One Week

[LunarLegend]

Ha ha! Wow! So wonderfully madcap!

I wonder - will Lio ever break out his joints and try to get the cast high? Because it strikes me as a recipe for comic gold. Hell, I wanna see side characters get a contact high off of Lio's special Red Stuff and see what happens.

[Phearo]

*raises hand* I do. I tend to dislike reading my own stuff. Early MIaL in particular makes me want to bury my face in a pillow and scream in anguish.

Just going in this site inflicts me a %45 debuff on self-confidence.

[EVA-Saiyajin]

Pretty amusing Dullahan. Nice work.

[linkhyrule5]

"Miss Rio Shirazumi" made me crack up. It probably shouldn't've, but it did anyway.

[Dullahan]

Day 2

I awake - firstly, so that there's no confusion, I'll say right here and right now that 'I' in this usage refers to I, me, Fujino Asagami, main character, which the other two are not - shortly after sunrise. The weak ambient light of the dawn sky arrives through the windows, just as the sound of birdsong filters in from outside. Naturally, as a student of the prestigious Reien Girls' Academy, which the other two are not, I am well-accustomed to waking up early. It's how I return to my dormitory room without Azaka ever knowing I was in her wardrobe. Having awakened, I sit up in my futon with ideal posture, and look around. There's nothing much of interest in the room. This room, mind you, connects to the main room through a large set of sliding doors, and to the outside garden through a set of sliding doors on a perpendicular wall. The windows I referred to earlier are on yet another wall. On the floor of this room are three futons, evenly-spaced as far apart as the room's dimensions will allow. I am, of course, in the middle; the centre of all things, as it were. Which the other two are not. To my left, I see the Princess, sleeping in the uncomplicated, unsophisticated manner her hospital bed has left her indolently accustomed to, no doubt dreaming something asinine about flying insects. To my right, I see the...wait a minute. Where is the Trap?

Oh. I see. There he is.

Unsurprisingly, the Trap is a messy sleeper. The quilt of his futon is folded like a Calabi-Yau manifold, and his pillow appears to have vanished inside it. Worse, he's not even sleeping in it, like some peasant. There's no way to tell if he ever was, in fact. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that he has perhaps failed to grasp the fundamental concept of a duvet, as he is instead sleeping on top of it. Curled up like a cat.

Ha.

How pathetic. It's so pathetic I almost want to cry. He truly is nothing more than an animal. Someone with such an undignified sleeping posture could never hope to become more popular than me. How ghastly it would be, if knowledge of this were to be made public. Rather, he wouldn't be taken seriously as a character any more. Only then could he be expected to be fired, and put out on the streets where a D-list antagonist like him belongs. Result: unemployment. Homelessness. Starvation. Death. Possibly by suicide, but it doesn't do to be too optimistic.

Naturally, I'll go and gather photographic evidence, which I will upload to the internet when we get back.

To begin with, I - carefully - extricate myself from my futon, and then - carefully - rise, first to a kneeling position, and then to a standing position. There, some distance across the tatami floor, I see my luggage, which I made the other two carry in here before their shopping trip yesterday. My camera lies sequestered within. Now I just need to get to it. There's no telling how faint of a sound could awaken him. Shifting - with great skilful skill - my weight onto one of my feet, I move the other - carefully - a few centimetres forward. Then, with great skilled greatness, I place it down on the floor. It connects like the fall of a feather on snow. Taking time to adjust the sleeves of my yukata so that there is a minimum of fabric rustling, I then shift my weight again, and take another step.

After ten minutes, I have travelled three metres. The target is within my grasp.

I kneel down - carefully - and take a hold of the zip that opens my bag. This is the most difficult part of the operation. With superhuman levels of concentration, I steady my hands, and pull the zip forward, by one single notch.

Click.

I turn my head - carefully - and look back at the Trap. No response. Excellent. Very carefully, I pull the zip forward, another notch.

Click.

Still no response.

After thirty minutes, I have opened the zip fully. Now, I - carefully - reach inside, to withdraw the camera it conceals. Yes, there it is; a work of artistry, a Platonic ideal in plastic and steel. Upon its virgin SD card, I intend to engrave the Trap's downfall. Rising to my feet, the camera clasped in both hands, my finger hovers - tentatively, almost fearfully - over the power button.

Do I dare?

That I do. Nay; I must - too much has been sacrificed already. I cannot turn my back on my destiny now - for I do this a product of my own will.

Turning on the spot, in one smooth motion, my camera raised, I look and find myself-

-face-to-face with a messy-haired demon, bags under his eyes, glaring down his nose at me.

"..." I say.

"..." He says.

A long, cold moment passes in silence.

"That's a nice 'regarding the other as a piece of dirt unworthy to live' expression you have there." I say, pretending to smile at him. "Clearly looking in the mirror every morning has trained you we-"

* * * *

Critical to engaging ESP users is an understanding of their weaknesses. Primarily, theirs are abilities activated through thought - that is, through formed intention. In a circumstance where their damage output exceeds yours, the ideal counter is to not let them use their ability in the first place. Thus, it is 'intention' that must be interrupted. In other words, it's necessary to induce a buffer overflow in their brain. There are many attacks that can achieve this, but simplest and most straightforward is the so-called One-Two Punch, effective at defusing 94% of all hostile situations. Observe, philistines.

Step one: French kiss.

