Keima let out a tired, ragged breath, frosting the surface of the display glass. He was standing in front of one of his frequented stores, staring glumly about as he absently fingered the front of his shirt. He made no move to enter, despite the questioning glances the manager shot him from inside. Any other time he would have leered at the desperation in those glances, most likely caused by the shop's devoidness of customers.
The warm afternoon had already settled in to chilly twilight, casting pleasant sunset glows along the street where Keima was. He rubbed his fingers together to attain some warmth before turning into the street to start heading home.
"Nyaw can I tolk-yeh?" Hakua's curious voice sounded out of thin air, making his head throb just one more pulse. In his stress-ridden stupor, he dimly wondered if he'd really forgotten all about the devil's presence during the whole meeting, and of what she'd soon be remarking about what she'd seen.
"I told you before: no talking." said Keima. "At least, not until I'm. . .ready." He set his trembling jaw, staring determinedly through the milling sunset crowds he passed. He itched to fish out the PFP and play, but there was still that nagging feeling in his mind, like he'd dipped it in something foul and sticky. Come to think of it, his skin was drenched in several layers of spent sweat and dust. He'd have to bathe thoroughly later.
"But thyat was. . . an' tha girl, she was-" began Hakua regardless.
"Yes, yes she was exactly who she claimed to be. I think. I've long abandoned any notion of proving him wrong." He made a strangely-formed grin. "And it just so happens too that my inquiries into certain internationally-acclaimed companies have borne some fruit. So it's not entirely far-fetched to say that his company pioneered the creation of robots or something."
"Oh no-cha, I waszn't refurring to tha girl-yah. If she did claim to be a construct-cha, den it no bizziness of mayn-yah. Hell payoneer'd it furtht after all-yah." Keima raised an exasperated brow. "Huwat I am refurring to is dat uzzer thing, in which ya-"
"Zip!" Keima abruptly raised a hand and cut the air with it energetically, causing some of those nearby to look at him strangely. "That was exactly the thing I said I wouldn't be talking about. You've already seen it today, so would you please keep that to yourself and draw your own conclusions? I wasn't joking when I said you should leave it alone." There was a hardened edge to his voice then, and the force of it was enough to cause even Hakua to pause.
For Hakua, what she'd seen was the latest in the series of violations of human behavior she had learned about in the academy, broken systematically again and again from her time observing her Buddy. The first had been the obscene mating rituals practiced in public which made even this century-old devil blush. She now had reason to believe that Hell's info was outdated by a century, which one part of her greeted with misgiving; Hell shouldn't be that way, especially when it involved the important Runaway Spirit Squad!
Keima was now rubbing his lips thoughtfully. Just a few minutes before, they had been extra-soaked from all the mouth rinsing the Capturing God had to do in the moments following the end of the meeting. He'd been rubbing it vigorously until it was as clean as he wanted it to be. Which it now was, thanks to himself.
He checked his mouth again. A thought occured to him.
"Huh. Never thought it'd feel this way. . ." he murmured against his hand cryptically. A soaring feeling welled up in him.
"Huwat ya toakin' bout' naow, -yeh?"
"After this day, Hakua, I find myself in the rare position of. . . " It seemed like his recent hurts had been tossed to the wayside. He braced himself, his newfound excitement coursing through his renewed limbs. When it finally burst out, he leapt, fisting the air triumphantly. "Freeeeeedom! Eeeeyahoo! Free! Free, free, free at last!" A few bystanders scurried away in fright. Keima cackled, adding to Hakua's confusion.
"Katsura-chii, huwat ya mean, -yeh?" Such outbursts weren't uncommon when it came to her Buddy, but she wondered all the same. Especially since she wasn't corporeal enough to bonk him on the head for it. . . yet.
Keima now restarted walking again, jaunty springs in his every step. "Oh lovely, quite lovely, with freedom like this it's game-all-you-want! I can almost sing, no I can almost write a song about it! That's right, you!" he pointed at a man, who recoiled instinctively. "A song called freedom!
"You girl! 'Freedom from toil'! Repeat after me!" he pointed at another girl, who squeaked and scurried off. A thoroughly joy-drunk Keima continued pointing and gesturing at people as he ran past, "This day I rue, as meetings always do!
"But since I'm free, it makes me squee!
"The devil's lost, the contract's paused!" Many inner Keimas were doing raucous jigs in his mind. Keima was happy that other thing in his mind wasn't joining in.
"Huweel ya stop it, -yeh? Yar mak'n' me embarehss'd, ev'n tho I not dere – yoh!" Hakua tried to yell irritably, to no avail.
"Hmm, yes I do believe I have it." Keima had stopped to stand in the middle of the street, and there was a non-walk zone in a circle around him as the other people ambled nervously past. He glanced at them, and after a beat, twirled and spread his arms out, shouting for all the street to hear, "The cold wind freezes, hellfire's gone but warmth remains, now the devils sleep!"
"Shut up!" "Go on home you freak!"
Keima ignored the jibes and insults, he was the Capturing God, and he was free. He knew he must savor it, clinging to the well-earned freedom he'd been denied all throughout his enslavement. Now was the time to strike! "Marathon!" he proclaimed.
In his frenzied delight, he bumped into a person, causing a stack of papers to fall from her hands. Quickly realizing his mistake and mumbling a quick apology, he swooped in to help the girl gather the scattered papers before they could be blown away, and after they were collected he presented them to her with a magnanimous flourish.
"Terribly sorry for the mess. Sometimes I let my excitement get the best of me." He made to offer his brightest beam, but then it faltered, to be quickly replaced by a horrified expression upon seeing who it was.
The blonde hair should have given it away. It was Aoyama, who was now looking at him suspiciously, the papers now clutched to her chest. He quickly averted his face, to avert some sort of recognition from her. Although the devil had said that the mission targets wouldn't remember him after a capture, he still couldn't have fate tempted so easily. So he'd avoided attention any way he could when around the girls, which had failed quite spectacularly on this afternoon.
Not wanting to prolong the encounter even further, he chose the safe option. Run!
Before Mio could offer some form of thanks, the Capturing God had disappeared into the crowd, who had parted quite readily at his passing like motes of dust in the wind.
"Damn these random encounters!" Keima seethed. "I did not just trigger a flag right there." It would be too troublesome if that were so. This was exactly why he stayed away from Ayumi as much as he could in class. He'd seen enough (from games) how innocent interactions could spontaneously trigger memory recall syndrome - otherwise known as Keima-must-die scenario. Enough routes featured that – some even relied on that as a device.
He hoped Mio didn't remember too much of his face. He recalled the brief interaction they'd shared, wondering if he'd revealed his face too much in there. And he'd nearly smiled at her! Nothing beat plastering one's face for good or bad into a girl's head than an overly friendly smile. Nope, he decided while he ran, she didn't see me that much. No flag, please let there be no flag.
"Even minor flags can map entire courses of destiny." he reminded himself darkly. Hakua said nothing all throughout the return home, though the amulet pulsed heat more frequently. Keima seemed not to have felt it, choosing to have his mind plot a more pleasant course.
For above all, he was free, even for a while. To him, that was more important than anything.
