"GET OUT GET OUT!"

A particularly hard apple hit Keima on the head, and his vision blurred, even with the glasses on.

He struggled to get the words out, but none rolled out of his tongue. There were too many scenarios, too many scenes.

He was unsure which to use. This was the Real after all.

"You stupid Otamega! Never come near me again!"

That girl, she's not grateful that I'm doing all this just for her own pitiful sake!

I curse you Real!

Keima covered himself against the barrage and headed out of the infirmary. Once in the corridor, he collected himself and his thoughts. Breathing deeply, he noticed that something was hot – down there.

It had been so long, like "it"d said.

But he had no time for that! He had to salvage this situation somehow!

Salvagebutniisama youfailed

Shut up! I don't need your meddling right now!

Yougonnaneeditreal soon niisama

Right, so if he could come up with a secondary event,he could definitely return to Ayumi and apologize, make-up, probably start over. He'd seen these kinds of things before. They'd all been solved by him before – in his games, of course.

Hungryhungryhungry

"Ayumi-san!" He burst through the door, ready to use whatever charisma he theoretically had to sway the target's feelings. "I believe in you, no matter-"

His gift basket hit him straight in the face, and there was an audible, unpleasant crunch as the missile-like force impacted his nose. He groaned in pain as he allowed the basket to fall over to the ground.

"Pervert Otamega! What are you still doing here?"

Keima touched his broken nose gingerly, before turning to glare quite murderously at an indignant Takahara.

"I'm just trying to help, you-"

"Ha! I knew it, there really is a reason for your unwanted advances! Now you're sick of me right? Now you're annoyed – there's the Otamega I've been waiting for! Stay away from me you creep!"

Creep...

The word resounded like a death knell in the pits of Keima's self. He clenched his fists close as he fought to override the anger bubbling out. A few more droplets of blood fell to the floor. The sight was so disgusting, it was like he'd been having a nosebleed over Ayumi inside the infirmary.

Like he'd been...aroused?

Yourenotaroused

"What-"

THIS is aroused! Nyahahahaha!

Keima felt a searing, radiating pain in his lower body and he keeled over, clutching at "it" in pain. No, this was exactly like before!

"Takahara!" He shouted desperately. "You have to run, now!"

"Who are you to demand things from me Otamega! You get out!"

Bah, I don't care anymore. The Real is.. it is...

Hateful.

OooOoOoOoO

Sometimes Keima would dream about that day, as he watched the stars under the free sky.

He knows it is a dream, just like this lifestyle of his is a dream.

In that dream, he is a God, who transcended time and space to capture a thousand girls.

In that dream, he meets a little devil, and they argue about this and that. At times, they cross over to the other side and plot.

In that dream, he falls in love, briefly with a girl who falls in love with him.

One detail he always tries to recall in lucidity: did he leave the girl, or did the girl leave him?

Whatever happened to the little devil?

He only remembers waking one day on top of an ugly girl's body, and recalls that awful stench that clung to her gym clothes.

He remembers crawling to the door, escaping, unmindful of his sweet nakedness. The door unexpectedly opens behind him.

He remembers screams, a heated exchange, and a life is again lost.

He remembers nothing else.

But he would dream, and each time he noted every detail, every action, examining each from every angle.

And he would try to come to a conclusion.

It is the only pastime that occupies his life.

Tomorrow, he has to cross another sea. Perhaps the next boat will be more hospitable than the last.