Smooch.

* * * *

"-ffmhhmmgh? Mm?! Mnh-"

* * * *

Step two: stomach punch.

Direct hit.

* * * *

"-hhBLHOAAGGH!!"

* * * *

I think I may have overdone it. Asagami is now embedded a good inch into an Asagami-shaped indentation in the wall. Hmmm...closer to two inches, actually. Oh, well. It's not like that solar plexus of hers was seeing much use anyway. With the stars circling over her head, she peels out of the wall like a biscuit from a cooking-tray, and collapses face-first onto her luggage, vomiting something that's probably stomach acid on the way down. Deftly dodging it, I casually wipe my mouth on my elbow and execute a slow-motion hair-flip, those being the necessary prerequisites so that I can say something like,

"As naive as you are predictable, Asagami. To think you really believed such a weak technique would work against me...I am surveillance made flesh. You must photograph Sheng Long to stand a chance."

Leaning down to nonchalantly steal her camera, I click open the memory card holder, and quickly palm the card before Asagami notices. Now, pretending that it was never there in the first place, I show her the empty slot.

"That's right. Your first mistake was in letting me handle your luggage." Those dead, fish-like eyes of hers widen in shock. Checking my watch, I see it's now time for a dramatic finger-point. "Your next line will be, Was this all part of your plan, Jojo?!"

* * * *

Was this all part of your plan, Jojo!?

* * * *

"YES, INDEED!" Awesome pose. Guitar riff. Floating onomatapoeia in the air behind me, and behind them, a motherfucking explosion. I am on fire this morning. "Everything worked out exactly according to my plan...from the very beginning!"

Actually, I didn't plan any of this. But if it'll piss off Cars...

"Anyway," I say, turning the volcano down a couple of notches, "now that I've got an overlooking view of this lingering pain that you're in, in order to prevent there from being a homicide inquiry, I'm just casually going to leave the room. Arrivederci, loser."

With that, I must bid her adieu. I turn around, in one swift motion, and when I do I find myself-

-face-to-face with a girl - no, rather, something taking the form of a girl - with long, dark hair, tangled, obscuring her face, her very presence bleeding incalculable amounts of pure evil into the surrounding atmosphere.

Beware, beware, her flashing eyes, her floating hair!

"..." She says.

"...FUCK!" I say. Immediately, I'm bowing to her, supplicant with remorse. "I'm sorry, Miss Yamamura! I'm sorry I taped over your video with the Best Of Ryougi Fight Scenes! If I'd known, I'd have just passed it on to that Enjou loser! He never believed the stories about the curse! Besides, no-one gives a shit about him."

Death glare. Yeah, I know; somehow it's being achieved without visible eyes. Chalk it up to the power of evil.

"You're too loud." A voice like a angel gargling nails. That eyeless mess of tangled hair that suffices for a face gives off an eldritch moan. "KIRIE NEEDS HER BEAUTY SLEEP."

...oh, it's just Fujyou. But-

"Actually, how the hell did you get behind me without me noticing? That would have taken some kind of tactical geniuhHGLARRGH!!"

Huh, that's weird. For some reason, my own fist just connected with my face at a shade under Mach 4. And now I'm lying on the floor. Bleeding. Why did tha-

"Hey, Shirazumi. Stop hitting yourself."

Oh, fu-

* * * *

Later
"Good thing I'm indestructible."

A while later, we're just casually having breakfast in the main room, as if nothing happened. That, we decided, was the best way to handle this situation. After we had the food brought in, I opened the sliding doors onto the verandah. Cool morning air blows in from the courtyard, where I can see steam rising from the private hot springs we have in it.

"Except you're not." says Asagami. She's sulking on the other side of the table, no doubt plotting vengeance of some description. "As a matter of fact, you die like a bitch to a greater extent than any other antagonist. Not that that's a surprise."

"Screw you, and you're wrong. You're forgetting Kurogiri."

"Kurogiri dies?"

"It's not clear..." says Fujyou, between mouthfuls of rice.

"It is the precise opposite of not clear. He gets stabbed by Misaya Ouji. That's fact. That's canon. It's as canonical as the fucking Nativity."

"Maybe for you," says Asagami, "but I don't remember that being canon."

"Okay, let me explain something to you. To extend the Biblical metaphor, when I say 'canon', I'm talking the original text in Koine Greek, and when you say 'canon', you're talking about fucking Veggie Tales. Kurogiri gets stabbed in the novels, so shut up, I'm more right than you."

"In the novels?" Fujyou looks puzzled. "Where is that on a person? How do you stab someone there?"

"Dear God, please tell me you're trolling."

"Naive, Shirazumi. Far too naive." Asagami idly draws the character for 'kill' in the air with her chopsticks. "Surely you're aware that in the novels, Ouji is a DFC, but in the films they made her a proud inhabitant of Planet Boob? For the sake of m-the audience's sexual fantasies, how can you so brazenly deny the canonicity of Movie 6?"

"'cause it's shit. Because Azaka is a pointless character who does nothing important and has no relevance to the wider plot and is just a soulless amalgam of tsundere traits and a half-assed ESP ability who exists almost entirely to pander to incest fetishists and maybe, just maybe, to provide via flashback some kind of rationalisation for why Kokutou otherwise-inexplicably has attractive women with poor self-esteem chasing after him like they're kids after the fucking ice-cream van."