OoOoOoOo
"Don't move pretty boy, or your girlfriend'll be biting the dust next." The ski-masked man spat, tightening his arm-lock on Yotsuha, Yokkyun's estranged cousin-turned-half-sister, who was also incidentally his current lover. The bloodied bodies of their bodyguard friends lay strewn about the ruined office landing.
He edged closer at a slow pace, holding his palms out and offering the bag full of bank notes in plain view. "Yes, I'm moving, moving to give you this, you can see. So please, take the money and don't hurt Yotsuha anymore," he pleaded. The gagged girl was looking fearfully at him, tears perching on the corners of her eyes.
Some of the other crooks narrowed their eyes, squinting at the windows where a helicopter's searchlight was now peering in. "Shit!"
Using that as the signal, he quickly dove, knocking back the hostage-taker's arm before he could fire a shot. One did get off, though it shot wild, but in that moment he had already disarmed the man and grabbed the rope-bound Yotsuha to himself.
"He's brought help, I told you the guy was a conniving snake- aargh!" One of them shouted, blood-red spots blooming all over his body. He was the last to slump to the floor, victim of a vicious barrage coming from the helicopter, shattering the windows with great force.
He felt around the shattered glass lying around, picking one up to carefully cut the extra-tight ropes binding his lover. After freeing her arms, he untied the gag, and they shared a quick, passionate kiss before they nodded at each other.
"The car's waiting outside. Let me gather some clues first," he told her. Nodding weakly but firmly, she limped over to the corridor, shoes scuffing loudly on the carpet.
He walked over to the broken window. The sounds of the departing helicopter faded in the distance. He sent his silent gratitude to his friends in the police department who'd obliged the heli support. He stepped over to the edge, and peered down to see-
Fog.
"Funny," he muttered wryly to himself. I don't remember the plot of Hill's Silence FD ~raburabu~ carrying into that of Key Masters XI. The only conclusion then, is: I'm in 'its' dream again."
There was that damnably familiar sight of ever-present fog. He looked around, seeing the walls of the room melt off into darkness with mercurial fluidity. He sighed, mist issuing from his mouth and fading into the encroaching dark behind him. He adjusted his glasses upward.
He looked back, and now he was actually peering out from a window of a tower. After a beat, he realized it was from the crooked tower that he'd been seeing most of the time. He peered out over the omnipresent mist, shrouding everything below him. The vague, sheer faded walls of the tower extended below him and into the shroud.
He felt its presence come near, and suddenly he thought he could spy it somewhere in the mists below. He could feel its eyes on his, burning and accusatory.
"You."
He raised a brow. "Me."
The voice sounded subdued, angry this time. It was less of the silky sweetness and more of the roiling thunderstorm. "What are you doing up there?"
"I climbed up, obviously." A blast of impotent hatred hit him then, and he almost flinched at the force of it. He struggled to keep the nonchalance on his face.
Despite the apparent displeasure, the voice remained civil. "Respectfully, mortal, how on earth did you manage to get up there?"
"I respectfully claim ignorance." He looked behind him again. It almost seemed like he was standing on a narrow precipice of sorts. If he took a step forward, he would fall into the mists, and if he stepped back, he would disappear into the dark. He reached up a hand to feel the edges of the window. They felt spongy, as if the wall were made of warm bread.
"Young mortal, there will be time for jests later. However, today is not that time. " He looked back down in alarm, because there was a squelching sound of berries bursting from below.
And the dream-Keima felt a twinge of fear for the first time, God though he should be. His tongue went out to lap at the drying edges of his mouth, and he reached out his other arm to support himself against the other edge of the windowsill. Down in the mists, there was the feeling of mounting pressure, of a whirlpool that was materializing out of thin air.
Then it seemed as if the presence had magnified, grown, transformed into titanic proportions. Though he couldn't see it, his eyes followed its rapid growth upward and into the sky, fearful. A breath as from an oven brushed against his face, and he shivered. It smelled like something sickly sweet.
He could almost feel the unseen hand reach out, searching for him through the mists, and he braced himself, ready for the gigantic embrace, waiting for the hand to scoop him up and crush him easily.
But nothing came. The hand (he could almost see the hand now, and all its features, though he couldn't remember what it looked like a moment later) struggled against the mist, and he knew it was searching vainly for him.
The mist-wreathed figure uttered a frustrated shriek. It was like a child that could not find the one small colored ball amidst all the others, like losing the same ball in the sands of a beach. It resounded in his ears, shrill and piercing. The hand reached out, to find nothing, though he knew it knew he was there. Keima felt secure inside his tower, raining superiority down at the thing that clawed blindly for him.
And then a foolish thought occured to him. He would not hide here, safe but cowardly behind the mist. No, he would challenge whatever it was head-on.
He would win!
So he took a tentative step back, feeling the comfortable solidness of the dark behind him. He crouched, gathering himself up, before he jumped, fists flailing, body twisting in the air. The Dream Keima wished for wings and he thought that he could feel them sprouting from his back, spreading gloriously unseen behind him as he took flight.
He sank into the mist and felt himself brush against something soft and cushiony. He sank his fist into it, and for a brief moment of triumph, he could feel the figure's surprise and confusion as he sank fist after vengeful fist into the mist.
And then he was falling.
The faint beeps of victorious fanfare were the first thing Keima heard when he came to. He clutched the headphones, hanging uncomfortably around his head and neck, and took them out, the music fading. He rose from his dozing position on the desk, and adjusted the glasses perched on his sweaty hair down to peer at the screen before him.
The Yotsuha route ~AFTER~ had been successfully unlocked and cleared, it said in bright glowing letters and a bonus art of the titular girl in beachwear. Keima realized he must have fallen asleep in the middle of the route and his arm, having conveniently fallen on the skip button, had played the rest of the game for him while he was asleep. What a shameful way of treating a route! He berated himself. Though he would dock points against the game for having no choice presentations to begin with.
Well, it wasn't like Yotsuha's after route was anything novel or heart-wrenching. Even if she was somehow related to Yokkyun, she was still a minor subcharacter whose "onii-chan moe" had somehow appealed to a niche group of fans and caused her to get her own route in the fandisks. It was absurd, but as the Capturing God, he couldn't shirk his duty to capturing even her.
He looked at the time. He stretched, hearing the small clink of the amulet against his clothes as he did a few twists with his body. Keima looked around and wondered silently to himself. Had he been dreaming something in that small nap?
He then realized that the she-devil was quietly snoozing away somewhere inside the amulet, as it was stone-cold in temperature. He wanted to prod it, a part of his mind wanted to see the devil's reaction to being woken up rudely. But then no, that would be weird.
He tilted his head, wondering to himself silently. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd won something. Keima again saw the congratulatory credits (complete with Yotsuha's sheer cliffs), and shrugged.
"Freedom. . . freedom. . . " Keima Katsuragi giggled in the darkness. "Review for game. . . let's see, a few words should cover it? No, we must celebrate our happiness more, let's add two more paragraphs. . . 'Although it was lacking in some parts, the overall impression of Yokkyun's'-" The incessant tap-tap on the keyboard continued until the dawn, when the Katsuragi matriarch opened the door to find her son slouching in his pajamas over his desktop.
OoOoOoOo
"And that is why, ladies and gentlemen," the black-haired boy proclaimed in a faux baritone, percipience and mastery framing every inch of his face, "-this transfer student that we all have heard of must be encouraged to come here! Based on the common sense data you all know, the male population in Class 2-B is outnumbered by the females by two. For this reason, and many others," he winked conspiratorially at his male compatriots to the side, "we must organize ourselves to petition Mr. Kodama to enroll the transfer student into our class!"
