated), and despite of such, it lacked the state of disarray his scheme required. 'What to do. What to do.' The general proceeded to take a seat, whilst his mind submerged in the probabilities and possibilities that could be. Both elbows placed over their respective armrests, intertwining his fingers as to shape a bridge and permit his head to rest in a contemplative manner.

At the absence of the target in the battlefield, the general felt obliged to proceed as he had, much to his chagrin. However, there was something Aftokrator (and Galopula too, for that matter) had done that would ensure his demands.

"General, we have detected a faint signature of an Aftokrator machine inside Meeden's Headquarters"

"Can it be overridden?"

"Yes, sir"

"Then do so."

"Understood."

"In addition, send the last set to Meeden's Headquarters. This shall keep them preoccupied, uncoordinated and unable to communicate for quite a time. Enough to push them in revealing their ace cards, or in other words, their Black Triggers."

'… and with them, the objective.'

- To Be Continued-


Hi guys! Kurokapibara here!

I owe all of you a deep and sincere apology. I'm so so sorry.

So many things have happened during these 5 years of my absence, and I will exempt you guys of the boring details. This chapter has been a roller-coaster. It has been written so freaking slowly, thinking each time how to accommodate the sentence, if the words sound right, and if the fluidity of the paragraph is smooth. Then I would read it, modify it, then re-read it again, then modify it again so many freaking times! Until I was satisfied with it. Of course, then I would read such amazing, well-written stories from talented author that would make me hate mine, and squash my will to publish it. But then I would read other stories that were worse than me when I started writing, and would make me think 'Hey if they did it, why can't I' so I would start writing again… I have a really low self-stem.

Anyways, I wanted to keep this chapter short, but god knows that is impossible for me to do! So again I had to cut this chapter in half. The other part is almost finished…but since it's me, the slowpoke author we are talking about, it might take me 2 months to finish it. Why can't I write it as fast as I think of it in my mind?! If it was, then this fic would have been done and over with many many years ago.

I have the fundament of the plot all planned out, so I know how it will end (for now). How it happens, that is another matter entirely. And hopefully, it will be a consistent, believable story. So I plan to tell the story till the end… but again, I don't know how long it will take me. Seeing as I want to rewrite the first three chapters in order for new and old readers won't have to read those monstrosities.

I think I chewed more than I could sallow with this story, because, god, Ashihara-sensei is so tactical and formulates all these amazing strategies my brain could never come up with! It leaves me drained to try and keep the good quality Ashihara-sensei delivers.

Also... Why doesn't FFN let me leave blank spaces between paragraphs, and it also deletes words! I had to delete the chapter already uploaded and edit the document so many times! God, I hate it.

Okay, now that I'm done with my rant.

Thank you so so so much to all of you readers that stayed with me during my time of absence. And to all of you that even were so kind to like/follow and comment in this fic (Even if it was just to shout at me: where the heck are you?! That's understandable, no hard feelings about that. I could never). *Bows* Thank you so much!

Now all there is to say is: Kurokapibara out.