"I think he's dreamy," says Fujyou.

"No-one cares. Essentially - in terms of the wider story - the sixth chapter has one job to do, and that is to get Ryougi to fight Kurogiri and lose, so that he can give her back SHIKI's memories, and with them the knowledge that she wasn't the culprit in Murder Speculation Part 1, which thus sets up Murder Speculation Part 2."

"In other words, you're complaining because the sixth film wasn't a good enough prologue for your appearance on the stage." says Asagami. "And you say I'm arrogant. I never required a prologue."

"And that's why I'm the final boss, and you're not. But what I'm saying is-"

"Isn't Araya the final boss?" Fujyou takes a sip of tea. "If I recall, the last two parts were added afterwards-"

"That's right, Shirazumi." Asagami trills, with obvious relish. "You claim to be a final boss, but aren't you really more of a postscript? An epilogue? Your chapter is essentially The Scouring of the Shire - the pointless addition after everything else has already been wrapped up."

Hmm. I know I thought I overdid it back then, but now I'm beginning to think I didn't punch her hard enough.

"No. No. No, no, no, no, no, NO. The Epilogue is a pointless addition. Mirai Fukuin is a pointless addition. Extra Chorus is a pointless addition. Shuumatsu Fucking Rokuon is a pointless addition. I am not. I am responsible for tying up the overarching themes of the whole goddamn story."

"With your saliva."

"I'll drown you in corn syrup one of these days, Asagami. See if I don't. Its unrealistically high viscosity will draw out your suffering, and your impotent screams will ring in people's ears for miles."

"Careful what threats you make, there. We wouldn't want you to get all bent out of shape."

"I bet you spent the last hour thinking that one up. But - and shut up, you're not getting a reply in, I'm talking - what I'm saying is that Movie 6 had one job to do, one job, and it half-assed it in favour of Azaka scenes and pointless alterations to the plot. That is bullshit."

"And yet she has more fans than you."

Twitch.

"FFFFFFFghfblgdgggd-"

"Am I wrooong~?"

"Shut up. She's still pointless moeshit. Even you, Asagami, have more purpose in the story than Azaka. And the worst part - the bit which really makes you want to drown your sorrows in bleach - is that the story is in on it. The story knows that she's pointless. Nothing about her is taken seriously."

"What, she's not grimdark enough for you, Gen?" smirks Asagami.

"That's not what I mean. Her brother complex is uniformly treated as one big joke. Kokutou's oblivious, because God forbid the male lead actually become aware of these kinds of things; Ryougi doesn't give a shit, as per standard operating procedure, and Aozaki is sitting back with some popcorn. No-one seriously thinks it's going to go anywhere, and it never does. It's never presented as anything other than futile, one-sided and quote hilarious unquote."

"Even if it's futile, if the ideal is beautiful, isn't it still something worth striving for?" asks Fujyou. "Isn't it romantic? She's clearly a tragic heroine."

"With a great ass." says Asagami. "I mean, damn."

"Fuck you both. My point is, if it never goes anywhere, why does this character trait exist? This is not hard to understand! If you have a story, and siblings want to jump each other, you either have them fuck, or have a very serious discussion as to why that can't be done. What you don't do is play it as some kind of sideshow, because then it's just fanservice. It's just pandering to fetishes; the very definition of moeshit."

"What; you would have preferred it if KnK was overtaken by this incest subplot, in a manner comparable to how Fujyou's body has been overtaken by cancerous tumours?!" says Asagami, accusingly.

"Hey..."

"No, Asagami, I'm saying that if the incest subplot is meaningless in the long run, it shouldn't fucking exist."

Asagami jumps up from where she's been sitting, and points at me.

"That's where you're wrong! A story is more than a machine for delivering plot! It is a WORLD unto itself! Concentrating the narrative exclusively on the so-called 'story' runs the risk of creating a universe wholly ruled by the Anthropic Principle! It's subplots like these, which you deride as meaningless, which create context! They give form to a living, breathing world outside the frame of reference of the principle characters! Without these elements, the story risks losing its grounding in reality, and becoming too abstracted to make sense outside of the author's head! WHAT YOU DERIDE IS NOTHING LESS THAN THE HEART AND SOUL OF LITERARY REALISM!"

Naturally, I stand up to match her. Actually, since I'm taller than her, I do more than that, but whatever.

"REALISM?! You delusional bint, listen to what you're saying! This subplot is not REALITY, it is UNREALITY! It manifests an archetype which arose from the anime industry, now grown into its own veritable PHYLUM of imouto moeshit! This is NOT reality! THIS! IS! FANSERVICE!"

"I don't have to listen to the ravings of a fool who can't even see past his own bias! The source material was written in the 90's, when this 'archetype' you speak of had yet to come into being in its present form! Even factoring in Ufotable's context of production while adapting the novel, Azaka cannot be grouped with the D-list harem-filler imoutos you refer to! It's entirely possible to present this kind of character without falling into common archetypes, or letting it overtake the main story - and that is PRECISELY what happens here!"

"IRRELEVANT! Whether in line with the archetype or not, as long as the narrative doesn't treat it seriously, its nature as fanservice remains unchanged! Including detail extraneous from the main story is essential to sustaining verisimilitude, I'll grant you that, but THIS IS NOT IT! Imoutos of this nature have not, do not and WILL NEVER EXIST in the real world! This character trait doesn't ground the story in reality, it grounds it in SHOUNEN REALITY!"