He pumped his fist into the air, looking around at his gathered audience: almost all of the students in Class 2-B. They whistled and roared their approval as the self-proclaimed "genius", "rousing", "inspirational" "Maestro" of their class conducted its students to another grand scheme.
"Go Maestro!" yelled a few of the boys who stood to gain the most from the plan.
"Always the best speeches, that Maestro."
"Maestro should run for student council president!"
"But. . . " said a girl off to the back of the crowd, who was said to be particularly slow when it came to things. She looked at the gathered girls and boys and then at the seats, counting them individually. "My common sense data says that there's only a difference of one in the population of girls versus boys, Maestro. Or is it-" she checked again. Her friend nudged her in the ribs, and at that moment the crowd looked towards the center of the room, where the Otamega, Katsuragi sat.
The idiot was knee-deep in a game.
"Oh." said the girl in dawning comprehension to the sniggers of her friends. "Oh!"
"So you see, ladies and gentlemen," said the Maestro, who had taken back the floor, "This class is in sore need of more girls to brighten our mornings. We would trade a Katsuragi and a Mikono if it meant more girls, am I right? Right?" he asked his compatriots.
"Hey!" cried one Mikono, a boy with a plump face.
"I'm just kidding, Mikono you healthy, scrumptious bag of energy. But we would trade one Katsuragi for even one girl, right? Right? No one disagrees." There were nods of assent, even more from the girls. It was a well-known, unspoken fact.
"Everybody! It's almost time. Please head to your seats," said a new voice, and the entire assembly looked to the door, where their class president, one Chihiro Kosaka stood at the entryway, school bag slung lazily over her shoulder.
"President!" the Maestro bounded over, bubbling over with energy from his speech to his fellows, "I would just like to proclaim a wondrous new agenda we've all just reached, and that is-"
"Shut. Up. Maestro. If you know what's good for you." Chihiro hissed suddenly, eyes burning a hole in the rabblerousers' own. The latter, sensing his danger, lost all his flamboyant demeanor and stepped down, slinking into the crowd like a beaten dog.
Silence followed her as Chihiro stepped up to the center table, and then she turned and looked increduously at them all. "Well? Did you think I was gonna say something? I said get back to your frigging seats! Class is about to start! Do I honestly need to shout to get you laggards to move? Go on! Shoo!"
Never a class who could stand up to their strong-willed president, the rest of the crowd imitated the Otamega and bustled over to their seats. The Maestro looked particularly put out, though he said nothing. The school bell rang, and the assembly sighed and pulled up their books and pencils from their desks.
"Hey, Chihiro, what's up?" whispered Ayumi Takahara, her seatmate, "you look more than irritated today."
The president looked like she wanted to say something abrasive, but shook her head and thought better of it. "Guess I woke up to the wrong kind of music or something? I don't know, I'm not angry angry." The tension in the class eased up. There were relaxed muscles everywhere.
"More like on the level of pissed," she said loudly,looking around the room, and the students tensed up again, averting their eyes. She looked back at Ayumi, who looked like she didn't know what to say. "Like I stepped on something nasty on the street and it took a while to wash off. Y'know. That kind of pissed." There were sighs of relief. Chihiro snapped her head back, and the Maestro sunk deeper in his seat. Some people were looking determinedly at the doorway.
The Capturing God, having reached a tedious multi-decision point, sighed and pressed the button to save. He stretched his free arm, switching the PFP over to stretch the other, and looked around. Class was silent, for once. He shrugged and turned back to his game with greater determination.
Somewhere there was a yawn, heard only by one, followed by a chirp that only the God could hear, "Did I miss something?"
OoOoOoOo
Take your pick, Kodama, it's your turn Kodama, good luck Kodama, those damn, overblown, overdressed, overpaid sleazepockets who couldn't make heads or tails of a single book report on any Western literature- 2-B's homeroom teacher, one square-jawed Ichiro Kodama clenched and unclenched his fist, his explosive demeanor normally reserved for one particular honor/trouble student in his class seeping out in the corridor on this early morning.
He walked ahead of a girl wearing her pre-transfer school uniform, her bluish green blazer making her stand out in the corridors of red. The bell rang just then, and Kodama glanced back with unrestrained hostility at his latest headache, the transfer student that had just been "raffled" into his class.
It wasn't that the Majima teaching staff was irresponsible or anything. It wasn't like the school's abysmal academic rating among the country translated over to its staff, and to their unceasing tendency for stupid, unnecessary things whenever they got bored. No, it was their unchanging penchant for laziness every single moment of their working times! Weren't they supposed to be teachers? Shouldn't they come to the academy to teach instead of playing darts in their office, or drinking sake right in the middle of the day, or endless flirting, or playing raffles to see which transfer student belonged to which teacher – there were just too many flaws to list. And he'd yet to begin on activities after school.
And Kodama had no choice but to go along with it; he could never be compelled to leave Majima, one way or another. Although people generally tolerated his explosive demeanor, some didn't take it well, so it was only in this gods-forsaken school where he was able to last so long. And it was only because they ignored him most times.
The only one who didn't was that creepy language teacher with the disturbing, ever-present bondage collar who kept coming on to him. Well, she came on to everyone, but still.
"Here we are, transfer student." He stopped before the closed door, already eyeing one particular seat in the center with distaste. "Wait here while I prepare the class, mine can be pretty. . . unhinged at times. Wouldn't want the boys to start jumping you, now would we? Not like I'd ever let them, of course, just so you know." The girl gave a timid nod, most of her face hidden behind black bangs. Kodama eyed the buns on her hair dubiously, before opening the door to what he hoped would be another fruitful day for educating young minds, no matter how unsalvageable some would be.
"-and before you even ask, yes, we do have a transfer student coming in and IT IS NOT! ("'Vindication!' cried one) I repeat, NOT GOING TO become a big deal with the rest of you. You people are here to learn, and by the Fates you are going to learn. . . Kosaka, where's the class list? I'll need to have it updated temporarily. . . Get back to your seat Mikono, I'm warning you! And you! And you! Get back down or it's self-study in the library! Before I introduce her, I'd like you all to look at some handouts for the upcoming exam, your updated schedules are in there, and I've taken the liberty of-"
Whack! Pulling out a well-used rolled-up newspaper, he bonked the resident delinquent/honor student on the head, who didn't look up from his hell-machine. "Katsuragi! At least show some respect towards your soon-to-be new classmate! Just getting good grades won't always entitle you in life, as Miss Kosaka has proven, why thank you dear, the list looks better than I expected. . . and that respect goes for the rest of you non-achievers, you have to be sure to make a good example for our new student. . . "
Yes, Kodama Ichiro decided, it was a grand day for some educating.
OoOoOoOo
"Okay then, Ayukawa-san, I guess it's time to show you around. I'm Chihiro Kosaka, class president." Chihiro greeted the newcomer, who'd spent the periods before lunch silently huddled in the seat at the corner of the room. Chihiro found it cold, but it was all because their homeroom teacher was a stickler for orderliness and wouldn't hear of allowing the seating arrangements to be mixed around just for the sake of one transfer student.
"Um, pleased to meet you. I leave myself in your hands, Kosaka-san." the girl meekly bowed in turn, keeping her hands crossed before her chest.
"Hey now, you're not one of those shy types are you? There are dogs here that'd like to eat you up just for that. And I don't mean literally eating you up." she continued, waving at the rest of the room. The president's enforcement of will had caused most of the boys to flee at the moment of dismissal rather than attempt to besiege the newcomer's seat for after-school offers. The girls had respectfully kept their distance in turn.
"I'm sorry, I'm just not too good at first times. But, but- I'll work hard! I promise!" The girl made a show of determination.
"Mm. That's good enough, I guess. Only time will tell if you actually shape up, Ayukawa. . . Tenri-san was it? Can I call you that?"
"Uh, sure, I don't mind." Ayukawa Tenri acceded hesitantly. Chihiro, sensing the first barriers crossed, grinned in turn. "Alright then, before we go, I'd like to tell you something about our class. There are three rules that are vital outside of class rules. One, do not associate with any other person, male or female, outside this class - outside of class, at any time."
"Why is that?" asked Tenri. Chihiro shot her a searching look.
"C'mon. Haven't you heard the rumors about this school? I thought it was well-known in Majima already. 'Where all manner of sinful, languid students congregate'. And I don't mean the overly delinquent types. Like the types who'll knock you out, tie you up and take you to a dark place to do bad things. Well, I guess you'll be seeing the gist of it soon," she added upon seeing Ayukawa's innocent, puppy eyed look. "And that's why in here, you're mostly protected: your classmates will look out for you, and no bullies or other suspicious types will accost you so long as I'm still here. Which leads me to my next rule.
"Two, the president's word is law." Chihiro puffed up her chest. "I'm the best damn class president this school has, and if it weren't for my other duties, I'd be planning on running for school president! These girls know what I'm talking about," she turned to the students still lingering inside the room. "Hey, you big-breasted slackers, what're you still doing here, huh?" she yelled in a coarse, ill-mannered voice. "I don't want any of you rabid rabbits using my classroom for any of your irresponsible 'activities'. Go on, get the hell outta here!" In moments the president's face had twisted into something akin to what could be seen on a displeased taskmaster upon seeing her slaves mucking about. With various yelping sounds the students fled, leaving a baffled Tenri and a satisfied-looking Chihiro in the classroom.
"See what I mean? Most people around here will learn not to mess with me, including any of the aforementioned bad seeds. That's why you're safe while you're under my eye. And in return, as long as you're under me, you have to do what I say." She crossed her arms, looking pleased with herself.
"Oh. . . " Tenri said, not knowing what to say in this situation. She nodded, "Thank you, Kosaka-san. I won't forget it."
"Good. I think." Chihiro looked sideways at her. "The third and last rule is: do not involve yourself with the Otamega."
"Otamega?" Tenri wondered.
"Umu, he's our resident supergeek. Actually, he might be Majima High's only example of a blown up supergeek. He's an otaku to the rabid extreme. Even admits it loudly to himself. I won't be surprised if you get infected by all manner of unpleasant diseases if you get close to him." she smiled and shrugged at Katsuragi's empty seat (the idiot had wandered off just as usual), before noticing that the girl's eyes were already looking in that direction. "You noticed him right? He doesn't get that much flak from teachers because of his grades, which by the way ain't that great in my opinion, allowing him to do whatever he wants in class. I and a number of other people can't wait for the day when he fails to get a perfect score, so that Kodama'll be able to frame the testpaper for years to come. Well, I'm sure you'll get to know more about him as the days pass." Chihiro gestured to the door. "Now that I've laid out my rules, let's move on to the tour."
Out in the corridor, a freight train sped past, colliding with one of the columns with an earth-shattering crash. After the dust cleared, Tenri saw the missile girl come back to them with a dazed look on her face, swaying unsteadily on her feet.
"Oi, Ayumi. How was track, has the field been fixed yet?" Chihiro called out.
"Auuu~ No, we'll probably only be coming back to it next week. They need to do the trimming and repainting and. . . " Ayumi trailed off, seeing who was with her friend. "Oh, hello! Ayukawa-san right? My name's Ayumi Takahara. I'm from the track-and-field-team!" It was like the collision had never happened.
"'And I'm also this school's officially sanctioned exploding missile'." Chihiro snidely said off-hand.
"Hey, hey, would you stop spreading that title around? I'm already being teased that by my team-mates!" Ayumi rounded on her friend.
"Don't worry, don't worry. It's not like it's bad or anything. Think of the rumors that'll spread to your enemies! They'll think first before competing against you. 'Oh my gosh- it's the Legendary Missile! Run for your lives!'" She looked around at the people walking by. "I mean it's better than say, the title of 'Otamega'." There was an instant stream of hisses and creaking of heads as most of the people within earshot turned their head. Chihiro doubled over in amusement. The other two stood with blank looks on their faces.
"So anyway," she said after she calmed down. "I'm leading our new classmate to see the sights. Wanna come with?"
"Sure. . . " after they started walking Ayumi leaned in towards Chihiro and murmured, "And now I gotta ask, what was up with you this morning? Is it. . .that day again?"
"WHAT? Why the heck would you think that?" Chihiro said in a fake, sing-song surprised voice, rubbing her feet together and swinging her body to and fro in a mock embarrassed manner.
"Hm?" Tenri just looked on cluelessly (with clear question marks on her head) while following behind the two.
"Man, the school's too busted to function. I mean, the library, the field, the roof. . . it's like a storm hit it," Ayumi commented as they passed by the library.
"Hey now, no need to highlight the school's current state to our transfer student. You might scare her off." Chihiro stopped and bowed to Tenri. "On behalf of the school, I am sorry for the mess."
"N-no no, it's no trouble," Tenri found herself waving off the apology.
"C'mon Chihiro, stop teasing Tenri-san." Ayumi chided.
"Well, she's gonna be hearing that a lot soon. Might as well get used to it, eh?" They continued walking. "It ain't like I'm lying – gonna be a lot of messing up and apologizing in the future. You can count on that."
"That's not the point, isn't it? It's- oh never mind." Ayumi rubbed her sore head. Then she cocked her head at Tenri. "Oh, that makes me wonder. . . What made you transfer here Tenri-san? I recognize that uniform. . . it's from that other school in Majima isn't it?" Ayumi rattled off inquisitions off-handedly. Chihiro gazed quickly at her friend then at the transfer student from the corner of her eyes.
"Err. . . " It looked like Tenri was struggling to find the words. A silence fell on the three as she struggled to come up with something to say in her flustered state. Ayumi started to regret asking.
"Idiot, you're not supposed to ask that of first-time acquaintances!" This time it was Chihiro who scolded an apologetic Ayumi. "On behalf of my friend's tactlessness, I would like to apologize-"
"I'm sorry, Tenri-san. It wasn't my business to ask. . . "
"You're damn right it wasn't-" Chihiro ribbed with a broad grin on her face. She shook her head in a "she's always like this" way at Tenri, who again took it with her now-trademark bewilderment.