"FOOL! You've made a critical error there! The story doesn't sexualise Azaka's behaviour along those lines, so it can't be shounen reality! Her themes of pure longing and tragic futility fall firmly within the SHOUJO meta-genre!"

"HAIR-SPLITTING! KnK is seinen, so it's STILL FUCKING WRONG! Azaka's bro-con adds NOTHING to the story that could not have been achieved without its presence! Has the whole world gone CRAZY?! Am I the only one around here who gives a SHIT about the portrayal of incest in Japanese media?! It's not realism, it's FANSERVICE! FAN! FUCKING! SERVICE!"

"WHO ARE YOU TO DEFINE WHAT IS AND IS NOT FANSERVICE?!"

"I am the ONLY one who has earned that right! In the entire universe, I ALONE have the right to correctly interpret Kara no Kyoukai!"

"You're deluded! Your perspective is narrow and blinkered, and that's just no way to enjoy anime as a medium! I'LL OPEN YOUR BLIND EYES TO THE TRUTH!"

"The blind one is YOU! Your 'truth' is a self-serving LIE! My perspective surpasses yours in every way! You'll never understand my reasoning!"

"Then I shall overcome your reasoning WITH MY RECKLESSNESS!"

"You've overreached yourself, Asagami! FLY HOME, LITTLE STARLING, ERE I TEACH YOU HOW WIDE THE SKY TRULY IS! FLYYYYY!"

"KISAMAAAAAAA!"

"ONOREEEEEEEEE!"

And then everything exploded.

* * * *

Later

At around ten in the morning, after breakfast, we decided to head down to the beach.

"So...are we going to the beach?"

"Whatever."

"Fine."

Yeah, pretty much like that. Not far from the smouldering ruins of the inn, there's a tree-shaded set of concrete steps which lead down to the beach, with sun-dappled groves of camellia, lilies, and whatever the plural of hibiscus is on either side, giving it a pleasing natural scent which blends well with the familiar dryness of salty sea air. From the base of the stairs, the sound of breaking waves filters upwards, mingling with the soft wind in the trees and the birdsong which seems to have no visible source. As for-

"I can't believe you don't like icecream, Shirazumi."

As for what the tw-

"It's not unbelievable at all, Fujyou. It's just another signifier of his being a failure as human being."

As for what the two of them are weari-

"It does seem something of a degenerate trait. The inability to taste sweet things...it must be a holdover from his bestial heritage..."

"God damn it, wait until I'm finished narrating before you talk!"

"You've been narrating far too much anyway. Let someone else do it." says Asagami.

"Don't give me that! You had the POV just before!"

"And then you stole it, like some filthy communist redistributing the wealth of the kulaks. Who'd have thought being the only one of us not to come from a wealthy, respected family would have engendered such an acute awareness of the realities of class confli-"

"What would you know about class conflict, you false-consciousness-engendering bourgeois parasite?"

"Main characters don't need to work. Rather, it's better if they don't. It gives them more time to concentrate on the deep and important narrative duties of main-characterhood. Not that I'd expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand more than you, filler-tits."

"FILLER!? How dare you. How dare you! If anyone is filler here it's Yuuko Kanoe over there."

"Who?" says Fujyou.

"Sorry, I meant Sawako Kuronuma."

"Who?"

"Sorry, I meant Kiri Komori."

"Who?"

"Sorry, I meant Tomie."

"Tomie's here?!" Fujyou looks around, terrified. "Let's go back to the inn, I'm scared..."

"Fujyou, I'm talking about you."

"You're saying I'm Tomie?" She covers her mouth, aghast. "Oh, no...what if I am, and don't know it...what if I'm one of the tomatoes?!"

"No-one is a tomato." I say. "Nor is anyone Tomie. Last I heard, she's freeloading at the Sakisaka place, competing with Saya for Fuminori's affection. If her tumblr account is anything to go by, them there are some hijinks, all right."

Asagami laughs. "Wow. It's like if Haiyore! was written by Urobuchi."

"Wait, you know Saya?" asks Fujyou. "Like, the Saya? The idol singer whose first album, Saya no Uta, topped the charts for four weeks runni-"

"Uh...yeah, yeah, let's go with that. Fuminori brought her along to the support group every so often."

* * * *

"Okay, well, thank you all for coming to this meeting of Cannibals Anonymous; as I always say, acknowledging your problem is the first step towards treating it, and we're here to do that in a non-judgemental enviroment. That said, to begin with we'll be going around the circle starting from my left, and I just want you all to tell us a little bit about yourself. So, let's get started."

"...my name is Fuminori Sakisaka. I'm a medical student."

"Hi, Fuminori."

"I was introduced to cannibalism by my girlfriend...she's here also, but, uh, she's outside in the hallway...sorry, she's a little shy around strangers. Uh - Saya? It's okay! You can come in! ...see, there you g-"

"OH GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!"

"IT'S HORRIBLE! I CAN FEEL MY MIND TEARING!"

"SUCH ELDRITCH! VERY LOVECRAFT! WOW!"

"Guys, you're hurting her feelings!"

* * * *

"Turns out she's actually pretty nice. Very down-to-earth for an idol singer, not at all like those prima donna types you see in the media."

"I didn't know you had a support group..." says Fujyou.