They passed through corridors, floor by floor, past rooms that were open and some that were locked, past classrooms, clubrooms, storage rooms and study-rooms. Each time, Chihiro would point them out to the transfer student, and sometimes she'd emphasize staying clear or staying away like, "Yeah, the folks on this floor aren't known for their academics. That's why we call it the dropout floor. Best to stay clear." Or "See that room?" Chihiro had pointed at a locked storage room. "Beyond that lies one of the many sex hangouts in this god-forsaken school. You'll want to stay clear, to preserve your innocence. . ." she looked at the transfer student whose eyes were sufficiently widened to be considered comical.
"Like it's been preserved by you telling her - what are you doing Chihiro?" Ayumi asked, walking past and turning to look at her friend seriously. "You're the one trying to discourage her from fully transferring in now."
"No I ain't," replied Chihiro with a raised eye. She waved her wrists at Tenri. "I'm just pointing them out, no sense hiding it from her until 'the right time' or something like that."
"No sense trying to scare her away with icky details like that either." Each friend shook their heads, convinced of the other's cluelessness.
They'd come to the partition dividing the high school and the middle school section. "Still, despite its many faults, Majima School has at least the decency to make a physical barrier between here and the middleschooler section. I can't imagine what'll happen if people crossover. . . The middleschoolers aren't as lazy or perverted as their older selves, thank god," Chihiro observed.
"So the middle school's on the other side?" Tenri peered across the walkway sealed by an iron barricade.
"Yeah." Chihiro noticed an increasing number of students rushing past them towards the same direction. "The way used to be open, but some years ago they decided to close it up for some reason." the president idly scratched her nose, looking in the direction of the next student that had dashed by. "Now the only way in is through the main entrance. . . Damn it, they distracted me. Hey, let's go and follow those guys."
"Huh?" The other two asked. They were busy looking across the walkway that led to the middle-school. Chihiro nodded to the back of another student that had run by. "It looks like something's happening over that way."
"Might just be another delinquent tussle y'know?" Ayumi said in an exasperated tone. "Or one of the other crazy things this school gets up to in broad daylight. . ."
"Well if it is, it should be a nice conclusion to my little tour." She turned to look at Tenri. "You'll want to see this. It's gonna be an almost-everyday occurence at this school. Heck, maybe you'll even see why people're scared of me, too."
"Are people scared of you, Chihiro-san?" Tenri asked fearfully. Chihiro gave her the barest of smiles. "Only when they piss me off." Ayumi shrugged wearily. Chihiro turned to look at her. "Are you gonna contradict me?"
"Not really," Ayumi replied. Not like I have the energy to. "By the by, shouldn't you be dwelling on whatever it is is going on?"
There was a crowd of red-uniformed people already gathered near the staircase landing. Each was jostling and pushing against the others as they tried to see the center of the commotion.
"Is it a fight?" "Can't see, dumbass-" "Don't touch me, you-"
"What's it all about, do you know?" a voice asked behind a group of delinquent-looking students. They had their upper buttons uncovered, baring their undershirts and rolling up their sleeves in a careless manner. One of them replied, "I heard it was about Kusunoki again."
"Kusunoki huh?~~" the voice (it was distinctly female though they didn't bother checking) wondered before lowering in pitch to whisper something unintelligible. Then it spoke up again. "So who's fighting her now?"
"Hell if I know! We just got here. Can't see from here, too."
There was an irritated sigh. ". . . Out of the way you useless brainless idiots. . ."
"The fuck you say, bitch?" The shout caused the other onlookers to flinch away, afraid that another fight would erupt. The trio whirled on the source of the voice behind them. They immediately recoiled too, their arms over their heads in terror.
"K-K-Kosaka!" "It's the damn Kosaka!" "The Demon of 2-B!"
Chihiro flashed them a sunny smile, her arms akimbo. Behind her cowered two other girls who gaped at the situation anxiously. "Hello brainlesses. I forget, do I know your names? Hold that thought, I don't really care. Move aside." She ordered them them fearlessly.
"W-w-we're not scared of you, b-b-" They couldn't stop themselves from shaking.
"'B-b-'? Is that a new mating sound for you hams?"
The one with the marginally better courage drew himself up, "Y-y-you can't order us around Kosaka! We're not gonna-"
Abruptly there was a flash of killing intent so intense it sent the frail ones whimpering and the others blown away. The trio huddled to the ground in fear as the gathered crowd toppled like dominoes, some shivering and some fainting altogether. Only Chihiro was left standing, as even Ayumi and Tenri had collapsed in primal fear at what had been unleashed. Chihiro hadn't moved her arms from their positions and stood ramrod straight as if enduring a strong wind.
The class president raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, "Brr. . . that was a really strong one from the Lady Kusunoki. It's like an early winter." She looked down at her two companions who were rolling around and whimpering in a daze. "Aw c'mon guys, it's not that bad. That at least cleared the way for us to see the fight up close!" She gave each a hand up, and after steadying Ayumi, who was still rolling around like a tipsy drunk, Chihiro guided the two by the hand over the toppled bodies of the crowd.
"OW!"
"Sorry – but not really-"
Uncaring of the ones she stepped over – deliberately or not.
OoOoOoOo
Hakua flexed her invisible muscles.
Hours of daily intake from a reluctant Host had given her enough energy to at least reform and regenerate her upper body.
A devil's anatomical layout was a curious thing. She'd have known the specifics had she taken up specialist classes at Academy. As it was, the only thing she knew about her present condition was that she was well on her way to full recovery and re-materialization. Reconstituting her upper limbs was a good start, even if she couldn't physically affect things in the human world yet.
Along the way she hoped to regain at least some of her magical abilities. Being tethered to the Soul Casket was disadvantageous if the Host was a crass, insensitive and sorry excuse for a human being.
"Tch. That ending sucked. There was no resolution! Why the Hell did they leave it at the climax? Just because she's a sub-character and the writers didn't have the strength to fully flesh her route out-"
Said human being was, by the way, her only visible ticket to success as a member of Hell's Runaway Squad. And that didn't make it any more comforting to this royal-haired prodigy, even as she'd started practicing her grand speech for when Hell would finally accord her her medal.
Hakua flitted, ghostlike, above the spot where the Capturing God sat on his usual spot at the rooftop. She flexed her arms over, up and behind, relearning aerial movements forgotten in the entropy of the Casket. She kept her eyes from straying to Katsuragi's figure splayed languidly on the bench.
"Argh!" Keima shouted, holding the PFP aloft irately. "Ten glass coins left to go? Where did the developers get this lame idea of 'unlocking' routes? It's just all gimmicks!"
Mostly because his crazed prattling were just enough for her to bear, coupled with the fact that she barely had any idea (and she never wanted to find out) what in Hell Katsuragi was talking about.
She looked towards the eastern part of the school grounds. Unfortunately, as she'd observed, her climactic battle with the two Runaway Spirits hadn't gone completely according to plan. Although the Containment Sphere minimized the magical outbursts borne from the exchange, some of it was intense enough to spill over to the mortal realm, causing a lot of unexplained structural damage to the school. That didn't spell a failure in this District Chief's book, but it was something to consider for future captures nonetheless.
Hakua stared at her hands, transluscent in the daylight. As soon as she recovered, there was paperwork to write up, a report to file, a trip to Hell for rebriefing, a research project to pass, a thank-you gif-
An explosion of something broke her reverie. Waves of negative energy splashed her form, swatting her aside in one second. She was literally blown away, like a helpless kite, managing to phase through three floors down before she recovered.
"What in Hell-"
Uttering a choice Hellian Oath, Hakua phased back to the rooftop and shouted at Keima, "Th-this is bad, Katsuragi! A runaway spirit may be loose!"
"No." Keima said shortly.
"While we can't do anything about bystanders, I'm sure Hell will- wait, what? How can you say that so calmly, com- Katsuragi?" The she-devil demanded.
"Again, no." Keima rubbed his fingers on his forehead back and forth. He pointed at the other students in the rooftops, his eyes still on the PFP screen. "See those guys?" Following his finger, Hakua saw the scattered groups of students doing something. . .
Hell's cold breath, she couldn't see far yet. She coasted forward to take a better look. She quirked her eyebrows as the students came into view. The lot of them were sprawled on the ground, some of them huddling to themselves like a cold wind had passed, and some groaning and crossing their arms over their heads in agony.
She zoomed back. Katsuragi had put both his hands back on the PFP. "I don't get it, it just proves my point. This seems to be the Runaway Spirit's power! The feeling I'm getting from the energy's unmistakable! How can you just sit there!" I certainly wouldn't, if I were able to.
Keima raised a finger as if silencing the devil. "Observe."
Just then, another wave caught her, and she, still unprepared, rode it all the way to the edge of the roof. She took another choice curse out of her vocabulary and flitted back to Keima.
"That- is the distinct power of killing intent. You ever heard that term before?" Keima adjusted his glasses in a professor-like manner.
"Sure, it's not wholly uncommon to hear of it. . . like say, reading it inside the Handbook of Runaway Spiritsstating how Runaway Spiritsemit those?" Hakua so wanted to whack him. She missed the feeling of Katsuragi's body crumpling to the ground.
"Oh really? Well I'm sure you know how each type of aura isn't necessarily the same. There are some crucial distinctions, the odd patterns, perhaps different feelings, making each unique to the person who uses such. Yes, I said person. These-"
Another wave crashed into her, though third time seemed to be the charm. She only sailed through a clear arc on the air before righting herself some feet away.
"-particular waves of killing intent come from a person, which is so familiar in feeling to the students of the school-" he waved his wrist their way when the moans of the dying filled the air. "-Our resident superwoman, the Warrior with the Heart of Ice and a Will of Steel, Kusonoki Kasuga."
"A human? You expect me to believe such powerful negative forces are being emitted by a mere human?" She couldn't believe it; it boggled her mind.
"What can I say? Humans are spontaneous, complicated creatures, even if they're pallid representations of my world. You shouldn't be surprised to see their unexpected qualities pop up, you're a devil, right? Must've had the time to do tons of research. . ."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. And I suppose you're distancing yourself from that definition yourself?" She suddenly felt very tired.
"I may have human-like qualities sure, but," For the first time in their conversation, Keima Katsuragi lifted his gaze from his PFP to haughtily lock eyes with her. "I'm not entirely human either, as you can plainly see."
She broke the contact first, shrugging her transparent shoulders. Well, what else could she do? If she was right, and she hoped she wasn't, then that'd only be a few hundred more pages to write, assuming the idiot had the foresight to escape.
And the possible suspension plus punishment ranging from vault-clearing to ground-zero exploring, and the thrice-damned heckling she'd receive from the other unpleasant demons like that Nora. . .
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do hope you're right. Wouldn't want to draw Heaven's eyes on top of my p-p-promotion. . ."
"Trust me, it's just Kusunoki. Probably beating some poor saps within inches of their lives. And you should also trust in me taking a real Runaway Spirit situation seriously – if there was." Hakua was sure the mortal had glanced at her then.
"Though worry not, my devilish torment," Keima concluded, his practiced hands tapping away at the buttons. "I am predicting no Real life flags in the near future for me. So we probably won't even know if a Runaway Spirit's really loose until you get out of this thing. You should relax for a bit more time then; in fact, would you mind not recovering at all? That'd be so helpful."
"I'm not going away, Katsuragi. You see that sword above both our heads? Until that's gone, I'll pester you over and over and over again, until the quota is reached and Hell will no longer have need of your services, making our contract fulfilled and its conditions null and void. . ."
"I liked it better when you spoke with more moe - or didn't speak at all. . . " Keima stood from his seat, forcing Hakua to follow.
OoOoOoOo
"There are some times. . . "
The self-proclaimed renegade gave his pre-battle speech. His hands were out this time, no longer tucked into his pocket lazily but really, out, an unusual thing for this renegade. His red-rimmed eyes that had made many scramble to flee the maniac (who was also "drunk!" or "both!") were blackened by the rigours of battle. Strangely, his knuckles were still pristine.
". . . where even the best pitcher can get struck out. . . I just have to get in on the bullpen," He repeated it to himself like a Buddhist mantra.
The action, which had slowed around him, sped up, just in time for another wave of super killing intent to blast him in the face, knocking him into the nearby windowsill and giving him another blackened spot. "Bfuh!"
"Guhaah!"
Two or three bodies were thrown past him, bouncing on the polished floor until it hit the pile of bodies, adding to the total body count. The self-proclaimed renegade looked at the center of that storm of killing intent, pus and tears blinding his vision as he beheld the magnificent figure of their nemesis, Kasuga of the Pure-fists.
She was tall, silent, her posture offering no opening, yet inviting attacks all the same. One might think her a carved marble statue from her skin, but these delinquents knew better: what pulsed inside that Ice Maiden was the fiery heart of the warrior.
And that was why they continued challenging her.
"As one, fellows! Attack!"
Like well-trained zombies the others stood, all in their ruined clothes covered in stray spit and blood, their weapons of war broken and some shoved right up their-
A particularly feisty fellow charged, his fearless smile a temporary inspiration to the others. He came, fists flailing, and Kasuga met him half-way in his stride.
Fwump! Wpack!
"Amazing. . . " the self-proclaimed renegade whispered in amazement, as that guy lost another two of his teeth and was slammed back to the pile for his trouble. "She didn't even use any offensive moves. . . not even her fists! She is a goddess. . . "
A goddess of war perhaps? If so, he decided as he too took the plunge, let me worship you. . .
OoOoOoOo
((
These creatures waste their time. They fight the unbeatable, scale the impossible, face the insurmountable, like getting that Prinny figurine in the crane game at the arcade.
They waste my time. I have no time for these paltry attacks of theirs. I have more important things to attend to. It does me no comfort that one of these is entirely for the sake of these trash. It was bad enough for them to interrupt me when the pet shop informed me of new arrivals, but now I had a duty, a duty a Kasuga could not shirk.
I looked behind me, where the crowd of people that had gathered were all sprawled on the ground. The warrior's shame crossed my heart like a puppy's anguished cry; my killing intent, newly enhanced to undermine and intimidate demons, had affected their human souls in turn.
"She's lookin' away! Get'er!"
But I had a duty.
I let loose the first variation: Frosted Flakes on the Windowsill. A blast of even more potent killing intent washed over the attackers, making them scream and shiver as if a cold winter's wind had blown through that corridor. As soon as they collapsed, I shut it off. Anymore and icicles would start materializing on their bodies.
I turned to look back. Some of them did have snowflakes on their bodies now. A shame so overwhelming passed over me like nausea, lighting up the fire in my cheeks as if those cats under the bridge had met my eyes, save for the fact that it wasn't a pleasant nausea.