"I suppose degenerates like him need all the help they can get. Hah!" Asagami chortles away another mouthful of icecream.

"Well, I did. I quit attending."

"Why?"

"Constant sexual harassment from Hatsune Hirasaka would have scared off anyone. She thought I was a girl, see..." Ah, I've just had a hilarious thought. "Hey, Asagami, I should introduce you to her; you're pretty much exactly her type."

"Give yourself a tracheotomy with the nearest soldering iron, Shirazumi."

"Actually, now that I think about it, it's really Azaka who's more her kind of-"

"Heeeeey, Fujyou; when you had him beat himself up this morning, how fast did he recover from those injuries? I'm just curious, of course; it's not at all as if I need to know how fast he regenerates in order to maximise the amount of pain I can inflict on him without letting him die."

"Hmm..." Fujyou has another mouthful of her icecream. For the record, she's got vanilla and Asagami has strawberry. "It wasn't ridiculously fast, so if I had to, I'd say his regeneration is roughly on par with Araragi at base stats. I refer to the level he was at in the opening to Hitagi Crab, where he recovers from Senjougahara's stapler wound in seconds."

"Don't tell her!"

"Oho? Fascinating." Well, just look at that smile. It seems that in the presence of people whose opinions she doesn't care about Asagami drops the act entirely and goes full psychopath. To begin with, I'm the only one who's supposed to be able to smile like that without damaging my face. "This is just a suggestion, you shitty trap, but if you don't give me the POV, I'm going to totally mess up your insides until you can't stand up~!"

"How utterly appropriate that your threat sounds like a line from an H-doujin. In that case, I'll just have to make this someone else's problem."

How, you ask?

Observe. As we come to a flat landing at the bottom of the staircase, I walk a little in front of those two, then turn around to block their way. I stand in front of Fujyou, who's currently negotiating her way through a cone of soft-serve icecream. Asagami is too, but I'm not standing in front of her. When she comes to a halt in front of me, I lower myself down on one knee, look her directly in the eyes, and present her with the POV.

"Kirie Fujyou...will you be my narrator?"

Response? Flawless. Like a deer in headlights.

"A-are you really...alright, with me...?"

Embarassment. Lily-white cheeks flush the colour of sakura petals. Accelerated heart rate. Increased rate of blinking.

"I'm serious." Man, this is nostalgic. I haven't used this 'ladykiller' tone of voice since I killed that lady. "I'll make sure you never want for anything. The finest adjectives, the most vivid similes, the most scintillatingly brilliant turns of phrase - you need only ask, and I'll make them yours. If need be, I'll sacrifice anything to make this work!"

Overcome with emotion. Tears of joy. Weakness in knees. Grip on icecream cone loosening precariously.

"I-I'll be happy for the rest of my life!"

A winner is me.

"So, what is that? Like, a week?" says Asagami, completely ruining the mood. I tilt my head to glare at her. She looks back, with a smug expression. "What? It's tru-"

I reach out with my free hand, casually steal Asagami's half-finished icecream, and mash the cold strawberry soft-serve right into her left eye.

"-AGH! YOU PIECE OF SHIT, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?"

Never mind her; back to Fujyou. Both hands now free, I press the POV into her free hand, lean in close, take a moment to steady her grip on her icecream, and whisper in her ear-

"Scene change."

* * * *

Kirie Fujyou. Such is the name I was born with; such are the stars I was born under. It is only now, I find, that clarity comes to me. Here, now come to the end of this thread called life, that which the Fates spin and elucidate, I find myself accompanied; by a twin retinue of demons am I followed. The first, capricious and quick-glancing, sequesters black rage and hatred unbound beneath a mercurial temperament...its visage, fair and angelic, presents itself as neither male nor female. The second appears less rarefied - a spectre of girlish graces, caught on the cusp of womanhood, whose soft elegance - with all the beauty and understated decadence of a weeping wisteria blossom - circumscribes a snake's tongue, disdainful and harsh, and a soul rotten to the point of non-existence. Beguiling, they are - enchanting, entrancing, enthralling; all this is true, for they are as devils are wont to be, and breed obsession with their passing - but this too is an illusion. They are, the two of them, a foul, fell curse, the true depth of which even I can only come close to grasping. They abrade the soul by their presence; they tire and vex, and quarrel with each other ceaselessly. I see in their eyes, I see it in their faces - they shall outlast me in the end, and in their cruel laughter, in their mocking half-smiles, vicious half-snarls, they shall be my undoing. And yet, torn as my heart is by this despair, I persist ever onwards, to dull life's extremest goal - for my recourse, my pillar of strength in this purgatory, shall ever be my resolve; that which ceaselessly questions, Kirie, Kirie, are you to allow these abominations to mar the passing of a beautiful soul? And as I persist, I ha-

Hardware interrupt.

"-aBBLRRGAAGGH!"

"ENOUGH! IT'S TOO SCINTILLATING! I CAN'T FUCKING HANDLE IT!"

"So, can I have the POV inste-"

"TAKE IT! IN THE NAME OF THE HARMAN, THE GARCIAN, AND THE HOLY SMITHS, FUCKING TAKE IT!"