I murmured an apology to them in my heart. This just meant I wasn't that trained enough in the Kasuga arts. I hadn't become restrained enough. I became determined for redoubled training in the fut-
What a blunder!
I lashed out with my feet, using spiritual reinforcement to enhance the blow. It was an unconscious act, drilled into my actions by my father's training. The one who had taken ahold of my ankles had his face completely caved in. I watched in shock as his shattered face muttered something to a "goddess" of his, before he collapsed to his final rest.
I am shamed!
))
OoOoOoOo
For every squish, splat or bone-crushing crunch, there was an equivalent "Sorry!" "Please excuse our rudeness", and other variations thereof.
Her two companions were doing so to the many people Chihiro was (intentionally or not) stepping on as they headed straight for the source of all that killing intent.
"You don't have to apologize to them. They're probably idiots anyway." The thoughtless person in question said.
"We're not doing this for you, we're doing it for them." Beside her, Tenri-san nodded in a manner that was in contrast to her previously timid demeanor.
"Whatever you say." Along the way they had been blasted every other moment with killing intent, stirring the fallen multitude like fallen leaves. Strangely, they no longer felt obligated to bow in submission to whatever inhuman creature was there waiting for them at the source of it, though whether or not it was due to Chihiro taking point in front of them, the two couldn't say.
She was still pulling them by the hand. Any efforts to disengage were met by a tightening of grip, and eventually they lost the motivation to escape her grasp. Chihiro led them on, striding fearlessly against the harsh cold.
They arrived just in time to see Kusunoki land a solid kick into some poor delinquent's face. Tenri heard Chihiro's low, appreciative whistle. They could almost glimpse the guys' deformed face before he disappeared, rolling like a bowling pin into the pile of bodies. Hair whirling, Kusunoki rounded on them, cold eyes glinting.
It was then that Chihiro dropped their hands, bringing up her hands together in front of her to start a slow, deliberate clap.
"Well done, well done, Kasuga-senpai. An excellent display of the indomitability of the Kasuga Style. Well done," she repeated. Her companions looked at each other uncertainly.
"She didn't bother telling you, but Chihiro's actually known to Kusunoki-senpai. She's usually first to the scene of any fights senpai's in, clapping and urging her on." Ayumi whispered in a conspiratory manner to Tenri. "Of course, there's a whole other reason why she's always there-"
"So will you accept me as a student now?"
"No." was the short, cold reply.
Ayumi shrugged with her shoulders at Tenri.
"Aw c'mon! I've been pestering you since. . . last month? You'll be graduating soon, senpai, and then the only times I'll see your wondrous form of battle will be in your school, of which I've yet to be a student," Chihiro begged, and she would have gotten down on all fours and bowed, except for Ayumi stopping her with an exasperated sigh.
Chihiro just had to take everything to the next level. Not that she thought her friend wasn't seriously getting into the whole martial arts thing, it was just the way she begged that screamed "not serious" and "mocking" that set her off.
It was good that Kasuga-senpai, in all the weeks that her friend had mock-begged, fake-cried and play-acted grovelling, hadn't picked up on the sarcasm. Or else her friend would have become the new body decorating "The Wall of Sinners" in front of Kasuga-senpai's classroom.
OoOoOoOo
"So what about this then?"
"Oh that?" Keima didn't give it even a cursory glance. He released his left hand and waved at the "Wall of Sinners". Instead of the normal view of windows arrayed periodically around the wall, there were holes in the glass and cracked portions in the wall that, to Hakua, looked suspiciously like the shapes of humans. Bits of plaster and cardboard were taped to some sections in places, though it wasn't enough to completely cover the mess. "There's a particular school legend tied to this thing. The souls of delinquents past who died idiotic deaths. . . end up on the Wall of Sinners as punishment for their idiocy." He then pointed with his right at the room next to where they were walking, fluidly keeping up a constant stream of commands into his PFP. Then Keima shrugged.
As the God refused to elaborate, Hakua failed to catch the significance of that action, and only tilted her ghostly head in bewilderment.
OoOoOoOo
"I cannot train thou. Thou hast not the spirit of the warrior; I do not see it in thee." The trio watched Kusunoki walk deliberately past them, dismissing Chihiro's plea quickly and handily.
"I can do it, I do have the spirit! Mine is the spirit of the samurai! I even have the rudimentary killing intent package!" Chihiro proclaimed. She tried releasing it, but Ayumi smacked her on the shoulder.
"Do not lie. Thou cannot claim to be what thou art not. In time thou wilst learn the truth of thy ardour; it is the unhealthy blaze of youth." Kusunoki glanced at the bodies beside them and frowned.
Chihiro made the best impression of a childish pout. Ayumi could feel the laughter threatening to roll off her friend in waves while Tenri only looked at the whole exchange with fascinated trepidation. It had been a long day.
"I see. But I won't give up! You will accept me as a student, senpai! Don't you forget it!" she challenged the Kasuga's departing back. Kusunoki gave no reply.
"Y'know Chihiro, you can laugh now." Ayumi made a deep, long sigh. Her friend chuckled, shaking her head, "How did that look, by the way?" Chihiro wondered out loud.
Ayumi didn't bother to answer that. "I'll say it again: I have no idea what you're getting out of this constant begging."
Chihiro turned to the transfer student, who shrank back in surprise. "What did you think, Tenri-san? How did one of this school's infamous personalities feel to ya?" Tenri found herself doing idle things with her forefingers.
"Um. . . how do I say it, she's. . . old-fashioned sounding? And she feels dangerous," she added as a wry afterthought.
"Oh yeah, those weird inflections of hers. Well, she's only been talking like that recently, I don't know why she's decided to go traditional-sounding now." Chihiro paused, as if somehow deep in thought.
"Urrg. . . " The sounds of cracked bones righting themselves and shoes scuffling on the ground could be heard in the space where Kasuga-senpai had left the delinquents, and the two girls' eyes widened upon seeing most of the delinquents get on their feet. Chihiro, still in thought, absentmindedly turned to face them.
"A-A-as expected of Lady Kasuga, her power is unmatched in the whole of Majima!" There was a general chorus of assent. Masochists, the lot of them, Chihiro thought.
"Hmm. I guess no matter the passage in time, the idiot will remain the idiot, the delinquent the delinquent," she called out loudly, making sure everyone in the corridor heard him. "And the loser remains the loser!"
"K-Kosaka you bitch!" "Chihiro, are you nuts?"
As if they'd been renewed by the taunt, the bruised lot of troublemakers started lumbering towards the class president, who didn't move an inch from her spot. Ayumi could almost taste the bloodbath that was sure to come; Tenri was about to faint from the stimuli of too much tension in the air. "Sh-shouldn't we apologize-?"
Chihiro stood her ground dauntlessly. She didn't feel arrogant, like she was looking down on them, but neither did she feel scared, as if stepped on the lion's tail. Rather, she smiled with good humor at the ones who were now claiming to take her head.
"Or rather, thou should prepare to offer thine heads. . . "
"So you're becoming traditional like your idol?" Ayumi exclaimed.
"Ch-Chihiro-san, a-are you sure you'll be fine. . . ?"
"Be not afraid, transfer student. One second is all I'll need." Chihiro flashed them a smile devoid of fear.