* * * *

As the Trap withdraws his fist from the Princess' stomach - taking care to catch her icecream as she drops it, due to suddenly losing the majority of her fine motor control - I reflect on how well this has all worked out in accordance with my plan. The POV is now mine, as it should be. The duty of main characters, after all, is to ensure the orderly progression of the story by means of their own perspective. That is what sets me apart from those two fools. Furthermore, this will allow me to take vengeance on him for putting that icecream in my eye just a moment ago. I'm still wiping that off with my towel, as a matter of fact.

"..."

The Trap stands over the crumpled form of the Princess, holding an icecream in one hand, breathing the heavy breaths of frustration. Without looking at me - how dare he - he says,

"We're never letting her narrate again."

"Not an issue." I reply. "Now that I've stolen the POV from her, that same one which she treasured so much and would have been filled with happiness by for the rest of her short life, there's no possibility of that happening, however jealous she gets. Remember, you can't spell 'narrator' without NTR."

Very slowly, he turns to look at me. I can't quite read his expression.

A pause.

The next thing I know, a large quantity of cold, soft-serve vanilla icecream collides with my right eye.

"-AAAGGH! WHY?!"

* * * *

Later

On the beach. After I used my ESP ability to 'catapult' the Trap a kilometre out to sea on general principle, the Princess and I - the former having recovered from the hardware interrupt which allowed me to seize the POV - lie on spread-out towels beneath a red-and-white umbrella. The beach is beautiful - all white sand, azure sky and cerulean sea, drawn in a large, crescent-shaped bay where the sea cliffs taper off into piles of rocks at the points. Some distance out from the shore, there appears to be a coral reef. It causes the waves to break early, rendering the area closer to the shore a calm and still lagoon. Ordinarily I wouldn't care much, but since the Trap will have to traverse it on his way back to shore, I'm fantasising about all the sharp and dangerous things it could contain.

Maybe it was mined by the Navy during the war, and some of them are still active out there?

Yes, thoughts like that. I'm so excited. There's no telling what might happen. For the moment, though, I have some free time, which I'm using to complete my secondary objective of finding and pointing out all the ways in which the Princess' body is inferior to my own.

"You're so pale, Fujyou. One might even go so far as to call it a 'deathly pallor'. It borders on being paper-white. It's truly nauseating to look at. How can you even go outside in such a state?"

"...I haven't been outside for ten years."

"And whose fault is that?"

"...cancer."

"This is no time to be blaming your failures in life on your star sign. I'm all but certain not even Shirazumi would stoop to such a low. Moreover, what's with that bikini?"

"Do you have a problem with my bikini?"

"Who wouldn't have a problem with your bikini? I mean, honestly. Look at mine, for contrast. What do you see?"

"It's purple."

"More detail."

"There is no more detail. It's solid-colour."

"Imbecile! What you should have been paying attention to is that my artless-yet-stylish-in-an-innocent-manner purple swimsuit top ties at the back, not at the front."

"...and?"

"And, in brazen - one might even say, stark - contrast to this, your totally-unfashionable white-lily-patterned swimsuit top - which is substantially smaller than mine - ties at the front!"

"So?"

"It means you're a prostitute."

"What."

"There's no use questioning my logic. It's based on a centuries-old cultural code."

"The bikini wasn't invented until the twentieth centur-"

"Fool! Clearly it is necessary to educate you. First, a history lesson! Traditionally, Fujyou, the obi of a kimono is tied at the back. This is a habit which dates back thousands of years, to when the garment that would develop into the kimono as we understand it today was adopted by the Imperial court, in imitation of the clothing worn by Chinese nobles at the time. However, in the red-light districts of numerous major cities, this became inverted! The reason being, and obi tied at the back is difficult for the woman to remove by herself, and for a 'working girl', so to speak this was an unacceptable inefficiency. Consequently, the habit evolved of prostitutes having their obi tied at the front, which resulted in a long-standing cultural association between inverted obi-tying and prostitution. If you don't believe me, just ask Ryougi!"

* * * *

Crossing Live To Kimono Expert Shiki Ryougi

"Yeah, it's true."

* * * *

And We're Back

"See?"

"Why does that have any relevance to-"

"The bikini is the obi of the modern Japanese woman! Your wearing of a front-tie bikini top advertises nothing but your own licentiousness. Such lewdness! Such abandon! It's fortunate this beach is deserted, otherwise I'd be too ashamed to be seen in public with you."

"...Asagami, the bikini is meant as a complete outfit by itself. No-one uses one to tie other articles of clothing to their body. It's nothing like an o-"

"Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of how much of a WHORE you are."

Yeah, that shuts her up. Clearly, she's overcome by the crippling force of my argument. I could go on, but I choose not to. The difference between us runs deeper than what I've described. Over the bottom half of my bikini, I wear denim short shorts (which are short) whereas she wears some wishy-washy sarong. Psychoanalytically, the reason for this can be understood as-

"Asagami."

"Yeeeeees?"

"What do you think the main characters are doing right now?"

"I know I'm lying on beach, not enjoying myself in the slightest."

"That's not what I asked."

A deadly silence.

And faint smile, from her.

That bitch. I need think of a snappy comeback, quick-smart!

* * * *

Meanwhile, At Garan No Dou

It's at that moment that a certain aforementioned imouto kicks down the door.

"RYOUGIIIIII!!!!"

"What?"

A bored, slightly older girl in a kimono is lying down on the sofa.

"The TIME...has come to an END!" Evil laughter. "Yes...THIS is what nature planned!"