"Don't be so unrealistic!" Ayumi cried.
"S-so cool. . ."
"You actually think that's cool!" Ayumi raised her arms as she turned to Tenri.
"As expected of the great Ayumi, your near-instant ripostes have gone to lightspeed."
"Well then, Tenri-san, you shouldn't be watching this," Ayumi shielded the transfer student's eyes from the vision of imminent chaos. "Let's go back home and let the idiots battle amongst each other. . ."
"Wait, am I an idiot too!"
"You're not too far from light speed yourself, Chihiro. . . " Ayumi put her face in both her hands.
"Sorry. I'm only following your lead." Chihiro let out her tongue.
"What are we, the audience in a comedy show here?" cried the delinquents, who had silently been watching the whole exchange. "Come on and bring it, bitch!"
"Oh you are so gonna be eating those words. . . " Chihiro turned back to them.
"Will she be okay?" Tenri repeated dubiously. Ayumi gave her a helpless smile, learned through many scuffles she'd been made to witness as Chihiro's constant companion. "She'll be fine. Not gonna beat them in one second, but. . . yeah, she'll be fine."
"Guhaa!" "How's that you useless, brainless morons! Taste the fury of the Kosaka fighting style!"
"She's the best at what she enjoys doing. And that's a lot of things." The two watched with an assembly of people reviving and reforming behind them as Chihiro stepped right into the fray.
OoOoOoOo
"I'm telling you, Katsuragi, I don't want to hear anything more about this!" Hakua wanted to shut off her hearing; the idiot was babbling on and on about his obsession. There was a spell for that (but she didn't have magic), and she could cover her ears (she hadn't reformed yet). She could also have flown farther away, but the Casket required proximity to function.
"As long as you're hanging out in my personal space, you'll have to bear with listening to me," Keima explained. He had decided to head back home as all of the games he'd brought had been guided to sucessful endings. "This is a rare situation: to have someone able to listen to your every thought without them being able to do anything about it. You should be honored to have me speak."
"We can talk about other things. Details of the contract maybe. . . even a description of Hell? Its history perhaps? I'd prefer to be the one talking," Hakua pleaded.
"So do I. Now listen – this might become necessary for you to know once you get less gassier and more solid. It is important to the route that flags are triggered; I believe I've said this to you before. Under the right circumstances or with the right decisions, one might reach an encounter, which leads to a flag, which leads to routes. Should one desire to avoid flags, one must take the desolate approach and make the choice with the least chance of an encounter.
"But as always, the Real interferes. REAL LIFE FLAGS ARE DANGEROUS!
"I have become exceedingly aware of all the possible flags that one might trigger in the Real. I have made it my business to know of these and avoid them as much as possible. Even the slightest event or communication I receive from others I meticulously evaluate, so as to see if I'm somehow being dragged into a route.
"This is why I had spent a peaceful life before your kind decided to barge in – that is the unavoidable flag. I hope never to have one again. Now I said it would be necessary for you to know, once you do get out of this amulet, I'll have you limit your interactions around me. Stay out of sight, hidden. Don't trigger unnecessary flags, in fact, don't trigger any at all. Don't ever come to me unless there's another capture."
"That seems like a sordid lifestyle Katsuragi." Hakua observed. She was ashamed to note she had been able to understand most of what the idiot had said. "Paranoid even. Do you really think you would stand to lose a lot were you to trigger 'flags'?"
"As of the moment, yes." Keima replied smoothly, brushing stray dust from his shoulder. "It is vital to my existence as the Capturing God. I hope you understand that above all . . . Hakua."
"Oh I do understand. But that doesn't mean I'll have to listen to what you say. I don't care about silly things like 'flags'." Hakua huffed, crossing her arms in front of her.
"If you understand at least . . . " Keima said doubtfully. He had reached another landing in the staircase. He'd stopped, remembering he had forgotten one of his PFP peripherals in his desk. "You have no idea how fickle these flags can be."
Sighing tiredly, he walked towards the corridor. That peripheral couldn't be left there; some buffoon would steal or ruin it just to spite him. He spoke, just before rounding the corner:
"Each and every one of them hiding behind pernicious encounters . . . the Real's filled with them. You never know when one will emerge out of the next. . . corner-"
Keima's brain quickly took in the situation – after rounding the corner, he came face-to-face with a girl, almost heading to collision. Luckily, he had thought, he could simply move right and avoid bumping into her altogether.
Unfortunately, he'd somehow set the girl off. After sliding to the right, he felt something grab his arm, then he lost control of his feet, and then off-balance, he was lifted up into the air and finally he felt the rush of wind as he started flying.
"Aah . . . somehow I was just begging for that eh, Real?"
WHUMP!
Despite the aftershocks that coursed through the Casket, Hakua broke into a smile. The sight of the idiot's body flung headfirst into the far wall made for a soothing mind-balm.
Author's Note: Long time no see there! It's been almost six months since I last properly uploaded a story, and boy, time sure flies fast. In the intervening period, I've been promoted to a regular at my job, the lady-friend Vivian has graduated and finally entered the work-force, and I still don't have a computer!
Shocking, you might say. How is this going to affect future stories? The world demands to know!
I have to admit, the job is hectic and most days I just want to get home and lie on the couch with a stein of cola and sleep, leaving no time at all for any other activity like writing. Heck even my gaming's been cut down, I've had to unsubscribe from WoW, though my eroge/galge playing continues intermittently. Looking forward to Rewrite, key's new title; I'll have to see if the new scenario writers can hold a candle to the likes of Clannad, Planetarian or Little Busters!.
After brainwashing- er. . . brainstorming sessions with Vivian, I've decided on one compromise. As long as I'm over at her house, which she's planning to move out from soon, I can use her computer to type in and upload stories. The visits will be sporadic, but guaranteed to happen until I explicitly say so.
Nice, huh? What this means is hopefully I can get the next Anarchy down next week, and probably another chapter of Weiss, as well as some other new stories. I'll still be keeping Vivian's published works under my account, with her permission. And I've also given her permission to update or publish her own here.
So here's to a productive year!
Now as to the story itself. I'll be glad to hear of any ideas, feedback or any other commentaries on it. I'll be posting author's thoughts at the end of every chapter from now on, telling why I chose that particular event or this particular happenstance.
For this particular chapter, I'd like to draw attention to:
Chihiro Kosaka – as hinted at in an earlier chapter, Chihiro has a new role in this fanfiction. She is class president, and also sports a new attitude. I feel it was necessary for the endgame I'm planning out, since she has a special role to play there. Tell me what you think, and if possible, any ideas as to how she'll showcase "unpredictability". I'll message and credit ya next time if ever I use it.
Kusunoki Kasuga – also has a new role, purely to distinguish her route from the manga and to fit into my endgame. Though it might be minor, she still has a role in the end.
Elsie – conspicuously absent but still in the tag for the story? But she's been there all the time! A lot of people have messaged me about this, and I can assure you, she is there. In fact, one of the reasons I put her there wasn't that I hated her, but to forestall the creation of an important OC that I would have had to flesh out.
Previous chapter – what previous chapter? What glue are you guys sniffing? What? What...? O_o
Arduously long Author's note aside, keep an eye out for more chapters/stories from yours truly.
Merlin out.