"There was no need to destroy my door, Azaka." Behind a desk, a red-haired woman with glasses sips coffee while building a pyramid out of playing cards. "Unless you're being tracked by a starving beast looking for its daily feast. In which case kicking down my door was, while understandable, terminally stupid."

"You're more right than you know, Miss Touko! What you speak of - it's a feeling! A great, boiling emotion, pursuing me like a predator on the verge of death! Close to its last breath!"

"Something tells me," says the bored woman, "that pretty soon you're going to be close to your last breath."

"RULES OF NATURE!" The imouto screams, shattering all glass in the vicinity. Having done this, she seems to regain some measure of composure. "It's time to settle this once and for all, RYOUGI!"

"I guess I should ask what we're settling, but I don't really care. Why are you so loud, though?"

"Eh, I just S-ranked Armstrong on Revengeance. So now I am finally prepared to face the ultimate trial - THE COMPETITION FOR NII-SAN'S HEART!"

"Eh...? Ugh. Can it wait, like, one or two hours? I was gonna go out for lunch."

"LOVE WAITS FOR NO-ONE! I stand here, at this moment, with my soul ABLAZE, and it is here and now that our FINAL BATTLE will be fought!"

"Touko, can I kill her vocal cords?"

"Just give it some time and she'll do that herself."

"SILENCE! We shall begin in Five, Four, ThreeTwoOneTOOSLOW! The first argument is MINE!"

"Argument? This is a debate?"

"The topic is, WHICH OF US TWO LOVES NII-SAN THE MOST!"

"What...? I thought we were going to fight. That's so lame."

"POINT ONE! I masturbate while thinking about him AT LEAST FOUR TIMES A WEEK!"

"A bold opening there, Azaka." comments the red-haired woman, placing the finishing touches on the penultimate layer of her card pyramid. "Though is that really the kind of thing you want to admit in public?"

"RYOUGI! Try and top that...IF YOU DARE!"

A yawn. The bored-looking woman hasn't gotten up from the couch.

"Look, if you're just gonna make stuff up-"

"What?"

"What does 'masturbate' mean? 'cause it's pretty obviously not a real word."

In an infinitesimal span of time, the temperature in the room drops to absolute zero. Air freezes solid. All movement halts.

Another infinitesimal span of time later, the imouto and the red-haired woman are huddled in a corner, conspiring in hushed tones.

"How can she not-"

"Consider her upbringing, Azaka. In a conservative household like that-"

"There's just no way!"

"No, it makes sense...at the age she should have been getting 'the talk', she was in a coma. It's possible that she doesn't-"

"You mean to tell me she's never once done-"

"It does explain an awful lot. I'd probably want to murder people too if I'd gone my entire life without ma-"

"The hell are you two talking about?"

"Shiki," says the red-haired woman, with kind eyes and a winning smile, "tell me, how do women get pregnant?"

"You think I'm some kind of idiot?" The bored-looking woman glares at the other two. "By kissing a man. Everyone knows that."

Back in the corner.

"I can't! I just can't!"

"Getting cold feet, Azaka?"

"The innocence, it BURNS!"

"Your brother's got it rough, kid."

"We have to do something! I can't fucking handle this!"

"For once, my filthy assistant, I may actually agree with you."

"You losers just keep doing what you're doing." With that, the bored-looking woman gets up from the sofa, and begins making her way out of the room. "I don't have time for this. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have lunch." A smirk directed at the horrified imouto. "With Kokutou."

With that, she heads for the door. Reaches out her hand for the handle, turns it-

-and is stopped, by a hand clapping down on her shoulder. It belongs to the imouto.

"I can show you the world..." she sings.

On her other shoulder, the red-haired woman's hand claps down.

"...shining, shimmering, splendid!" makes it a duet.

"What the hell do you think you're do-"

* * * *

And Back Again

"I'm sure they're doing very important, very meaningful main-character things."

Damn it, brain, that wasn't snappy at all! Get up to par.

"I was just wondering."

"Why?"

"Whether the story follows them because they're the main characters, or they're the main characters because the story follows them."

"I'm not sure I understand your meaning, but whichever interpretation renders me superior to you is the one I support."

"...never mind, then."

A long pause.

"Asagami."

"What?"

"What do you think Kokutou is doing right now?"

"Probably out collecting harem members."

"You think so?"

"Without question."

* * * *

He Isn't

A dark-haired boy with glasses ascends the stairwell leading to Garan no Dou. In his hands, he's holding a large package, which arrived on the ground floor at some point this morning, but which Miss Touko hasn't yet bothered to take up to her office. Traversing the third floor, all of a sudden, a kimono-clad woman appears from around the corner, sprinting downstairs at a breakneck pace. Seeming to notice him there, she stops on the stairwell ahead of him, and looks down at him, red-faced and teary-eyed from crying.

"Kokutou...you idiot!"

"What?"

With nothing more than that, she runs off down the stairs, blubbering inelegantly.

"Shiki, wai..." It's too late. In a flash, she's vanished down the stairs. "...what the hell?"

The boy decides to quickly deliver the package and head downstairs to clear things up. Only a few flights later, he arrives at the door to Miss Touko's office. Placing the package on the ground temporarily, he pushes it open-

-and gazes upon a scene of absolute chaos.

The room, to put it bluntly, looks like a tornado has hit it. Books, objects, random junk, strewn everywhere. On one wall is his sister, suspended there by a knife pinning the back of her shirt collar to the wall. To the other side, he sees...

...Miss Touko.

Depositing Miss Touko's dismembered body into a body-bag.

"What the fu-"

"You didn't see nothin'," says the living Miss Touko. "If you know what's good for you, you'll walk right out that door and never speak of this again."

"...uh, y-yeah, I'll...go...do that."

He can't close the door fast enough.

* * * *

And Again

"You just don't understand men, Fujyou."

"As I see it, you only need to understand one."

"I can't tell if that's super cute and romantic or unspeakably retarded. What kind of cancer do you have, again?"

"At the moment, I think," Fujyou continues, "we need to understand that one."

"Eh?"

I look over to where she's pointing.

A dishevelled, soaking-wet figure, blonde hair tangled in seaweed, covered in what look like bite marks, missing an arm, staggers out of the surf, and catches sight of us.

"YOUUUUUUUUUU!"

He takes a step.

"FUCKING!"

He coughs up about a gallon of seawater.

"JELLYFISH!"

He takes one more step and falls over. Face-first in the sand. No signs of movement past there.

"...nah, I think we're safe."

* * * *

Later That Night

By the time we all got in the private hot spring after dinner, his arm had fully regrown. Shame about those jellyfish stings, though. That neurotoxin is really something special.

"So, Shirazumi, how'd you enjoy the tentacles?"

"Fuck you."

[R.Lock]

Hate you, Dullahan. I was going to bed- *mumble-muble-starting reading*

[R.Lock]

Now I want you to write more about that support group.

This was a hell one of a chapter. Old-fashioned narrative Fujyou! Just one paragraph of that made me a bit nauseous. (I must thank my exposure to classic literature for this reaction.) Quirky Lio- oh wait, we've got that in MIAL. Clueless Asagami! Glorious protagonists not doing what they're supposed to be! A shit ton of references! That very Japanese stand-off!

My, too many things to write about.

[shiningphoenix]

"What does 'masturbate' mean? 'cause it's pretty obviously not a real word."

WIN.

[Leftovers]

Normally, rapid-fire, uber-meta and chock-full of references comedy tends to quickly fall flat on its face, not to mention way short of actually being consistently funny. This shit, however, is stellar, both in terms of writing and in actually delivering the lulz. Really, was that a Coleridge reference I spotted there?

[Siriel]

*raises hand* I do. I tend to dislike reading my own stuff.

I think that's natural. I can barely stand reading my own fic.

As naive as you are predictable, Asagami. To think you really believed such a weak technique would work against me...I am surveillance made flesh. You must photograph Sheng Long to stand a chance.

I'm sad that, of all the references in that chapter, this is the one that had me crack up.

[Rai Burnout]

This chapter was made of win, where do I begin? The opening with catbed Lio put a grin on my face which turned into a smile when Lio breaks out the one two. Shiki not understanding Sex was fucking hilarious. I presume that Shiki running outside means she now knows what she and Mikiya do at night means.

[Polly]

What happened there between Azaka, Touko, and Shiki?!? I MUST KNOW!!!!


( this shit is hilarious, BTW. Please, more )

[Flere821]

This entire chapter was WIN. Hilarious

[Bloble]

I think it speaks volumes about your work when you spend a little over a thousand and a half words discussing the merits of the 6th KnK movie and how Azaka may or may not be useless moeshit, and we eat it up and ask for more. Here we stand before the warm and soothing rain of words, falling gently on this forum and washing away all the sorrow and stains of bad fanfiction. Oh, and Fujyou's prose is more purple than Asagami's bikini. Nice job.

[Polly]

I-I like the 6th movie ( even if I do think that the book is much better ).

And I also like Azaka, even if Akiha and Rin both have much more personality than her...

[SeiKeo]

I think it speaks volumes about your work when you spend a little over a thousand and a half words discussing the merits of the 6th KnK movie and how Azaka may or may not be useless moeshit, and we eat it up and ask for more. Here we stand before the warm and soothing rain of words, falling gently on this forum and washing away all the sorrow and stains of bad fanfiction. Oh, and Fujyou's prose is more purple than Asagami's bikini. Nice job.

Well I'm not really sure what that speaks volumes about.

[Dullahan]

Really, was that a Coleridge reference I spotted there?

You're absolutely correct. What we have have there is a rare confluence of references to Joseph's final fight against Cars from JJBA, Coleridge's Kubla Khan, and the Tactical Genius meme from WH40k in the same paragraph.

Simply by *mumble mumble*, this level of referencing is possible for Dullahan.

Old-fashioned narrative Fujyou!

Originally I was going to write Fujyou's narration in the style of Twilight, but I decided that a more old-fashioned ultra-purple romance novel style would be funnier.

[Lycodrake]

Overly-sheltered Ryougi was pretty golden.

[Kyte]

The POV wrestling was so fucking meta.

"SUCH ELDRITCH! VERY LOVECRAFT! WOW!"

You fucking bastard my face hurts now

[Kirby]

"...Consequently, the habit evolved of prostitutes having their obi tied at the front, which resulted in a long-standing cultural association between inverted obi-tying and prostitution. If you don't believe me, just ask Ryougi!"

* * * *

Crossing Live To Kimono Expert Shiki Ryougi

"Yeah, it's true."

* * * *

And We're Back

"See?"

c: