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File 128417453496.jpg - (101.86KB, 630x900, 13010433.jpg) [iqdb]
32094 No. 32094
>>32089

==

[X] Yes, let them eat cake and chat. Somebody else will have to help you, and you know well who she is…


It looks like you picked the wrong week to quit faffing about.
Let's do own up, however – it's your darnedest privilege to be baffled about all this mess, and for the love of God and everything still holy, you are going to take advantage of it. It feels almost as if you were in one of those cringe-worthy comedy skits, where the male lead, caught with his arm deep down some rich and famous cleavage, gives the most possibly platitudinous excuse ever: 'I have dropped my keys in there', and nobody ever thinks to maybe wait and let him show his empirical evidence to support the claim.

Sadly, none of the cleavages present at the moment strike you as safe enough to risk a dive.


Kaguya plays on your momentary stall and sneaks in a concern of her own. “Okay, girl talk is admissible by me,” she says, “but before we go down to that, Moko, where'd you get those clothes? If I recall correctly, those aren't yours, yes?”
“Oh, we blagged them from the drier in the other wing,” Mokou admits without a shade of shame. “Not our fault, okay? We sort of ran out of clobber thanks to a certain nonce who has this bizarre passion for making our rags all wet and claggy. Cut us some slack, it's not like we had much choice.”
Kaguya glances once back at you, rolling her chocolate eyes, and moans. “Okay, sheesh, okay,” she gives up to the other girls, “I'll lend you some of mine! Gosh, you should have asked! Why didn't you—I don't know—send for somebody to let me on and arrange some clothes? Eirin isn't going to be glad about your stealing her crew equipage, you know.”
“Oh, sod that old scrubber!” Mokou huffs as if her whole existence was being made misery by this horrible 'Eirin' phenomenon that has suddenly struck her life. “I don't care if she's glad or not. None of your habits are going to fit Miss Tiny Tits there anyhow, so bugger that noise.”
Reimu rouses at the unexpected jab. “Hey! Screw you, cave-woman!”
“So yeah,” Mokou goes on, making nothing of the insult, “thanks all the same, but if Eirin has a problem with us borrowing those duds, she can bloody well take it up with me. Go tell her that, if you want – we're keeping those either way – at least until ours are dry.”
Kaguya moves her hands accusingly to her hips. “Moko,” she chides, “I love you, but that doesn't mean you can go on about looting the Clinic as you please! Don't you know how hard it is to acquire these kinds of uniforms? Do you have any idea how much some of them cost? It is enough of a hassle to even find somebody who can supply them, Moko! Good heavens, why couldn't you be a little bit more… crappit, more considerate or something, I don't—… ah, forget it!” the Princess tousles her hair in irritation. “Bother me, why am I even letting myself be exasperated by this?!”


Indeed, why is she?
“I reckon it's habitual,” you offer, trying to look in-the-know. “Hasn't it occurred to you yet that you might be somewhat too benevolent for your own good, Princess? Or the good of others, for that matter?”
Kaguya eyes you suspiciously. “Is this a compliment, or…?”
“Neither,” you stand up and say. “Or perhaps both, depending on what the second option was, and if it would really be that big of a difference. I have showered you with enough flattery to last you this and the next life over, haven't I? One honour less would hardly make a change, methinks.”
“Very witty, Shooter,” she makes a tart smile. “Why the bad blood? Do you feel left out?”
“Not at all,” you tell her. “Don't mind me, actually – go ahead, eat your cake and chat – I won't be a skank about it. Girl talk, bloody hell – it's been years since I last heard the phrase. I'd love to stay and listen, but if you don't want me to, okay, that means it's likely none of my business, and besides, I have some other things calling my attention. I'll be off to see to them now, I think. Oh, and you two,” on a notion, you stride up to the Mokou and Reimu, then enfold them both concisely, kissing each on the top of the head, “don't go on tearing the place apart just yet, okay? Leave the Princess in one piece, too, if you could – I'll have need of her later. Princess,” you accost Her Highness, “if you would be so kind to find a window for me in the afternoon – please, indulge me. There are still affairs we ought to discourse.”
“… there are?” the Princess says, bemused, “—I mean, yes, naturally,” she rectifies, “if you say so, I believe there probably are.”


“On that note, then,” you release the other two, “I'll be buggering off. Cheers,” you salute and start for the door, but then come to a stop just as you are about to pass it. “Kaguya,” you turn and stab a finger in her direction, “I'm counting on you, okay?”

Kaguya nods. “Of course.”
“See you, then. Cheers, all.”
“Bye.”



Nobody said you needed your keys right away anyhow.



***



Sod's law.

Somehow it would seem you just weren't meant to have your plan go the kosher way.
Whereas the room you sought was not all that challenging to find, what you discover watching over its door, paging heedlessly through a book, fingering absently a gun-holster on her thigh, doesn't bode too well for the situation at hand. Ace – and you had thought you would be able to gen up before anybody else got to the girl…


Seeing you approach, the armed nurse stands and gives a slack curtsy. “Shooter, good morning.”
“Florence, yes?” you try, to her diffident nodding. “Good morning indeed. Say, I got the correct room, yes? Is the little miss in?”
“If she wasn't, would I be standing guard here like I am?”
“No,” you say, “I reckon not. So what's all this row then?”
“Detention,” Florence states dryly. “Or house arrest, if you prefer, that sounds a bit milder. Shooter,” she gives you a keen look, “tell me, did the Princess direct you here?”
“No, I'm on a personal lookout.”
“Good,” she sighs with relief, “meaning, so long as you are telling the truth, that is. Master Eirin wouldn't like it if she had.”
“Something going down?”
“Not particularly. It's just that we wouldn't wish to concern Her Highness with such trite issues.”
“Issues,” you groan, “you know, the word seems to be plaguing me today. So what do we have here this time?”

“Several breaches of the Code of Conduct,” Florence counts out, “unjustified abandoning of assigned post, exhibiting violent behaviour in defiance of a legally alloted punishment, as well as a minor case of disrespecting a senior officer, among the most recent. Not even starting on her long-term history, if you'll forgive the discretion.”

“Somebody's been bad.”
“Quite,” the nurse makes a face, “and not with a reason I would recognise as good enough. So, Shooter,” she mitigates somewhat, “you are here to talk some sense into her, I hope? None of us could get through to her, but I am led to believe she'd taken quite the liking to you, so it might be worth the shot.”
“I may as well,” you say. “Can you let me in?”
“One second,” she hedges, going for the intercom box at the opposite wall, “we will have to report this to Master Eirin first, I fear. I wouldn't like to step on any toes and lose my berth, you understand.” Florence taps the small keyboard a few times, listens, then spits out a curse. “… piece of junk!… god damned technicians, shirking on their jobs!… Magnificent,” she turns to you, “looks like I will have to go and report all this first hand. Listen, I shall let you in, but be aware that my entire career hangs on your not doing acting stupid in there. Is that clear, Shooter?”
“Crystal.”
“Brilliant,” she exhales and walks to the door, where she knocks on it a few times. “Delaney, are you awake? Give us a sign if you are.”


Delaney throws about on the other side and screams in a language you can't understand.
“I'm not flexible enough to do that,” Florence reproaches calmly. “Also, that's louder than necessary.”
Once again, the furious girl inside retorts by yelling obscenities.
“Way too hot down there at this time of year, so no – thank you. Now, Delaney, if you would be so nice as to skip over to the windowsill and stand there with your mittens in plain sight, I am sure your guest here would be most delighted with the gesture. Give us the pleasure, Delaney, please.”
Surprisingly, there is a choked response, and then a hopeful question. “… Shooter?
“Oh yes,” Florence says, “he is here, and he is itching to see you, so don't make him wait. Over by the window, Delaney, and keep your hands where he can see them. I'll lock it back behind you,” she warns. “If the little miss does anything you'd deem dangerous for your integrity, feel at liberty to do what's in your power to keep yourself in one piece. Nobody is going to blame you. Good luck,” she pushes on the door and shoves you through, “I should be back soon, so hold fast until then. Goodbye,” she adds and clicks the lock shut.


Which rather patently obliges you to look Delaneywards and at the cluttered room.
“Nice bed,” you observe.
“Single,” she snaps, “so fuck you.”


Candidly enough, her bearings more than match her temper. Unwashed and unkempt, her hair sticks to her cheeks and temples, drawing attention away from the chic underwear peeking through the gaps in her torn, rumpled button-up. Her bottom is dishevelled as well, as is her cherry lipstick and eye-liner, and she makes little of the make-up flowing down her face. How remarkable – that the sharp-witted Delaney could also look this miserable, like any common teenage girl. Her acid-yellow eyes, still glistening with tears, seem convinced that this is all a cosmic joke, that the whole situation is absurd, and not just her.


“So,” she speaks before you can marshal your cosmos trivia, “are you here to make fun of me, Shooter? What did they tell you? – that I am insane? Out of my mind? Come on, hit me with your best one! I'm pretty much numb to humiliation at this point.”



[ ] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[ ] “No, I am here to play the White Knight part. How does refuge in my lodge sound? I have my own bathroom, and you could use a wash.”
[ ] “So I went through the pain of getting here only to have you lash out at me, now? Very well, then. Screw you, Delaney. It was fun to see you like this, but there is nothing more for me to do here.”
[ ] “How many disasters do you think I have averted today? If you reckon yours is special by some mean, take it all out on me, and we shall see if I find it as tragic as you say.”
[ ] “No. I have questions that apparently you might be able to answer.” (Elaborate)
Expand all images
>> No. 32095
[x] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[x] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."

It's a start.
>> No. 32098
File 128419979751.png - (1.67KB, 125x107, 121061597120s.png) [iqdb]
32098
>Locked in with a tsundere rabbit
I like where this is going.

[x] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[x] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."
>> No. 32099
[x] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[x] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."
>> No. 32100
>[Go fuck yourself!]
>“I'm not flexible enough to do that,” Florence reproaches calmly. “Also, that's louder than necessary.”
>Once again, the furious girl inside retorts by yelling obscenities.
[Go to hell]
>“Way too hot down there at this time of year, so no – thank you
Lol'd

[x] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."
I don't like bandwagons, but this looks pretty much what I'd have written. Only a machine would lack empathy for her situation.
>> No. 32102
[x] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[x] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."
>> No. 32103
>>32098
This'll be my vote.

Good stuff mate. Keep up the good work, these characters and interactions are quite delicious.
>> No. 32110
File 12845971985.jpg - (227.71KB, 700x975, 8ae02ce300e0a836029a4b9a1ba9f0c5.jpg) [iqdb]
32110
A post is missing. What happened? You okay, YAF?
>> No. 32111
File 128459957732.jpg - (95.89KB, 400x500, 8632553.jpg) [iqdb]
32111
[X] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[X] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."

Good lord, what happened to the poor girl? Even the princess and her blown off face seemed to have had an easier evening. Well, at least we have some alone time with her; maybe we can indulge whatever her request was that was so blithely ignored last night.

Also, great story so far. I'm glad it was recommended to me, even if it was a while ago. Shame there was no great discussion after that last big info dump about what happened with Keine. The first two memory tweaks were probably linked to Shooter killing youkai, which in turn causes Reimu to freak the fuck out, and it unfortunately ends with our protagonist worse for wear. Keine (hopefully) doesn't want Shooter to meet an untimely demise, but I'm given to the impression she's doing it more for Reimu's sake. She wants Reimu to enjoy being a girl and be in love or whatnot, but the unfortunate clod ends up invoking her shrine maiden rage more often than not. This most recent event might be something similar, but I think some details are necessary. Fact remains that Reimu has been the focus of all of these, so I'm wondering what it was about sending her home made this necessary.

Great story so far! The dialogue is fantastic. It's just a treat. Don't change. Actually, do change; add more Touhous. Or not. I think the cast as it is is great, but I can't help but think the more the merrier. The briefest of interaction with Remilia was painfully short. Heading to Eientei was one of the best developments in the story, what with the usual crew (and all the funny bunnies). I think the only thing that's keeping me from getting swept away is some lingering sense of dread that the story will get really dark really fast.

I feel compelled to ask about >>31895, though. Near the end, when Kaguya is talking into the radio to start up the fireworks, how did Shooter understand the person responding to Kaguya? Am I misunderstanding something about the translation magic here?
>> No. 32112
>>32111
The thing wasn't so much sending Reimu home, but giving Keine a status report and a bit of investigating of that man.
>> No. 32113
>>32112
>but giving Keine a status report and a bit of investigating of that man.

Seriously, but until the specifics of "two were-cows instead of one" gets clarified, I can't help but wonder how much Keine hate is legitimate and how much is thoroughly misplaced. We've the most basic of details from Kaguya, who had the good instinct of keeping Eientei(?) as distanced from that malarky as possible.
>> No. 32119
File 128467367699.jpg - (136.22KB, 400x550, 60389c40f98cb3e0e37f4d393c10fbaa.jpg) [iqdb]
32119
[X] “And if I said I wished to see you because I was worried? What would you do then?”
[X] "What did happen? Someone suggested I was insane when I mentioned what happened to me. I'm all ears."



If only she realised what sort of travail you've put yourself through to talk to her.
Now all the odds suggest it was pretty much like setting up a tea party in the middle of a minefield, and the prime challenge is to reach the table in a single piece. It might have been simpler to do just that, you think.

Leastwise you wouldn't have to do any washing-up.


“It does sound rather appetising, I do admit—” you say, “—to bedevil you, that is – but it's not what I'm here for – not for the moment, at least.”
Delaney dips her chin and glares. “… if you're here to make witty remarks, then I think you know precisely where you can store them.”
“Okay, I get the tip. Not in the mood for pleasantries, are we?” No surprises there. “So what if I said I'm here because I worried for you a little bit? What would you do then? Supposing I honestly did worry, that is.”
“If I had one, I'd tell you to bend the fuck down and suck my dick.”
Not too shabby. “Pity you don't, because I might have taken you up otherwise. Could have been quite the gripping experience, I imagine.”
Delaney lours even angrier. “… you're not serious.”
“No, I'm not—but I can be,” you assure. “I simply choose not to, most of the time. I'm total rubbish at constructive advice, so often I just give cynical commentary instead. I'm not young enough to know everything, see.”


Scowling still, the blowsy girl crosses arms on her chest, squeezing the cleavage line in her shirt delectably tighter; at the same time clenching her palms into small, dainty fists, barely sticking them out through her long, wrinkled sleeves. In spite of her rippled condition, her nails seem to remain wonderfully manicured – almost like a row of spotless, pink rose-petals on the tips her fingers.
It appears she has a cute, little mole on her left breast as well, you note somewhat out of a reflex.

How very mellow.


“… I don't get it,” she states finally, her voice irritable.
“It's a joke,” you explain, “though a rather, uh… old one, I reckon.”
“It's not very funny.”
“It wasn't supposed to be funny – it was, you know, er… self-deprecating, sarcastic.”
“Oh,” Delaney tilts her head, “I suppose then it was kind of funny.”
“Thank you.”
“I was being sarcastic.”


Bollocks. Just who is baiting who here? It feels like one of those scenes in a swashbuckling film, where two gentlemen with rapiers are circling around, swishing their swords and being over-polite before they attempt to kebab each other. 'So, D'artagan, it gives me great pleasure to meet you in person at last.' 'Yes, Monseigneur, and it will give me equal pleasure to pluck your kidneys out with my trusty blade.'
Meetly enough, you reckon the girl could do with some kidney-plucking care.


“Delaney, sweetheart, you are not helping.”
“That's not my job,” she snarls. “If you wanted help, you should have gone elsewhere. Do you think me a fool, Shooter? Do you really believe that I have no idea what's going on around me?”
“No, I do not—”
“Don't call me those stupid names then,” she demands, narrowing her eyes. “Don't stare at my chest, my face is up here. Don't presume I didn't notice just because I didn't say anything. Eyes up here, you rude ass. Were you born that dumb or did you have to work for it?”
“Oh, so we're exchanging insults now?” you chuff. “Delaney, love, what in the blazes did you expect? I may have gone overboard, okay, but what the hell does it matter? Do you have any idea how you look right now? If I didn't know better, I'd have been crackers for you right now! Bleeding hell, those clothes flatter you, Delaney! Honest!” you exclaim, throwing your arms out, “if not for the mess on your face, I'm pretty bloody certain you could have starred for the cover girl in a sexy car magazine! If complimenting you makes me daft in any way, sod it – I'm not stopping.”

Delaney gapes at you in disbelief. “… you imagine me in a car magazine?” she asks, her voice still tetchy, albeit slightly less so than before. “I really can't tell whether you are just a sad idiot or a plain and utter imbecile.”
“I'll take both,” you tell her, “I've been called many names today. Somebody even suggested I was insane when I told them what had happened to me. Fancy that! One more sod or prat won't cut much ice.”
“… 'what had happened to you'?” the modish nurse repeats, lifting a brow. “Something… has happened to you, too?”
“Oh yes,” you shrug, “it bloody well did, but I've already got to grips with it, so all that we've left is your dilemma. I've got an idea, Delaney. I know that the bed's a single, but it shouldn't be a setback if we just sit on it and talk,” and if she decides for another sort of activity, it can also be done in a seated position. “Don't be a skank and tell me what the row's about. I'm all ears, if you choose to speak.”


Having dithered for a second more, the nurse then gives a resigned moan and strolls anaemically over to the bed, where she plunkers down on the very edge of the hard, creaky mattress. Carefully, as not to startle her, you draw up and take a seat beside her – gently, not letting another word come out and haplessly derail her resolution. It occurs to you, completely out of the blue, that you had never fully considered the risk of the situation. How her fleetly fragrance – the smells of sweat, tears and cheap perfume all mixed together – could make your senses reel so hard. How whilst you may be here to uncover her secrets, you would have gladly told her all of yours in an instant, if she only took the time to ask. Heck, you would have even made some up just to entertain her more.

Perhaps you ought to have revised your plans and sent Delaney to the Village instead of Reimu. Even the most hardened cockscombs would start singing like a canary if they saw her like this.

Now, however, you keep your beak shut as the girl collects her wits.


“When I stood up in the morning,” she begins, “I went downstairs to the mess to get some pills and water. I'd caught a headache unlike any I'd had before.”
“As did most of us, I'm sure.”
Delaney shoots you an annoyed look. “Especially you, I wager. Anyway, I met Nath and Noé on the way, so I stopped to chat with them for a minute. We said hello, how do you do and all that shit, and then I asked them what they thought of my fireworks, and they… and they just stared at me as if I'd grown a cucumber out of my forehead. I asked them what was wrong, but they just…” she pauses. “… they just said they didn't know what I was talking about. They said there were no fireworks, that I was simply hungover and talking nonsense, but I knew they were just bullshitting me! I—… I insisted, okay. I mean, I can remember the party! How could I forget when I—when the Princess—and when you—…” the nurse stifles an oath and shakes her head. “… never mind! I was stubborn, okay? Maybe kind of lost my cool a bit, perhaps. Next thing I know, Master Eirin and Flo come about, because turns out Noé called for them, and they… they lock me up in here, saying I'm out of line, ditching my duties, and have to be put 'under observation' or something—I don't even fucking know.” Delaney groans. “Okay, fine, I flipped out, so what! I may have punched Flo once or twice, too! Whatever! I've done worse before! Now look at me. I've been sitting here since, what, eight? It's how late now? Past twelve?”
“Little past thirteen.”
“I didn't ask,” she growls. “Stupid Englishman. Either way, I've been in here smearing this crap over my face for four hours straight, and I don't even know what the fucking problem is. That's it – you can laugh now. Go ahead, give me the loudest you can do. Maybe that way I'll laugh too.”

“No,” you say, standing up, “you're right.”
Delaney gives you a tart scowl. “Don't try to console me, Shooter. I've given up on that.”
“No, you don't understand,” you tell her. “I'm not trying to comfort you. We may have something in common that we never knew about.”
“Excuse me?”
“Delaney, did you dream last night?”
“Dream?…” She blinks at you sceptically. “Why would I—”
“It doesn't matter why – it matters whether you did or not. Recall – before you woke up, did you have any dreams? Or even after, was there anything you would have described as a dream?”
“I…” she havers. “… I might have… but I don't remember! No, I do remember, but—…” Suddenly, she does a cross face and glares at you again. “I don't know! What sort of a question is this, anyway? Why does it matter? What are you trying to make me say?”
“It's not what I'm trying to make you say. It's what you have to say. It's what we both have to say. It's what they have to hear us say.”
“What? Bullshit, I don't understand—”
“Listen,” you cut her objections short, “you have to go with me, Delaney. We've got to talk to the Princess. Her Highness has to hear of this, and preferably before anybody else does. Chivvy along, Delaney, we've got to get you to her. Quickly.”
“What? Why?”
“I have no idea,” you say, finding yourself with no other answer. “I don't know, but it might solve something, and if there is any chance of making sense of this giant cock-up, I won't flinch from taking it, even if I make a dunce out of myself.”
Delaney shakes her head again. “Shooter, I don't know what you're talking about! What fuck-up? Solve what? What is going on? What in the hell are you on about?”
“Shush,” you hold up a hand, “don't talk, Delaney. Smarten up. We don't have much time until—”


Correction: no time at all.
In that moment, the door to the room swings open, and Eirin charges inside, Florence following closely behind, her hand dangerously close to the sheath on her thigh. Delaney winces at the intrusion, and possibly at seeing her superior in a mood so ill she's resorted to such lack of manners.

“This conversation is over,” declares the doctor in a tone that leaves little to discuss. “I will not allow you to interfere with my research.”
'Research'?” you let out, baffled. “Research? What sodding research?”
Eirin stops and inhales, but retains the same, threatening look. “If you require answers, I shall reveal them,” she says. “In exchange, you will leave the nurse alone. No harm will come to her, if my assurance is enough to mollify your… unsubstantiated concerns. My study must not be disturbed, young man, for the good of her, yours and that of your ilk; and Her Highness must—and will not hear of it. Leave with me now, delegate the nurse to her colleagues, and you shall have your answers. Do not let any unfounded misgivings cloud your judgement – we share…” she pauses, looking for the proper word, but her face doesn't change, “… a common enemy, if you can comprehend what I am trying to convey. If it is your wish to stay in the House of Eternity, you must trust me, 'Shooter'.”

“I must trust you… —or?”
“I have not come here to threaten you, young man. Leave with me – and you shall have answers. Stay… – and we will talk on a different type of footing. I've made it simple enough, I believe. Choice is yours.”



[ ] Oppose.
[ ] Yield.
>> No. 32120
Hard choice as it seems Delany also had her memory mucked with in a fashion similar to shooter's. And Who to say Eirin's efforts would actually help or not. What is clear is that she's being overprotective of Kaguya yet again.
>> No. 32121
[x] Yield.
Fine.
>> No. 32124
[x] Oppose.
-[x] "Was that a with me or against me speech? Fuckin' really? Are you five years old? "
-[x] "Absolutes are REALLY stupid; but you know what else is stupid? Keeping a girl locked up for an 'experiment' without any explanation, keeping answers to yourself to use them as barging chips, threatening a guest and THEN, after all that, asking him to -hear this out- trust you. All of this in the name of the overprotection of someone who's smart enough to take are of herself and has probably been for the last decade!"

Yeah, I'm pissed off.
>> No. 32125
[X] >>32122

I'll take what he said.
>> No. 32126
[x] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.
If refused ...
[x]>>32124

I'm pissed too, but not enough to blatantly ignore the opportunity for answers. Let's not burn the Eientei bridge since we do still have allies here.

I have to agree with this guy (>>32111). The dialogue is utterly delicious and the interactions are delectable.
>> No. 32127
File 12847698711.jpg - (480.50KB, 1000x799, iseriouslyneedsomebunnygirlsinbuttonupshirts.jpg) [iqdb]
32127
>>32111>>32126
I… don't know what to say. Thanks, I… I am flattered. My story getting recommended? It's the sort of thing that just doesn't happen every day. Only rarer would probably be people taking the recommendation up.
This might be what I missed about the site – the direct interaction between the writers and the readers. I'm just hoping you really are enjoying the story as much as you say you do, and aren't just trying to inflate my floppy self-esteem by showering me with praise.
As for your question, >>32111, no, I don't think you misunderstood anything.

>>32110
I'm okay, yes, although the weather's been keeping me down and making me feel like a sack of piss about anything requiring even the smallest speck of creativity.
I deleted that post because I reckoned, eh, suppose I shouldn't bother THP with my incessant whinging, and I am going to update soon anyhow, so there ought to be no harm in zapping it. Thanks for asking though – I appreciate your concern.

Meanwhile, you might want to check out The Word of One by W-I-T the 8th in /eientei/. It's a somewhat messy, but otherwise rather good story – and it also has some Mokou.

I will see you soon, if I don't die of low blood pressure.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32128
[x] >>32124
>> No. 32130
File 128478941476.jpg - (204.30KB, 800x1000, haaa.jpg) [iqdb]
32130
>>32127
Meh, you shouldn't worry too much about that: your complaints aren't even bothersome. Besides, it's practically the writefags' right to vent off some pressure here. They have to get something after giving out so much I guess.
>> No. 32131
[x] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.

This. I don't see what good would come out from randomly opposing and if we don't like what we hear afterwards, we can still put our foot on the ground.
>> No. 32132
[x] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.
-[x]If not, oppose. She has no reason to deny that request.
>> No. 32136
[X] Oppose with extreme prejudice.
>> No. 32140
File 128511911057.png - (373.21KB, 750x1050, 4653705.png) [iqdb]
32140
Should I ignore >>32125, or was it meant to point to >>32124? I could use a clarification.
Other than that, apologies. If you were wondering, I'm currently a little bit under the weather. I should be back on my feet within a few days along with a nice, warm cupcake.
Mark time, gentlemen.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32141
File 128512920882.jpg - (223.75KB, 1333x1000, moe 66259 sample.jpg) [iqdb]
32141
>Story needs more girls with guns
wait, no

okay;

Anti-Magic fields rise all over Gensokyo and several PMCs start invading.
A few touhous with rogue mercenaries and what's left of the JSDF start to counter attack via guerilla warfare
>> No. 32142
>>32140

It was meant to point to >>32124
>> No. 32144
File 128517692928.png - (6.04KB, 125x121, 121158090580s.png) [iqdb]
32144
[X] Yield.
>> No. 32146
[x] Oppose.
-[x] "Was that a with me or against me speech? Fuckin' really? Are you five years old? "
-[x] "Absolutes are REALLY stupid; but you know what else is stupid? Keeping a girl locked up for an 'experiment' without any explanation, keeping answers to yourself to use them as barging chips, threatening a guest and THEN, after all that, asking him to -hear this out- trust you. All of this in the name of the overprotection of someone who's smart enough to take are of herself and has probably been for the last decade!"
>> No. 32147
[x] Oppose.

You confront a justifiably paranoid individual who has a history of conflict with authority and lack of concern for his own life and well being. You give him an ultimatum, offering unspecific information for an unspecific cost, and backed by the palpable threat of force.

What the hell would she expect?
>> No. 32148
[x] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.
-[x]If not, oppose. She has no reason to deny that request.

I don't think we really need to oppose her now. At least we could hear her out and after that decide what to do.
>> No. 32149
[x] Oppose.
-[x] "Was that a with me or against me speech? Fuckin' really? Are you five years old? "
-[x] "Absolutes are REALLY stupid; but you know what else is stupid? Keeping a girl locked up for an 'experiment' without any explanation, keeping answers to yourself to use them as barging chips, threatening a guest and THEN, after all that, asking him to -hear this out- trust you. All of this in the name of the overprotection of someone who's smart enough to take are of herself and has probably been for the last decade!"
>> No. 32150
[X] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.
>> No. 32151
[~] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.
[~] If not, oppose strongly.
>> No. 32152
File 128526535221.jpg - (244.13KB, 580x850, fuckingtriggerdiscipline_goddamn.jpg) [iqdb]
32152
Called! Called!
Good lord, where did all these votes come from?
>> No. 32153
Let's see how badly this turns out.
>> No. 32157
File 128530639443.jpg - (33.48KB, 732x665, 842125.jpg) [iqdb]
32157
>>32152
The story is awesome and people enjoy participating.

Deal with it.
>> No. 32163
File 12853778527.png - (432.05KB, 567x567, 127120646485.png) [iqdb]
32163
>>32152
Shut the hell up and keep doing such a good work.
>> No. 32166
File 128538685017.jpg - (48.28KB, 450x500, 87728d124d2b852666ffd8c037e477dc.jpg) [iqdb]
32166
[X] Yield on one condition: give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom and new clothes.
-[X] If not, oppose. She has no reason to deny that request.

There are people who could cause a riot in paradise.

The angels would be up there, perched on their clouds, strumming on their harps, and one troublemaker could goad them into ripping each other's wings off. Problem is, both Delaney and Eirin – the self-involved, old cow – are that type of a person, and you – as already established by Elena – could make the divine messengers throw their lyres at you in frustration. On the whole, it would likely be inevitable that your little meeting here in the House of Eternity would soon become an all-out war.

If you didn't know better than to blow on the conflagration.


“Very well,” you give up, “if my submission is indeed so crucial…”
Eirin, to your surprise, loosens visibly. “… good,” she says. “Know that I am pleased to hear this answer. If the Princess knew of this, I am certain she would have approved as well. Now, young man, we—”
“Not so fast,” you break in before she speaks another word. “Hold your celebrations, doctor. I haven't agreed quite yet. I have a small condition – an insurance of my capitulation, if you will. Nothing you couldn't afford, I'm sure.”
“Name it.”
“Give the poor bunny access to a proper washroom,” you enjoin. “Have a look at her face – I don't reckon this sort of thing becomes a member of your excellent personnel. With all due respect, Master Eirin, you ought to show a little sensitivity – the girl is dejected and scared out of her mind. Delaney,” you signal at the young nurse, “get your dejected loaf out of your arse and stand – your manageress is here. Oh, and some clean clothes would be nice, too,” you switch back to the doctor. “Much as I love her like this, I don't suppose she shares my views.”

Eirin gives you a steely look. “… your tone does not amuse me, young man.”
“It's quite all right – I don't find it all that funny either.”
“If you think your cynicism is appreciated—”
“Hadn't occurred to me, in fact,” you say. “Don't get me wrong, doctor – my cynicism is not meant to insult you in any way. It's just that I have been deceived too many times in those past few days to believe somebody would accord me assistance out of sheer altruism.”


Indeed.

Objectively, things could not have been more perfect. Here you are – in the dead of the Autumn, nestled away in the luxurious confines of the Clinic, severed from the hassles of the Village, with the loving Princess – who offered you bed, breakfast and everything in between – on one side, and Mokou and Reimu on the other, showing hints of colluding against your improvident self – an ideal sign of a hatching partnership.
Ostensibly, you couldn't have wished for a better development.

However, you could not be farther from putting your feet up if you tried. Complications and plights all sorts seem to just founder on you one after another. Mokou making rash decisions, Reimu getting involved in the straits, unrelated personae being inexorably drawn into the situation – all of this incites in you a headache beastlier even than the crapulence of this morning. There you were, happily building your vacation, when along come they, the bastards – screwing with your mind, making absurd claims, toting their bullshit slogans and bad lip-sync at you – threatening to ruin your day. Crock of shite.
Not only yours. It must be such a sweet scene for Delaney – like a King and Queen Cobra deciding who is going to set a trap in her bathtub.
Cheeky thing, this life, growling and throwing tantrums. Somebody ought to smack it in the face.


Eirin gives a silent murmur and inclines her head. “… I suppose your concerns aren't entirely unjustified. I shall grant your request. Amelin,” she addresses Florence, who straightens at the call, “you will escort the detainee to both the restroom and the garderobe, and will finally bring her back here. Do not answer her questions beyond simple yes and no, and do not speak on your own accord. If the detainee has other pleas, you will forward them to my office. Do not let her interact with anybody else. My research must continue undisturbed – am I understood?”
“Yes, ma'am,” replies the armed nurse. “I will do as you say.”
“Is this agreeable, young man?” the doctor asks you. “Or would you have any other benevolent demands?”
“No,” you tell her, “I reckon this is enough, for now. We may yet learn to love each other, methinks. Now, however, one more thing, if you'll excuse me—” you spin to Delaney and throw your arms around her before she can dodge. “—lay low,” you whisper into her little ear, “and don't do anything stupid, you hear?
O—okay…” she nods, rubbing her dainty nose on your shoulder. “… I'll try.
Good luck. I'll be back,” you add a notch louder and let her go. “Mark time until I am. I reckon that is all, Master Eirin,” you tell the doctor. “Thank you for hearing me out – I appreciate it. Lead on, please – I imagine we would both prefer no spectators to our conversation.”
“Indubitably,” Eirin concurs concisely. “Follow me.”


Next, she files out of the room, urging you to come after.
Seeing as you were the one who proposed it, you quickly do. Florence smiles at you briefly when you skive past, giving you the sort of an acclaiming bow that suggests she admires greatly your slick handling of the confrontation – and giving her the dubious privilege of not having to drag your unconscious carcass back to your room.

Predictable.


“Shooter,” Delaney stops you at the doorstep. “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
“I, uh…” she dithers, looking away, “… I'm sorry I yelled at you… and, uh… thanks.”
“Roger that,” you wave her a lax salute. “Don't let it get to you.”
“I won't.”
“Good girl,” you smile. “Now pardon me – I have an interrogation to attend to.”



***



Eirin flicks the lights on and speaks without gracing you with a single glance.
“Lock the door behind us.”
“Why—” you want to ask, but find the words dying in your throat when the doctor slips out of her purple duvet, revealing a set of the most outlandish, red-and-blue undergarments you have seen to date, making nothing of your surprised gawking. “Okay,” you hold back a laugh, “you do present a compelling argument.”


Eirin, however, ignores your quip and walks to the end of the hall, where she takes a brooch out of her hair and sticks it into a locker-door on the wall. “Come closer,” she ushers, oblivious of your stupefaction. “I do not bite, young man,” she chides when you don't move. “Do not misunderstand. I merely wish to bond with you.”
“Pardon? Bond with me?”
“Don't echo my words – it is neither necessary nor humorous. Imagine this is one of your check-ups, if you must. Come near, young man – the sooner you do, the sooner this will be over.”

Come what may, bloody hell,” you sigh and amble up to the doctor, closing your eyes as you draw up at her side. When a grown lady invites you to join her down in a cloistered chamber in the basement, it is perfectly safe to assume the invitation is completely innocent, no? Even if the lady tells you to bolt the door behind you and strips nigh-topless while you gander on witlessly. Weirder still if she takes a hold of your wrist and promptly jams it down her knickers. “Uh—?”

Still, completely innocent.

“Here.”

Nonetheless, for a female groin, the doo-dah in your hand feels eerily stiff. No, not that sort of stiff, thank heavens – that would have been too awful to bear. It is, as you discover when you lift your eyelids, just a bow – or leastwise something resembling a bow – a crescent contraption with a number of plastic wheels on both ends, nylon links strung between them like a kind of an industrial spider-web. Massive and convoluted, it weighs less than you would have anticipated.
Eirin, turns out, is holding one as well.

“What is it?” she asks, seeing your baffled expression.
“No,” you mumble. “It's nothing. Never mind.”
“If so you say,” the doctor shrugs and clicks her fingers once. On one of the walls, a row of shutters begins to rise, showing a long and narrow hall beyond them, leading to a dead-end, a hay-made disc set up on a pod at its very end.
“An archery range!” you fail to hold back your amazement. “Blow me sideways, I did not expect this.”
“Joint activity stimulates creation of interpersonal ties,” Eirin declares in a monotone. “It was my hope that by engaging in such, we would constitute a… credent relation between the two of us. Pick your fletching, young man,” she bids, “and meet me at the counter. I have seen your skill with modern arms, but a proper warrior excels in every kind of weaponry. Show me what you are capable of.”


Oh, so it's grooming hour now. Wonderful.







“Do not use your wrist. Move your shoulder instead.”
“I am moving my shoulder. Have you even been watching?”
“I've been – and your results side with me. Correct your stance – your feet are too wide.”
“Isn't it high time I got the answers I was promised?”

Eirin pulls away from you and makes a thoughtful face. “Do you trust me yet, young man?”
“I think I do,” you say, putting down your bow. “I reckon your plan has succeeded, Eirin. Against all odds, I might add.”
It would have been strange if it hadn't. One might think it is easy to stay aggrieved at a scheming woman, but the task becomes extremely hard when the woman in question has been pushing her assets against your back for the last half-hour.
“I've made a study of the baser side of man's nature,” Eirin replies flatly. “I can usually find a way to make it work for me.”

It may be only an illusion, but the doctor has lightened up significantly in these thirty minutes. Her eyes are brighter now, and she even had no qualms chuckling a few times when you missed your targets or tripped on your own toes. Queerest things seem to have taken to happening today.
Either way, this is not what you are here for.


“Charming,” you give her a sour look. “Now, Eirin, I hate to ruin our fun, but I have questions. Questions that you alone might be able to answer rightly.”
Eirin heaves herself up onto the counter and sits on the top, cross-legged. “Ask then, and I shall impart as much as I am in position to.”
“Very well. Starting off, I've been feeling out of place ever since I woke up yesterday. Something has been off, and I have yet to verify what it is. Perhaps I am growing paranoid, but I have every right to, I believe.”
“Mayhaps.”
“Is it legitimate? Or am I becoming insane and losing sight of my surroundings?”

Eirin ponders the question before answering. “… Kamishirasawa Keine,” she recites the name with a slight stutter, as if it were hard on her lips. “Kamishirasawa is the source of your concerns.”
“I inferred as much myself.”
“Kamishirasawa Keine,” the doctor ignores your retort and continues, “has not left the Human Settlement once in your absence. Neither has she crossed the threshold of my premises since your arrival here. Does that answer your question?”
“It… does,” you admit.
“One needs to make himself clear, Shooter,” Eirin says without a hint of irony, “lest another may not be able to answer in kind.”
“Copy that. So what about the incident from a year ago I keep hearing about? Only information I managed to collect was—”
“—the account of the Princess,” the doctor chips in. “Yes, Her Highness has indeed heard of the case, although in only the minutest detail. I did not allow her to participate… directly, if you grasp my meaning.”
“I want to know. How did you rid of Keine's lover?”
Eirin makes a quiet sigh. “We did not rid of him, young man – we merely concealed him. Her Highness told you already – we do not kill each other here – it is strictly against the very ordinance of the Land.”
“Yes, I—…” wait just a tick… “… Eirin, how in the blazes do you know about that?”
“Hm?”
“How do you know the Princess has already told me about the rules?”


Eirin stares at you, not moving a single muscle in her flawless face. “… I simply do.”
“… you spy on her!” you gasp. “Don't you! Does the Princess know?”
“It does not involve you, young man,” the doctor strikes back. “Whether I do—as you put it—spy on Her Highness or not, lays entirely in my care – not in yours. I do not meddle in your affairs – and I insist on the same courtesy from you. End of discussion.”
“Surely you can't be serious—!”
End of discussion,” Eirin repeats, forceful. “Do not embroil yourself in our affairs when you have your own to unravel. Do yourself a favour, young man, and heed my advice.”
“Advice?”
Eirin slithers off the tabletop and fixes her clothes—or what's left of them on her. “Kamishirasawa will have need of you. It would be in your best interest to collect your possessions and depart before eventide. Do not misconstrue,” she adds, “I do not desire to dispose of you – I am merely answering your question. If it is your wish to stay – you are allowed to do so. I shall not impose my will on you. Kamishirasawa, however, may not be as forbearing.”

“Keine will need me? How? What in the blazes is going on?”
“I cannot say.”
“Why?”
“I cannot say.”
“But—!”
I cannot say!” the doctor yells, forgetting her cool façade. “It is not my responsibility! It does not concern either me or the Princess! It is not our problem, do you not understand?!” Startled by her sudden anger, you retreat a few steps, unable to believe your ears. Eirin, as if only now realising the change in her tone, gives a nervous cough and settles back against the counter. “It is simply not my business,” she repeats, calm now. “Understand that I cannot risk involving the House of Eternity in any of the Settlement's inner conflicts. If I divulge anything further, it will count as interceding. I cannot risk it. One exception was more than enough. I learned from my mistakes. I will not do it again, not as long as I live.”


“Eirin…”

Sighing, the doctor strokes her temples tiredly. “It pains me to have it stated ordinarily like this, but I will need to know whether you will be leaving in advance. Someone will need to launder your quarters. We will not forget our purpose – patients or not, the House of Eternity is still a clinic, and will remain as such.”



1/2 [ ] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
1/2 [ ] “No. I did not come here to run back to the Village with my tail tucked between my legs after two days. I'm not sticking my head out just yet, Eirin. Sorry.”

2/2 [ ] “Moreover, I still have other questions. Do we still have time?” (Specify?)
2/2 [ ] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will be in my room if anybody needs me… although I don't think I really need to tell you that, do I?”
2/2 [ ] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”
>> No. 32167
[!] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[~] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”

Just to let her know that we trust her, but not to the point where we believe her.
>> No. 32168
So, they don't care enough to get involved? Fine by me I guess. It seems that he loses allies with each update.

[x] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[x] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”
He should just give the three ladies a sit-rep (specially the princess, although she probably already know) and get the fuck out of there.
>> No. 32169
>>32168
Sure about that? Sounds like Eirin being overly protective of Kaguya. Though I'm sure she'd make it hard for Kaguya to parttake in this. Seems no one knows of Keine's abilities.

Seems down to just Shooter, Reimu, and Mokou at most.
>> No. 32170
[x] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[x] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”
>> No. 32172
File 128544067693.jpg - (271.74KB, 600x900, 1206061869018.jpg) [iqdb]
32172
>“Kamishirasawa is the source of your concerns.”
>“Kamishirasawa Keine,” the doctor ignores your retort and continues, “has not left the Human Settlement once in your absence. Neither has she crossed the threshold of my premises since your arrival here. Does that answer your question?”
?
>“We did not rid of him, young man – we merely concealed him.
Intrigue! Does this raise the possibility that there's a second werecow on the prowl and making Shooter's life a mess?

[X] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[X] “Moreover, I still have other questions. Do we still have time?”
-[X] "What necessitated the internment and study of Delaney? Is there anything I can do to hasten her release? After all, my departure may be significantly delayed if she remains under house arrest and I can't give her a proper farewell."

Eientei has been a pleasant trip; we accomplished what we came here for, enjoyed some pleasant distractions, and met some wonderful ladies to boot. However, I think it's time we ramble on. Before though, I think we need to square away some of the loose ends we've created; particularly Delaney's situation (and to a lesser extent figure out what Kaguya and company have discussed). The bunny needs some closure, or at least some assurances.

Why you gotta' be like this Eirin?
>> No. 32173
>>32163
>YAF
>Good
pfffaahahahahaaa

Oh you.
>> No. 32176
>>32172
A twisted sense of 'protecting' Kaguya and maintaining a neutral position. We should have opposed.
>> No. 32177
1/2 [x] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”

2/2 [x] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will be in my room if anybody needs me… although I don't think I really need to tell you that, do I?”
2/2 [ ] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”
>> No. 32184
File 128577933923.jpg - (168.33KB, 849x1200, whyareyouallhatingonheeeeer.jpg) [iqdb]
32184
Hm, do I wait and let the others have their say, or should I start working with what I have already? I fear if I make a wrong move, >>32157 and >>32163 are going to yell at me again. ;__;
>> No. 32186
[X] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[X] “Moreover, I still have other questions. Do we still have time?”
-[X] "What necessitated the internment and study of Delaney? Is there anything I can do to hasten her release? After all, my departure may be significantly delayed if she remains under house arrest and I can't give her a proper farewell."

>Author of another story recommends that his readers pick up another story
>Notice new "Story List" section
>Glance over all active stories
>!YIAN/YAfYk
>shit bricks

Well, that's what I get for only frequenting two boards.

I've just caught up, and this is looking good so far. Keep up the cool story, bro.
>> No. 32187
[x] >>32186
>> No. 32192
File 128602736139.png - (1.37MB, 1181x1748, pictureoftheyear_allyears.png) [iqdb]
32192
Status update. I won't be able to write for a few more days (moving out), so I apologise for that.
I do believe we have a tied vote at the moment as well, and I hardly have any coins to toss - the only one I had available maliciously landed on its edge. Bloody coins. So if you would be so kind as to remedy the situation, I'd be grateful. Come on, give me those 50 posts in the thread. It's such a round number. Please~ :3

Keep it saged though - let's not knock the other active story off the top.
I should be back within the next week.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32193
File 128606056843.png - (10.65KB, 125x121, 121088453686s.png) [iqdb]
32193
[x] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[x] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”

Saving the day again
>> No. 32204
[X] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[X] “Moreover, I still have other questions. Do we still have time?”
-[X] "What necessitated the internment and study of Delaney? Is there anything I can do to hasten her release? After all, my departure may be significantly delayed if she remains under house arrest and I can't give her a proper farewell."

She says it does not concern Eientei, and yet clearly it does if the same force is responsible for the missing time of both Shooter and the rabbit. Even if the experiment is necessary, if it is related to the protagonist's condition, then its final outcome may be of importance to him.

It's clear she wants him gone, presumably so she may continue her experiment unmolested, as well as reducing the information risk, as his promises are probably not worth much. Note that the experience was designed so that he is more keen to trust her, not the reverse. Because of this, he might be able to use this as leverage to extract more information.
>> No. 32210
[X] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[X] “Moreover, I still have other questions. Do we still have time?”
-[X] "What necessitated the internment and study of Delaney? Is there anything I can do to hasten her release? After all, my departure may be significantly delayed if she remains under house arrest and I can't give her a proper farewell."

I honestly don't care if this raises Eirin's ire; the wellbeing of the tsundere bunny must be ensured at all costs.

YAF crafts some damn awesome OCs... who knew?
>> No. 32213
File 128654537225.jpg - (64.10KB, 623x538, likehellIwillhelpyou.jpg) [iqdb]
32213
[1] “Yes, I will leave as soon as I can – but the exact time doesn't depend on me. I will be gone by the evening though, you have my word.”
[2] “I think this is all. Thank you for your time, doctor. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”


“Very well, I will leave as soon as I can.”

Not much reason to set your face against her, you reckon. Land of Illusions is, you begin to realise, much like an ocean, and everybody knows an ocean is a great place to live if you're a shark. See, there's loads of fresh seafood just floating about in a fin's reach, and in case anybody gives you trouble, you just chomp their quarrelsome butt in half and go on with your day as if nothing happened. Sure, you might not be loved by everyone, but chances are they will leave you to enjoy yourself in peace.

Eirin, by all means, is a shark. If you approach her with the intent of getting your shit stirred, then stirred your shit is jolly well going to be. It must be said, however, that she's a very polite shark – she will rarely bite before she speaks, and even then she prefers to make the bites mutually beneficial. 'Oh, hey – you've five gills, I've five gills, let's be friends. We'll make fish-rules and fish-mottoes, and when others don't conform, we will bite the ever-loving fish-shit out of them.'

It's refreshing to see somebody with a mind defined so clearly – unlike other fishes you could name.


Eirin straightens and draws her shoulders back. “Good,” she exhales, “I am pleased to see you do not put your vehemence before your apprehension.”
Is she trying to patronise your decision? “Don't be premature,” you warn her, “the exact time doesn't depend entirely on me. I will try to remove myself before nightfall, but I make no guarantees. I'll do my best, though, I promise.”
“Beyond doubt you will,” nods the doctor, “I thank you for your concert.”
“May I ask a question, Eirin?”
“Go ahead.”
“Could we drop this official posturing?” you plead. “I understand you want to retain a certain degree of… authority, but I'm not all too comfortable with it, to be honest.”
Eirin bores her ice-blue eyes into yours, motionless. “… indeed?”
“Yes,” you answer, “if you'll excuse my boldness, you've been fondling me not only for this last half-hour, but those past three days as well. I reckon that warrants a little bit of intimacy between us, don't you think?”
“I've already let you address me by my given name—”
“—that's not enough,” you tell her. “I know you've been around for far longer than I have, and possess knowledge I could probably never even dream of, but there are still some fields where your skill is lacking.”
Eirin's fingers quiver once. “… mind your words, young man—” she says, “—they may decide your fate.”
“Excellent example, thank you. I rest my case.”


Even though her face remains the same, you can sense her aura purse. In fact, you could very well cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife now. Of course, the atmosphere would then proceed to brutally murder everyone in your family before finally raping you to death – but that's just an inconvenient consequence.

Smiling, you flip your knife open.


“I was told,” you go on, “when I first entered this room, that a certain genius doctor wished to—fancy that—bond with me, of all things. I was suspicious, sure, but let's do be honest here – it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I'm no super prize to go on skiving off those. Unfortunately, the doctor herself seemed to have forgotten one rather important detail.”
“… which would be?”
“One requires two ends of a string to tie a knot,” you say. “However, if one of them happens to be weaker than the other and snaps, the bond will not hold. Nor will our agreement, if you continue to insist on keeping me in the dark. I've had enough if it, Eirin,” you drop your joshing tone, “I've had enough of being pushed around by people spouting cryptic hints and riddles that may bloody well turn out bollocks by the end of the day. I've had enough of not being told what might have well saved me a lot running about and jeopardising my arse. I don't care for your staying neutral – as a matter of fact, if the Princess wasn't involved, I wouldn't have given a single damn about your idiotic reasoning and pathetic charades. I don't care for you, Eirin. I can't stress how utterly immature your behaviour is, and it makes me cringe just to think how stupid it is. Oh, don't get me wrong, though,” you add, “I'm not trying to criticise you – not at all. I'm simply answering your own—”

—question.


It's not like you were expecting you round off, in all honesty. Master Eirin is quick to judge – you noticed that right away about her. It would have been strange if she hadn't lost her temper and charged you down like she…
… well, like she just has.


“INSANE MOONCALF!”


All you can do is grit your teeth as she locks your arms in a simple, yet expert grip, and slams your head harshly on the counter, holding it down with her other hand. Quite obviously, it hurts a great deal, but you remain still, not even trying to squirm or complain.
It probably wouldn't have worked anyhow.


“CLODPATE!” Eirin screams. “IMPERTINENT HALF-WIT! How dare you assume the prerogative to judge my actions?! How dare you presume to know my reasons?!”
“Well, ahm shorry if—”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” she cuts you off. “Have you any idea what it means to be persecuted your entire life, you cretin?! Have you any idea what it means to lose your people, your heritage, your very reason to exist, to nothing other but sheer human inanity?!”
“I—”
“NO, YOU DO NOT!” the doctor barges in again. “Only when you have grasped the full spectrum of the burden I bear will you DARE consider questioning my motives!”

“… excellent.”

Eirin makes a sound as if about to lash out again, but then she stops. “… what did you say?”
“Excellent,” you repeat. “I just realised who you remind me of.”
“Is this of any relevance—?”
“No,” you answer quickly, “but I will tell you what I told her once. I don't mind if you hate me. Hate me from the bottom of your heart, if it helps. Despise me, Eirin – but do it honestly. I'm a simple man,” you confide, “I accept my responsibilities – as I do my punishment when I fail to comply. I'm no footloose and fancy-free tot going around bonking everything that has two legs and still moves. If I ever did something to deserve your hatred, I will be glad to accept it. If I have ever done anything to offend you, Eirin, I—”

“No.”


Having said that, the doctor lets go of your wrists and backs away, staring expressionlessly as you gather yourself off the tabletop and knead your aching joints.
“No, you did not,” she repeats. “Not you. Not to me. I… apologise,” she inclines her head ever-so-slightly, “I shouldn't have—”
“No, in fact, you bloody well should. I prefer it that way, actually. It's better to bite it out than plough through all the muck and sludge and shite. Blast,” you groan, touching your cheek, “do I have a bruise? I might have picked the wrong week to quit being alive, bollocks…”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, personal joke. Either way, I don't think you have anything to fear from me. I love Kaguya—though I believe you know already—and I would never do anything to cause her harm. Kaguya loves you, too. Doesn't that sort of mean I should love you as well – you know, by extension?”

Eirin continues to stare at you with the same, stale look in her eyes.

“Okay,” you sigh, “never mind the last bit. I'll need to grow up some time, I reckon.”
Eirin makes something that could be a frown. “… you're still young.”
“Not really. If I were a rock star, I'd be long dead. Moving right along, I have one more question for your deliberation. May I?” you ask, getting a nod in return. “Excellent. I wonder, doctor, what necessitated the internment and study of Delaney? I suppose it has something to do with me, doesn't it?”
Eirin stays quiet for a few more seconds, then rubs her temples again. “… it does,” she admits, “but I cannot say how.”
“Eirin.”
“I cannot say,” she repeats, “but it is vital that it resumes undisturbed.”
“I thought we'd dropped the secretive façade.”
“Indeed we have, partially,” agrees the doctor, “but this is one conundrum I cannot impart, I apologise. It is very important for her own good, however – that much I can say.”
“… for mine as well, I presume?”
“Yes,” she confirms, “I am sorry, but this is as much as I can disclose.”
“Is there anything I can do to hasten her release, then? I mean, my departure may be significantly delayed if she remains under house arrest and I can't give a proper farewell.”
“I shall not interfere with your farewells,” she assures, “but if it is your wish to help, I will require you not to speak of the events that occurred last night. Interlaced minds are liable to perversion – and that might hamper my research.”
“How long is she going to stay under lock?”
“Only until I find Udonge and we conduct our procedures – she may go free thereafter.”
“Reisen?” you ask. “Is she away?”
“No,” Eirin turns her head left and right so delicately you can barely trace the movement, “but I have not been able to get in touch with her as of today. Her thoughts appear preoccupied.”
“… and you allow her to disobey like that?”

Eirin strains to make a smile. “… she and I share a… special type of bond… if you follow my meaning.”
“Oh,” you let out. “Oh… I, er… I see.” Okay, you had your suspicions, but having it stated outright like this still came off as a sort of a shocker. “I understand. I will, er… see if I can persuade her to get back to work, then. If I jar against her anywhere, that is.”
“Is this what you had in mind?” the doctor says out of the blue. “It could have used more effort, I infer, but…”
“Pardon?”
“My skill in interpersonal interaction may be lacking,” she does another one of those minuscule faces, “but one should not make the mistake of supposing it inexistent. I apologise, I made a blunder. My strategy was… ill-chosen. I had you for a more… complicated individual.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Do. We may have started off a wrong footing, but we are not enemies – and it is my hope that we nurture that status… indefinitely.”
“Same here. I think this is all,” you say, stretching. Eirin observes coolly as you do. “Thank you for your time, doctor. I mean it. I will go see the Princess now, so give us a little privacy, if you would be so kind.”
“… it will be arranged,” nods the doctor after only the briefest delay. “However, if I may have an entreaty…”
“Yes?”

Unexpectedly, the doctor averts her eyes. “… I do not think it is necessary that Her Highness hears of this conversation. It is my wish that you keep what transpired here to yourself.”
“I don't know,” you tell her with a false look of innocence, “she might find it rather entertaining. I know I did.”
“I am staid, young man. Do not tell her of it.”
“Okay, I won't tell her today, but I may need something from you again one day. I'll keep it discreet until then, I reckon.”
Eirin blinks. “… that is sickening.”
“I know,” you grin. “I'll be going now, Eirin. It's been fun, but the Princess probably wants to know I'm going back in advance.”


“Certainly,” the doctor says as you start for the door, “but whatever happens, remember this – rarely anything is what it appears in the Land. I trust your judgement, young man, but should you ever find yourself in doubt, I would like you to remember everything Her Highness and the House of Eternity did to aid your cause.”


Surprisingly then, as if to relieve you from standing there with your hand outstretched, unsure whether to wait for the latter part of the speech or bugger off already, she inhales and adds:


“That is all… 'Shooter'.”



… and that's your cue to leave.



***
>> No. 32222
File 128657183625.jpg - (47.89KB, 543x642, itsdangeroustogoalone.jpg) [iqdb]
32222
***


Maybe you were expecting too much.

Much as it chafes you to admit, Master Eirin has every right to do with her personnel as she wills. In point of fact, it may bloody well be you that has an exuberant sense of self-entitlement. Imagine you paid a homeless man to spit-shine your shoes – nothing too indecent so far. Next week, you demand that he returns to iron your recently-washed slacks. Week after, you expect him to give you a sponge bath. Next, a well-lotioned foot-job, followed by a weekly human sacrifice in your divine name, for as long as he shall live.

Somehow, you feel that others might view the case as such.

Bollocks.


“Princess?” you call, knocking on her door. “It's me, may I?”
Some hastened footsteps are heard, and before long, the door is opened by Her Highness, who then ushers you inside without another word. Just as you close the door behind you, she passes a heavy-looking gun-case your way and traipses over to her bed, where she begins rifling vigorously through her sheets.
“It's a present,” she says. “I have the feeling you're going to need some extra punch. Oh, and this,” she tosses you a pair of hand-held radio receivers, “because I want you and Moko to stay in touch.”
“Princess—”
“I figured it was a good idea since she speaks your language. Yes, it's that one,” she says when you give in to the curiosity and slip the case open. “I reassembled it and put some of my magic in. It still works the same, though. Oh, and before you ask – no, it won't blow up in your face, I made sure of that. I've always been a little bit better at this kind of stuff than Eirin is. It won't break as easily now.”
“Princess…”
“No need to worry,” she smiles, for some reason proud of herself. “I doubt she'll even notice the little boy is gone. Just between us, she's rather skittish outside of her usual field of work.”
“I, uh… I didn't mean that…”
“No?”
“I wanted to ask – how did you know I was leaving?”
Kaguya loses her smile. “… what do you mean, how? Moko told you, didn't she?”
“Mokou? No, I—ugh…” you choke, remembering you weren't supposed to let the Princess know what happened between you and Eirin. “… er, never mind,” you add quickly, “yes, Mokou told me. I reckon my hangover isn't as gone as I'd thought it was.”
Her Highness glowers at the lie. “I'm not stupid, Shooter,” she chides. “I don't know where you got the idea of running off, but Moko has been trying to find and tell you for the last hour or so.”
“… tell me what?”
“Tell you that Reimu had received a distress call from Keine – and wanted to go back. So Mokou volunteered to search for you as I wrapped my work here up.”
“Keine called her? How?”
“It's one of their little tricks, I believe. It's her amulets, Tiger,” she says. “I don't know exactly how it works, but she must have left one with Keine at some point. Maybe she feels when something happens to them, I have no idea. It's magic. Either way, while we were discussing our girl-affairs here, she flipped all of a sudden and begun yelling that Keine is in danger, that she needs to go and such. Mokou just took it and ran with it, so perhaps you ought to ask her instead.”
“I will. Where's Reimu?”
“In your room, bundling your things, I think – she wanted to leave as soon as you come about.”
I won't be leaving for a while more, though,” you drone. “Bloody hell… Kaguya, could you do me a favour?”
“Yes, Tiger?”
“Go there, try to quieten her. I still have some business I need to see to before we leave, and I don't want her scarpering off on her own. Oh, and furthermore,” you put the case down and spread your arms, “come, hug me. I need a big, warm hug after all these ill news, and yours have worked the best so far.”
Kaguya makes a sly sort of grin. “Weren't we supposed to quit that, Tiger? Moko might walk in on us.”
“It's a good way to say farewell, no?” you wink. “Mokou won't mind.”
“If you say so. I thought we would save those for the last moment, actually, but… oh, bother me.”


Her Highness gives a small sigh and embraces you tenderly, swathing her delicate arms around your back and resting her chin on your shoulder. Once again, you find yourself wishing the moment would last forever, that the two of you could remain like this for all eternity, free of all the concerns that have been caving in on you one after another since the start of the day. It wasn't entirely serious when you said you needed a hug, but now that the deed is done, you have the feeling that it may have been not that far off after all.

Nevertheless, duties still beckon, and so you move your hand to draw the hair off one of the Princess's ears, and next put your lips as close to it as you can without biting on her earlobe.


I would like you to keep your voice down,” you whisper. “I have a request. On the fifth floor, there is a room where lives a certain distraught nurse. I want you to keep an eye on her when I'm gone. Secretly.
Delaney?” Kaguya whispers back. “Did something happen with her, Tiger?
I reckon you remember how I went off my rocker earlier today regarding last night? Delaney did as well, and Eirin seems to have a hand in it. Have an eye on her for me, Kaguya. Please.
Okay,” agrees the Princess. “I'll do it. I trust it's important if you went out of your length just to ask me for it. Say,” she adds, “should we perhaps take this to bed – you know, to make it look less suspicious?

“Nice try,” you give a laugh and pull away. Kaguya makes a wounded face at first, but then forces on a smile. “Don't worry, Princess. I won't let Mokou down.”
“I know you won't.” Her Highness says, tidying her clothes. “I know. I hope. Don't forget about Reimu, though – the girl has been looking out for you for quite a while now, I believe, and she really could do with some gentle tempering. It would be disastrous if you were to disappoint her, I feel.”
“… and you don't disapprove?”
“Of what, Tiger – that they both feel an affection for you? It was common for a man to marry multiple women where I was born – you could say I'm used to seeing these kinds of covenants. My goodness,” she sighs, “here I find a decent man at last, and lo and behold, turns out my best friend has him already wrapped about her little finger and won't let me join in on the fun. How unlucky is that?”
“I did say I love you, didn't I?”
“Yes,” the Princess gives a sour look, “and I love you, too, Tiger, but I know better than to fool myself. I should be happy for you, no? Moko, too – I'm responsible for her, and it's nice to know she's found her better half, but… never mind me,” she shakes her head, “I'm just letting myself be bitter here. I'll spruce this mess up a bit, and I'll be with Reimu shortly. Meanwhile, you had those mystic businesses of yours to attend to, yes? I believe you had better barrel along quick before those two baby-girls lose their cool and drag you off by the collar or worse.”



[ ] Make plans, gentlemen.
>> No. 32226
I used all my write in power already this week.
>> No. 32227
[x] You, Reimu, and Mokou need to ignore the awkwardness and make sure you share all the information you have, including what you just learned from Delaney & Eirin.
-[x] As far as you can tell, Eirin was able to identify the problems being caused by Keine and is now working concurrently on a fix. There may be other power players in Gensokyo who realize what is going on. Of some, you may be able to make allies, and others you may have to stop before they attempt too radical a solution.
-[x] Akyu hinted things at you before and seems to despise Brennan. She may be a safe person to confront over this. Even if she cannot explain what is going on, as a chronicler, she can tell you what exactly happened in the past.
-[x] At this point you must be suspicious of any of Keine's 'tricks'. Ask Reimu to explain how she was contacted and whether or not the information travels two ways. Eirin was able to preempt it somehow.
[x] You & Reimu will be back in town, and for now you're not going to give Keine/Brennan any excuse to change things until you know what to do about it. To this end you'll act affable & amiable toward either of them. You don't want to tip your hand, and you don't want to appear to set back his/her/their timeframe, or else any gains you might have made would be null and void.
-[x] As far as anyone should know, you know nothing about what Keine might have been doing, nor do you know anything about her past. That means making absolutely sure neither you, Reimu, or Mokou will confront her about what happens. What happened last night was changed by Keine, for unknown reasons, but it might have something to do with that you sent Reimu back to spy on her.
-[x] Since your tryst with Reimu last night was ostensibly planned by Keine, you'll be heading back to town together and your budding relationship with Mokou must stay hidden.
-[x] Mokou is the freest to act of any of the three of you, as Keine likely doesn't keep strong tabs on where she is at any particular time. But it's also hard for her to hide how she feels, and though you love her for that, she might, unlike you and Reimu, she is freest at this moment to scrounge information from around the land.

SDM we've seen flashes of, and if there's one person who notices a werecow mucking with history, it's someone who can stop time. Though honestly, you might say the same thing about a princess who has power over transience. We do know that others intervened when this problem last time Keine decided to play doll house with the rest of the country. As to how to get somewhere for any length of time without her resetting things again, I'm not sure, but between the three of you, you were able to do it once before.

Reimu has to know the last night didn't really happen, regardless of whether or not Mokou ends up believing you about it. She seems close to Keine's heart, but she needs to know just how insidious this stuff is.

As for a confrontation, Keine might actually respond to it. However, that would be why you'd ask someone who knows her better, like Akyu, first.
>> No. 32230
[x] >>32227
I think most of the time Eientei isn't affected by such things as they're out of the loop for the most part. They were only involved this time most likely due to Reimu mentioning being by Eientei.

Interestingly Delany also noticed something unusual.
>> No. 32231
[x] >>32227

Also,
>INSANE MOONCALF!
That's a rather odd thing for Eirin to call Shooter.
>> No. 32232
>>32231
Yeah... I wonder if Shooter was actually that guy that was talked about. That'd explain the resistance to Keine's muckery.
>> No. 32233
>>32231
>That's a rather odd thing for Eirin to call Shooter.

I think her speech is just archaic (e.g., 'clodpate').
>> No. 32234
File 128664819771.jpg - (131.83KB, 772x324, superiorgenetics.jpg) [iqdb]
32234
>> No. 32235
>>32233
Even then in the face of what's happened in this Gensokyo, it stands out.
>> No. 32237
File 12867852997.jpg - (176.40KB, 911x3334, pictureentirelyunrelated.jpg) [iqdb]
32237
>>32227
Wow, now that's a write-in. Over four hundred words, I'll be damned. I'd thought it would be somewhat less of an extensive vote (e.g. [X] See Reisen [X] See Delaney [X] See Reimu and get loaded up to go), but I can work with this.
Mooncows? What mooncows?

I'll wait some more and see if anybody else has something else to add.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32238
[x] You, Reimu, and Mokou need to ignore the awkwardness and make sure you share all the information you have, including what you just learned from Delaney & Eirin.
-[x] As far as you can tell, Eirin was able to identify the problems being caused by Keine and is now working concurrently on a fix. There may be other power players in Gensokyo who realize what is going on. Of some, you may be able to make allies, and others you may have to stop before they attempt too radical a solution.
-[x] Akyu hinted things at you before and seems to despise Brennan. She may be a safe person to confront over this. Even if she cannot explain what is going on, as a chronicler, she can tell you what exactly happened in the past.
-[x] At this point you must be suspicious of any of Keine's 'tricks'. Ask Reimu to explain how she was contacted and whether or not the information travels two ways. Eirin was able to preempt it somehow.
[x] You & Reimu will be back in town, and for now you're not going to give Keine/Brennan any excuse to change things until you know what to do about it. To this end you'll act affable & amiable toward either of them. You don't want to tip your hand, and you don't want to appear to set back his/her/their timeframe, or else any gains you might have made would be null and void.
-[x] As far as anyone should know, you know nothing about what Keine might have been doing, nor do you know anything about her past. That means making absolutely sure neither you, Reimu, or Mokou will confront her about what happens. What happened last night was changed by Keine, for unknown reasons, but it might have something to do with that you sent Reimu back to spy on her.
-[x] Since your tryst with Reimu last night was ostensibly planned by Keine, you'll be heading back to town together and your budding relationship with Mokou must stay hidden.
-[x] Mokou is the freest to act of any of the three of you, as Keine likely doesn't keep strong tabs on where she is at any particular time. But it's also hard for her to hide how she feels, and though you love her for that, she might, unlike you and Reimu, she is freest at this moment to scrounge information from around the land.
>> No. 32239
>>32227
[x] This.
>> No. 32240
File 128682692078.gif - (36.41KB, 400x317, BlueYianKutKuRender.gif) [iqdb]
32240
Okay, thinking about it, that write-in is more of a cogitation or an analysis than a direct choice of course of action. (Voicing one's thoughts and analysing the story? In /shrine/? Surely you can't be se—harglblghhh) So, any specifics as to what you want to do in Eientei before leaving? Or do I take the liberty of choosing for you and do what I think will be the best and (hopefully) the most entertaining to read?
I'm fine with either – you decide which is more fun for you.

Until then, folks. Unti—wait, there's no real purpose for this phrase here. Bugger.
>> No. 32241
>>32240
>Or do I take the liberty of choosing for you and do what I think will be the best and (hopefully) the most entertaining to read?

This. You are the writer. Although the voter has a certain amount of influence through his vote, sometimes this is ignored completely toward the end of a better story. We're not going to turn on you for this unless we see something as a 'punishment' for a bad choice, but there's no evidence you've done anything like that in this story. Votes in the end are at best meant to inspire the writer or provide him a jumping point. But if you have what you need, write on.
>> No. 32242
>>32240
Well I don't mind that, it's not as if you'd do anything Teruyo would do if he was in this situation.
>> No. 32243
File 128687114311.jpg - (57.28KB, 444x424, iminabighurrydontmindme.jpg) [iqdb]
32243
>>32241
I'm asking because, well, as I have already said, we're here to have fun, I'm already having mine – but I don't want to take yours away. I mean, some people enjoy just reading and don't care much for voting; others prefer to make choices and observe their consequences to idly watching the story unfold. It's all a matter of personal opinion. I simply don't want to be a prick.

>>32242
I fear to ask, but… what does that mean, exactly? Hopefully I won't get banned for asking, I only want to know what to avoid, sir, nothing dodgy going on.

Anyhow, I've what I need to go on, if you don't mind. I'll be back as soon as I'm done dealing with my paperwork. Polish bureaucracy nibbing at my arse again, the galling thing.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32244
>>32243

Teruyo had the habit of extrapolating a course of action from the votes that went well beyond the sentiments of the voters, and after having taken the vote to extremes that include embarrassment and stark raving madness, he would rub the opportunity cost of the vote (that is, the benefits of what you could have voted for) in the readers' faces.

Granted, he hasn't done anything that in a long time.
>> No. 32245
>>32244
This; stuff like that makes anon wary of leaving things to the author.
>> No. 32250
File 128701322546.jpg - (393.84KB, 650x900, fukiwara no marley.jpg) [iqdb]
32250
>>32244
That story's difficulty was absurd because you had to think exactly like him, which was (and is) impossible and make excellent write ins. Stock options were lose/fucking lose/PAIN ELEMENTALS and the feeling of progress was null.

I'm all for realism, I've had complicated relationships IRL, but that shit was madness.
>> No. 32252
File 128709260031.jpg - (402.94KB, 819x819, 13489738.jpg) [iqdb]
32252
[X] It is a small mind's privilege to doubt.


Ostensibly, you ought to.

Overseeing this entire ordeal is going to be somewhat like running a marathon, you feel, and what you really don't want when running a marathon is someone tweaking at your pubic hairs. Obviously you had better head it off before anybody goes on to realise the silly notion. Before you get down to the axing, though, you've still one more little private issue to amend.

Not that you ever don't.


“True,” you tell the Princess, “I had better, probably.” Sighing, you let your eyes skim down the length of her naked arms, down to her smooth, delicate palms – the very ones she is still keeping tightly twined with yours. Inadvertently, you find yourself caressing the tops of her hands with your thumbs, trying to compose your scattered thoughts. “Princess—” you begin at last, but Her Highness cuts you off.
“Kaguya,” she corrects. “Come on, Tiger, we're alone here. I've no need for these courtesies from you, do I? Kaguya,” she says again, “just like when you were leaving earlier. I liked that – a lot. It's cuter if you call me by the name.”
“…”
“Come on, Shooter,” she beckons. “Say it.”
“… of course,” you drawl through your teeth, “Kaguya…”
“Yes, Kaguya~,” she chirps, grinning up at you, “simply as that! Princess of the Moon, Ka-gu-ya Hou-rai-san~.


Somewhere inside you, something breaks apart – a latch falls open, and releases a flow of molten lead that quickly swathes around your insides, covering them in a blanket of dull pain. Gritting your teeth, barely containing the ill blood, you struggle against the overwhelming sense of loss – the feeling of snub and injury, so profoundly insulting your legs let up and surrender under the strain.

Still writhing within, you fall to one knee before the Princess.


“Shooter?” she gasps. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes,” you tell her, bitter. “It's all wrong. It's all bleeding wrong.”
“Shooter?”
“Have you ever had this feeling – where you know you've done botched, and the botchness just keeps sort of slapping you in the face, like when you're eating a banana, and the peel—” you let her other hand free and smack yourself a few times, “—just keeps hitting you in the face—slap, slap, slap—like this? I have – many times. I've been feeling like that all day long today, actually.”
Kaguya accords you a little laugh. “I don't think I ever have. It doesn't sound too engaging.”
“Not at all, it's not,” you exhale once more. “Sorry, I, er… I just feel like an ungrateful tit is all. I don't know what to do.”
“No, don't mention it,” the Princess says, kneeling as well, “it's nothing, really, believe me. It's only natural I would look out for you two. I love Moko, you see – and she loves you, I am led to believe. Doesn't that mean I should love you as well, you know, by—”
“—by extension?” you finish, sensing the regret well up again. “Indeed. Of course, bloody hell… I would be deeply honoured by thy affection, Your Majesty.”
Kaguya makes a small face. “Excuse me?”
“Wouldst thou be as benevolent as to heed my words afore thou makest thine?” you ask her, forcing a smile. “It's one way sure to abate my ineligibility. How's that sound? I reckon I shouldn't?”
“No, no, no!” the Princess throws her head excitedly, and every single hidden camera in the room turns to see who's attempting to rape her. “I mean—of course, yes!” Now they zoom in to watch you take advantage of her sudden consent. “Please, continue, I—ahem, I mean—please, do proceed! I am verily intrigued.”
“Certainly, an it please thee,” you tell her, nodding. Okay – that's cheating, no excuses, even if the Princess can't recall the last time you utilised the trick. It pleased her then – and it will please her now as well, you hope. If nothing else, she deserves to be thanked – and this is the best thanks you can give her at the moment. “It was my thought,” you go on, “that Her Highness flattered her servant unwholesome with such indivisible benefaction. Woe is me, beloved, for I do possess nothing of value to thee that I could endow as a sign of gratitude. However, one possibility dost exist that may repair the inequity.”
“Yes?” Kaguya quivers in anticipation. “What is it, my handsome Knight?”

Smiling still, you lift her little palm to your mouth – but stop mid-way, a much better thought flashing to your mind. Gently, you release it, and reach instead for a lock of her lustrous hair, bringing it close to your lips, letting it run through your fingers, tangle with them as you recall the proper words.

Her Highness freezes as you do. “Shooter,” she gives a startled look, “what are you…?”
“Quiet,” you hush. “I, Shooter of the Human Settlement, do solemnly—”
“—wait, you're not—”
“—solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm—”
“—you can't!” the Princess yelps. “Please, don't—”
“—that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Princess Kaguya Houraisan—”
“Stop!” She squirms to escape your touch, but you hold her firmly in place. “Shooter, don't—!”
“—and that I will as in duty bound honestly and faithfully defend Her Majesty against all enemies—”
“—you can't—!”
“—foreign and domestic—”
“—please!—”
“—and remember and love Her Majesty with all my heart, above all being—“
“—Shooter!—”
“—until my life runs its course.”

Not waiting for her permission, you bow down and gently stroke your lips on her hair.


It lasts a scant moment, but then Kaguya recoils like a shot, trying—for the most part ineffectively—to hide the very unaristocratic blush that has suddenly spread over her royal cheeks.

“Enough, you idiot!” she yells, not quite sure what to do with her hands – flourish them at you frantically or put them over her rosy face. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid, silly Shooter! What on earth did you think…?!”
“I couldn't come up with anything better,” you tell her, rising to your feet. “I'm sorry, was that—?”
“No!” Her Highness casts herself at you and beats her little fists on your chest. “You can't do that, stupid! I don't accept! I refuse!”
“But—”
“No!” she yells again, her blush growing in colour. “I don't accept! Take that back! I don't—I can't—argh!” she pulls away and tousles her hair irritably. “Never mind! Get out! Out, this moment! Don't look at me! Get out!”
“Uh, but the gun—”
“Forget it!” Kaguya spins you around and begins to push you towards the door. “I'll see you off later, so forget it! Now get out!”
“Kaguya—?”
“Out!”


—Bang!


Confused, you stand there still in the middle of the passageway, wondering what to make of the reaction. Kaguya locks the door, and judging by the sounds of it, stampedes off to throw herself onto her bed, where she wriggles around furiously for some time, undoubtedly trying to wrap herself in a blush-proof cocoon of pillows and sheets.
Uh, don't forget about Reimu! you want to call, but forfeit the idea at the last moment. Her Highness should be responsible enough not to let this unexplained embarrassment get in the way of more important things, you muse.

Speaking of, you ought to move on as well, presumably. Mokou won't find herself on her own, so the duty inevitably falls into your care to see to. It shouldn't be too hard, you reckon, and shouldn't take all that long if done properly. Now, for what comes after – that might prove a little bit more problematic. Maybe by the time you're done explaining the situation to your girl, the Princess will have been done with her cold showers, and collect enough wits to persuade Reimu into staying her choler.


Cold shower, yes – both the Princess and the shrine maiden could probably use one.


Perhaps someone should alert the media.



***
>> No. 32254
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32254
***


Keine couldn't have done this.

Even if the other elements of the set-up have been flying and tossing about in your head ever since you woke up, this one has never once moved from its place. Keine couldn't have done this. Eirin agreed as well – and despite what has taken place between you two, there's no reason not to trust her on this matter.
Keine couldn't have done this – you're sure of that, regardless of what your instincts might tell you. Keine loves you – and you love her as well. Why would she do this to you? It's unreasonable. Unconscionable. Unlikely.

It's all sorts of un–, in fact.

Was she perhaps forced to do it by somebody else? It might be that.
Or, it may be just a gigantic misunderstanding. It has to be, no other explanation.
It is, surely, but until some sort of proof surfaces and it becomes absolutely clear, you should not not reveal what you have discovered so far. It might scare her. It might make her think you are an enemy – and prompt her to deal with you accordingly. Eirin appears to know of Keine's past frauds, even though everybody else seems either barely or not aware – that much you were able to discern. Reimu may have known, too – but you have yet to confront her about it, as well as the means through which the teacher had sent for her aid.
Mokou will have to sit in the sidelines for the time being, since her safety is definitely one of the primary concerns. It would be bad if the others learned of her current relationship with you. It might put a damper on the one you have with Keine as well, and you would prefer to avoid endangering it at all costs. Mokou will have to stand down for now, whether she likes it or not.

Somehow, you have the feeling she isn't going to be one bit glad about this.





It doesn't take long for her to show up.
Sooner than you know it, the hurried staccato of her steps comes to its apex, and her scowl appears at the bottom of the staircase you have taken as your vantage point. Sweating, red on the face from running about for what may have well been an hour, she's expectedly none too chuffed when she notes you waiting, looking smug about yourself, crossing arms on your chest in delight with your superb tactics.

Quite obviously, once she does, she charges up and takes you by the collar.

Only the collar, thankfully.


“Tiger—!” she huffs. “… I've—… looking for—…all over—!”
“I know,” you tell her.
“Hakurei—… got a—”
“I know,” you say again. “I've talked with Kaguya.”
“… have you?” Mokou gives a surprised look. “… good… I—…” she lets go of your shirt and latches on instead to your shoulders, resting her head against your front, trying to catch her breath. “I'd thought—… I wondered—”
“Breathe,” you cut in. “Breathe, love, please – there's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity if you damaged yours in any way.”
“Haa…” Mokou gives a short, put-out snort. “… very funny.”
“No, I mean it. I'd loathe if you broke your lungs chasing me around.”
“Stop it,” she swallows. “Look… look, are you fiddling with me or what?”
“I only want you to feel you're doing well.”
“No, you're being bitter again.”
“Oh yes,” you tell her in your most acid tone, “because I'm not bitter all the bloody time.”
“Oh, please,” she moans. “Could you possibly be any sarkier, Tiger?”
“I do my best, but I reckon my skills only go as far.”
Mokou straightens up and rolls her eyes. “Why do I cope with this, anyhow?”
“I don't know – you tell me.”
“Oh, I'll sodding well tell you!” she declares. “One, we are both knee-deep in shite if Keine really is in danger. Two, if that's the case, she and Reimu are going to need us. Three, Kaguya thinks somebody needs to watch your back and keep you in check. Oh, and I am also sort of in love with you,” she adds somewhat off-handedly, “but you always seem to forget.”
“No,” you try to defend, “I don't—”
“Oh, but you do!” she insists. “Every time I see you, you're always either smooching some other girl or giving me the cold shoulder and running off. While you're at it, why don't you give me a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?”
You knit your brows. “Now you're just mocking.”
“Mocking?” she smiles at you with all the warmth of an iceberg. “Me, Tiger? Surely you can't be serious.”

“Okay, that's enough.” Not this time, Shirley – the joke is quickly growing stale. “I reckon Kaguya told you what we'd talked about earlier today.”
Mokou nods. “Yes – you think Keine has been meddling with your head.”
“I spoke with Eirin, too,” you resume before she makes another cutting joke. “I have every reason to believe something is quite iffy here, and Keine is involved, one way or another.” Either as the culprit or the victim, you think. “I don't know how much you're willing to trust me, given how I've been acting lately, but please, Mokou, listen to what I have to say. If you don't like it, don't believe it – just listen.”
“What hideous sins have you committed now?”
“It's not about my bloody sins,” you groan. “I mean, I haven't done anything naughty lately! Okay, maybe save for this one little fornication I indulged in with this one certain girl in this one seeing room, but it was blooming well worth it, so I've no regrets regarding that. I know there are people who would consider it a sin, and I know there are people who don't love their fellows humans in the world as well, but I hate people like that, so they can go to the devil for all I care.”
“Tiger.”
“Sorry,” you apologise. “I'm not making sense, I realise. I'm just… I just don't know what to do. I try to keep a straight face on, but in the end I just make myself seem like a gormless twat with no bloody nous to speak of. I'm sorry,” you tell her, “I really am. I didn't mean to make you feel dejected. It's all my fault. I shouldn't even be bothering you with all this. I should have—…” you trail off when she seals your lips with a kiss. “— um…?”

Mokou makes a tickled smile as she pulls back. “See,” she says, “you're forgetting yet again. Of course I'll listen, Tiger – I love you, remember? Now, don't be coy,” she ushers. “Sing it all out.”


So you do – you do and watch her eyes catch fire.



***
>> No. 32257
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32257
***


“I can't believe it!” Mokou fumes at the revelations. “I just can't believe it!”
“Neither can I.”
“How come it's gone down to this?!” she throws her arms in anger. If she shook them any harder, she could probably convince an air-to-ground missile it's not quite worth the hassle trying to land on her noddle. “I'm shocked! Shocked, disgusted and appalled!”
“Me too.”
“Idiot! Dumb-ass dolt! Stupid coot!”
It's sort of harsh of her on Keine, but you nod regardless. “Quite silly, yes.”


I really must look up that word – 'coot', you muse. It means a fool – obviously – but you don't know what sort. Is she even still using the language you helped her learn? No, a gander at her mouth reveals the girl has in fact reverted to her native tongue – most likely out of insufficient vocabulary.
It's been a while since you last saw her talking it – if that adds up somehow – and the sight is quite enthralling.
Of course, you already knew she always spoke her 'oh's and 'n's rather erotically, but this particular language appears to have even more of these juicy sounds. How is it you haven't noticed until now?
Maybe all the time you've spent around her has spoilt you too much.


“Irresponsible twit!” she switches back to Received Pronunciation. “Stupid dipstick! What in the hell were you thinking?!”
“Yeah, silly me, what in the hell was I—wait…“ you stop and blink. “… wait, what?”
Mokou takes a hold of your shirt again. “Don't 'wait, what' me, you dunce! Why did you do that?!”
“Why—why did I do what?”
“Don't play innocent, you clot! Why did you kiss her hair?!”
“Kiss her—… Wait, why does that matter all of a sudden?”
Why does it matter? WHY DOES IT MATTER?!” Mokou swallows another aspersion and shoves you under the closest wall. Hopefully this won't become a habit. “Idiot! Stupid berk! I don't even know where to start with you!”


Even though she says that, she still launches into a ten-minutes-long rant about your incompetence, sloppiness, lack of respect, lack of tact, lack of any qualities that might warrant her—or anybody else's—amity towards your cheeky self…

… and yet, she still somehow manages to leave you in the blue regarding the reason of the whole wrangle.


“Here!” she wraps up, thrusting a lock of her own hair in your face. “Here, kiss it!”
“Mokou—”
“No! No more 'Mokou's! Kiss it – right bloody now! If you know what's good for you!”
Seeing no other alternative, you reluctantly do. “Mwa,” you add just to spite her a little. “Here,” you say, “I kissed your lovely mop. Satisfied? It's looking rather flattered now, I would say.”
Mokou makes a small scowl, but lets you go. “Yes, it is,” she says, “because it has just let your silly arse off from a load of trouble.”
“Yay, all hail the Fujiwara mop,” you give an unenthusiastic cheer. “Speaking of trouble, there's a few things I'll need to ask of you before we go back to the Village, Mokou. It's important, so I may insist that you listen.”
“Oh, you don't say!” She puts her hands on her hips. “What is it now?”
“Promise you won't get angry, first.”
“Oh, I'll get angry whenever I damn well please,” she glares. “No, Tiger, no bloody promises this time. I'm way too narked for those at the moment, so you'll have to fare without them someway.”
“Fine,” you give up, “fine, bollocks. Okay, this is going to be hard on both of us, but we'll have to cut it one way or another. Crock of—… okay, listen, when we get back to the Village, I would have you keep quiet about our relationship. It'd be best if you didn't talk of it at all, especially in front of Keine.”
“Oh, of course you would rather I did that, wouldn't you?” Mokou moans crossly. “No, I won't keep quiet any more, Tiger. If Keine has a problem with us shagging, she may bloody well take it up with me herself. I've put up with her bull for too long. ”
“… you've what?”
“Oh, please! As if you didn't know! Keine has always been a hog at heart, Tiger. I'd tried arguing with her sometimes at first, okay, but I rather quickly grew sort of tired of it. I didn't care if she screwed me over or not.”
“… then you know Keine has been changing your—?”
“Duh.” Mokou shrugs once more. “I didn't care, okay? If it suited her, what the hell, why would I make a fuss? I hardly had anything I'd give two damns about. Now I do, sort of, though I reckon the blasted thing's too daft to realise it.”
“Mokou, I'm serious.”
“So am I,” she pouts. “I'm not handing you over to her, Tiger. Not to that cow. Hakurei—… I mean, Reimu is…” Mokou looks away, falling silent for a second. “… well, she's something else. Keine is another thing. If you think I'll let her smooch you up when I'm not looking, you're going to be sorely disappointed.”
“I see we're going nowhere fast.”
“Oh, you bet we are,” she stomps defiantly. “I think I've made myself clear. Keine can go suck on a pole. If she makes a single move, I'm going to bite.”
“Mokou.”
“Yes, Tiger?”
“I've just had the most brilliant idea.”
“… you have?”
“Yes,” you say, reaching out to her. “Come, hug me.”
Mokou does a ratty face. “Say what?”
“I want a hug, Mokou. Come here and hug me.”
“What are you plotting now?”
“I just felt like a hug, I told you. Come and give it to me already.”
“Do I have to?”
“No, but I'd like if you did.”

“… the lengths I go…”


Sighing, the testy girl gives a last complaint and obediently strolls into your outstretched arms. One awkward moment passes, and then she surrenders further, resting her head on your shoulder, letting you enfold her in a close embrace. Steadily, her initial reserve fades out, and soon she hugs back, breathing hot air at your neck in short, shallow bursts.


“I love you,” you tell her, petting her back.
“I know.”
“Yes, but you like to be told, don't you?”
“…”
“I love you, Mokou.”
“Bugger off.”
Sweetheart,” you whisper into her ear. “Darling. Beloved. Kitty-cat. Sunshine. Sweetie.
“… is there a point to this?”
“I'm just wondering which of these you like the best.”
“Stop it.”
“I love you, Mokou.”
“Tiger, piss off.”
“I love you.”
Mokou makes a quiet groan. “… okay, I get it,” she capitulates. “I get it, bollocks. I swear, you and your schemes…”
“Hm? Do I hear the sound of a change of heart?”
“Don't push it, Tiger,” she warns. “I'll keep quiet about us when Keine is around, but only because I trust there's more at stake in this than just your wanting to shag her fat arse.”
“… I see.”

Having said that, you let her rip away and retreat a few steps, where she stops and averts her eyes, looking a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden.
… —art…
“Pardon?”
… —heart…
“I can't hear you, you know.”
Mokou moans. “Oh, for the love of…! Tiger, when was the last time you cleaned your ears? 'Sweetheart,'” she says, staring aside. “I like 'sweetheart' the most, okay? It makes me think of… nice things.”
“Oh,” you let out. “Very well. So we've got that settled, then, I reckon?”
“… sort of.”

“Excellent,” you smile just a bit wryly. “Now, I hate to ruin the mood, but we've got a couple more things to see to before we leave. I'll want you to escort me, if you would be so nice. I promised Eirin I'd remove myself before nightfall, but I reckon we'll be done much sooner than that. I can't wait to get some fresh air. Can we go, sweetheart?”


Mokou gives her hair one last stroke, then pats herself on the sides and exhales.

“Sure,” she says, “let's go smooch who we have to smooch and be on our way.”



***
>> No. 32258
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32258
Quick notice. I've been over tits in all sorts of shite this week. I should be done with this section before Sunday.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32259
This is exactly what I voted for. You sir, are a gentleman and a scholar.
>> No. 32261
>>32258
Waiting warmly.
>> No. 32262
What the bloody heck was up with the hair thing.
>> No. 32263
>>32262

Obviously she's jealous of Kaguya's hair.

But, you know, who isn't?
>> No. 32264
>>32262
There's a Kaguya/Mokou doujin where kissing hair is something of a marriage proposal in Lunarian culture. Yeah Mokou unwittingly kissed her hair in the doujin.
>> No. 32265
File 128724211782.jpg - (448.72KB, 1093x1600, 26d8141cfc8a17859023439299a34fe8.jpg) [iqdb]
32265
>>32258
We'll be waiting.

>>32264
Idakisu (I think this is the title) by Chihagura.
>> No. 32266
Been gone and finally caught up.

Good to know YAF is still writing and all seems to be going well.
>> No. 32270
Am i crazy for thinking the Zagalo is Reisen caused not Keine caused?
>> No. 32277
File 128732020694.jpg - (166.96KB, 480x640, 12594172.jpg) [iqdb]
32277
***


It would seem, against all odds, that your fortune is still holding.

Notably enough, nothing monumentally horrible cropped up while you were going about paying respects to everybody you could find and take a hold of. Somehow the lack of excitements itself feels sufficiently extraordinary to deserve a mention, as boring as it sounds. Maybe Lady Luck was not as bad as you'd thought her to be. Probably not, though – the shortage of drama this time could very well mean the blind, little colleen is preparing something even more gooey and stinky to throw in your face sometime soon.

Honestly, whatever twisted war the lass is waging on you, it would have been courteous of her if she had kept the collateral damage to a minimum.


Alas, bollocks.


“So, are you going to visit again?” Delaney asked after you had interrupted her work-out session.

Evidently good abdominal exercise is her idea of venting the excess steam, you thought. Her crunch count was at an astonishing two and half a hundred when you were admitted into the room, even though it had only been at about twenty six before you had knocked on the door.

How very curious.

“Can't tell,” you told her, not lying for once. “I may be weeks, if the things don't calm down, and I've still got my duties towards the Village – hunting monsters, labour to huddle, repairs to make…”
… and a girl to pamper.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing,” the young nurse shook her head. “Never mind. Have fun, I guess.”
“I wouldn't wager on that. Oh, by the bye, you might want to stay put until Reisen comes about. If Master Eirin is to be trusted—and I have no reason to believe otherwise—you'll be released as soon as she is and has seen to you.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, not really. It would suck if it turned out a lie, wouldn't it?”
Delaney wrinkled her small nose. “… well, screw you, too.”
“Oh, be nice – that was my sarcastic voice.”
“It sounded a lot like your regular one.”
Mokou stifled a grunt then, reminding you were slowly beginning to stray. “Either way,” you resumed, “I'm leaving, and preferably aye-sap. I thought I'd bring you up to speed, just in case.”
“Oh, so you're here for your farewell hug, then?” the nurse sulked, irritated. “Over my dead body. I'm not giving you one. Go to hell.”
“I hadn't thought of that, actually. In fact, I was about to ask…” you shot a finger at the ceiling, “… what's all this, then?”
“Huh?” Delaney's eyes followed. “I don't see anything, what are you—”
“Contact twelve o'clock.”
“Wha—!?”


Okay, it might not have been the smoothest way to handle the situation, but you needed to get closer in order to pass the information of the Princess being aware of her predicament on, without it being overheard and intercepted by the bounceress at the door. It was quite the pain to get the tetchy girl to stop squirming, but then again, life itself is a pain – and anybody who says otherwise is probably selling something.
Oh, and let's do be honest, here – at least one of you liked the way she squealed when you brought the more drastic measures into play.


Mokou, obviously, was none too amused.

“I can tick a day off in my schedule when we're back and devote it entirely to fondling you, if you'd like,” you told her while descending the staircase to the ground floor.
“Oh yes, that would be nice, definitely,” she replied in a tone so sincere you could have used it to sweeten your tea. “No, I think I'll pass, Tiger. How long did you spend with Kaguya yesterday and the day before, really? I'm starting to think some of her stupid mannerism may have rubbed off on you.”
Quite literally, too. “Not too much,” you fibbed. “Come on, pecker up, not a wad left.”







Reisen was not to be found at the front desk, sad to say.

Instead, you were met and larked at by the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed nurse from two days ago – with the fancy name that started with a T, if you remembered correctly. Clearly the T likewise stood for treacherous, teasing and tricky – because the small swindler did her very best to warp the message you had requested her to write down and relay to her colleague when given the chance to the point of absolute depravity – all much to your—and Mokou's—dismay.


“So, you are saying you'll try to touch her soon?”
“No! I said, I would try to get IN TOUCH with her as soon as I can!”
“So you do want to touch her, yes?”
“Yes! I mean, no! Blast it! Could you just make it say I'll try to drop by soon?”
“Oh my,” the nurse gasped. “So you want to drop her! I don't know that Reisen likes being dropped, though…”
“BY! Drop BY! I'll try to VISIT! I'll try to COME BY!”
“My goodness, this must be the kinkiest note I've ever been asked to make.”
“NYAAARGH!”



It wound up not too bad in the end, however.

Playful or not, you reckon Eirin wouldn't have employed somebody who did not know where to draw the line in playful fooling about. Tewi—that was her name—after her initial joke spree, was even so kind as to provide the current whereabouts of your ex-squadmates, Adel and Elena – both regrettably lodged in the other wing of the Clinic, quite the hike away.


Mokou didn't fail to express her disappointment. “Seems like I picked the wrong week to quit walking.”
“Isn't that usually my line?”
“Sometimes your whinging is just relevant enough to note and keep in mind for later.”
“Why, thank you, I've worked hard on it.”
“Oh, don't thank me for insulting you, Tiger. It was a pleasure.”
“I might have to pinch you for that.”
“If you like your arse whole, you won't tr—ACK?!”


Once a masochist, always a masochist.



***
>> No. 32279
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32279
***


Eventually you ended up topside, on the roof of the complex, along with Kaguya—who had seemingly shaken off your faux-pas from before—Mokou, and a rather determined-looking Reimu.

Elena and Adel had turned out to be in much worse shape than you had imagined. Not everybody is able to forget the fact their liver had been drenched in pure alcohol and set alight the night before as easily as this one dork you know, see, and surely the girls had not been given the honour of chasing their pissed-off lovers through the Clinic as the first thing in the morning, either.

In all fidelity, Adel still looked a tad tiddly when you found her, and made the task of shimmying up your pant-sleeves and shirt, all the way up to your face appear very hard indeed. Quite charmingly, her dehydrated head kept lolling like a dead bad as she climbed, taken probably with questions other than the reason of your sudden departure – like, how exactly she should go about killing herself to escape the pain, for instance.
Nevertheless, that didn't stop her from breaking into crocodile tears the moment she gained a steady enough footing not to topple over and bruise her elbows.


Elly was in no better state, but the scope of her hangover-induced cutesiness is a story for another time.


“Shooter,” Kaguya's voice calls you back to the present. “Shooter, are you still with us?”
“Uh, yes?” you grunt, still one foot in the flashback. “I was, er…”
“Never mind. I asked you to lean over. Come on, we're in a kind of hurry.”

So you do, struggling to shed the daydream cloak – but the Princess strips it for you – by kissing you, as suddenly as resolutely and ardently, on the unsuspecting lips.
Mokou and Reimu gape wide-mouthed as she pulls away, and don't move even when she gives them a scolding look.

“Oh, don't be immature!” she chides. “It's just a kiss, sheesh! Just wait your turn if you're so jealous!”

Not letting either of them retort, Her Highness strolls up to Mokou, and does the same to her, ignoring the shocked gasp from the shrine maiden, as well as the stifled moans coming from her friend's sealed lips.

“I love you, Moko,” Her Highness says, “and I will always love you, no matter what strange ideas might pop up in that silly pumpkin of yours.”

Next, she turns to the shrine maiden, who backs away, blushing slightly as she realises what the Princess is intending to do – which was not at all hard to suss, you reckon.

Kaguya, meanwhile, gives the girl a soft, polite laugh. “I don't think we ought to kiss, yet.”
“N—no… probably not…”
“However, it's not so out of the ordinary for girls to hug, wouldn't you agree?”
Reimu does a mixed face. “I—I suppose…”

Her Highness accepts her capitulation with only the slightest nod, and promptly embraces the bright-red Reimu – tightly, but not so intimately as to make the shrine maiden recoil in disgust. Unsure at first, the shy girl gives in before long, and returns the hug – swathing her delicate arms around the Princess's back.

Kaguya exhales a pleased hum. “Hm… we didn't start off the best of grounds, did we?”
“Not really…”
“I'm not holding a grudge, you know. It's kind of in your job description to keep the Land in relative order, is it not?”
“I—… it is…”
“See, so you were simply doing what you were ordained to do. Even if it involved beating up a better part of our personnel.”
“In my defence,” Reimu chimes in, “you had just nicked the freaking Moon. Somebody had to step in, and I just happened to—“
“Of course,” Kaguya pats her gently. “I know. It was silly of us, anyhow. I'm glad somebody had the good idea to kick some sense into us – it might have wound up ugly otherwise, I feel.”
“Maybe.”
“I didn't mean to scratch the old wounds, though,” the Princess assures. “I wanted to say, Reimu, that you are not unwelcome here. Nobody would shoo you away if you happened by, you know, and even if they did, I would quickly put them in their place. It's my duty to see to our guests, and you are also a friend of Moko, so that's double the responsibility, no?”
“Mhm…”

Startled, you look to Mokou, hoping your eyes aptly convey the amplitude of your disbelief. Mokou, however, only gives a dismissing shrug and continues to watch the heart-warming scene unveiling before her. Excellent, you think, the Girl Alliance doesn't flinch from spreading bogus information within their own ranks. How blooming unsporting is that?

Cursed be the day they decide to turn their fangs and nails on you.


“So,” Her Highness goes on, “if you ever need anything, or just feel like talking – by all means – come, see me. I'll always be here for you.”
“Will…” Reimu's voice is weak, “… will you…?”
Kaguya pulls back and smiles. “Yes, I will. I give you my my word. Oh, and you have to return those clothes, too, some day, no? I'll be waiting, I think. I need those, you know.”
“… yes. I—…” the shrine maiden hesitates, “… I, um… thank you…?”
“No need to,” says the Princess, “don't mention it. Now, you've a long trip ahead of yourselves, I believe, so you had better get a start, lest the sunset is going to catch up to you.”


Sensing the farewells coming to an awaited end, all three of you breathe somewhat deeper – just enough to wash the tension out of your nervous systems. Having heaved your backpack – nearly twice as heavy now, thanks to Kaguya's generosity – you reach out to Mokou, asking mutely to let you latch on for the upcoming flight.


Mokou shuns you off. “Oh no,” she grunts, “don't even think about it. I'll let Miss Hakurei there hump you back to the Village this time around. It's her hang to fly, not mine,” she gives the frowning shrine maiden a concise look. “I have to use my own strength, and I'm bloody well not going to lug all that rubbish with me. Hey, don't be a skank, okay? If he gropes you inappropriately, you can let him fall – I don't care.”
“Mokou,” you reproach, “be nice.”
“Oh, slag off,” she touches off and says, “I'll test the wind, so take your time.”


Sighing, you turn to Reimu, forcing a look of uncertainty as candid and innocent as you can manage.

“So, uh…” you begin, “… should I—”
“No,” the shrine maiden chips in, “we can just, um… hold… you know, hands.”
“How is that going to work?”
“It's my power,” she explains. “I, uh—… I mean, you don't need to cling on, just, um… hold my hand, that is all.”
“Okay,” you say and take a hold of her palm. “So, uh… are you sure this is enough? I mean—”
“It should be,” she confirms nervously.
Squeezing her fingers, you feel them quiver gently in your clutch. “… I don't reckon I'm all that convinced.”
“It works, believe me. Okay, let's go.”
“Gently, please, I—!”


Whoosh!


Not waiting for you to finish your plead, the shrine maiden shoots up like a celestial ejaculate, past the highest tree-tops, straight unto the womb of Heavens. Sooner than you can think 'shite, oh shite, and encore shite!', the Clinic disappears from view, swallowed and taken away by the dense, green thicket of the Bamboo Forest. If you had looked sooner, perhaps you could have seen the Princess waving you a melancholic good-bye, maybe wiping her cheeks of tears with a handkerchief, mouthing your name pitifully as you melted into the eventide horizon.

Now, it would seem, you will never know. Not like the chances were high to begin with.

Reimu gains altitude like a mortar round gone crackers, homing in on the other point of black on the strawberry-mango-milkshake sky – your sullen partner, apparently unconcerned with leaving the two of you behind, speeding ahead with no regard of the danger she's creating for the other airspace-users.
Encouraging, you think – like an EVAC helo running from a ticking nuclear bomb, leaving the wounded and ill-informed comrades behind. Even though it is more likely that the nukes actually await ahead, in the Village, not back in the Clinic.


“Reimu?” you shout over the current. “Reimu, I've got a question!”
“Huh?!”
“Serious question!” you stress. “How did you know Keine was in trouble?! I mean, if she's in the Village—!”
“It's my charms!” she yells back. “I gave one to her, once! I make each one myself, so when something happens to them, I feel right away!”
“So something has happened to it?!”
“It got torn up! I don't know, it's never happened before! Keine has had it for years, and she's never—!”
“I get it!” you tell her. “It's an emergency, then?”
“It may be! I don't know! I really don't know!”


So, not even the shrine maiden knows for sure what sorts of charades are being orchestrated by whoever is pulling the strings – be in Keine or anybody else. One part of you, the one sitting somewhere in the nether regions of your brain, sipping on an ever-full cup of steaming Darjeeling, suggests calmly that this might just be a false alarm, an unfortunate accident, and that nothing truly wrong has taken place in the Village in your brief absence.
Of course then the you that goes binge drinking and shagging intoxicated girls against their will comes about, smacks the peaceful you in the face, kicks him in the groin, and calls him names that would make a seventy-years-old, Chinese drill instructor blush a girly pink.

Not even the tea is spared.


“Reimu?” you accost her again. “I've got another question!”
“Yeah?”
“Can I, er, use my other hand as well?” you ask. “I've got an, uh… a wee bit of a height problem, I fear!”
“Oh. I mean, um—yes, of course!”
“God, thanks,” you let out, grasping at her palm. “Blimey, I'll never get used to this.”



***
>> No. 32281
File 12873428403.jpg - (112.19KB, 566x800, 8529633.jpg) [iqdb]
32281
***


It's not until the Village looms into sight that things are set into belly-up motion.

Mokou has already come to a stop as soon as the Village walls began cutting their circular range out of the outwardly endless sea of trees. Hovering there still, the peckish girl waits in silence until Reimu brings you closer, and halts mid-air at her side.

“Is something the matter?” Reimu asks.
Mokou points ahead. “Have a gander.”


So you have a look – and start swearing as soon as you do.

Not far hence, around the hill on which the History School stands proudly against the tide, a raging mob is crowding about, with that specific sort of bold randomness, like the ants in a burning colony, searching for a way out of the flames.
Or, in this case – into the flames. Shouting at the top of their lungs, the flock beats at the fence encircling the School, spouting slogans and demands you can barely make out at this distance. One word repeats regularly, however, every second sentence, every third cry, over and over.

One word – a name.


Keine.


So it was an emergency, after all. It was a bloody emergency.
How could you have ever doubted for a moment they would lie to you about something so critical?
Reimu grips your hand hard, holding you firmly at bay, as if she expected you to latch off and charge into the centre of the crowd to begin dropping smouldering heads left and right. In all honesty she might not be too far off. Keine may in there, for all you know, surrounded from all sides by those… those treacherous bastards, out for her blood, taunting her to come out.
Isn't this exactly what she feared would happen, should the gen of her nature leak into the public?

Keine. Keine. Keine.

If this is the case, however, who could have leaked it? Keine wouldn't have done it herself – she is way too cautious, too careful, to make such a mistake.
Not the Hieda girl, either, for sure – but was there anybody else other than she that knew?

Brennan.

It all falls together.
It was he that wanted to rid of you, make you go away for those vital few days – because you knew of Keine's nature, but did not find it as affronting as the rest of the Village. If you had gone with the suggestion Keine made – and let Reimu take you in – you would have been to close for him to take action without you noticing…

Keine. Keine. Keine. Keine.

… and the worst realisation hits the last – because for all intents and purposes, you have played right into his hands.


“… what do we do?” Reimu's voice is audibly trembling. “I don't know what's going on, I don't know, I don't...”
“Calm down,” you fight the sinking feeling in your stomach. “Calm down, bloody hell. Never fear. Never fear, for fuck's sake…
“Shooter?”
“Tiger?” Mokou stops chewing on her nails. “Everything all right, there?”
“No, it's not sodding all right! Brennan, you shifty cock…! If I get my hands on you…!

Keine. Keine. Ke̷in̸e̕. K͝e̷in͜e. K̶҉e҉̡i͘͡n̵e̶.̷͢

“Tiger, quit talking to yourself – this isn't the best time.”
“I know, bollocks!” you yell. “I know! Give me a minute to think!”
“Well, let me know if you come up with anything, because if you don't, I might bloody well go with what I had in mind, and that won't end pretty for anybody involved.”



[ ] “Screw it, let's go with that, Mokou. Give them hell. Smoke them, bomb them, I don't give half a fuck if they get hurt. I need to see Keine – now.”
[ ] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[ ] “No. Land me somewhere and stay back. I'll go talk to them – I can do at least that. I need to know what's going on before I make any rash decision and drag you two along.”
>> No. 32283
[x] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[x] Maybe Reimu could find out what's happening to cause this uproar. You don't want to start pointing fingers before you're truly sure who the culprit is.
>> No. 32284
[x] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[x] Maybe Reimu could find out what's happening to cause this uproar. You don't want to start pointing fingers before you're truly sure who the culprit is.
>> No. 32285
[x] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[x] Maybe Reimu could find out what's happening to cause this uproar. You don't want to start pointing fingers before you're truly sure who the culprit is.

okay
>> No. 32286
[x] “Screw it, let's go with that, Mokou. Give them hell. Smoke them, bomb them, I don't give half a fuck if they get hurt. I need to see Keine – now.”

Keine can remedy any problems with create after we rescue her. Just as her power can be used selfishly, it can be used selflessly.

But she won't be able to fix anything if she's dead.
>> No. 32287
[X] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”

My paranoia seems to be holding me back from siding with Keine here, but it looks like this'll be for the best. I suppose Keine could potentially do something silly, such as altering the history of everyone in the village to make them think she had done some sort of terrible wrong in order to make them do this so that we'd think Keine was the good one here, resulting in us being lulled into a false sense of security and giving her a chance to screw with our history/CAVE us.

But, yeah. That'd be silly. Somehow I don't think we're Keine's biggest problem right now. I doubt she'd ever result to such drastic measures anyway.
>> No. 32288
[x] “Screw it, let's go with that, Mokou. Give them hell. Smoke them, bomb them, I don't give half a fuck if they get hurt. I need to see Keine – now.”
>> No. 32290
>>32286
barging in may create far worse of a mess, possibly causing Keine to get killed in the ensuring chaos.
>> No. 32291
>>32290

How is that exactly?

When the lynch mob is at your door, the hysteria is already at critical mass, and they're looking a that point for the victim to make their work easier or for a particularly brave, ruthless person to lead the slaughter.

Keine doesn't have anything to fear from Mokou, or you, or Reimu. If she gets hurt (and Mokou and Reimu aren't so incompetent as to let that happen when they're here for the express purpose of a rescue), she'll reverse the dangers because she knows you're not trying to kill her, but to protect her.

But if the crowd, playing on her sense of guilt and shame (which must be immense if she's allowed it to come to this without reversal), comes to take her life, she may just bare her neck and let them.

It's been hours since the seal was destroyed and the 'distress call' was made, and we'd spent far too much time dicking around in Eientei with the rabbits and the princess. Keine may not even know help is coming anymore. She may feel abandoned and totally alone. That is why time is absolutely of the essence.
>> No. 32292
>>32291
Yet one stray fireball or projectile can drive things to a point where everything gets torched, and we don't know how long ago that seal was broken as if it was broken earlier Reimu would have certainly tracked us down and made it clear.
>> No. 32293
[x] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[x] Maybe Reimu could find out what's happening to cause this uproar. You don't want to start pointing fingers before you're truly sure who the culprit is.
Reimu distracts, MC infiltrates, Mokou bodyguards. No problem here.
>> No. 32295
[x] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[x] Maybe Reimu could find out what's happening to cause this uproar. You don't want to start pointing fingers before you're truly sure who the culprit is
>> No. 32308
File 128805143533.jpg - (103.37KB, 525x660, cefa79a8ce6c336cf01310bfaad110ab.jpg) [iqdb]
32308
[X] “Hold up. I know it doesn't sound too impressive coming from me, but we can't just go on starting fires because we feel like it. Let's edge around to the North side and try to sneak in. I want to see Keine first. If she is even still in there.”
[X] Maybe Reimu could find out what's happening to cause this uproar. You don't want to start pointing fingers before you're truly sure who the culprit is.


“Hold up!” you hiss. “Hold up and let me heap my shite together first, for fuck's sake!”
“Tiger, if you're going to keep on whinging—”
“One minute, Mokou! One blasted minute, please, for the love of—!”
Mokou gives a black look, but then nods reluctantly. “… all right, but you'd best be quick about it. I'm not going to stand here idly while those blighters are—”
“Excellent,” you cut her off, “that'll quite do. Now button up and let me do my part.”

It had bloody better be good, too.


Commonalty rabble tends to barely see twenty inches in front of them—much like spiders do—although unlike spiders, they do not have vibration-sensitive hairs all over their bodies that could do as a type of a sonar and detect the one-and-a-half-hundred-pounds bloke hovering a league behind their backs with two nicely shaped bags of explosives hanging by his sides. Or maybe, rather, the hairs they have aren't much more than a natural magnet for sweat, blood and dirt, and all varieties of noisome smells – the sort of thing they seem to attract the most. Either way, it is quite clear that their attention is indivisibly devoted to the poor teacher's fenced-in retreat – and for the moment, only it alone.
Now, one more thing the great unwashed has in common with the eight-legged fiends, is that they will most likely spare themselves the hassle of attacking something that isn't actively trying to get on their wicks.

Essentially, don't take a poke and you won't get poked at.

If you do, well… as a certain Doctor put it – basically, run.


“… okay,” you sign the end of your cerebrating, “I've got it sussed, I reckon.”
“Have you cooled off yet?” Mokou asks. “I don't know if you've noticed, but you were mumbling all sorts of things to yourself for a while back there.”
“I think I've noticed you noticing.”
“Oh, that's just lovely,” she glares. “Now, let us hear this brilliant plan of yours.”
“Very well,” you say. “I know it doesn't sound all too impressive coming from me, considering what I've been doing the whole day today, but we can't just barge in and start hurling fire everywhere just because we feel like it.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I do my best, thank you.”
Reimu grits her teeth. “Could you get a move on, already?”
“I was getting on a move, all right. Mokou, I'll have you edge us around to the North and see if the skylight is by chance still open, and if we could maybe incur inside undiscovered. I want to see Keine first, if she is even still in there, and I'll consider dipping into deeper muck only after I've made sure she is safe. I hope that we don't, but if we do run into any inconveniences, you and I—”
“—will have to singe some hapless arse.” Mokou bares her teeth acridly. “Okay, I'm easy with that, but what about Miss Little Tits over there?”
Reimu lashes out. “Say WHAT?! Keine is in serious danger, and all you've got your mind on are my freaking tits?! Go and get fucked about my tits!”
“I will, believe me – as soon as this is over.”
“How can you screw around so lightly when Keine is—?!”
“Reimu, never mind her,” you try to intercede, “she's just being affectionate in her own way. Not a reason to get aggrieved, believe me.”
“I am being affectionate?”
“Shut up, sweetheart.”

Reimu clicks her tongue and turns her incensed stare at you. “I'll sort this out later, I guess… Now, you were going to tell me my orders?”
“Indeed,” you follow with a nod. “I don't want to start pointing fingers yet, since I am not quite sure who the culprit is—though I would bloody well love to believe otherwise—so I would have you touch down somewhere out of sight and try to nose around – determine who or what in the blazes started this entire conflagration… and quietly – we could do without additional complications, yes?”
“Excuse me?” the shrine maiden's eyes go wide. “I am to—I mean, you want me to go down into this… this hacked-off rabble and ask why they're—… No, I don't know about this…”
“It can't be that bad,” you encourage. “It's been hours since Keine made the call, which I don't reckon she'd have done if things hadn't come to a head – and as you can see, the School is still standing and in good shape. We did take our sweet time getting here, so it may well be long past the worst of it. Keine needs us, Reimu,” you lower your voice, “—she needs me, and I need you to do gen up for me. I have to find out what the heck is going on.”
Reimu bites her lip, her expression getting softer by the moment. “… I don't know…”
“Please.”
“… but those people, they know me, they know I'm with Keine, they'll—…”
“If they so much as try to touch you, I will become the minister of chlorine to their stinking gene pool.”
“… uh…?”
“I'll kick the ever-loving shite out of them, Reimu.”
“Oh. I, um… that's very—”
“I would never willingly let you get hurt – I swear. I need you.”
“… you do?” the flames in her eyes lighten up. “… really?”
“Yes, really,” you tell her. “Not only me – Keine needs you as well.”
“… oh…” her enthusiasm wanes somewhat. “… I—… I see…”
“If you can't investigate for my sake, would you do it for Keine?”
“No, no,” she shakes her head, “I mean—!… yes, I'll—… um…”
“If they don't talk, it's fine. Keine wouldn't approve if I forced you to—”

“I KNOW!” the shrine maiden lets out suddenly. “I—I mean—…!” she covers her mouth, realising her tone. “… I know, okay?” she gives up. “Keine needs me, yes? I get it. I'll see what I can gather. I'm kind of good at this type of business, you know? I'll get it done, trust me.”
“I do, Reimu,” you affirm. “Honestly, thank you. I'm in your debt.”
“No, I'm in yours.”


Having said that, the girl descends to the ground, and sighing softly to herself, lets go of your hand. Mokou lands as well, taking up the strategic position by your right, taking a hold of the arm the shrine maiden has just renounced.

Reimu ignores the obvious snub, waves a weak goodbye, then takes off again, soon to disappear among the thicket of trunks.


Mokou elbows you tartly in the side. “Nicely done, Romeo.”
“I thought it was rather cruel.”
“So did I, you nonce,” she says. “If I was her, I'd have slugged your stupid gob.”
“I'll make it up to her, somehow.”
“Not before you make it up to me, Tiger. Now, stop trying to ogle her bum and let's be on our way.”
“Solid call,” you agree. “I wonder where I'd be without you.”
“In her shirt, groping her tiny tits, no doubt.”
“I imagine that could have been enjoyable.”
“Get your priorities straight, Tiger.”
“I have them straight, sweetheart.”
“Of course,” she exhales. “I know you do – I'm just teasing. I can feel your hands shaking, you know.”
“No, you can't.”
“Yes, in fact, I can. I'm trying to help you relax.”
“How do you think standing around holding hands is going to help?”
“Not too spectacularly, I suppose.”
“Could we move along, then?” you suggest. “If we don't, my blood vessels might explode and kill off the chances of our making-up taking place any time soon.”
“I reckon you've a decent point.”
“I tend to do, sometimes.”

“Okay, Tiger,” she gives a fleetly smile and laps her arms around your shoulders. “Get ready.”
“I'm not ready.”
“Quit grizzling. On the count of three. One… two… off we go.”


Mokou launches into the tree-tops, picking a trail along the Western ridge of the Village. Heckling and flaunting of the mob grows more discernible as the two of you tear your way toward the School, toward Keine, closer and closer to her rescue – and at the same time, farther and farther from the blissful ignorance of the recess away from civilisation. Sundown, belated as it were, begins to show distinct signs of happening, flinging rays of burning orange through the brown-green covert of branches and leaves.
Nightfall is imminent, and yet, it feels as if you've only recently crawled out of bed.


Just as the two of you shoot out of the woods on the far side of the school-grounds, it occurs to you that at certain times, it doesn't matter how strongly convinced you are everything has been set right—everything exactly right—because, at the end of the day, some tragedy is going to rear its ugly head either way, regardless of your efforts to keep it from arising. Could something have been done to prevent the situation in the first place? If you hadn't made the decision to leave the clinic—or had left it earlier in the day—would any of this have come about all the same? If certain personae hadn't resolved to being a pain in the neck, could you have spent the afternoon whispering sweet nothings into their ears, loafing about undisturbed?

How is it everything is set in motion precisely at the moment you arrive to be witness to it?

'History is reality, seen from a single point of view.'

History is way too elegantly orchestrated these days.


Mokou touches down on the slanted roof of the School by the—thank heavens—unlatched skylight, and having sent a probing glance through the dirty glass, yanks it open and pushes you inside, coming next herself, closing it behind her.
Conspicuously enough, the room doesn't look much tidier than the last time you had the opportunity to rub your face—and potentially more—in the teacher's flowery-scented linens. Notes, pages, empty inkwells and pens are still strewn about on the floor, some of them resting on piles of cast-off robes and underclothes, disregarding the fact anybody could wander in and see just what sort of lingerie the most coveted woman in the Village prefers.

On the other hand, maybe regular people don't just casually straggle in here like this one particular dunce.


Mokou collapses on the bed, choking on her shallow breath. “I need—… I need a break,” she pants, “I'm—… knackered from all this—… bollocks, all this blasted flying. Go ahead—… ahead and check downstairs – Keine might be—… oh, you know what I—… what I mean.”
“Mokou—”
“No, you can't kiss her, Tiger,” she forces a smile, “though I don't—… I don't reckon I really have a—… a say, right?”
“… just don't forget to open the window for Reimu.”
“… yeah—… okay.”


Sometimes there's no need for clever quotes or quips to shrug off a gibe – the sense of urgency rather often makes more than a decent substitute. So, instead of wasting time on witticism, you shed your heavy luggage and dash through the exit down to the storeroom.

Stairway, clear.

In but a couple of leaps, you reach the bottom, and stop with one hand on the knob.

Inhale, you tell yourself. Exhale.
Everything—or the foundations of it—is decided here. If the teacher is found—and is found alone—behind these doors, your life in the following few days may become a nightmare to live. So many issues are floating about in your thoughts that must remain in the shadows, and you know precisely how it works when one is specifically required not to mention certain intricacies or affairs. Suppose you're carefully warned not to speak of noses in the presence of John Smith's gigantic snout. Obviously, you would keep repeating to yourself, over and over, as not to forget: 'Don't mention the nose. Don't mention the nose. Don't mention the bloody nose.' Eventually, the words innately cease making sense, and if you meet John Smith, you will probably say, quite unconsciously, 'Hullo, Mr. Nose!' – then promptly throw yourself off the nearest bridge.
It's just how it is – only utmost concentration might be able to avert the otherwise inevitable crisis.

In other words, time is high to put your nose out of the air and keep it to the grindstone.


“Keine!” you call as you hammer down the door.

Stagely, yes, but a little bit of drama never hurt anybody.

“S—Shooter?!” the teacher spins on her heels to meet your radical entry. “Why—?”

Outstandingly, the usual frilly, blue dress isn't draping her curves and features, having instead ceded the task to a rather inept sleeveless shirt and a pair of black, skin-tight drawers. Quite the blend, but you don't care to save the image in your internal memory banks. In lieu of that, you close the distance in quick bounds, and steal her lips before they steal away on their own.

Mokou may have been right. Some of Kaguya's mannerisms could indeed have rubbed off on you.
Complaints? None here, sir, none at all. It's the most excellent excuse you've ever had.

Keine blushes acutely when you pull back. “W—why did you—?… Did—… did something happen?”
“Oh, nothing,” you tell her. “I just decided to finally come out of the closet.”
“E—excuse me? How…” she peeks over your shoulder, “… how long have you been in there?”
“Pardon?”
“Oh,” the teacher makes a little gasp. “It was just a figure of speech. Ha… haha…”
“Never mind,” you grab her by the nude shoulders. “Keine, tell me, and tell me the truth – what in the blazes is going on here? How come there's a pissed-off mob howling at your doorstep?”
Her expression changes from surprised to miserable. “… I don't know,” she confesses. “I woke up in the morning, and they were… they were already at it. I'd closed the gate the previous night, so they didn't get in, but… I can't tell. I honestly can't tell.”
“Brennan?”
Keine shakes her head. “I haven't seen him since you and… since you left for the… for the Clinic. I took the weekend off – I haven't gone out much, I couldn't have—… I can't tell where he is.”
Gobshite codger,” you spit through your teeth. “Never mind me, bollocks. I'll handle the old goat later. Keine,” you strengthen your grip, “we've got to evac you the hell out of here. I can't stand the thought of leaving you with the hash going on outside. Sorry, but you're coming with me.”
“Now—?” the teacher blinks, startled. “—but I can't—not now—! I've got to—!”

“Oh, don't be such a lard, Tiger.”

Mokou careens in on the talk, showing off her most acidic smile. Keine gapes at her in stupefied shock.
“Mo—Mokou?… you, too?”
“Quit stuttering, Keine. It doesn't flatter you.”
“I'm just—just surprised!” the teacher defends. “I didn't expect—”
“Or did you?” Mokou lurches up to you two, still scowling. “I don't reckon you'd go so red just because he has shown up. Even I don't do that. Say, did he kiss you yet, by any chance?”
“Mokou!”
“Oh, don't be coy. It's just a kiss, isn't it? Careful, though – it's the first step on a very sloppy road.”
“Mokou,” you chip in, “please, don't be a skank about this.”
“See,” the tetchy girl flicks a thumb your way, “he's narked, because if you hadn't made your stupid call, he could have stayed in bed all day, snuggling some delicious, hot mocha.”
“Hot—… hot Mok—?”
“It's a kind of coffee,” you intervene quickly. “Mokou, please. Stop that. We're all in this together.”
“I'm not in anything, Tiger. I'm only lending a hand because I sort of like you. If you're pondering going back to Kaguya's place, you can forget it – I won't make the bloody trip again today.”
“Nobody told you to bugger off ahead and get all tired.”
“I wanted to think, Tiger – and you make way too much noise to be a good thinking partner.”
“Um…” Keine heckles in timidly. “I'm… sorry, but what are you two…?”
“Oh, sod off with the moaning, would you!” Mokou teems with ill temper. “I've already had enough of that to last me another eternity!”


“Hey, fuck off of her!”

Reimu joins in, the air around her flickering with the heat of her rage. Seeing her protégé at last, Keine decides to tear out your embrace, and rushes over to the simmering shrine maiden, taking her in her arms, regardless of the danger of suffering third-degree burns and ruining her beautiful face forever.
“Reimu!” she yelps. “I've waited for you!”
“Keine,” the shrine maiden hugs back. “Good evening. Sorry for the hold-up.”
Mokou stifles a laugh. “Oh, please, you're making me sick!” It's sort of harsh of her, but nonetheless, she has a point – this isn't the best time for a full-on, lips-together-now celebration of their reunion. “Spare us the scene, I beg you! I'm about to puke, here!”
Reimu gives her a murderous look. “I told you to shut your whore mouth.”
“It wouldn't be a whore mouth any more, then.”
“Just get the fuck off of us, would you?”
“Reimu,” chides the teacher, “language.”
“Sorry, Keine,” Reimu inclines her head, “but I've just got freaking stones thrown at me, so I'm kind of pissed.”
Keine gasps. “Stones—?! Reimu, are you—are you hurt? Is everything all right?”
“I've had worse, Keine. Calm down, please. I'm okay. Shooter,” she shifts her stare to you, “I couldn't get a thing out of them, sorry.”
“So, they weren't exactly in a talking mood, I assume?”
“Gross understatement. I got stones flying at me the moment they saw me.”
“… bloody excellent,” you mutter. “How about Brennan – did you see him anywhere?”
“… no,” Reimu says after a momentary stall. “No, I didn't. I couldn't get too close—you know, due to the fucking stones—so I didn't see many familiar faces, but… he may be out there, I don't know. Either way, Keine,” she switches back to the teacher. “I've got to get you out of here. I'm taking you to my place. I'm not giving those… primitives any chance to savage you on my watch.”
Keine dithers. “I—… but I can't—”
Mokou takes this as her cue. “Surely you can't be serious! I knew you were daft, but for the love of—where do you think they're going to look first when they find she isn't holed up in here?!”
“I hadn't planned on taking advice from a homeless trollop.”
“Reimu,” the teacher begs, “please…”
“I don't give a shit about your opinion on my groin,” Mokou says, “but I'm not bloody homeless, you stupid coot. I've got a house, sodding hell.”

Everybody, including you, looks at once to Mokou.
“… you do?”
“Well,” she shrugs, “it's sort of dingy, okay, but it's a house all the same. It's not a wad from here, but it's sort of out of sight.”
“I don't know if I care for that idea,” Reimu frowns. “I'd rather sleep in a bed than a hole in the ground.”

NO!

Coming from the least likely direction, a loud protest interrupts the unimaginably important exchange of information between the two girls. Keine recoils away from the shrine maiden, backing off under one of the walls, one clenched fist pressed to her chest at the heart-level, another glued to her side, both shivering visibly. It may be just you, but her eyes—her beautiful, aqua-blue eyes—seem even sadder and more glittery than they normally do.

“I can't leave!” she yells. “Not now! I can't leave all of this behind—all of my work, all of—… I can't just leave!…”
Mokou groans. “… are you out of your mind, Keine? Go take a gander outside, and tell me if honestly want to stay.” Quite unexpectedly, as if to confirm her fears, a few pebbles bounce harmlessly off the window-glass, causing the poor teacher to shudder violently. Mokou smiles. “I reckon I ought to go out there and give him a proper thanks,” she says. “Or would you rather I left the honours to you, you silly cow?”
Reimu barges in. “I hate to say, but she's right. We've got to get out of here, Keine.”

Keine, however, takes up cudgels against the plan. “Not tonight!” she pleads. “I can't leave so suddenly! If they settle down, maybe I could go out and talk to them! I can still set this straight! I just need to wait until they've calmed down!…”

Mokou crosses arms on her chest and sighs. “… shag me sideways, she really is out of her bloody mind. Tiger, why don't you tell her? I mean, you love each other so much, yes? If she's going to listen to anybody, it's you.”
“Mokou—”
“Shooter!” the teacher doesn't let you round off. “Please, understand! I can't—…” she gives you a look so determined and despondent your chest wrings with a sudden surge of pain. “—I can't leave yet!” she continues. “I've still got so many duties—!… I still need to talk to a—… I can't just leave!… I can't just—eek!”

More rocks come and tink off the shuttered front windows. It would seem the appearance of the shrine maiden has only put a larger damper on the already tense relationship between the mob and their disconcerted guardian. How many more are you going to piss off before the day ends? It would be so nice, you muse, if you could simply sit down over a nice cup of tea and discourse politely like civilised gentlemen, instead of laying into each other like common countryside berks. How blooming easy and convenient would that be?

Ostensibly, too easy and convenient for their twisted liking.

Silly Englishman. Nothing comes easy.



[ ] “I understand. I reckon we could use the shelves and desks to barricade the doors and windows. If we hole up hard enough, we should be able to get some undisturbed sleep at night. Once we're done, Keine, you and I are going to talk – honestly, this time.”
[ ] “Mokou is right. It's not entirely safe here – and I'm not willing to take the risk. Mokou, your place sounds all right, so please, take the lead. Keine, you keep close to me and forget about your duties for the time being. It's going to make things somewhat easier on us both.”
[ ] “Keine, they're right. Reimu, lead on. I trust your place is safe enough, and if we feel the need to come back here, it's a short flight anyhow. I'm sorry, Mokou, but you'll have to show me your house some other time.”
[ ] “No, I've my own plan, actually. Reimu, you're going to take Keine to the Clinic on your own. Mokou and I will stay behind, set up some diversion, bug out, hunker down somewhere else, and then join you tomorrow. Have the Princess warn Eirin first, though – we wouldn't like to give her any unpleasant surprises.”
>> No. 32312
[ ] “Keine, they're right. Reimu, lead on. I trust your place is safe enough, and if we feel the need to come back here, it's a short flight anyhow. I'm sorry, Mokou, but you'll have to show me your house some other time.”
-[x] Reimu and Keine should leave, visibly to the crowd. You and Mokou have a certain Miss Hieda to see, once the mob disperses and you can move in the village more easily.

There are plenty of ways of assuring Keune's safety. With Reimu or Mokou around there are few places that aren't safe. But there are fewer ways of drawing Brennan out, and that primarily means putting Keine where he expects her to be. It's a short flight, but a more treacherous walk, and to move a mob of townsfolk afraid of youkai attacks to the shrine will take someone to lead them. In all likelihood, that will be your best shot to nail him. Especially if he doesn't know you and Mokou are back from Eientei.
>> No. 32313
[X] “Keine, they're right. Reimu, lead on. I trust your place is safe enough, and if we feel the need to come back here, it's a short flight anyhow. I'm sorry, Mokou, but you'll have to show me your house some other time.”
-[x] Reimu and Keine should leave, visibly to the crowd. You and Mokou have a certain Miss Hieda to see, once the mob disperses and you can move in the village more easily.

Personally, I'm not so sure if Brennan is really the "leader" of this mob or not. I'm thinking that he probably ignited this somehow, yes, but there's the possibility that he's hiding somewhere and watching. My original vote was going to be a "get to the safest place" sort of choice, but I guess my mind's been changed.

I just hope it's okay to leave Keine alone with Reimu. I still can't find it within me to trust Keine 100% quite yet, so I'm a bit paranoid about meeting up with the two of them later on and getting showered with needles from Reimu again or something.

Or I suppose there's always the possibility that Brennan's also a werecow like Keine aand that he's the one who's been screwing us over with his history mucking.

All in all, I'm as lost as usual, but certainly no less intrigued.
>> No. 32314
>>32313
That's possible, it never was quite explained what happened to that guy fully.
>> No. 32316
[ ] “Keine, they're right. Reimu, lead on. I trust your place is safe enough, and if we feel the need to come back here, it's a short flight anyhow. I'm sorry, Mokou, but you'll have to show me your house some other time.”
-[x] Reimu and Keine should leave, visibly to the crowd. You and Mokou have a certain Miss Hieda to see, once the mob disperses and you can move in the village more easily.
>> No. 32317
[x] “Keine, they're right. Reimu, lead on. I trust your place is safe enough, and if we feel the need to come back here, it's a short flight anyhow. I'm sorry, Mokou, but you'll have to show me your house some other time.”
-[x] Reimu and Keine should leave, visibly to the crowd. You and Mokou have a certain Miss Hieda to see, once the mob disperses and you can move in the village more easily.

okay
>> No. 32319
File 128818351330.jpg - (61.68KB, 544x400, 1286984153524.jpg) [iqdb]
32319
>>32317
>okay
'Okay', as in 'okay, this sounds reasonable', 'okay, I don't care', or 'okay, whatever, this story blows either way, why am I even reading it instead of playing Doom'?
>> No. 32322
Sorry I think that was me.

Okay as in this vote seems okay. I spend a while considering variations so thats why I got kind of curt.
>> No. 32323
File 128821084937.jpg - (843.59KB, 800x1200, 1281135898577.jpg) [iqdb]
32323
>>32319
>why am I even reading it instead of playing New Vegas?
you meant.
And I said Okay because i have nothing to add. What you write is okay, not bad but not great either. I like it, it is entertaining and a passable way to spend time off. I have nothing to say either, so i just read and vote.
And that would sum up the 'Okay'
>> No. 32324
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32324
>>32323
Oi, listen now - drop this story, quit your Oblivion with Guns - Now With Gimmicky Luck-Stat-Based Game Mechanism, fire up ol' pappy Doom, and blast some MOTHERFUCKING PAIN ELEMENTALS to hell and then back for me, would you kindly? I can't really get started with the next part until EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE of those bastards is exploded to big, juicy giblets, and their blasted offspring Lost Souls are gnawing on the barrels of a thousand bloody shotguns, ready to blow what's left of their rancid gobs off.
Urgh... I feel I was about to say something else as well, but I've forgot. Jesus MF Christ, Pain motherfucking Elementals. I hate those buggers with a passion.
>> No. 32325
File 128821801093.jpg - (1.23MB, 1000x1000, 1284021163967.jpg) [iqdb]
32325
>>32324
New Vegas > Doom.
Search your feelings. Those Deathclaws man, those Deathclaws.
>> No. 32327
File 128822394862.jpg - (199.01KB, 900x1000, thisissomethingyourenotgoingtosee.jpg) [iqdb]
32327
>>32325
>New Vegas > Doom
No updates for two weeks.
gg no re
>> No. 32328
File 128825007138.jpg - (28.00KB, 450x450, 1270395349303.jpg) [iqdb]
32328
>>32327
>> No. 32334
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32334
[X] “Keine, they're right. Reimu, lead on. I trust your place is safe enough, and if we feel the need to come back here, it's a short flight anyhow. I'm sorry, Mokou, but you'll have to show me your house some other time.”
-[X] Reimu and Keine should leave, visibly to the crowd. You and Mokou have a certain Miss Hieda to see, once the mob disperses and you can move in the village more easily.


It wouldn't matter if the round was on you or not.
In the light of the recent trend in spelling 'welcome' as 'G-E-T O-U-T', even supposing they had indeed commenced crying for a cup of decent brew, it would still be no different than a serial murderer offering you the chance to try on his bloodstained handcuffs to see how they feel. Human Village is the sort of place where they call minced meat 'hamburger', and if you try to correct them, they beat you up. Sooner than your saucer would've struck the ground, they'd have hauled you off into an alley, folded you into an accordion, and played Cemetery Polka on your spine.

Some people are impossible to hold a conversation with.


“Shooter!” Keine yanks you out of thought. “Shooter, are you even listening?”
“Oh… no, sorry.”
“Shooter!” the teacher stumps over to your side, all sorts of interesting things going on beneath her close-fitting shirt, and puts an accusing finger up at your chin. “I was telling you why I couldn't leave! How can you just—… ignore what I have to say like that! I can't believe you!”
“Quit pointing that thing my way,” you take her by the wrist. “It might go off. Or you might go off. In fact, I reckon you probably should.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, I won't. I know you don't quite agree, but you can't stay here any longer. It isn't safe enough – or rather, it isn't safe at all. No, you can't wait until they've settled down,” you chip in before she speaks up. “Nobody is going to listen, believe me. I've been outside – the heat could have steamed asparagus in a wink. If you don't trust me, ask your lovely ward over there – the one that got rocks tossed at her without a word of explanation. Nobody cares if you've got a brilliant story to tell this time, Keine – she and I can attest to that.”
Keine shakes her head as if to assert that people unmoved by her excuses are a mythical species, similar to abominable snowmen. In all honesty, a part of you wishes they indeed were. “I can persuade them!” she insists. “I am sure they will listen! I just need to wait it out! I still—… I still have friends in the Village!”
“How many are you prepared to lose?”
“I—…” she gags, backing away a step. “… but they—they wouldn't hurt one of their own…!”
“Oh, don't be simple,” you slate. “We men do fancy the thought we live by some esoteric code of honour very much, true – but in times of strait – like this one – more often than not, that code goes on a compulsory biff chit. Nobody is going to risk their life or status to help you out, Keine. It's called the peer pressure effect. I reckon you ought to be very familiar with the term, being a teacher and all.”

“… are you trying to lecture me?”
“No way, dear,” you smile sweetly, “that would be rather irrational… and you wouldn't call me irrational, would you? If you do—I swear to heavens—I will tear that blackboard off the wall, break it in half, and lob the pieces out the bloody window, along with your books, your desks, your shelves, and everything that happens to stand in my way as I go to drag you off by force.” Keine freezes with a look of outrage on her face, and you accord the reaction with a another smile. “Good, I see that my point has got across. Now, where do we go with this… Oh, yes, Reimu,” you address the shrine maiden, “I suggest you take this silly mug and leg it quickly to your place. It's quite late already, and I trust even those knob-sack yokels won't be dense enough to try trudging through the Forest in the dark. It might be a short flight, but a walk could well turn out rather icy. Oh, and don't just do a bunk – make some show of leaving. I want them to see clearly that you've pulled out.”
Reimu inclines her head concisely. “I'll get it done, but… what about you?”
“Mokou and I are staying for the night. No, Keine,” you bark at the teacher before she fully opens her mouth, “I will have no more of that. Could you—please—keep your grouching down? It would be much easier on us both that way. Or, we could always go back to the blackboard plan, if you would like – it's your call.”

“… you wouldn't—!”
“I might, dear. I'll let that sink in. Mokou,” you turn to the peevish girl, “sorry, but you'll have to show me your house sometime else.”
Mokou, who has watched the exchange smugly quiet, makes a nonchalant shrug. “Okay, whatever, we can go any time. I'll see if I can keep you entertained some other way until then.”
Keine blinks at her in shock. “Mokou!”
“Oh, please,” the girl rolls her eyes, “don't give me that look, dear! Haven't you had your turn, already? If you're so jealous, just wait till the bodge has simmered down and give it another blast, why don't you? I'll look out for his handsome behind in the meantime, so you don't have to brood about it getting bruised.”
“How can you!” Keine yelps. “Don't take his side when he's threatening to—!”
“Good lord, are you off your rocker, Keine? Quit whinging and pay heed to what he's saying! He's worried for you, you oaf! Sod it, even I am – and I don't even like you! Reimu, for the love of God, I beg you! Get this tit-bag out of my sight, before I decide to have beef for dinner tonight!”

Reimu makes a cross face. “I'm going to get you for that, you know.”
“Just take her away, and I'll let you molest me any day! ”
“I'll hold you to that. Shooter,” the shrine maiden conjures up a strip of inscribed paper, “here, you know what to do with this, yes?”
“If circumstances allow, I'd rather not inconvenience you two.”
“No, don't hold back,” Reimu smiles and slips the charm down your chest-pocket, “you might need me soon, you never know. It's a short flight, anyway, like you said, and I'd love to—… I mean, I'd be happy to… you know – help, if something comes up.”
“… thanks. I'll still try not to, though. Oh, and yes,” you snap your fingers, “that reminds me. Keine, I've one final recommendation to make.”
“… recommendation?” asks the teacher. “If this is regarding your—”
“It's regarding you, Keine,” you tell her. “Hear me well, because I won't repeat myself. If I regroup with you tomorrow at the shrine, and I find that Reimu has a single warped or mislaid memory, I am going to be very, very put out. I do not want her to forget anything we did in these last three days, and I would absolutely loathe if you were to carelessly cause some ugly damage to her pretty, little head. I like that head the best as it is right now, dear. Is that clear?”
Keine wigs out at the idea. “I would—… I would never in my life do something like that!”
“Neither would any of us, if we were in your shoes. Keine, darling, don't get us wrong – we love you. I love you – and I want to trust you more than anybody. If you love me, please – listen and do as I say. It's for your own good – and for mine, too. I couldn't sleep knowing you're parking yourself in harm's way.”
“Shooter…”
“I mean it, Keine. Go and take your mind off of the hash outside. I'll take care of Brennan—or whoever sparked this powder keg of bollocks. He can pull mountain ranges over his head to hide, but I'll find him. I'm not very civilised—though I'd like to think otherwise—and when somebody hurts the ones I love, it really brings the worst in me out.”

Mokou groans impatiently. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
“No, people are usually fast asleep before I'm half-done.”
Hilarious.
“Only a little levity to ease the nerves.”
“Levitate on your own time. Keine,” she accosts the teacher, “I take that back – don't listen to this nonce. He's as daft as—”

Keine, however, seems to have a different notion. Since you've shown resistance to regular methods of persuasion, obviously the fair conclusion would be that only violence might sway your stalwart decision. Having come to that conclusion, the teacher leaps at you with a desperate cry, clasps your torso in an expert body-lock, and wrests your poor lungs clean of life-giving oxygen.

“I'm sorry…!” she sobs, probably to throw you off. “I should have—… I was so stupid…! I was so—… please, forgive me—!…” she then hiccups suddenly, and the motion gives your chest a spectrum of curious sensations. “… I—… I should have trusted you, Shooter, I'm sorry, I should have—!… I should have known—!… I should have—…!”
“No, it's…” you freeze with your hands hovering inches over her feverish shoulders. It's all right, calm down, hush, you want to say, except now you don't know how to phrase it – like the new recruit who pulls the pin out of a grenade and then forgets how to toss it. Not that you want to toss grenades at her. Quite far from it, actually. “… you can trust me,” you manage at last, “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Keine rubs her forehead on your vest. “… I'm sorry… I am, but… it's just so… cramped in here!… I feel, sometimes… I feel like I'm suffocating… with all the… all the trouble and supernatural mess… and sometimes… sometimes I just wish for some normalcy, for some room to breathe…”
“It's okay.”
“I had—… I had a friend once,” she says, “I thought I could trust him, but he… he lied to me, just like everybody else…”
“It's okay, Keine,” you stroke her head gently. “I would never lie to you, I promise.” Oh no. “If there is anybody in the Village you can trust, I swear on my honour, it is me.” Oh no. “I am not like those berks outside. I love you – and because of that, you have to scarper now. Go, Keine – and let me take care of the rest.”

Keine agrees mutely, and pulls back. “I'm sorry. Reimu,” she reaches out to the shrine maiden, “come on, let's go. It's getting late.”
Reimu gives a nod. “… yes, let's… and good luck, you two.”

Good luck,” you mutter half-aloud as the two disappear through the back-door.
Hurried, their footsteps echo in the staircase, then on the old floor-panels above, where they dwindle for a moments, shuffling about in a single spot, and finally disappear. Congratulating yourself the self-control, you fall back a few steps and let your breath unwind. It eluded you earlier, but now, the realisation of what could have been—should the other girls have not been present—makes a loud return, and begins to make you wish you had a case of chronic penile inclination.

It could have spared you many hardships, you feel.


Mokou doesn't let you ponder your libido, though. “Tiger,” she scowls, “why did you drag that out so much?”
“I am easily amused.”
“Surely you can't be serious! I can't believe this! How can you jest so lightly, when—”
—but just as she's about to finish, an explosion sounds outside.


—WHOOM!

On an instinct, you snatch the stormy girl, and shove her to the floor, shielding her with your body from possible shrapnel or debris. Obviously, bloody hell – you were the one who told the impulsive shrine maiden 'make a show of leaving' – you should have honestly seen this coming.

One more blunder to put on the shrift list.


“I'm not enjoying myself down here, Tiger.”
“Oh,” you gasp, “er… sorr—”

Mokou grabs you by the collar before you can stand. “I am not done yet.”
“Sweetheart?”
“Sweetheart my arse!” she snaps. “I'm fed up with your sick obsession with that stupid cow!”
“Mokou…?” you stare at her incredulously. “… are you… jealous?”
“Of course I'm sodding jealous, you stupid clot!” she erupts. “I said I would keep quiet about us, but… I can't just look and grit my teeth when she's coming on to you like that!”
“Weren't you the one that claimed she would never sleep with me?”
Mokou blushes. “… I was, but then—… then you made that face…”
“… what face?”
“Never mind,” she slithers off and rises to her feet. “I'm just talking bull, forget it. It seems like they're backing off,” she notes, peeking out the window-shutters, “there's still some around, but they don't look so hot any more.”
“Mokou, I didn't shag her.”
Mokou glares. “… I told you to never mind.”
“I didn't shag her.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, fine, I did shag her.”
“Liar.”
“Cobblers,” you groan, “Mokou, sweetheart, what the hell do you want from me?”
“I've told you already – I want you to never mind. Quit being a plank and tell me instead why we haven't left yet.”
“… fine,” you give up. “I need to see the Hieda girl.”
“Every time you say the word 'girl', I think I may be slowly developing an allergy. Can you tell me why you need to see her so much?”
“Oh, that's simple – there's this gigantic lattice of coincidence, and I reckon she might be able to suss it out – because I sure as hell can't. We have to find something to tide us over till nightfall, though,” you add. “I don't know much of a persona non grata I am in the Village now, and I'd rather not stick my neck out just yet, I'd much prefer to play it safe.”
“So we've got some time for ourselves,” Mokou says. “What do we do?”
“Secure the place, first and foremost. I'd like to bar the doors and the windows somehow, just in case.”
“And then?”



[ ] “Weren't you tired? How about you go get some sleep while I nose around and gear up for the hunt?”
[ ] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
[ ] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”
[ ] “I have nothing in mind. Got something on yours?”


==

Apologies for the slow pace as of late, by the way – my studies are keeping me perpetually mentally exhausted, and I haven't nearly as much time to read and write as I would like.

I'll see to the story again as soon as I can.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32335
[ ] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
>> No. 32336
[x] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
A raid it is
>> No. 32337
[x] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”

Do it faggot.
>> No. 32338
[x] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
Heh, I don't think I can get tired of this story.
>> No. 32339
[X] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”

Mokou isn't getting nearly enough love.
>> No. 32340
File 128861997341.jpg - (596.51KB, 716x1011, 245136f000e5a8dfe075ca4e38edd7a1.jpg) [iqdb]
32340
>>32338
Is it the constant venereal references?
>> No. 32341
[X] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”

> Mokou isn't getting nearly enough love.
Lets fix that shes cute as hell.
>> No. 32342
[x] Raid the kitchen
>> No. 32343
[x] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
[x] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”

The true answer is to have some "making-up" with the help of food. some strawberries, honey etc. can really sweeten things up.
>> No. 32344
[x]>>32343

Why the hell not.
>> No. 32345
[x] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
[x] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”
>> No. 32351
[x] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
[x] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”

This story never gets old. The little things add up and make this an excellent read.
>> No. 32359
File 12891739208.jpg - (1.53MB, 1700x2338, 14362938.jpg) [iqdb]
32359
[x] “One thing to do when your room-mate is gone – you raid his larder. Do I cook tonight, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
[x] “Care for some of that making-up we spoke about earlier? Or are you still in a sour mood?”


In this world, there are two types of people.

One is those, who, offered a glass that is exactly half-full, will say, quite truthfully: fancy that, this glass is indeed half-full! Meanwhile the other—more shrewish—breed will, upon seeing the glass, lash out, asking question the like of: this is my glass? Is it, really? Surely you aren't serious? Excuse me? Pardon? I was certain mine was bigger… and full! Have you been pinching my swipes? Get back here, you stealing ponce! In all fidelity, there also exists another—much rarer—strain – the one that sits behind the bar, smirks a lot, and systematically pours cold water into the gradually draining keg – the mercenary type that doesn't care for his brethren and has a calculator for common sense.

Obviously, you aren't a specimen of any of these.
It is more likely that you would be one of the skint, luckless blokes, the ones hunching idly in the back, stooping sadly over their broken or capsized cups – no doubt knocked over by one of the careless, loud-mouthed knobs threshing their arms drunkenly and crying for another round of diluted wee-wee. Naturally, that doesn't necessarily mean you've got to keep meek and quiet till the end of the night – the hang is to feel the proper moment, empty the remains of your glass on the stupid clodhopper's head, snatch his umpteenth—half-full—jug, and bog off out of dodge before the broil breaks out.

It pays to know how to have your beer and drink it, too.


Mokou makes a faint sigh. “I asked you a question, Tiger.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Whenever in doubt, nod and concur, just nod and concur.
“I don't think that qualifies for an answer.”
“No, I mean—” you pause. “… okay, we do have some time before the lights-out, so I reckoned we could hunker down in jig time, and maybe get at this making-up we spoke about earlier – what do you say?”
“How soon do you want to leave?”
“I can't tell.”
“Oh, don't give me that,” she complains. “I'm going with you, so piss off with the bull and just bring it out.”
“No, I wanted to say, I'm not sure.”
Mokou sighs again, her chest rising and falling like an empire. “… couldn't you at least take a guess?”
“Hm,” you consider, “not for another three or four hours, methinks.”
“… you can't take a guess for another three or four hours? Surely there must be some way to brisk that up some.” Mokou stops and smiles. “I rather liked that one,” she says, seeing your unamused expression. “I learned that from you, so why don't you show a little appreciation?”
“I never taught you to be so devious.”
“No, that's my natural talent – you just showed me where to start. Either way, I've already shagged you today,” she informs kindly, in case you hadn't realised, “and I'm not exactly in the mood for another go, so you'll have to hold out for a while longer, unless you want me to conk out and snap your jewels off or something.”
“Dreadful,” you shudder.
“Sex is wonderful,” she goes on, gracing you with only a minute scowl, “and I like it, but I am sort of beginning to think it's sort of like alcohol.”
“Stinks to high heaven, but you hold your breath and suck it up?”
Mokou actually laughs. “Nice one, Tiger, but no. I meant that, if you toss off every hour, every day, you start to fantasise about making love to a glass of water.”
“Strange,” you say, standing and dusting your togs, “I had imagined it was more like cookery.”
“How so?”
Grinning, you set about for the annexe behind the lectern. “I'll explain, sweetheart, but first, I reckon we could use some nourishments in the meantime, and there's only one thing to do when your room-mate is gone – and that is to raid her larder. Do I do the cooking today, or would you rather I gave you the pleasure?”
Mokou crosses arms on her chest, not moving from the spot. “I'm not shagging you on the dinner-table, Tiger.”
“I never thought you would.”
“What an amazing thing,” she scoffs. “I saw the way your eyes glazed over just then, and I didn't like it a lot. I'm not going anywhere until you promise you aren't going to accidentally throw any foods at me to get me to strip my rags, do you hear?”
“I do hereby declare I will do my best not to engage in any bodywork with my dearest bidie-in against her will tonight,” you spew out in a single breath. “Quite redundantly, I might add, but it appears somebody here has a mild obsession with my randiness.”
“I know you too well.”
“Clearly. Come on, then – let's put something on the grills.”


“… Tiger.”
“Sweetheart?” you reel in at the kitchen doors. “I promised, no? Is there a problem?”
Mokou gives a third sigh, then flicks a finger at the front windows. “Have you forgot about these?”
“Oh,” you slap yourself on the forehead. “Oh, bloody hell, yes. I forgot.”
“I told you, Tiger,” Mokou smirks triumphantly, “I know what's going on in your pants.”
“Charming, love, very charming. Now, be a dear and help me out with this bookshelf. I may be not very civilised, but I much rather wouldn't drop and step on any priceless tomes all the same.”



✱✱✱
>> No. 32362
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✱✱✱


Granted, you knew already why the village twits had never taken to this testy lass called Mokou.

In spite of her delightful looks, sharp mind, and unexpectedly bold attitude, they have never admitted her into their cloistered society. Mokou Fujiwara has always been an outcast – a willing exile of sorts, not getting in their way and expecting the same courtesy in return. Princess Kaguya agreed as well—during that elusive yesterday night—that Mokou had only opened up latterly, and is just warming up to the presence of others… but there is one more—far less elaborate—reason.
Mokou is a wild-card – a person that makes normal men immediately realise they do not, in fact, desire to know her better. Sure, she is smart, quick-witted and beautiful, but her beauty is similar to that of a house-fire – you would rather admire it from the sidelines, at a certain distance, and not—God forbid—face to face, up close. Several of them probably believe as well that she could blow the tops off of mountains, punch an adult nag into low orbit, and turn entire generations of gullible dullards into regiments of toads.

Oh, and other than that, she smiles like a knife.


“So, how is sex like cooking?”
“Oh, you are curious after all?”
“Not curious, Tiger – just bored.”


Providentially, the two of you held your thoughts mostly to yourselves as you were engrossed in plundering the stocks of the poor teacher of everything edible and not of suspicious origin. If the secret to comeliness is consuming large volumes of what looks like a dastardly cross of bubble-gum fossils in green tinfoil, swamped any old how in masses of umber sauce and rice, bugger that – seems like you will never become a well-endowed, scrupleless young lady.

Goodbye, visions of joy – and welcome, long and dreary autumn evenings.


“Sorry, sweetheart,” you put your eating irons down, “I was having the hump for a moment, what was that?”
“Sex?”
“Oh — yes, please.”
Mokou gives you a long-suffering look. “Did you plan to ever grow up, Tiger?”
“Not if I can help it. So, sex, eh…? Hmm…”
“Quit daydreaming and tell me what you meant that it's like cooking.”
“Oh yes. It is sort of like cooking, isn't it? Not very—how I see it—romantic, though.”
“Neither are you, when we get down to it.”
“I love it when you say all those nice things, sweetheart. Either way, what I thought was that sex—well, sex fascinates people a load often-times—”
“It sure fascinates you.
“—and because of that,” you go on, dismissing her quip, “they go out and look up those books full of recipes, positions, charts and what have you – just like with cookery – and, when they are especially hungry, they page through these, and imagine themselves at a chic banquet, with an elegant self-service buffet, waiters with dapper waistcoats, monocles everywhere and what have you… but at the end of the day, they would gladly settle for a plate of ordinary fried fish and chips – if it was well done and maybe had a slice of tomato on top.”

Mokou chews over your metaphor—as well as through a chunk of wiry steak—before she speaks up. “… you weren't kidding. I don't reckon I have ever heard anything as unromantic in my entire life. So, I'm your fish and chips, then?”
“No, no,” you assure, “I never said I was one of these sorts of people.”
“So, you fancy yourself a… sod it, how do you say it… connoisseur of sorts?”
“No, I simply don't like tomatoes. Oh, and I rather enjoy the—if you will—cooking process itself – very much, actually.”
Mokou feigns peeking under the table. “I can't really see it.”
“Oh, that's because the food here is so… well, so out of the ordinary, and I'm not too into exotic rubbish. It's the difference between erotic and kinky – like, between a feather and a whole chicken. I could imagine getting it on using either—or even both at the same time—but only one of them seems, you know, appealing enough to give me a…” you trail off. “… actually, I wanted to ask you, sweetheart.”
“Hm?…”
“… two days ago, when we… well, when we did it, that was…” you haver, “… bollocks, I mean to say… that was… your first time, wasn't it?”

Mokou nearly inhales her food along with the cutlery. “WHA—?!…” she gags, her eyes bulging. “WHAT—?! HOW—?! WHERE—?!”
“… three excellent questions, I sa—”
“SHUT UP!” she yells, bristling from her seat and grabbing you by the shirt. “WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”
“Mokou, love, calm down, I was just—”
Mokou isn't calming down, however. “Kaguya told you that, didn't she!” she screams and lugs at your collar. “I'll KILL her! I'll kill her over and over until she finally kicks the sodding bucket! I knew I shouldn't have left her alone with you! I fucking knew! I'll grind that sodding cheat between my bloody fingers!”
“Sweetheart—”
“FORGET IT! FORGET! It wasn't my first time, OKAY?! I was just—…! I was just excited, that's all! Of course I knew what to do! I'd had plenty of sex before! I'd probably had more than I could count! I might have slipped a few times when were at it, but—that doesn't mean I had never—!”

“Oh, bloody hell, just hush already.”


Softly but decidedly, you tug at the back of her trousers' waistband, tipping her body out of already tottering balance – and quite effectively forcing her lovely behind to fumble down awkwardly onto your lap. Mokou herself gives a stifled yelp, but quickly regains her senses – and realising what she has just unwittingly said, falls silent; her infuriated stare sinks, and her candent eyes retreat behind the cover of her snow-white fringe.
Here she is, lo and behold – Mokou Fujiwara – the person who stands on mountaintops during thunderstorms in a wet aluminium hazard-suit, shouting 'ALL THE GODS ARE PANSIES!', now trying to gloss her rosy cheeks as if caught red-handed on doing something very, very naughty, too naughty to express in words.

On a second thought, you might want to scrap that 'as if'.


Smiling just a shade priggishly, you blow her hair aside and kiss her silly nose. “Now, sweetheart,” you whisper tenderly, “I don't reckon that outburst was at all necessary, because I was under the impression that you were fantastic. I loved every second of it – and I think you did absolutely brilliant. I was actually worried that I had botched my part of the job. Indulge me… where did you learn how to… you know?”
Mokou sulks for a few more seconds, then wipes her blush off with a sleeve – unfruitfully, as her face could still be mistaken for a clump of healthy, ripe cherries. “… Kaguya,” she spits the name and crosses herself against the royal she-devil, “… Kaguya taught me how to do it with a man, should I ever find one for myself.”
“Oh boy.”
“I know how it sounds,” she shoots you a death-dealing glance, “but it's not really like that. I, uh… I watched those… films with her, and…” she groans, “… okay, she told me what I needed to know. One time, she actually said we should try these tips in practice, but I said no.”
“Why?”
Why?” she repeats. “Surely you can't be serious!”
“No, I'm just being myself. Either way, I reckon she did some splendid work on you, love.”
Mokou gives you a wry look. “Should I say thank you, or should I sock you in the face?”
“Sodomy non sapiens.”
“… and what does that mean?”
“Means 'I'm buggered if I know.'
“I should really go with the latter option, but…” she exhales and nestles against your chest. “… how come we're still talking about this?”
“I have no idea – maybe it's all the food driving us round the twist. On a more serious note, Mokou, I had another—better, I hope—question to ask.”
“I am already giddy.”
“It's been bothering me – why did you tell the Princess that Reimu was your friend? I mean, you two are, like, sworn enemies, no? I'd thought you'd made up in the Clinic, somehow, but… I reckon that would have been too much to wish for.”
Mokou snorts. “Oh yes, because it is my goal in life to humiliate that red-white skank. I wanted to keep Kaguya away from any stupid ideas, Tiger, and the Hakurei—… and Reimu wasn't too happy with her fooling about with you, either, so we agreed to a keep calm until we buggered out of that ropey hole.”
“Oh.”
“Not what you expected?”
“Not exactly.”
“Sorry, Tiger,” she says, “maybe she will grow on me in time, but as of now, I can't stand the stupid slag.”
“I reckon the feeling is mutual?”
“It had better.”
“No chance to sway your heart, somehow? None at all? I would murder to see you two share a round of tea.”
“I know precisely who you could do in to let that happen.”
“Oh yes, I imagine Reimu would be thrilled to see you gone.”

Mokou tries to hit in in protest at this slur, but you grab her and pull her closer to prevent her from getting in any punches – which was, you suppose, sort of the idea. We're on Eastern Lovely Time, and it's Mokou o'clock – and our tetchy hostess is ready for even more pampering.

“Say, you are going to wrap that up or not?”
“Mm… No, I'm not hungry,” she answers. “Why, Tiger – you want it?”
“I'll pass. How about some dessert, then?”
“Dessert?” Mokou observes keenly as you pull closer a small salad-bowl of fruit that you dished up earlier.
“Dessert,” you smile. “Do you like strawberries?”
“Strawberries?” Mokou makes an unconvinced face. “I don't mind them, but where'd you get those?”
“I found them in the back of the freezer,” you shrug. “I'd much rather we could dip them in honey, but alas, I couldn't find any, so…”
“Strawberries and honey? Do you want me to get fat, Tiger?”
“I'd love you even if I had to roll you upstairs to bed-time, sweetheart.”
Mokou scowls, “… arse-kisser…” and reaches for the bowl.

“Uh-uh-uh,” you stop her hand mid-way, “you didn't say the magic word!”
“… say what?”
“Oops. Never mind, just a reflex, silly me. I wanted to say that if you would be so kind as to keep your pretty paws on your back and let me stick those little buggers in your mouth for you, I would be rather chuffed.”
“Surely you can't—…” she frowns furiously, “… why would you want to feed me?”
“Oh, and why not? I just felt like coddling you some, is why. Now,” you take a strawberry in your fingers and give Mokou a slight nudge, “please, sweetheart, say aahn.”
“… I can't believe I'm doing this…” she shakes her head, “… okay, ah—… aahn…”
“Good girl. Here comes—” —and doesn't arrive – because as soon as Mokou leans in to bite on the fruit, you fleer archly to yourself and pull it away. Mokou glares at you angrily, but before you are able to make a cutting remark, she lunges forward and snatches the strawberry out of your hand. “Oi, oi,” you chide, “if you do that, I might get scared and drop the thing on your clothes.”
“Mm—” she swallows and makes an impish face. “Just you try, Tiger.”

Oh, so you will – your overdeveloped sense of vengeance demands it. However, while a rapper might have rounded up his homies to organise a little drive-by, you are a more aspiring asshole—a class-hole, if you will—so you decide on a less violent course of action. Not giving out an inkling of your insidious plan, you take another of the red fruits, and slowly, steadily, carefully measuring the angle— “Oopsie.”inadvertently lose the grip, letting it tumble down the unsuspecting girl's collar. Mokou makes a startled hiccup and scrambles to take it out, but your reaction time reigns superior – and sooner than she can step in, you undo the top three or four buttons of her blouse, and next, not cracking a wink, dig the strawberry out from her delightfully clinched cleavage.
Mokou lets her eyes flicker between your hands and her partly unbuttoned shirt, looking as though she was sure you are about to take this chance to dive down her top whilst performing your off-key karaoke version of 'I've Got a Bunch Of Lovely Coconuts'.

Not quite a direct hit, but it is close enough.


“I told you I'd get scared.”
“No, you—” she dithers, seeing your straight face, “… why are you looking at me like that?”
“Something wrong?”
“No, I, uh—… your fingers were cold, is all.”
“Oh. So, we can carry on, then? Cause we've still a ways to go.”
“… I suppose.”
“Splendid, 'ere goes the second strafe, then—… ah.“ Once more, you carelessly let the fruit drop into her opened blouse. “I'll be damned,” you cuss, undoing even more of the buttons, “where did you go, you little bastard?…” fiddle, fiddle, “… oh, it just had to end up down here…” wriggle, wriggle, “… it has got to be somewhere in there…”
Mokou jerks up. “TI—TIGER?!”
“Hm?” you tilt your head. “I did saw it going there, you know.”
“It didn't—!” she yelps. “It's on the floor, you nonce!”
“No, no,” you move your hands further down, “I am pretty certain it's somewhere in—oh, I've got to undo this one as well…”
“HYAN—?!”

“… that was a nice sound you made there, love.”
Mokou glares up at you, red-faced, a single tear slithering down one of her cheeks. “I to—told you…” she stutters, her lips quivering, “… your fingers… t—they are… wait, where do you think you're—…?!”
“I know where I am touching, dear. I can feel it.”
“Get your hand… out of my—!” she breaks off. “Tiger, for the—!… ah—I hate you!”
“Do you?”
“Ge—gently!” she ignores your worried question. “Sodding hell, you—ah—be a little… more… gent—…!”
“My, aren't we a wee out of breath tonight. Here,” you shift a bit and let her back relax against your shoulder, “loosen up, sweetheart. I'd like to see my fingers again some day, you know.”
Mokou gives you a deathly look. “I am—ah—not in the—in the mood!”
“… and what if I do this?”
“—?!”





“Ti—Tiger…” she speaks after a few minutes of very out-of-the-mood breathing, “could we…?”
“Could we what, dear?” you ask.
“… don't—“ she swallows, “—don't take that tone with me, or… oh, sod it. Could we take this—… uh, it's sort of uncomfortable here, so could we take this upstairs?”
“It's Keine's bed, dear.”
“I know,” she scowls. “It's still better than nothing.”
“If you say so, dear. Come on, then.”


Sometimes, the man cannot keep even his most sincere promises…
… and sometimes—just sometimes—the woman doesn't want him to.



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>> No. 32363
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Later – much, much later – this evening.
Human Village, near the Hieda estate.



One over there, Tiger.
Copy, give me a second.
Couldn't I handle that?
No, sweetheart, I don't want to leave any bloodstains on the pavement.


Mokou snorts irritably as you unhurriedly load the stub-barrelled rifle with a mag-full of violet jelly. However reassuring the Princess had been about it not conking out in the least appropriate moment, you experienced enough conk-outs in these past hours to form a rather strong belief saying, that given the opportunity to conk out spectacularly, no conk-out is going to stay calm and unexcitable.

Especially if it means it can make your face conk out in the process as well.


Can't you just run up and bop him in the mug?
I would do that – why?
It seemed your style, somehow.
… my style? Nonsense,” you shake your head and take aim.


It must feel so miserable, to be the only bloke in the street, with nobody to share your sorrows with but a lonely lamp-post. Of course, nobody in his right mind gets pissed on a Monday night expecting to find decent gossip laying in the street. Smiling, you exhale and send a silenced shot through the leg of the naif drunk – and smile even wider when he stumbled forward, ramming his head into his inanimate confessor. Quietly, without a single noise, he slips to the cobblestone ground, knocked out cold by the unexpected fourth-degree encounter with an eight-inch thick oaken beam.

On that mark, you stand up and sling the rifle on your back.


“Did you, perchance, have me for a brute, sweetheart?”
Mokou looks at the unconscious villager, then at you. “… sort of.”
“Guilty,” you lift your arms, surrendering. “It's more efficient this way, though – and it leaves no traces behind. Of course, he's going to wake up with a beastly headache in the morning, but, er… I reckon he would have regardless. Now, which way did you say to the Hiedas?”
“Somewhere thereabouts,” Mokou gestures down the now-clear alley, “… uh, you think we should leave him sleeping out there?”
“Oh no, we'd probably best lug him somewhere out of sight. Say, do the Hiedas have a yard in their lot?”
“… you want to bury him in their garden?”
“No, I was just considering an alternative point of entry.”
“So, you're going to sneak in their kid's bedroom and hope they don't find out?”
“Maybe.”
Mokou makes an irritated groan. “… if I recall, they do, but I don't know that it's a good idea, Tiger.”
“I'll be the judge of that.”
“Oh, I am sure you will.”



[ ] Go the safer route, through the back-door. It might be better not to wake up her parents or her infamous girl-servant.
[ ] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.
>> No. 32364
[X] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.

>>Here she is, lo and behold – Mokou Fujiwara – the person who stands on mountaintops during thunderstorms in a wet aluminium hazard-suit, shouting 'ALL THE GODS ARE PANSIES!', now trying to gloss her rosy cheeks as if caught red-handed on doing something very, very naughty, too naughty to express in words.

God, that's such an amazing mental image.
>> No. 32365
File 128918563730.jpg - (1.23MB, 1920x1200, VIVIT Marisa Reimu.jpg) [iqdb]
32365
>[ ] Go the safer route, through the back-door. It might be better not to wake up her parents or her infamous girl-servant.

This shit will never work.

[x] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.
>> No. 32366
[x] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.
>> No. 32367
[x] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.

I have to agree with the gentlemen above.
>> No. 32369
[X] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.

We're in enough danger just being here as it is; let's not make it look like we're here to assassinate the poor girl. I just hope that we'll keep the gun out of sight when they open the door.
>> No. 32374
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32374
Ah, but that is exactly the opposite of what I had planned! I'd thought it'd be like, point the gun at the door, and when it opens, "Hullo! Me an' Chiquita 'ere av come t' ruin yer night!"
Spoilin' my fun, hmph.
>> No. 32375
>>32374
Well, maybe it's not so interesting as a sneaking mission, but at least gentleman option certainly can't hurt us, right?
Also, could you, tell me the source of those beautiful half-naked pictures of Mokou that always try to distract my attention from your posts? Pretty please?
Oh, and, I think that starting from the next thread, you should really post some kind of caution sign! Because with this pace, the story will soon start to inflict diabetus on the readers...
>> No. 32376
>>32375
Is there a kind of diabetes that gives you a fever, cause these posts are smoking hot as well as sweet.

Like good mexican candy as opposed to bad mexican candy which is quite possibly the most disgusting thing people intentionality eat.
>> No. 32377
File 128933538065.jpg - (243.44KB, 666x1000, CANTSHOWTHISINACHRISTIANCYOA.jpg) [iqdb]
32377
>>32375
Most of the time I use Pixiv. It needs a registered account to work properly, though, and it's somewhat hit-or-missey, but sometimes there's gems that don't make it to Danbooru. Prepare for a butt-ugly URL.
http://www.pixiv.net/tags.php?tag=%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E5%A6%B9%E7%B4%85
Other times Danbooru does the job.
http://danbooru.donmai.us/post/index?tags=fujiwara_no_mokou
… wait, you're not going to leave me now that I gave away the source of my Mokou stash, are you?
>> No. 32379
>>32377
Thanks for pointing those two treasure chests!
And... To leave your story? I can't even imagine doing so!
>> No. 32384
>>32377
THANKS, SEE YOU LATER!

Of course not. Besides, there's not much I haven't already plundered from either site already.
>> No. 32387
File 128946247387.jpg - (31.98KB, 849x182, 6a758b366772678821351a92172c99e0.jpg) [iqdb]
32387
>>32377
You have strange taste YAF.
>> No. 32396
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[X] Go from the front, knock on the door, and firmly request an audience with the little lady – in a gentlemanly fashion.

Sardonically, you cannot help but feel compelled to agree.

It may be true, it's not worth doing something unless you are doing something that somebody, somewhere, would much rather you weren't doing – but sometimes, the something feels just a little too dodgy for comfort, while the somebody could easily have your John Thomas off while you are still in the initial stages of your relationship.

One tends to have thoughts about mortality in times like these.


“Have you come to any conclusions yet, Tiger?”
“Oh — yes, yes,” you gasp, “god blind me, you are absolutely right. It would be precious inelegant of us, to slink in unannounced in the middle of the night.”
Mokou cants her head to the side. “Odd, no witty banter?”
“I don't need to be made look like a fool again, dear.”
“In my experience, you don't need any help looking like a fool. If you have any other reckless ideas that you were going to consider and would like put down, just go ahead and give me your best shot.“
“I wouldn't go so far as calling them reckless.”
“If you don't like reckless, I could use insouciant, if that helps you sleep. I love you, stupid, but you've been thinking with the wrong head tonight. If you keep that up, somebody might soon decide to head it off.”
“I was under the impression that you liked it.”
“Maybe, but you had better not stick it in my mug because we had it away with me on the bottom for once.”
“Of course, bloody hell, but—” —but your affair has only recently entered this early, touchy-feely period where you have the constant urgency of physical contact – where, as soon as your fingers so much as brush against each other's skin, the other parts of your body start saying they would like to join in with this skin-brushing business as well. It wouldn't be too unreasonable to assume this wasn't the last time you took the leading step in your bed-top frolicking, no?
Mokou neither confirms nor quells your fears. “Nothing to but about, you nonce,” she slates instead. “I might like it, but that doesn't mean you should be doing it day in and day out. Now, quit your bleating and get weaving, because I want to get some sleep tonight, and I am going to be very narked if I end up getting none.”


It must be her afterglow, you muse as she moves out of the alley in a way that suggests an attempt at the world speed record for nonchalant walk. It would appear, that only menfolk pretend to live by those codes of honour you mentioned to your beloved teacher not long ago, whereas women – women, it seems—especially the young ones—they aren't even trying to make a show of making it out. It could be compared—from the male perspective—to playing poker in a pitch-dark room, with transparent cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who refuses to tell you the rules and smiles all the time…


“Shift your arse, you clot!”
“… yes, sweetheart.”


… and Mokou, the liverish girl – she has a body made out of entire decks of aces.



✱✱✱


One quint and a quashed ego later.
Hieda estate, front entrance.



In fact, her body may also be in a perpetual flush.

If you took a juvenile ratter, blended it into a fine strawberry-coloured smoothie, mixed with it a few ounces of one-hundred-percent caffeine powder, then gave the resulting drink to a crisp-and-lively ball-pin hammer-wielding maniac intent on bashing your brains to a pulp, well – then you would probably get one dead puppy, a life sentence for dealing in dangerous substances, and a psychopath at large to decisively cock you up; because surely, this type of dodgy activity would never result in conception of a clone of this tetchy girl that seems to have never lost an hour of sleep in all her life.

Even though she has already squandered some—more than just a couple, too—with you.


“… do I knock, or…?” you ask, staring hesitantly at the brass name-plate that, for all intents and purposes, indicates the large, eastern-style manor is inhabited by a family of sickly-looking shrubberies. “… I mean, uh, they're most likely in their beds by now, no? Do you think we ought to, uh—?”

Mokou rolls her eyes and rings the door-bell that somehow eluded you earlier.

“Oh…” you let out, “… welp.”
“Haven't you heard of those, Tiger?” she asks, smiling archly. “I'd thought they had them where you were born.”
“In my defence, sweetheart, I don't hang around these here parts all too often.”
“So?”
“Nothing, I'm just saying I still feel like a dog, sometimes – like a hapless mutt that's been adopted by another household, and finds that in this lovely new family, the sofas are inexplicably not for sitting on, the bones are supposed to be eaten and not buried, and everybody laughs when you lick your backside.”
“I don't really know what you're trying to tell me, here.”
'Sodding hell, what's wrong with licking my backside? Everybody does it where I come from!' – that's how I feel about this closed door business. Over where I was brought up, we left our front doors unlocked – just in case somebody from our neighbourhood got drawn into some queer, live-or-die sort of situation and needed our—oh, hullo.”


Sooner than you can finish the tear-jerking fable of your painful culture-shock, the front entrance of the Hiedas' residence comes open, and reveals a sight that Beethoven must have had in mind when he wrote the Moonlight Sonata.
“… good evening,” the sight greets you, deadpan. Her shadow-circled eyes spell grave news like April of '82; but then she backs off a step, lightly swishing her uncovered hips, which effectively takes your mind off the roaring 707s above. Her wafer-thin night-shirt is barely touching her loins, and her smooth, tanned legs seem to be going on for hours. “… uh, sir?” she inquires in that tone of forced politeness every man-or-woman-servant masters sooner or later in their career. “… how may I help?”
“Oh yes,” you swallow your metaphors like razor-blades. “Is the little lady available at this time?”
“… Miss Hieda is asleep,” the maid states dryly, “as was I, if you will excuse my saying so. If you seek counsel, sir, might I suggest you come tomorrow morning, preferably after breakfast? I guarantee Miss Hieda will be delighted to see you then.”
Mokou prods you sharply in the side. “I don't think she trusts you, Tiger,” she says, half-aloud, “maybe your face tipped her off.”
“I reckon we could've done without that remark, sweetheart,” you answer her tartly. “Pay no attention to her,” you tell the maid, “she's just being sort of stingy today, that is all. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Shooter,” you reach out a hand. “I'm a dick.”
“… a dick,” the girl drills you with her carmine stare, “… seriously.”
“Oh, you know, a dick?… a detective!… ugh, never mind,” you give up, “I suck rather hard, don't I?”
“Everything you can get, Tiger,” Mokou chips in.
“Either way, I may not be a real detective, but miss Akyu knows me well, and if you don't mind, I would much prefer to see her right now.”
“Miss Hieda is asleep,” the maid iterates patiently. “If I might suggest—“

“Not with all this noise at my door, I'm not.”


Out of the blue, Akyu swans in from the darkness beyond the young maid's back, and takes a stance by the door-frame, giving you an examining look.
“It's you,” she says.
“True.”
“Where is Keine?”
“Keine?” you repeat. “I, er… I told her and Reimu to go and leg it to the shrine for the time being.”
Akyu stamps her little foot on the floorboards. “I needed to speak with her, pet.”
“I had no idea—”
“—and,” she cuts in, “you wanted to spend some quality time with your girlfriend, so I understand.”
“No, we—”
“Oh, don't be shy, now,” she makes a small throw with her head. “If a woman is willing to give you her love, pet, that is the greatest gift in the world. It makes you taller, makes you smarter, makes your teeth shine – boy, oh boy, women are perfect.”
“Miss Akyu,” the maid interrupts then, “do you, perhaps, know this man?”
“I am ashamed to admit, but I indeed do, Vivi, dear.”
“It is…” Vivi dithers for a moment, “… one of these matters, then?”
Akyu gives her a tickled grin. “My, sharp as always, my lovely Vivi! I adore you so much, my dear, I truly do!”
“In that case, I shall prepare the tea urn,” the maid announces, bowing. “If you will excuse me—”
“No, forget the urn, dear,” the little girl stops her. “Instead, go upstairs and pack me some fresh clothes, please. I'll be staying at the History School for the rest of the night, I think.”

“Pardon?” you fail to hold your disbelief. “No, you won't be staying at school, young miss. I don't reckon this is a—”
“Excuse me, pet?” Akyu assumes an irked look. “Did you, Lord forbid, have different plans for tonight, perchance? I believe you were absolutely dying to meet with me, were you not? It would be wise to make your mind up, pet…” she pauses, “… and DON'T you EVER call me a young miss again!”



[ ] “In all actuality, I do have different plans for this wonderful night. I'll have some of that tea, miss Vivi, if you would be so kind.”
[ ] “… fine, I give up, bollocks, whatever makes you talk… maybe that way will be safer, what in the blazes do I know?…”


==


>>32387
Strange how?
>> No. 32398
[x] “In all actuality, I do have different plans for this wonderful night. I'll have some of that tea, miss Vivi, if you would be so kind."
>> No. 32399
[x] “I wasn't dying to see you, but somebody would have if Keine wasn't so lucky”
-[x] “So as you see, little miss, the stakes are high and my patience is thin. Spare me the ego trip or all the knowledge of the world won't help you when I'm throwing you around like a rag-doll”
>> No. 32400
[x] “In all actuality, I do have different plans for this wonderful night. I'll have some of that tea, miss Vivi, if you would be so kind.”

Why kiss up to the little prick? Tea sounds fantastic.
>> No. 32403
[x] “I wasn't dying to see you, but somebody would have if Keine wasn't so lucky”
-[x] “So as you see, little miss, the stakes are high and my patience is thin."
>> No. 32405
[x] “I wasn't dying to see you, but somebody would have if Keine wasn't so lucky.”
-[x] “So as you see, little miss, the stakes are high and my patience is thin. Spare me the ego trip or all the knowledge of the world won't help you when I'm throwing you around like a rag-doll.”

Akyu will probably stop VIVIT from tossing you through a window--and the ensuing brawl between VIVIT and Mokou--because she's concerned about Keine.

Probably.
>> No. 32406
[X] “I wasn't dying to see you, but somebody would have if Keine wasn't so lucky.”
-[X] “So as you see, little miss, the stakes are high and my patience is thin. Spare me the ego trip or all the knowledge of the world won't help you when I'm throwing you around like a rag-doll.”

And then VIVIT pulls out a nuclear powered gun and fires it at us before Akyu can utter one syllable.

Or something.
>> No. 32407
File 12895706148.jpg - (401.71KB, 900x900, 13193455.jpg) [iqdb]
32407
I've one gripe with that write-in – it doesn't decide the course of action (between taking the little lady to the school and engaging in a quick interrogation over a cup of tea at her place), so… if you would be so nice to include that choice, I could start writing soon…

… well, soon-ish, hopefully

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32408
>>32407

[x] Quick interrogation
>> No. 32409
>>32407
...sorry. My bad.

[x] Quick int.
>> No. 32412
[┼] “I wasn't dying to see you, but somebody would have if Keine wasn't so lucky”
-[┼] “So as you see, little miss, the stakes are high and my patience is thin."
--[┼]Viva la interrogación!
>> No. 32414
--[┼]Viva la interrogación!
Derp.
>> No. 32415
File 128968911688.jpg - (385.89KB, 720x960, 13915947_p1.jpg) [iqdb]
32415
>>32414
Don't derp me, mate.
>> No. 32416
>>32415
I was derping my self, but if will get you to post hot man keine...
>> No. 32417
File 128976286131.jpg - (305.06KB, 850x1189, 25341c6d640dd9e02e17b6a43062492e.jpg) [iqdb]
32417
>>32415
>> No. 32418
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>>32417
>> No. 32419
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32419
>>32418
>> No. 32421
File 128977829826.jpg - (429.61KB, 650x874, 14011626.jpg) [iqdb]
32421
>>32419
but i dun wannaaaaa
I'll get at it, soon. I spent nearly all of Friday and today on constant move, and I'm kind of knackered. I'll see if I can rack out some Akyu bashin' tomorrow.
Oh, and by the way, I love you. I haven't seen the plotton reference in forever, and it made me smile. Have I ever mentioned that you are the best readers on THP? Well, you are. I honestly think so.

Cheers.
—R

>> No. 32423
>>32421
>I'll get at it, soon. I spent nearly all of Friday and today on constant move, and I'm kind of knackered. I'll see if I can rack out some Akyu bashin' tomorrow.

Hooray!
>> No. 32424
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32424
Quick note. I've gone down with crap health. Slept through all of yesterday and most of today. Sort of feeling better today, but I don't think it's possible to get anything done now. I'll try tomorrow.

Don't respond to this post. Pull your curtains. Lock your front doors. Hide your sexy Mokou pics. Don't pick up your phones. Trust nobody. Question everything.
>> No. 32425
File 128996915357.jpg - (84.83KB, 550x519, 1801018.jpg) [iqdb]
32425
>>32424
>Don't respond to this post. Pull your curtains. Lock your front doors. Hide your sexy Mokou pics. Don't pick up your phones. Trust nobody. Question everything.
Will do my broth...
>Hide your sexy Mokou pics.
Yeah... actually not so much
>> No. 32429
File 129005323631.jpg - (505.54KB, 822x1200, a00f0c02aed69ed1c8799c7e4bf6136e.jpg) [iqdb]
32429
[X] “I wasn't dying to see you, but somebody would have if Keine wasn't so lucky.”
-[X] “So as you see, little miss, the stakes are high and my patience is thin. Spare me the ego trip or all the knowledge of the world won't help you when I'm throwing you around like a rag-doll.”

If by “plans” she meant “unrigging this supertanker of Irish bull”, she might be on the right lines.

Smoothing it out with the rest of the Village isn't going to be much unlike fixing a busted electrical system – both have crooked live wires that need to be stuck back in their place, as well as blown fuses that need replacing – although instead of electricity, the Village has people, and instead of radios and waffle irons, it has pastures, mills and workshops. So, the truth is that your electrical system is nothing like your Village, which is good, because electricity can kill you.

On the other hand, so can people.

Shocker.


“I've already done made my mind up,” you say. Sooner or later, we are all someone's dog, true – but for you, it bloody well isn't happening till the fat lady sings – and whenever and wherever she finally decides to hold her gig, you are going to be there – and if she so much as opens her gob, you will shoot her tonsils off along with her tongue. “I wasn't dying to see you,” you go on, “but somebody would have, if Keine hadn't been so lucky.”
Akyu puts on a nettled smile. “Is that so?”
“Indeed, it is,” you speak slowly, drawling each word, “because unlike this other somebody that claims to be her friend, I was out there – helping her decamp this lout-rife crock of hell-hole – and whilst I have no idea what in the blazes is going on, I am fully aware of just how dire it is. So, as you see, little miss,” you lean forward to meet the small girl at eye-level, “the stakes are high, and my patience is quickly wearing thin. It would be wise to spare me the ego trip, because all the knowledge in the world won't help you in the least when I'm throwing you around like a bleeding rag-doll.”
Akyu smiles even wider. “Say that again,” she dares. “Give me the pleasure, pet. Say it again.”
“Have you problems hearing?”
“I might fake some for your convenience. Once more, please – you are going to do what with me, now?”

“Enough of this,” you bark at the girl, worsening the already strained inter-generational relations – and you would happily worsen them even further, but alas, Brennan isn't around for you to kill. “I do not know where you picked up that snotty-nosed act, but I will have no more of it.”
“Oh, you are on shaky ground,” she warns.
“No, in fact, I am not – you, however – you might want to examine your footing very, very carefully, young mi—
“Vivi.”


In that split-second, sooner than the small voice is done pronouncing her name, the obedient maid bolts forward, her right arm flashing back for a quick, loss-dealing blow – a lightning-fast cross-punch that homes in perfectly on your abdomen and nearly grinds your innards into man-pâté. It doesn't give you the honourable privilege of taking proper stance – nor the time to ready a defence, or to brace to absorb the force of the impact, it just—simply as that—sweeps you off your feet before you can do anything at all.

“GAH—!”

Since the invention of punches, there have been hardly twenty that were honestly noteworthy – and although this one came from a figure no bulkier than a stack of broomsticks taped together, it comes very close to beating the single most terrifying cross you have witnessed off its top-fifth berth. Exposed to that tremendous force, you are sent crashing backward, off the pit-run gravel path, through the dense flowerbeds, and into the low shrub hedging the sleeping manor of the Hiedas…

… and in spite your personal anticipations, you are still aware. On the verge of slipping off, yes, but entirely conscious. Hands – covered in minute scrapes. Head – ringing with dull pain. Vision – blurred. Sentences – hopelessly fragmented…

… but conscious all the same.


“——!”
“—… —…!!!”


Sounds of a heated exchange glue the scraps of your tattered thoughts together.
Suffering, perhaps, may be something that men are supposed grit their teeth on and endure – but not even the calmest man in the world would remain unflappable if somebody spat an insult in his face and jumped him with a hunting knife – let alone if they jumped his most precious other.

“MOKOU!” you bristle up, taking your rifle off the slings in a smooth, seamless sequence of motions. Mokou – forced to her knees by the grotesque strength of the inhuman maid – freezes seeing that, but so does her would-be assailant, petrified halfway into an uppercut, now staring stupidly in the gaping barrel of your firearm. “ONE bruise,” you hiss over the stiffening pain, “ONE bloody bruise, ONE HAIR missing from her head, one SCRATCH – and you are DEAD, do you hear? YOU. ARE. DEAD.”

Stock-still in her hostile pose, Vivi remains defiant. “… I will not—“ she declares, “—follow the instructions of—”
“NO,” you cut her off. “I don't think you quite UNDERSTOOD, so LET ME REITERATE. IF you want to LIVE, you MOTHERLESS SLAG, IF you value your continued EXISTENCE, if you WISH to see the light of another day, there is ONE THING that you NEVER, EVER, even for a SCANT MOMENT, consider doing – and that is RISING YOUR ROTTEN HAND against MY GIRLFRIEND.”
“Miss Hieda said—”
“LET HER GO,” you demand in a steel voice.
“I will not—…” she hesitates, “… I cannot—!”
“One—LAST—time. LET. HER. GO.”
“… I must not—!”


“Enough.”

Concealed until now in the shades of the open entryway, Akyu emerges into the street-lamp light, her small, naked feet wobbly making their little paces on the ice-cold approach. Sallow on her face, the young miss gives her servant a concise look that forces the young maid to release her hold on Mokou and smartly back off to the house. Having disposed of her inhuman attendant, the small girl forces a few more steps, then comes to an unsteady stop within the reach of your throbbing arms – and at the mercy of your itching trigger-finger.

“… put that away,” she pleads.
“No.”
“Please, Shooter.”
“N—…” you choke at the sound of your name on her lips. “… only if you apologise first.”
“I will,” she assures, “but please, put that away.”
“… very well,” you lower your sights a tad, “now, young miss, apologise.”
Akyu dips her entire upper body in a sinking bow. “I, Hieda Akyu, apologise—” her voice quivers, “—apologise most terribly for my inadequate and immature behaviour. I let my inane pride get the best of me, which was unfitting of my heritage as the Descendant of Miare and my obligations towards the name of Hieda. I swear upon my family and my given name, that it will never occur again.”
“I do not believe you.”
Akyu straightens up. “… I thought you might have your reservations. In that case, I have no choice – as a woman, it is my duty to take my punishment without complaint. Slap me, punch me, kick me – do whatever you need to forgive me, Shooter – just…” she closes her eyes and swallows, “… just don't make me scream – I don't want my parents to hear.”
“…”
“Quickly, I beg you,” she urges, “my toes are beginning to feel numb.”
“…”
“Shooter, please…”
“… fuck this, I'm above this farce.”


Ignoring the still-waiting girl, you skid around her side, making only the minutest effort to notice her trembling shoulders, her held-in breath, the aura of nervous readiness for the penance in the offing. How utterly fucked-up is that? Is she trying to exploit your weakened conscience to make you absolve her attempt on your bowels? Or is she just playing on your nerves again?

It is her duty as a woman to accept her punishment without complaint?

Inane pride, your arse – this is disgusting.


Mokou grabs a hold of you before you fall to your skull's demise by tripping on your feet. “Tiger! Is everything—are you all right?”
“… I feel like I'm about to puke.”
“No,” she says, stroking your back with one hand. “Come on, you nonce, breathe – you've had worse.”
“… right,” you give a short cough, “… tell the—ugh, bloody hell… tell the little miss she can head back inside.”
Akyu confirms before the command is passed on. “I heard that,” she says, “so don't speak, Fujiwara – you will rouse his stomach. If you will forgive me, I will take my liberty and go tell Vivi to get at that tea and maybe find a bag of ice or two.”
“… tell her,” you grunt, “tell her that—urk… bollocks, that I forgive her, for now.”
“Good, he still has his wits about him,” the little lady exhales with relief, “and dear me, I still have mine, too, even though my heart is about to come out my throat. Oh boy… oh boy,” she sighs again, sadder, “… I can't believe myself… I envy you so much, Fujiwara.”
Mokou makes a face. “Say what?”
“I envy you,” says the small girl, “I truly do. In none of my lives have I encountered a male that would protect me as fervently as this silly cat here wanted to protect you moments ago… no matter how stupid and unnecessary it was. If it were me he was after, I'd have fallen for him instantly – I have an unbelievable thing for knightly protagonists. If he as much as blew in my ear – my goodness – I would follow him anywhere.”
“… and what is your point?”
“He is a treasure, Fujiwara, that is my point – and under no circumstances should you ever let him slip away – kind of like you are doing at this very moment.”
“Oh, what—” Mokou gasps, noticing you sliding out of her arms.
“Exactly,” the young miss smiles primly, “just like that, Fujiwara, just like that… now, please, carry him inside, second door to the left – lay him there and wait for me. I will soon be back with that tea and ice. Close the door behind you.”


Even as the small girl vanishes in the house, you try to speak up. “Mokou—”
Mokou doesn't let you round off, though. “Oh no,” she says, “no blowing in my ear this time, Tiger – puke on face isn't my idea of having a jolly good time. Come on,” she heaves you gently, nearly making you throw up your insides all over her clothes, “let's get you indoors and plunk down somewhere.”
“… but—”
“Oh,” she moans, “belt up, you plank. I know I'm smiling. It's my sodding face, you know.”
“… Mokou, but I'm sorry—”
“—you're sorry you're an idiot, I realise, but if you sling me a cat on these rags, there won't be any good left, so shush.”
“…”
“I love you, too, Tiger.”


Great, so it seems your girlfriend has a hard-on for massive morons, and you are one so blooming big and fat, that – no matter how sharp and chic you make yourself look – she will keep on gravitating to your gigantic stupid. If you had any more reasons to feel like the Stupidest Twat on the Planet, you could commandeer one of the shacks outside of the Village and open a Reasons to Feel Like the Stupidest Twat on the Planet shop.


It's a miracle you haven't got a dunce-hat for an accessory just to ram home what a queer wag you are.



✱✱✱
>> No. 32431
>>32429

> Update

Sorry, I couldn't read it over Akyu's tits.

She's supposed to die before she gets those.
>> No. 32434
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>>32431
Oh, you would be surprised how quickly girls grow up these days. I've seen thirteen years olds with gazooms the size of—uh… well, big gazooms.
Then again, everyone has tits in MiD.
>> No. 32435
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32435
>Great, so it seems your girlfriend has a hard-on for massive morons, and you are one so blooming big and fat, that – no matter how sharp and chic you make yourself look – she will keep on gravitating to your gigantic stupid.
Oh god i love you YAF.
>> No. 32437
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32437
Amazing update. I couldn't have done it better myself. If, you know, I somehow gained the ability to properly translate my thoughts into words.
> “I truly do. In none of my lives have I encountered a male that would protect me as fervently as this silly cat here wanted to protect you moments ago"
Poor little miss: she deserves better, but her rivals are just too strong.
>> No. 32439
>>32437

Don't forget the fact that she won't live to see the age of 30. If she's lucky, she might make it to the age of 20.
>> No. 32443
File 129023883940.jpg - (89.69KB, 1048x1087, ohgodthoselips.jpg) [iqdb]
32443
✱✱✱


—“How is he?
“I've been better, go to the devil.”
“He says he is okay, thank you.”

“… I can hear him, Miss Akyu.”
“I am merely translating his childish drivel into our tongue,” Akyu replies with a small sigh. “Haven't you duties in the morning, though? I should be able to handle everything from here on, so why don't you have your time off while we thrash out the boring stuff here?”
“If possible, I would like to—”
“I trust him, dear,” the little lady speaks in a staid voice. “Seriously, I can handle this – you can go to sleep without worry.”
“However, if Miss Akyu is awake, surely I—”
“Go to sleep, please.”
“Still—”
“Go to sleep – he won't be a problem.”
“Even so—”
“Gracious sakes, just go to sleep, will you! If I had known you two would make such a clamour at the door, I would have left him instructions to climb in through my bedroom window!”
“Miss Akyu!”
“I am sixteen, dear,” the teeny girl slaps the tabletop, “I can take care of myself if need be – and he is a grown-up, responsible man—Shooter is—and he has more urgent matters to fret about than stripping me naked and tearing the house to splinters.”
“But—”
“God, I even considered marrying him, once! Or do you not remember?”
“… yes, Miss Akyu, I do recall hearing of such an intent.”
“How do I feel about males that put their ardency before their common sense?”
“… yet, if my observations are correct, he—”
“How do I feel about those kinds of males, Vivi?”
“… yes, Miss Akyu,” the maid caves in grudgingly. “If they consider their groins higher a priority than their social standing and well-being, they are no better than apes that found climbing down from their tree and pulling a razor against their face lets them appear as civilised men.”
“It is such a vulgar way to say it, don't you think?”
“Miss Akyu's exact words.”
“Indeed,” the young miss smiles, “now, tell me – would I ever ponder marrying a shaven ape?”
“No, Miss Akyu, you would most likely not.”
“Certainly, my dear – apes stink and are dirty, and they couldn't hold their chopsticks properly if their lives were hanging in the balance. I would never marry an ape, and I cannot imagine any other woman would find the idea very attractive. Now, since we've got that misunderstanding cleared up, you will be a good girl and leave us alone with our tea, will you not?”
“If I might insist all the same—”
Akyu lands her little fist alarmingly close to the tea tray. “Good Lord! Get out of my hair and go to bed, already!”

Grunting under her breath, the sceptical maid rises from the table and does a restrained bow. “… very well,” she says, her teeth clenched, “it shall be as Miss Akyu deems best.”
“So it shall. Good night and sweet dreams, dear.”
“Miss Akyu is too kind. Miss Fujiwara,” the maid addresses the other girl, “good night to you.”
“Oh,” Mokou snaps back to reality, ”uh… I reckon, yeah.”
Good night would be the correct response, Miss Fujiwara. If you will excuse me…”


Once again, the irascible handmaiden gives a bow, then heads out into the hall, sliding the door behind her with only a marginally offended clatter of the frames. Some seconds pass in silence, and then, all of a sudden, Akyu spits a word that you doubt she knows the meaning of, scrambles to her feet, and goes for the door as well.

“I was under the impression you were supposed to go back to your room!” she chides the maid that has been apparently standing outside on the lookout, like a heron waiting for the right moment to skewer a poor, innocent carp.
“… yes, Miss Akyu,” Vivi inclines her head, “yet if you would reassess—”
“Go to bed – now.”
“… Miss Akyu—”
Miss Akyu gives her a cross look. “If you continue to disobey me, dear, I will tell Father who has been nipping his sake stocks in the cellar.”
“… that is—”
“I imagine,” the little lady presses on, “that Mother as well would be pleased to find out what happened to her favourite western dress – the blue one, with frills, puffed sleeves and high collar – you know which one, no?”
“… that wasn't my fault—”
“It will be, if you don't leave us in peace.”
“… I understand. If Miss Akyu poses it like that…”
“Outstanding as always. Good night, dear. I love you.”
“… the sentiment is mutual.”


Now that they are at last clear on that point, the long-haired maid makes off down the corridor, her steps quickly dissipating deeper in the labyrinth of the manor walls, whilst Akyu—the authoritarian baroness—lets out one more swear-word before giving her vertebrae another nasty surprise by wrenching them sideways to crumple down at the low table.


“If I have to go and personally put her under her blankets, I swear… honestly, did you absolutely have to scare her like that, pet? I will admit you impressed me, but coping with her in this state is simple as trying to pet a choleric cat with rabies.” Or simple as peeing into a test tube from the top of a wobbly ladder, you think – but then, as anyone who has ever tried it will testify, the secret is to stay up the ladder and keep peeing until you finally hit the tube. “Oh, and by the way,” she carries on, “never mind that thing, Fujiwara.”
Mokou frowns. “Never mind what thing?”
“I never really considered marrying him. It is true – that I am groping for a husband somewhat desperately – but we—he and I—we are in no way compatible, don't you think?”
“… uh-huh.”
Akyu lets out a weak giggle. “Marriages…” she exhales, “… can you even look forward to them? Good ones end in death, bad ones – in divorce… nothing to be positive about, those marriages. Say, Fujiwara, you have a certain history with marriages, don't you?”
“... didn't we talk about that when you were doing your stupid book?”
“Oh yes, that we have, that we have… but how long ago was that? One or two years, I think—no, at least four or five, hm?”
“… that is a big difference.”
“It is, no? It's peculiar how people refuse to notice the passage of time. Sometimes we are late and rushing blindly forward, other times we are premature and just biding our excess time… say, Fujiwara,” she accosts then, “your forearm – did you have some kind of accident? It is not every day I see you strolling about sporting a bandage.”
“Oh, this,” Mokou glances at her forearm, “I, uh… sort of cut myself.”
“Hmm, I had thought you and Keine agreed you wouldn't do that any more.”
“Very funny.”
Akyu forces a laugh. “I kid, I kid – don't look at me like that, please. So, what about these clothes, then? Not your usual style, I would say.”
Mokou rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Tiger, why don't you tell her?”
“Indeed,” nods the little lady, “why don't you?”


Zizz-time is up, it seems.
Slowly, you lift your head up from Mokou's lap, and then – careful not to rupture your knees on the squat tabletop – you take a seat as closely as possible at her side. It's time to take the plunge and start grilling the little lady for more constructive information – and while most of the time taking the plunge means getting hitched with a girl, moving to the countryside and having a horde of noisome offspring – in your case, it's more of an attempt at not chucking up your internal organs in a very untidy and shameful death.

It's a good simile, actually, now that you think about it.


“… and here I thought you'd forget and let me doze off for the rest of the bloody night.”
Akyu bats her eyelashes at you innocently. “Oh no, of course not, pet. It was never my intention to let you feel ignored. May I know how your belly is faring?”
“It's been better,” you tell her, “and we've already established where you can go to gen up on the details.”
“Hmm…” Akyu takes a long sip from her teacup – possibly to hide her smirk. “So, pursuing our previous subject… why did you tog Fujiwara in these stupid-looking habits? Is there any reason or did you simply have a streak of caprice for some unusual dress-up?”
“No,” you say, “or rather, yes – you see, that mop of her stands out lots in the dark, and I'd much rather not stand out when there is no need to… for instance when we are—”
“—when you are sneaking around,” she fills in, quite accurately. “Indeed, I see how that could prove problematic. Say, but this is not your natural colour, is it, Fujiwara? Human hair loses colour—bleaches—when exposed to sunlight, of course, and you spend—or used to spend—a lot of time outside, no?”
Mokou shrugs. “… maybe.”
“So,” the little lady goes on, positively excited, “if we cut it a bit, and let it grow back at some length, would it grow back in another colour?”
“… what are you getting at?”
“Oh, nothing,” she gives a dismissing wave, “I just had this hunch I might have figured out something rather curious. Oh, the irony – it would be so sweet, if I am not mistaken.”

“Okay, ladies.” Sensing the situation quickly slipping your control, you take the chance and edge in. “I love me some good chin-wagging every now and again, but we haven't come here to exchange pleasantries and play barbershop. Now, young miss,” you address the little lady, “you are going to answer some questions – and truthfully, because our lives—especially your— may get rather difficult if you feed me cobblers and I end up taking a wrong step somewhere.”
Akyu snorts irritably. “If only you quit trying to get on my nerves with that young miss.”
“Same could be said of your pet, perhaps.”
“We are quite even, then, wouldn't you agree? Never mind,” she cuts off the potential retorts. “So, tell me, what do you wish to know?”
“Everything,” you say, “everything from the start.”
“Well, let's see… first the Earth cooled, and then the dinosaurs came – but they got too plump and heavy, so they all died and turned into oil. Next, humans came and started poking about, and before long, the monsters started to get too nosy, and then Yukari sealed them off in the Land of Illusions, and next thing I know, somebody shows up that seemingly has the power to stir the contents of female underwear, and before anybody can do a thing, he has his thing inside this one—”
“If my guts weren't feeling like pasta, you'd have been begging for an ice bag for your behind, young miss.”

Akyu laughs. “He is in such good mood tonight, isn't he?”
“No,” Mokou explains, “that was him in a bad mood – when he's feeling friendly, he bends straight down and gives you oral sex.”
“Maybe I'll brush up on my chauvinist jokes and try to catch him on a better day, then. Either way, pet,” the little lady takes on a more serious expression, “before you begin asking specific questions – like you ought to have figured out you should have done – let me tell you one more thing. Hieda Akyu is part historian, and there is a peculiar dichotomy in the nature of anyone who calls himself—or herself—a historian. Historians all piously assure us that they're telling us the true, truthful truth about what took precedence in the past, but if you turn any competent historian over and look at his underside, you will find a storyteller, pet – and you can believe me when I tell you that no storyteller is ever going to tell a story without a few embellishments. We have all got our political, theological and personal preconceptions that are going to colour what we write, and you will begin to realise that no history of any event is entirely reliable, even—or especially—mine.”
“… you are saying that you're going to lie to me?” you ask.
“No, pet – what I can tell you is more or less true, but I am not omniscient. I merely write down what I see, and since I see it with my own eyes, you will have to separate pure truth from what might be unwitting fiction on your own. If nothing else, it'll sharpen your mind.”
“So, you are going to lie to me.”
“No, you dunderhead,” she scolds, “that means I simply cannot tell you everything – because there are things I do not know of, as well as things I can only make assumptions about – which holds true for everyone in the world, not just me. Haven't you already been lectured in this topic by Keine – some three or four days ago? Humans are not infallible, and you should know better than to blindly believe what they are telling you.”

“Okay, okay,” you give up, “copy that, bloody hell. I will take your lies with a bucketful of salt, then.”
“Great,” she nods approvingly, “ please do. So, what would you like me to spin a tale about?”
“One, that mob of knob-sacks at the School – did you see that?”
“Heard of it—or just it—yes. Father didn't allow me to go and join them, though – he is so stubborn at times.”
“What did they want?”
“Keine, pet, think for yourself a little.”
“Obviously,” you ignore her jab. “Elaborate, if you could.”
“Keine has been prying in their affairs.”
“Nothing specific?”
Akyu gives a musing hum. “… maybe, pet – though I would prefer not to take guesses.”
“I would much rather you did.”
“I figured as much, pet…” she pauses, scratching her head, “… okay, listen, this is totally unconfirmed, and seeing how desperate you are, I probably shouldn't be sharing this with you, but… Father was apparently told by somebody that Keine had been trying to dismantle the hunting group—your group—because they—or you, because you—you were intruding on the Hakurei field of work – or leastwise it seems that way.”
“… you are sure of this?”
“Not at all, pet. I do not believe even those gorillas living in the sheds—no offence—would be as ignorant to make such far-fetched suppositions – unless somebody has been purposefully spreading silly rumours, but I cannot for the life of me imagine what they would do that for.”
“… Brennan.”

“No idea either, pet,” Akyu shrugs, taking your murmuring for another question. “He hasn't been up to much, that I can tell – since he only returned here today in the afternoon.”
“… returned from where?”
“I do not know – he had been away for a few days, and I haven't seen him much. Not that I usually do, mind you.”
“… and when did he leave, exactly?”

“Same day that you were taken to the Clinic, pet – when we fought—that was the last time I saw him—until today. Say,” a thought seems to flash to her head, “it just occurred to me… How about you—you and Fujiwara—spend the night here in my house? Our guest rooms have been cleaned recently, I believe, and you two – you could both use a long and thorough bath,” she wrinkles her little nose to stress the fact, “especially you, Fujiwara – you positively reek of—well, you can smell yourself and see, most likely. Oh, and I will sleep with you, of course,” she adds, “since you were looking to hide your presence in the Village, it would be best if there was somebody to cover for you in case someone noises it about, yes?”
“… presumably,” you give a cautious answer.
“It should be safer if I am with you, then. Mother and Father would have nothing against it, I am sure – and nor would I.”
“Hmm,” you pretend to consider the idea. “Sweetheart?”
Mokou smiles just a bit too eagerly – the reeking remark has evidently not gone by unnoticed. “I'll do whatever you reckon is good,” she says, “… except shagging on somebody's porch, maybe, but other than that, I'm easy.”
Akyu claps her little hands. “So there you have it, pet! How is it going to be?”



[ ] Accept.
—[ ] If Mokou wants to snorkel, let her snorkel. In the meantime, you and Akyu should talk more. (about things you can either specify yourself or let me make the choice)
—[ ] Mokou may do whatever she pleases – but you have one more locus to scout out tonight.
—[ ] Sure, a wash sounds nice, doesn't it? Hopefully the manor has running water, unlike Keine's place.
[ ] Refuse.
—[ ] Mokou and you are going back to the School – and soon, before anybody else discovers you are here.
—[ ] Mokou may smell, but you still love her – and she might have to hold your entrails while you infiltrate this other place.
—[ ] Instead, suggest you might take another look at the possibility of letting Akyu sleep over at the School.
>> No. 32444
[x] Accept.
—[x] Sure, a wash sounds nice, doesn't it? Hopefully the manor has running water, unlike Keine's place.
Take the middle road.
>> No. 32445
[x] Accept.
—[x] Sure, a wash sounds nice, doesn't it? Hopefully the manor has running water, unlike Keine's place.
>> No. 32446
[x] Accept.
—[x] Mokou may do whatever she pleases – but you have one more locus to scout out tonight.

Things are moving forward. But... we still have why or who revived him after he died-twice, I might add; and I still feel that Reimu killing shooter was too OOC to be normal. And I haven't touched the surprise-miko-in-the-bed part.
>> No. 32449
[x] Accept.
—[x] Mokou may do whatever she pleases – but you have one more locus to scout out tonight.

We should be able to confirm Akyu's explanation about the mob and also find out when they're moving on Reimu's shrine. Even if it's immediately, we'll be able to beat them there because Mokou can fly. If we fall asleep without finding out, by the time we wake up it might be too late.
>> No. 32451
>>32449
That'd be too bold of them and I doubt they know that Keine was moved there.
>> No. 32453
>I doubt they know that Keine was moved there.

We asked Reimu to make a show of leaving. Don't you remember?
>> No. 32458
File 129037910454.jpg - (598.17KB, 1000x1200, 14681402.jpg) [iqdb]
32458
>>32443
[X] Accept.
—[X] Mokou may do whatever she pleases – but you have one more locus to scout out tonight.

Torn between this and sticking around to ask Akyu more questions, but I think we'd learn more seeing things ourselves than have things relayed to us by the little miss. Mokou might be cheesed about leaving to do our own investigating, since it's pretty much guaranteed that Shooter will cock something up. Without her to save his dumb arse, he's going to be particularly fucked, but she could use a break from the babysitting.

It's pretty interesting that Keine's (possible) meddling with the hunting party caused that whole ruckus. The particulars of Keine's and Reimu's relationship seems to be quite central to many of these events. I can't help but wonder what's going to happen now that we've sent the two of them to be alone together. Akyu might be the person to ask about this, but we need a little more information so we can ask the right kinds of questions.
>> No. 32460
>>32453
I thought it was more acting like someone was in the house while Reimu and Keine snuck out.
>> No. 32461
>I thought it was more acting like someone was in the house while Reimu and Keine snuck out.

Maybe you voted for that, but that's not what happened:

>“Surely you can't be serious! I can't believe this! How can you jest so lightly,when—”
>—but just as she's about to finish, an explosion sounds outside.

>—WHOOM!

>On an instinct, you snatch the stormy girl, and shove her to the floor, shielding her with your body from possible shrapnel or debris. Obviously, bloody hell – you were the one who told the impulsive shrine maiden 'make a show of leaving' – you should have honestly seen this coming.

That 'WHOOM' is pretty unequivocal. Keine and Reimu didn't 'sneak out' in the least.
>> No. 32462
>>32461
>Maybe you voted for that, but that's not what happened
I am terribly, TERRIBLY sorry if that is indeed the case. :<
>> No. 32464
Still I doubt they'd be stupid enough to attack the shrine; way to easily defensible of a spot.

And I think our smell might give us way on any investigating.
>> No. 32465
File 129053552927.jpg - (192.52KB, 461x487, 1289273590178.jpg) [iqdb]
32465
[ ] What Would Yaffy do?
>> No. 32466
File 129063536599.png - (4.90KB, 125x105, 121029838623s.png) [iqdb]
32466
>>32465

[x] Accept.
—[x] Mokou may do whatever she pleases – but you have one more locus to scout out tonight.
>> No. 32467
File 129071030072.jpg - (1.30MB, 1200x1600, you_wouldnt_marry_a_mokou.jpg) [iqdb]
32467
Couldn't update yesterday. Was watching GSL getting pissed fapping to Mokou studying for exams. Head hurts. Sorry. Have some tits.
I'll try to update before the week is done.
Until then, folks. Until then. brb fainting
>> No. 32468
File 129074639264.jpg - (235.99KB, 1600x1200, 14295651.jpg) [iqdb]
32468
>>32467
>mfw file name
>> No. 32469
>>32467

Correct, I won't marry a Mokou, for various reasons.

>>32468

And this is one of those reasons.
>> No. 32470
File 129077045647.jpg - (460.36KB, 1000x1412, 78c1232611d6ea8e41278fe20fb2156c.jpg) [iqdb]
32470
>>32467
It seems you dedicated the whole Thread to Mokou.
>> No. 32471
File 129077552381.jpg - (310.00KB, 1125x1372, 5291ffe27989bfc6fcbff3c9513722a1.jpg) [iqdb]
32471
>>32470
>It seems you dedicated the whole Thread to Mokou.
No, there's Kaguya as we—wait a second…
>> No. 32477
File 129097782030.jpg - (384.88KB, 992x1156, BUT WE NEED MORE SACRIFICES.jpg) [iqdb]
32477
[X] Accept.
—[X] Mokou may do whatever she pleases – but you have one more locus to scout out tonight.

In a perfect universe, there would be warnings.

Ideally drawn up sort of like the unskippable copyright claims and related folderol flashing you with legal threats in films from the more profit-concerned companies, along the lines of: “the situation you are about to enter is potentially dangerous! Can you read? Surely, you are a responsible member of the modern society. Do you understand what circumspection is? Or are you just another stupid toddler who thinks they are an adult simply because they have grown older, have—unfortunately—developed fully-functioning sexual organs, and got hired into a trivial, below-average-paying business? Do you absolutely want to proceed with this crass load of bollocks you call a decision? Or would you like us to throw down some committee somewhere to decide everything for you? Get a blasted grip, will you? And close your mouth, you ass – you look like a condom slot-machine at a YMCA piss-up!”
Now, regrettably, you've been walked in on by your dearest aunt—the one woman in the family convinced to the hilt you couldn't tell your zizi from your running nose—whilst checking out an unmarked R-18 video, with the remote out of reach, a clammy tissue in your hand, and a Latino-American wonder-boy hyperventilating at you from the screen to do all sorts of kinky things to his throbbing manhood.

It would have been so much easier if somebody had designed the world and doting relatives just a tad more considerately.


“Sure, bloody hell, fine,” you capitulate. “If you say it ought to be safer that way, bugger, it probably is.”
In all fidelity, their two pressing stares have grown quite unbearable over the course of the last couple of moments. Call back those times when you at least had the illusion of authority? Good times, those times. It feels like you'd have to be on your deathbed nowadays to be taken in the slightest critically.
Akyu wrests the last remnants of the pleasant past from your cold fingers. “Good, wonderful, pet,” she grins like a necrophiliac in a morgue, “to be honest, your silence was really starting to set my teeth on the edge.”
“I do sort of think too much at times, I reckon.”
“Oh no, don't mind it. Genius is always recognised only after the blood has been moped up and the naysayers have had their round.”
“It's like a kind of communicable disease often-times, though,” you say.
“How so?”
“It makes you unsuitable for a lot of tasks, and then you have the urge to share it, cue excessive monologuing that narks the love out of anybody unfortunate enough to happen by.”
Akyu seems pleased with the analogy, somehow. “I like that,” she gives an approving look. “If you will forgive me, you should have taken up a pen instead—figuratively speaking, of course—though conceivably, some monsters could probably be persuaded through your humour rather than your bullets. Somebody once said—”
“—a pen is mightier than a sword. Clearly, he'd never had the chance to hold the latter in his hand… if he could even lift it.”

Mokou pulls the plug on the topic. “Quit letting her lead you away, Tiger,” she leans in and pecks a kiss on your cheek, “and you,” she tells the little lady, “quit praising him – he might get used to it. I'll go and tackle that bath now, since you were so dogged about it. Coming along to show me around, young miss?”
“Go on ahead, please,” the young miss replies placidly, not even twitching a brow, “down the hall to the left and then through the, um, the big, sliding doors, third on the right. Undress, if you want, and wait for me – I will be with you in just a minute.”
“Sure you will.” Mokou stands and pats you on the head. “If she has an article of clothing missing when I see her, Tiger, I am going to bite you in places you've never been bitten before, do you hear?”
“O—Okay?…”
“Good boy,” she strokes you once more and sets off to leave. “Ciao.”

“… ciao,” you answer weakly.


It looks like in the eyes of your beloved girl, your world is neatly divided into four categories: a) things to mate with, b) things to eat, c) things to run away from, and d) rocks – herself belonging in all first three, obviously. Hieda is not something you would run away from, naturally, and neither is she something you would consider edible—unless you were willing to risk severe food poisoning—which patently classifies her—in the eyes of your testy girlfriend, that is—only as a target of potential shaggings from your self-indulgent person.

Or a very lively rock, if that makes any degree of sense.


Akyu regards your pained expression with a sly sort of smile on her pale, little lips. “I love her sooo much, I do,” she chirps, “is what you are thinking right now, no?”
“Not, er… not really.”
“Well, you should be. If I had allowed my last husband this much leeway, he would have been tickled pretty pink… and possibly impregnated another woman while I was out in the potato fields. Oh, don't be giving me that look,” she chides. “I know you people would rather I played the malleable baby-girl role, but I have really had with it this time around. Either way, pet, you were going to tell me something, yes?”
“Indeed,” you agree without arguing. “I need to scout out one more place tonight.”
“I rather thought you might,” she nods, “and where is that place?”
“Off at the South side of the Village, somewhat to the flank of the barracks.”
“Oh yes, that old lecher's place,” Akyu snorts. “It's high time somebody put a foot around his privates and squeezed.”
“I am going to become that foot—or, well, the foot in the boot squeezing his privates, rather.” One cannot make an omelette without giving somebody a foot-job, it seems. “I'd prefer if we could skip that part, though. It's good to have a kink, but when you start living by it, that's where it becomes slippery fast.”

“Could I try cutting her hair?”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry for changing the topic like this,” she says, “but could I try cutting her hair? If I am right, and it grows back another colour, this could mean I have scraped the bottom of a very dirty jar, and believe me when I say that I adore scraping the bottoms of dirty jars.”
“… you what?”
“Oh, you silly—” the little lady reaches out, trying to knock you on the scalp. Unfortunately for her, the width of the low-sitting table is well beyond the sweep of her little arm.“Never mind that, then,” she pulls back, looking a little daunted, “anyway, you must have noticed, pet – that possible similarity.”
“… I don't know that I have.”
Akyu presses her palms to the tabletop. “Imagine it, pet – Fujiwara with, say, a head of BLACK hair instead of that dirty whitish one. Give that a thought – what colour does she like the most—or, what colour does she like wearing the most, hmm?”
“Well, wasn't that red and whi—…” you stop and stare at the startlingly sharp girl opposite of you, “… surely you can't be serious! It's—… uh, true, I reckon, but—”
“—but it could well be that, no? Girls their age—their mental age—despise looking like one another, did you know that? It's just a wild guess of mine, yes, but there has to be a reason for their dislike for each other, and it would be best for you if you could work it out some way, no? I am trying to help you here, pet, don't be stubborn. If it was raining love, you would be the only person around with a parasol, you know?”
“…”
“If that helps, suppose living in a society is about scratching each other's backs, and I am scratching yours at the moment.”
“… you've got a knife there in your other hand, don't you?”
“Oops,” Akyu gives a fake gasp of surprise. “Got me that time, old boy. Is this what they called you in your group? Old boy?”
“Is it any important now?”
“No,” she says, her smile falling, “well, yes, actually. I would like you to remember that you are with Keine now, pet, not with them any more. I have told you this before, and I will tell you again – the old letch is not worthy of your trust, nor is anybody else from his herd. Of course, he governs the Village well, I will give him that, but my belief in his goodwill ends right there. So should yours, pet, mark my words.”
“… something's happened with you and him in the past, hasn't it?”
Akyu makes a bitter face. “It's none of your concern at the present, I fear. Now…” she pauses, stretching, “… we both had probably better get moving. If I know her any, Fujiwara is bound to start feeling impatient any second now, and I can hold her attention only for that long. Get going, pet, and try to come back before she slips out of my check – you're the one who can control her, I am ages short of that feat. Or a gender off, depending on how we look at it.”
“Sure, yeah,” you mutter, rising and scanning the floor for leaked innards, “control her, bollocks. Hmm…” you try your stomach for lingering damage, “… no more pain, fancy that! I hope to all hells Brennan is in a forthcoming mood tonight.”
“Could that be for his sake?”
“It could bloody well be for his sake,” you say, cracking your knuckles.
Akyu smirks. “Do whatever you feel you must, pet. I will leave the front door open, and set a towel aside for you in the bath. Smell nice when you go to bed, okay? Vivi is not going to be happy if it turns out she can't get the stink out.”

“I have this fleeting idea I should think myself offended.”
“Oh, but you are not, are you?”
“No,” you say. “Curious, huh?”
Akyu makes an conspirative wink. “Maybe I am just that sweet on the eyes, what do you think? No, don't answer. We should both get to work right away. Do not be long, Shooter – my life may hang on it.”

“I'll do my best,” you wave her a salute. “Hold out, young miss.”
“Good luck, pet… and stop with that young miss!”



✱✱✱
>> No. 32479
God what a relationship clusterfuck shooter's in... just who is he dating exactly?
>> No. 32480
>>32479

Mokou...I think...

Damn time/memory shenanigans.
>> No. 32483
File 129113135161.jpg - (712.08KB, 1600x1200, 5988483.jpg) [iqdb]
32483
✱✱✱


—He wasn't there, the scheming old goat.

His house was deserted, only a few tells signing his recent presence there – a heap of rumpled papers filled with figures, a set of worn-out clothes strewn every which way on the floorings, some spare rounds for the old bolt-action you two used to use to hunt before, and a still-opened book telling the tale of some bloke named Cyrus and his merry gang of misfits attempting to vacate some faraway island that didn't quite suit their criteria for summer estate.

It would have even been acceptable, too.

If not for one thing – and that thing is that if you know there is something to know, and you weren't told about it, there is no way you can keep your mind from worrying what it might be – like forever probing at an imperfection in your teeth-line with your tongue, while you're wondering whether—if you ever pluck up the courage to take a gander in the mirror—it's going to be merely a scrap of a yesterday meal stuck in some orthodontic flaw, or a cavity the size of an elephant requiring the sort of canal job that leaves you unable to eat for three days for fear of disturbing what feels like three metric tonnes of amalgam.

It's starting to sound like Brennan is unexpectedly a philosophy enthusiast. “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Conversely, “If there is nobody to shrive a man of his sins, aren't the sins as good as non-existent?” So, in the end you're running around, jeopardizing your arse, the arse of your girlfriend, the arse of the world at large, and what is sir Berkeley doing about it? Nothing.

Screw George Berkeley.


Mokou springs up from her beddings as soon as you step into the room. “… Tiger?”
It would appear a male cannot enter a house without the female noticing, pissed and sober alike. “It's me.”
“Where the deuce have you been??”
Cautious not to wake the slumbering little lady tucked away under one wall, you close the door behind you and tip-toe over to where your girl is laying. “Out,” you whisper, “sneaking.”
“Sneaking?”
“Sneaking, acting in a stealthy, furtive way, eluding sentries on night duty, that sort of thing.”
Mokou, markedly, has no idea what you're talking about. “… okay, and where were you doing that sneaking thing?”
“I could have jolly well been doing it nowhere,” you shrug. “It doesn't matter now, sweetheart. I've been wasting my sleep time is all… yours, too, likely… sorry for that.”
“… fair enough. Have you washed?”
“Sure, a free wash doesn't happen all too often.”
“Come on in, then,” she invites, throwing the covers off her bare legs and barely less bare torso. If a bomb had gone off under these covers, and the bomb was made of the smoothest thighs in the world and a kiloton of the most beautiful beige ever mixed, this would have been the result. “Strictly shirts-on tonight, though,” she warns, “understood, Tiger?”
It's not like she's wearing much more than a shirt, anyhow. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”
“Spot-on, now belt up and get your stupid arse here.”


So she decrees – and you aren't exactly in a state of mind for bickering at the current stage of proceedings.
Mokou lets the covers fall as soon as you settle down on the mattress at her side – and immediately as they swathe you in her lingering warmth, she gives it a slight boost by snuggling closer, resting her head on your chest, and reaching down for your hand with one of hers.
“… sweetheart, your hand—”
“Is there a problem, Tiger?”
“No—well,” you give a fake cough, “not with this one – the other one—”
“I know where it is. It's my hand.”


Quite logical.

If everything was as ship-shape and Bristol-fashion as this, all your dilemmas could have been solved with only the minutest effort – for instance, why did your arm appear to be healed pristine—or never wounded in the first place, even—when you took the dressing off for the bath? One possible answer is that a fairy snuck up behind you while you were out, and honoured the National Do-A-Thing-For-The-Wicked day that way – buggered if you have other ideas.

It's becoming like a public pool in the suburbs, your life – one that you absolutely want to dive-bomb into, but first you've got to shoo the kids out of the pool, so that you don't crack any of the prepubescent noggins on your way in. So, you yell and you yell, but you can't get the kids out, so you decide to call for the lifeguard to clear them out, but then you slip on the wet tiles surrounding the pool, and you come skidding toward it, into the flock of tykes splashing inside, but then you find you've been rescued by a man of the sort of muscle-mass that could scare the shit out of a Portuguese concierge, and he thinks you've been shagging his daughter, because somebody heard you saying you would give your eye teeth to get your lubed-up hands on her top-shelf knockers, and next, he tells you to get out of there, but you start faking courage, talking smack, and then the hulk gets mad, and chases you around the neighbourhood…


“Oh no,” Mokou moans quietly in your ear, “you're thinking again, aren't you?”
“… you can tell?”
“I can,” she says. “It's all over your face, and your brow is twitching.”
“… well, aren't I hopeless.”
“I just know you too well,” she smiles and kisses you on the neck. “Were you, by chance, going somewhere with that?”
“Not anywhere in particular,” and you've pretty much arrived, too.
“Can we go to sleep, then?”
“I reckon. Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Tiger.”


No, perhaps it's more like Japan and England hooking up… entering a magical fishing competition together… at night… on eel-infested waters… with no fishing poles… and no bait… and skimpy clothes… and, well…


… it's probably not at all like that.



✱✱✱
>> No. 32485
File 129113189126.png - (663.40KB, 833x1000, 14652214.png) [iqdb]
32485
✱✱✱


—It's raining like all the angels in heaven decided to take a leak at the same time.

It's funny how this type of metaphor is the first thing that comes to your mind the moment you wake up. Normally, it would have been something much more vulgar, straightforward – since using a metaphor in front of somebody as unimaginative as the halfwits living in the barracks was like a red flag to a bu—… was like putting something very annoying in front of someone who was annoyed by it.

Not the best of ideas, as far as you are concerned.

Now, however, it is raining like all the angels in heaven decided—and so on—and all the odds suggest it's more of an mid-day leak as well, rather than an early morning one. Mokou is already up, now perched on the side of the mattress, combing her silvery hair with a flower-gilded brush that leaves little to speculation as to its original owner.

Noticing you stir from the pillows, the tetchy girl gives a dim greeting. “Mornin'.”
“So it is,” you tell her, “not a very good one, though.”
“Neither was the night,” she says, “you were dreaming.”
“I was?”
“I think – you were saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'
“I usually am. Have any notion where the young miss has gone off to?”
Mokou sets the brush down and gives her hair a critical sort of look. “… talking with her parents, I reckon,” she answers, “telling them why there is stranger in their house and why she felt the need to sleep in the same room as him, maybe. Say, how about we, uh…”
“We, uh, what?”
“How about we, uh, leg it, Tiger,” she says with a little glare, “because I've had up to my tits with this house, and the small skank, and the bigger skank, and—sodding hell—I just want to get out of here. It's making me nervy.”
“… but it's raining…” you pause and scan her irked expression, “… did something happen, sweetheart?”
“I don't mind getting wet, Tiger” she dodges the latter part of the question. “So, can we just let's go – before the weather clears? I'd rather fly in the rain than clear skies,” she makes a sour smile, “at least nobody is going to throw rocks at us when it's coming down like this, and I can just dry it off when we get there – to the shrine, you want to go there, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Please?”



[ ] No, not yet – you might get something out of Akyu's father, and Mokou is going to have to—and will—manage for an hour or two more – because she loves you, and you will remind her of that if need be.
[ ] Mokou may be right – if you scarper now, you will have the cover of the rain, and there's no saying how Mr. Hieda is going to react to you, given the recent changes in the political situation of the Village.
>> No. 32486
[x] Mokou may be right – if you scarper now, you will have the cover of the rain, and there's no saying how Mr. Hieda is going to react to you, given the recent changes in the political situation of the Village.

No abusing Mokou.
>> No. 32487
[x] Mokou may be right – if you scarper now, you will have the cover of the rain, and there's no saying how Mr. Hieda is going to react to you, given the recent changes in the political situation of the Village.

We've exhausted our avenues of research here in the village.
>> No. 32488
[X] Mokou may be right – if you scarper now, you will have the cover of the rain, and there's no saying how Mr. Hieda is going to react to you, given the recent changes in the political situation of the Village.

Yeah, sounds good. It's just a baseless thought, but I just don't think we'd get much of anything out of her father.
>> No. 32490
File 129121171349.jpg - (608.32KB, 1050x1400, Reimu_069.jpg) [iqdb]
32490
Sorry for the shit schedule, I had literally four hours to myself during the weekend and on Monday, and yesterday I went down with a 38-39°C fever. Sucks big time, I'll tell you, although the hallucinations were quite fascinating.
Have a Reimu for a change, we've had enough Mokou to last us two more threads.

I should be back on my feet soon.
Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32491
File 129121269557.jpg - (355.07KB, 689x878, 4f32c71a32325c785ad00362028423f6.jpg) [iqdb]
32491
Chill. There's no reason to force it. If you end up burning yourself up, then the story would be left unfinished... Mokou deserves better than that, no?


[x] No, not yet – you might get something out of Akyu's father, and Mokou is going to have to—and will—manage for an hour or two more – because she loves you, and you will remind her of that if need be.
Speaking of which, Akyu deserves better too
>> No. 32492
[X] Mokou may be right – if you scarper now, you will have the cover of the rain, and there's no saying how Mr. Hieda is going to react to you, given the recent changes in the political situation of the Village.
>> No. 32493
File 129121718398.jpg - (1.15MB, 1637x1158, blush Fujiwara no Mokou.jpg) [iqdb]
32493
>>32490
Please, don't pay so much attention to the schedule - your health is much more important! It is necessary to take breaks so that you won't collapse from exhaustion!

<- I hope this cute picture of Mokou will make you feel any better.
>> No. 32494
File 12912372061.jpg - (389.20KB, 1020x832, paint_the_girl_cut_the_lines_paint_the_girl_cut_th.jpg) [iqdb]
32494
>>32491
>>32493
It's not that I'm forcing it, I've many more scenes I'm just waiting to get done (because I really like writing this story, and I really like seeing you guys read it), I just scarcely have time and mind to write nowadays. Here I'd thought I'd have some free time in the weekend, and bam, I'm called back by my family to celebrate some holiday I don't give half a submarining dick about; then, when I get some time off on Tuesday, I say to my body, Well, friend McSlims, I sure do feel like writing some delicious Mokoutits today! and the bugger's all like, Well, that's a shame, friend Shagabag, because here I have some of those colds and high fevers you've been worried about catching! Have fun blowing your lungs out!… Wanker!. Then there's those translations I have to get done, and then there's these other projects that I haven't touched since two months ago, and then there's all these homeless girls nagging for my attention, and…

… is this blogging? I think this qualifies as blogging. I'll stop now. Wait for me to sweat myself back to >50% HP, and I'll get back with some of those, uh… Mokou… Reimu… Keine… tits… yeah, tits. We're all here for tits after all, no? Again, sorry for not delivering. I'll probably delete this rant later.

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32495
I actually found reading that rant entertaining, like more entertaining then some stories on here....not sure what that means.
>> No. 32498
File 129151890830.jpg - (493.63KB, 800x1400, tacticoolreimu.jpg) [iqdb]
32498
cause your writer happens to be a sickly twerp with a poor VIT regeneration rate.

Or would you rather have tits, I don't know.
>> No. 32499
File 129153187197.jpg - (583.12KB, 1000x1000, 14611746.jpg) [iqdb]
32499
So, I was wondering about this story, and I'm kinda fuzzy on a semi-important detail: does Shooter know about Mokou's... 'condition'? Fireballs have been mentioned, and Mokou (or Kaguya?) said something about not being able to get pregnant (I think), but is Shooter clued into the fact that his sweetheart will still be a spry young thing well, well after he's become worm food? I'm gonna go ahead and indulge in a thorough review of the story so far, but can anyone point me to something definitive in the interim?
>> No. 32500
>>32498
On the art: I may not be that gun savvy, but a scope on a shotgun? Wow.
On what you said: I'd like both.
>> No. 32501
>>32499
That pic, jesus christ. Mokoutits everywhere.
>> No. 32502
File 129182535256.jpg - (193.26KB, 850x1020, e542329fd827adc1678e784b0993a46a.jpg) [iqdb]
32502
>>32501
Indeed. Too much tits on my Mokou. She needs to be flat.
>> No. 32503
File 129182593844.jpg - (632.53KB, 1250x1551, 15014750.jpg) [iqdb]
32503
>>32502
Are you nuts?
>> No. 32507
File 129188230710.jpg - (106.21KB, 342x364, akyun_is_not_amused.jpg) [iqdb]
32507
[X] Mokou may be right – if you scarper now, you will have the cover of the rain, and there's no saying how Mr. Hieda is going to react to you, given the recent changes in the political situation of the Village.

Now, you are a man of action, and lies do not become you.

Okay, it could be that you're not a man of action – that you only prefer to think action the cut of your jib – but that doesn't mean lies become you all the same. Or indecision – that doesn't sit well with you, either, and you would have to cling to very indecisive lies to throw her honest plea over with a friendly face and unblemished conscience – the latter in particular – because you've about had it with taking advice from total strangers, and another one—sitting in your head, grousing in your ear like a nosey mother-in-law dirtying your landings with her unrelenting stopovers—would only make the already dreary day even glummer.

It may be fitter not to meet with Mr. Hieda, too. Suitably enough, many people—most people, actually—meeting you for the first time, form a trio of curious impressions: that you are English, that you are not very intelligent, and that you're queerer than a roomful of pharmacology students on benzoylmethylecgoninic overdose. Understanding that, and keeping in mind the novel changes in the political structure of the Village, you could well wager your hinder end that nothing in the least healthy would come out of seeing the young miss' old man – and then have it handed right back, with a hefty interest to boot.

In whatever way that is supposed to work.


“… righto,” you forget the posteriorey punt and spread-eagle on the sheets instead, “if you make that face, then what the hell, I'm easy. I will have you know that wasn't very fair, though.”
Mokou tilts her head ever-so-slightly. “… what wasn't?”
“Using my feelings for you to sway my decision in your favour, sweetheart.”
“Oh. It wasn't meant to be,” she says, taking another wisp of her hair in hand and glancing it over for the fairness that somehow escaped her latest request. “It was, uh…” she pauses, startled by the amounts she finds, “… yeah, it wasn't supposed to be fair, end of the story,” she concludes somewhat irritably. “How long have I been tussling with you and your wanting me to fly you places? I deserve some say every now and then.”
“It's not like I'm asking you to fly me because I like it – because I don't, sweetheart, I'm afraid of grounds.”
“Heights, Tiger,” she corrects, “and stop being silly.”
“I know what I mean – it's the bloody grounds that kill you.”
Mokou rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “Is nothing free from your bad jokes, Tiger?”
“No, I'm an equal-opportunity bad joker. Either way, I reckon we ought to get oh-em soon,” you say, picking yourself up and looking around for your clothes, “cause you might not mind getting wet, but I do, and the sooner we're there and drying off, the better.”
“Or, you just can't wait to smooch the sodding cow again… and 'oh-em'?”
“On the move. Sorry, I'm in a sort of doldrums this morn, not thinking clearly and what have you.”
“Sounds to me like your average you,” Mokou says and stands as well. “Quit speaking in tongues and get dressed, already.”
“Copy that, copy… bloody hell,” you mutter, “wake me up o silly hundred hours and expect coherence, honestly.”


It may have not been you that taught her to be so devious, but you are certainly very proud of her – proud enough to watch for a moment as she pulls on the tight denim blues and zips up the fly with only the teeniest dirty thought, anyhow.
Mokou and you may actually be very careless people, you ponder as you get into your own slacks – you go where you please, smash things up, smash creatures up, smash people up, and then retreat back into your fortress of vast carelessness—or wherever the smashed-up people and creatures cannot reach you—and let the them foam at the mouth in vain before they cool down and go on to clean up the mess you have made. Strange, you think, how you had never realised you were so careless a person before you met the pettish bird.

… then again, you were never aware there was anything wrong with you before you met her.


“So,” Mokou asks suddenly, “do I still pretend we haven't shagged, or… because, you know, you pretty much shouted it out last night, in front of the young miss, you know that?”
“Oh—” you bite your lip and curse, “—cocks, I did… I mean, uh… not THAT sort of cocks, dear, but, er…” you haver, “… the GOOD sort of cocks, the cocks that you shout about when you recall something nice, because that was—” you stop and breathe deeply, “… oh, fuck me!”
Mokou smiles for a change. “If you're thinking to make me say 'all right' or 'not now', Tiger, you will have another think coming. I am not playing your word-games this time.”
“No,” you agree – yet apparently she is still going to make smart remarks, “but anyhow, yes, I'd prefer if—shite, just don't tell Keine – I don't know what she is going to do with that information, and I would—”
“—be unable to shag her if she thought you were shagging me,” she fills in, “no?”
“Sweetheart—”
“Get those stupid breeches on and let's go,” she disregards your dissents, “before miss assaulting-you-in-the-bath-with-scissors comes and drags you off to the sodding altar by the nose.”
“Sweetheart, tell me, does EVERYTHING have to be about me screwing or getting screwed by things?”
“I reckon you know who to blame for that.” Mokou turns and goes for the door. “Come on, shift your arse.”


Obviously, 'you know who to blame for that' is Mokou-speak for 'you slept with another woman, now suffer the consequences, you gormless dick-head'dick-head meaning you've a knob for a head, or leastwise use it as the primary tool in making your decisions, as opposed to using your cotton-picking brains.

“… well, that bites sort of close to the bone… wait, Mokou?”

Here you're giving yourself the collywobbles, trying to suss out her cryptic accusations, and what you get in return is lose sight of the testy girl as she legs it down the hall leading to the front entrance of the manor. Swearing under your breath, you zip your togs up and give chase, shooting out of the guest-room with little care for the small person crossing out of nowhere through your unstable trajectory.


“Ah—” Akyu reels in, barely avoiding a potentially lethal collision with your careless self. “Shooter, good morning, and what are you—”
“Leaving,” you let out. “Sorry, we've got to—”
“Leaving?” the little miss seems shocked. “I was about to invite you to breakfast!”
“Sorry,” you brush her aside, “thanks for everything, but we can't stay.”
“Shooter, but I wanted to introduce you to my—SHOOTER! COME BACK HERE! COME BACK, YOU IDIOT! SHOOTER!!!


On the contrary – even though her voice is quickly reaching octaves usually reserved for breaking glassware at a distance, all it does is speed up your pace. Of course – you're not an opera critic – you're just a very confused guy who thinks with his groin and hardly slept last night, and these sorts of voices only scare you away.

Especially when they want to introduce you to their parents.



✱✱✱
>> No. 32508
>“Shooter, but I wanted to introduce you to my—SHOOTER! COME BACK HERE! COME BACK, YOU IDIOT! SHOOTER!!!”
And now I feel like shit.
>> No. 32509
>>32508
Don't blame yourself; it was Shooter's (VERY faulty) logic we were following.
>> No. 32510
>>32508
If I had even a shred of Photoshop talent, this post would be accompanied by akyu_FOREVER_ALONE.jpg
>> No. 32513
>>32510
I'd have made a "Feels bad man" Suwako picture; it'd be perfect for times like this.
>> No. 32517
File 129205570659.jpg - (518.86KB, 1024x768, 8911705.jpg) [iqdb]
32517
✱✱✱


In the short hours the rain has been deluging the Land, the roadway north has become little less of a singular mudslide snaking down the slope of the mount where the Hakurei shrine is—hopefully—staying for your arrival.

On one hand, this turn of weather might prove beneficial – with the road in its current, insurmountable state, even the haughtiest, most toffee-nosed village yokels will most probably prefer remaining indoors to chasing after the hapless teacher in the freezing downpour. Individuals like them—tall and ox-shouldered, so much you would have difficulty choosing whether to walk around them or leap over—might often have uneventful journeys – because people will jump at them from behind trees, then nimbly declare they had them for somebody else – but the rain isn't going to meekly give in just because of the threat of a punch that could split an elephant in reactive armour in half. Unfortunately for the buggers, the rain—that's Mister M.F. Rain to you—is one tough son of a gun, and would punch right back with the force of a dozen ten-gallon water-filled balloons to the mug.

On another—more privy—hand, the blasted thing is so cold you are rapidly beginning to wish your waterproof backpack had enough space to accommodate a one-man teeth-jingling orchestra, his Gongfu Tea Tray and a portable fireplace somewhere amongst the other odds and sods.

If anything depresses you about this world, it's that at times, it functions in ways even less thought-out than you do.


Mokou touches down at the patio at the front of the shrine and politely informs you the trip is over. “We are here,” she says, unlatching your unfeeling arm from her shoulder. “Come on, you dunce, let's get inside and dab ourselves dry on some rug. My tits are feeling like they're about to freeze off.”
“Solid—gah,” you shiver involuntarily, “… solid call, bloody hell. I would murder the entire population of France for a towel and a cup of good, ol' lemon green right about now. Good Lord, this weather is such—”
“Quit whinging,” the sopping girl gives a look that makes the air seem super-heated in comparison. “Haven't you got something to tell me, Tiger? No, don't give me that, I know you do – and the sooner we get inside, the sooner you are going to say it, and the sooner you do, the sooner we're going to be over that, so belt up and let's go inside, because—”

“Reimu—!”


Mokou groans and promptly falls quiet as the front door of the shrine comes open, and Keine comes rushing out onto the terrace, ignoring the bone-chilling cold, sporting nothing but a pair of tight-fitting undergarments and a sleeveless top – and whilst female fashion has never been a subject that occupied your thoughts much—or rather, has seldom been included in them—the vision quite literally sends your blood into a careen.


“Oh,” the teacher makes an embarrassed gasp, noticing that you aren't—in fact—the ill-tempered shrine maiden, “sorry, I, um—I thought it was… no, excuse me, please, I was just waiting—”
“Cut the bull,” Mokou chips in, chippy. “We're about to sodding glaciate here, would you kindly let us inside?”
“Oh yes,” the teacher assumes a troubled smile, but you catch a glimpse of her fists clenching before they retreat behind her back, “how stupid of me, I didn't realise it was so cold out here… Come on in, please… a—actually,” she remembers something else, “I have just come out of the steam bath, but if you want to go and get the cold out, you could re-start the fire and—”
“Steam bath?” Mokou cuts in again. “Hakurei has a sodding sauna in this hovel?”
Keine does another strained smile. “In the back,” she nods, “like I said, if you go now, it should be warm still… oh,” her face brightens up as she notices another person coming down from the grey overhead. “Reimu!” she waves at the incomer. “Welcome back!”

Reimu lands gently on the planks just beside you, her red-white habit hardly drier than than your own liveries. “I am home,” she tells the teacher. “Shooter,” she turns to you with a bleak face, “good—uh, whenever it is right now, I don't have the damnedest idea.”
“Could have been better.”
“Could have, very funny,” she snorts and looks to her warden again. “Have you told him yet, Keine?”
“No,” the teacher makes a pained expression all of a sudden, “… not yet, but…”
“It's up to you,” shrugs the shrine maiden, “cause I'm not going to, you know. Ugh, I need to change out of this,” she squints at her clothes and heads in through the open door.

“Not even a bloody hello,” you say after she has disappeared inside. “Keine, what was all that about?”
Keine lets out a short, nervous laugh. “Ne—Never mind,” she puts her hands on her chest, “it's—it's nothing, really, forget about it, please… E—Either way, about that steam bath, do you want to, or…?”
“We'll hit that,” Mokou declares. “Come along, Tiger, let's go warm up some.”
“Uh, but—”
“Please go, Shooter,” the teacher, to your surprise, joins in with the testy girl. “We do not want you to fall sick, and if you don't dry out soon, you might catch a cold or something worse…”



[ ] “No. Give me a towel and I'll fare somehow. Go ahead, Mokou, me and Keine need to talk – fast and without watchers.”
[ ] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”
>> No. 32518
[x] “No. Give me a towel and I'll fare somehow. Go ahead, Mokou, me and Keine need to talk – fast and without watchers.”

I have a suspicion Keine may have fixed both her and our own relationship problems last night. She just doesn't realize it yet.
>> No. 32519
[ ] “No. Give me a towel and I'll fare somehow. Go ahead, Mokou, me and Keine need to talk – fast and without watchers.”
>> No. 32520
[x] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”
>> No. 32521
[x] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”
hahaha
>> No. 32522
[x] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”
>> No. 32523
[x] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”
>> No. 32524
File 129210565580.jpg - (137.69KB, 600x800, 986ada90ec0cc05818b6d6e7c10ce480.jpg) [iqdb]
32524
Too less Akyu.
>> No. 32525
File 129211312229.png - (186.45KB, 498x418, 14599577.png) [iqdb]
32525
>>32518
What do you mean?
>> No. 32526
[x] “No. Give me a towel and I'll fare somehow. Go ahead, Mokou, me and Keine need to talk – fast and without watchers.”
>> No. 32527
[X] “No. Give me a towel and I'll fare somehow. Go ahead, Mokou, me and Keine need to talk – fast and without watchers.”

I guess we've been fooling around enough as of late. Let's get things going in the right direction, at least for a little bit, as much as it pains me to give up spending more time with Mokou.
>> No. 32528
>>32499
These posts should interest you:
>>31171
>>31385
>>31999
>> No. 32529
File 129217966877.jpg - (1.14MB, 1240x1754, 14770146.jpg) [iqdb]
32529
>>32528
Much obliged. Seems like it's an ambiguous point because it doesn't have a lot of bearing on the story.
>> No. 32534
File 129220856574.jpg - (92.82KB, 504x184, Untitleddicks.jpg) [iqdb]
32534
>>32521
I pray that this was a good 'hahaha'.
>>32524
So, I stop writing moeblob Akyu – people complain. Next, I write an old-lady-like, jagged Akyu, and keep her story-time (text-time? Paragraph-time? It-is-butchering-canon-characterisations-time?) to a minimum, because while I do enjoy my Little Miss Snarker Akyu, I understand THP would rather snuggle a loli-ℳℴℯ one; and then—fancy that—people complain once again. I'm beginning to think you don't care about the girl's personality as long as she bears Akyu's name. Is that it? I hope not. You wouldn't shag a ℳℴℯ Akyu, would you? I suppose you don't really shag her personality, but… all right, I admit, I'm with you on this one. We need more Akyu, one way or the other. How do we go about that, though? I'll try to cook something up.

Oh, and we are going to have a new OP pic in thirty, too! Hurray! I'll check back with you soon, my small-but-beloved readerbase. (Wait, my small-but-beloved… my loli readerbase? Chilling thought, brr.)

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32535
[X] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”
>> No. 32536
>>32517
[X] “No. Give me a towel and I'll fare somehow. Go ahead, Mokou, me and Keine need to talk – fast and without watchers.”

Not that I'm particularly a fan of antagonizing Keine or missing Mokou tits, but I'm starved for information right now.
>> No. 32537
>because while I do enjoy my Little Miss Snarker Akyu, I understand THP would rather snuggle a loli-ℳℴℯ one;

Honestly I want to snuggle the snarker..she seems like more a real person.

Kind of reminds me of my sister when shes had a bad day.
>> No. 32538
File 129237809332.jpg - (33.91KB, 512x384, 123181523581.jpg) [iqdb]
32538
>>32534
Too bad that you're a guy Yaf, otherwise, I'd be all over you.
We can still be bros, no?
>> No. 32539
>>32538

Are you sure you don't want to become gay?
>> No. 32541
File 129243118569.jpg - (144.44KB, 1000x1000, probably_not_mokou_you_decide.jpg) [iqdb]
32541
>>32538
>We can still be bros, no?
Sure thing. We can hang out—like normal, heterosexual males—play video games—for people like the two of us, by which I mean straight, white men of adult age and impeccable background—drink legal, non-alcoholic beverages of various flavours—except strawberry, since that would be unfitting of our heterosexual nature—and make out on the couch when nobody is lookingAHEM, BY THAT I MEANT—… uh, no homo, patently no homo.

Other than peni—COUGH, HACK, COUGH—OTHER THAN THAT, the vote is tied at the moment, so if anybody wants to break it, the next one calls the final result. THAT'S FULL CONTROL I'M GIVING YOU, MY GLORIOUS LITTLE GIRLS READERS. If nobody feels like tipping the scales, I'll just go with whichever option I fancy when I finally do sit down to write – which is most likely—SPOILER ALERT—going to be tits. See? Not gay. Solid god-damn evidence right there.

… I need a few minutes to myself.


Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32542
[x] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”

Here ya go, Reav.
>> No. 32543
>>32536
I don't think you'd miss any information, just a bit of extra fanservice
>> No. 32544
File 129251630321.jpg - (150.71KB, 900x900, KYRIEEEEEE.jpg) [iqdb]
32544
Quick note. Update will prob'ly be done 'round the weekend. Have this while you wait. Bless you.
>> No. 32545
File 129254531646.jpg - (61.09KB, 571x556, 1270512488113.jpg) [iqdb]
32545
>>32541
>>32544
Nigger. Field. Faster.
>> No. 32546
File 129254744778.jpg - (433.03KB, 650x1300, 31a2b674f2c14386bc9e278caab76618.jpg) [iqdb]
32546
>>32544
Hahaha! That was really adequate. You should do more of those.
>> No. 32552
File 129275565389.jpg - (165.57KB, 930x930, 9233551.jpg) [iqdb]
32552
[X] “Very well, if you insist… I hope it's large enough.”

Something worse strikes sufficiently close.

Sure, you would love to make some sense of the bodge soon as possible, but given the bull of the shit weather, the likeliness of the Village clodhoppers coming to swing through the rafters like apes is low enough not to get in a sweat about the situation – not to mention that in your current, shivery condition, you cannot really be badgered—or wolved, or squirreled, or beared, for that matter—to worry for something other than your frosted buttocks – and a steam bath, you reckon, would be sweet as bollocks.

Sparsely-known fact, that, but bollocks – actually very sweet.


“Very well,” you throw the towel in, although you'd much prefer being thrown a towel at yourself, “if you insist, what the hell… I just hope it's large enough for a two, else it could get a jot too hot in there for me.”
Keine nearly loses her urging look. “… you're—” she stares at you, sidelong—quite the feat, considering you're directly in front of her—and asks incredulously, “—going to get in there… e—excuse me, but you're going to get in there together?…”
Oopsie-daisy. “Oh, er—” you fumble, struggling for a motive naïve enough to sound plausible, “—well, shouldn't that be sort of, um… you know, like we could, er… be done with it, uh—”
Mokou gets in edgeways with a leg up and a smack to your empty cranium. “We've camped out together – right, you clot? He's seen me before, and I didn't mind,” she tells the teacher. “Neither did he, far as I could tell. Got a problem with that, by chance?”
“N—No,” the half-dressed beauty gives you an uncertain sort of glance, and you lift your hands in a helpless gesture for—depending on the circumstances—either 'yeah, I'm totally easy, mate' or 'oh God, please, not the kneecaps, everything but my poor, poor kneecaps!' In this particular case, however, it's as much option A as it is option B. “I—If you don't mind,“ she goes on, “I—I guess that's all right… probably. Give me a second, I will get you some towels… oh, and if you would let me drop your luggage off, that would be—”
“Oh yes,” you quickly slip out of your knapsack's straps and turn it over to Keine, “er, thanks.”
“No,” she says with a small smile, “don't—don't mention it.”


Heaving your dripping trunks and swaying her hips, the teacher slides through the half-open doors inside, leaving you to enjoy the lovely sensation of a wet puddle growing slowly on the floorboards between your feet.


Mokou gives you a cross glare. “Some day your stupid loaf is going to get you in serious trouble.”
“I am always in trouble, dear… to be fair, I wouldn't know how to act if I weren't.”
“Not that you do either way.”
“If you will forgive me, you've been awfully mingy today, dear.”
“I forgive you,” she replies acidly. “Say, why in the blazes aren't we going inside?”
“'Cause the bath is in its own shack around the back, not inside, dear.”
“… and how do you know that?”
“I've BEEN here before, dear.”
“Of COURSE you have,” she shrugs sardonically, “and of COURSE you've been to the bath!”
“… well, yeah, sort of…” you sigh, “… okay, look, can we wait with the rowing till we get the bloody fire going and get out of these rags? I don't know about you, but I could out-freeze Greenland in a freezing contest, and my brains are about as hot as a bag of cherry ice-cream at the moment. I can't THINK without blowing icicles out of my nose.”
“… you're impossible!”
“Maybe. Mokou, please,” you try on a pleading face, “come on, I am SORRY, but cut me some bleeding slack, all right? I am not doing this because I want to roll in the hay with them or anything, believe me – it's something much more—… more, uh…” Important?… No, that would be way hackneyed… Far-reaching, then?… No, too frivolous… “… well, didn't you tell me yourself – that Keine was out of my league, and Reimu—”

“Sorry for the wait!” Keine sallies through the front doors, bearing a brace of plain-white towels. “I have found two of these,” she says, passing them to you, “and they're quite big, so you can… co—cover yourselves without difficulty… and firewood, there should be some in the locker, right by the entrance… oh—and the bath itself, it is—”
“He KNOWS where!” Mokou swipes one of the towels. “If you are planning to play the prude ALL the time, Miss Keine, we aren't going to make out very well. Get your head our of your arse!”
“Mokou,” you chide, “don't be a—”
“Oh yes, go ahead!” she fumes, “take her side, see if I care! Have it your way! Come back to me when you feel like it, I will be waiting with bells on! Sodding sack of—!”

Careless about rounding off, the furious girl stomps off along the canopied patio, promptly disappearing behind the corner of the building, her stifled curses drown out by the immense rainfall pounding away at the slanted roofing. Nature should have dealt with the problem of female frivolity somewhat more effectively, you decide – since it does away with most of the things it finds undesirable—like ill-adjusted species, easily-found car-keys, and ships hailed Mary Celeste—but for some reason or another, it doesn't see an issue with these moody outbursts and the following fall-outs.

Nature, you muse, ought to grow a dick some time.


“… um,” Keine accosts timidly, “… did I… interrupt something sensitive?”
“No,” you tell her, “not really sensitive… or important… or far-reaching… bloody hell, just who is tussling with whom, here?”



✱✱✱
>> No. 32555
File 129284015342.jpg - (87.36KB, 362x348, you_have_startled_the_moko.jpg) [iqdb]
32555
✱✱✱


It was already delightfully warm in the tiny, two-by-three, pine-inlaid cabin out back generously dubbed a sauna.

Once you pitch some tinder into the firebox and splash some water on the still-scalding rocks on the grills, however, the temperature smoothly climbs several degrees, from sunny autumn afternoon to average day at Mount McKinley, and fills the narrow cubicle with to the seams with a sticky but pleasant, milky-white mist. Mokou, the feverish girl—for whom 'waiting with bells on' seems synonymous to 'waiting out of your clothes with only a towel about your private places'—gives a long sigh of relief, then plunks down on the sole bench by one of the walls and studies idly as you wriggle out of your own soaked tatters.


“Do you need a hand, Tiger?”
“I'll manage… and without killing myself, hopefully.”
“Suit yourself,” she returns, arching back, teasing with a hint of her belly-muscles tightening deliciously under the white veil.


Even if the stones had suddenly gone ice-cold, and the flames beneath them frozen into icicles, she on her own could most likely keep the steam going—and boost it to levels the measly fire couldn't begin to dream of—and while a minute ago you could have sworn a cup-full of ice-cubes would have been the hottest drink you'd had in your entire life, now the silly notion is cruelly rectified.

Out of the blue, in the tight alcove by the entrance, you spot a tall, rectangular mirror—hung there for a purpose you would rather not guess at—and the tawdry, handsome blighter on the other side smiles at you a smidgen awkwardly when he notes you gawping, pulling off your knickers even as he pulls off his. Have you been talking to yourself again, Shooter, dear? you want to query the guy, but then you decide it would not be too polite after all.

So you put the question—slightly changed—to Mokou instead.


“Could you lower your arms for a second, dear?”
Mokou gives you a stare that is all kinds of geometrically interesting. “… what for?”
“I wanted to kiss you, and I reckoned it'd be cuter if I held you by the shoulders whilst doing it.”
“… now you've gone and spoiled it,” she complains, frowning. “Never mind, Tiger, I don't want boils on my lips. Were you going to sit down or were you going to stand there admiring your dangler for the rest of the day?”
“Certainly,” you take a seat beside her, close—but not so close as to let your bodies touch—and fiddle around a tittle to prevent any potential boiled-egg incidents, “and you,” you press on then, “you were going to tell me something, weren't you? No, before that, let me tell you something first.”
“Go ahead.”
“Very well. I didn't appreciate the way we had to leave in the morning because of you, sweetheart. I felt like some sort of a… a butterfly that toys with the charity he is given, and then throws the ones who offered it aside like soiled underwear.”
“… butterflies do that?”
“I don't know that they do, but that's not the point.”
Mokou grunts irritably. “… I knew this was coming, but it still pisses me off. If you're so sorry for the little skank, fine, go and roll at her feet, lick her between the toes or whatever – it's no skin off my nose.”
“Why are you so narked with her?”
“No reason,” she snaps, boring her eyes into the fog ahead. “Nothing you'd need to know about.”
“Had she said something to you – before I woke up, perchance?”
“… no.”
“So what was it?”
“I've told you, it's none of your—”
“It bloody well is, sweetheart,” you cut in. “I suffer for it, and so does Keine, and I feel in no time so will Reimu, so I had bleeding better know what in the blazes going on. Oh, and other than that—and pay attention now, see what I am doing here—I sort of love you as well – but you seem to forget that a lot. Have you got anything to say to that?”
“… quit trying to get on my wick.”
“Oh, but I hardly ever do that on purpose, so I would rather you enjoyed it a little.”
Hardly ever has an ugly ring of frequency to it.” Mokou produces another groan and rubs the heavy sweat-drops off her crinkled forehead. “Okay, sodding hell,” she gives in, turning her incensed eyes to you, “I might have been feeling a tad nervy since we got back, but it's not my fault, all right?”
“How is it not your fault?”
“It's just—” she hesitates, “—look, it might be some sort of a side-effect, I have no sodding idea. I know that every little thing irritates me, that's all—and I can't help it, okay? It's stronger than me. Satisfied, Tiger?”
Satisfied? Oh no, you think, no bloody way. “No,” you shake your head, “I don't understand – what blooming side-effect?”
Mokou looks away once again. “… that is—”

“Ah?”


Interruptions – precisely the thing that tigers like best.

Suddenly, the little cabin's entryway goes open, letting the steam drain away into the chilling air outside, the cold in return seeping inside; and a startled shrine maiden stands dumbly in the midst of it, topless, a towel pulled loosely around her bosoms, shock and awe flickering in her deep-red pupils. If Lord Cristo Redentor had got off his pedestal and gone downhill to purchase a twelve-bore repeater and two boxes of buckshot, this would have been the look on the faces of seagulls that used to perch and go to the lavatory on his mane.


Seeing you goggle equally at a loss, the shrine maiden lays one arm over her chest and backs away a step. “S—Sorry,” she stammers, “I didn't, um, realise that you were—”
Mokou, as expected, is willing to have no more than none of that. “We were talking here,” she says, her tone the same one would use to speak of his rare alcohols stash in the presence of a footloose flatmate. “Get out and close the door, you coot, you're letting the heat out.”
Reimu very nearly has an apoplexy. “EXCUSE ME?!” she splutters, forgetting all about her surprise. “THIS is MY fucking house! If anybody's going to GET OUT, it's YOUR fucking ass!”
“Go tell Keine that,” Mokou dares, looking daggers, “it was she that invited us, so if you've got some sort of problem, go nip her tits about it and leave us the hell alone.”
“I'll nip YOUR fucking tits, you filthy—!”



[ ] Side with Mokou, politely.
[ ] Side with Reimu, firmly.
[ ] Sides aside – if they want to have a cat-fight, they can have it without you.
>> No. 32558
File 129284135882.jpg - (590.28KB, 1295x1812, HOLY_AWESOME_BATMAN.jpg) [iqdb]
32558
>Stupid writefag, Monday morning is NOT 'the weekend'!
Sorries, everyone, but the site conked out last night—at the same moment I was about to post the update, too!—so I decided to take my leave and pass out.
As always, feel at liberty to either write something in or let me write the story myself like I'm bloody supposed to ahem, handle the rest off my own bat.

Cheers.
>> No. 32560
>I suffer for it, and so does Keine, and I feel in no time so will Reimu
Shooter the fortune teller

>>“I'll nip YOUR fucking tits, you filthy—!”
Too bad we've already seen the Princess Bride quote regarding fine breasts in this story; it seems quite apropos.

Well, there's no sense antagonizing the poor girl; twas an honest to god mistake. In an ideal world, we sacrifice a little personal space and invite Reimu to join us. But alas, I don't even know what kind of world Shooter is living in anymore, and more importantly, Mokou is in straight-up bitch mode right now. Love her dearly, but this 'side effect' is making civil discourse fairly difficult. We're squarely on the wrong end of this argument, availing ourselves of the commodities of Reimu's abode with no mind to propriety. Not taking a side and letting this bad blood get worse is out of the question for me. Siding with Mokou is fairly dumb, outside of ingratiating ourselves with Mokou. Which we shouldn't have to do, really. Siding with Reimu is going to piss Mokou off something proper, but she seems particularly prone to getting pissed off right now. Any guesses on the side-effect? Do girls with immortal bodies still have that time of the month?

[X] Side with Reimu, sympathetically.

There will be no mangling of mammaries on Shooter's watch. Definitely should invite her to join us as a joke(?), if only to tease Mokou. Good chance of this blowing up in our face, but I'd rather have the venom being slung at Shooter than at each other. He's quite practiced in the art of being the target of scorn; maybe its time we put that skill to use? Anyway, fess up that we're in the wrong, apologizetake the blame for Mokou's foul mood (hanging around Shooter for too long would drive even a Saint to a shooting spree), and offer to leave right then and there (and possibly take Mokou with us if she's not too rancorous). I was torn about whether to evacuate post-haste or to request enough time to finish up, but making the poor miko stand around half naked while we try to ply information from Mokou is too cruel.
>> No. 32561
[X] "Reimu, Mouku, Shut the fuck up! Okay, Mouku we get it, you're pissed off. Reimu its your house, but you please just leave miss white hair alone for five minutes. I going to go somewhere where I can actually get some answers." stalk off to talk to Keine.

This is stupid but..
>> No. 32563
[X] Side with Mokou, politely.

And by "side with Mokou", I don't mean that we're entitled to stay in the bath, but rather that it'd be nice if the misunderstanding could be cleared up, resulting in Reimu telling us to leave a little more politely or something.
>> No. 32564
[x] Sides aside – if they want to have a cat-fight, they can have it without you.
Stay out of it. For now.
>> No. 32565
[x] Mokou, I know you said it's stronger than you, but are you weak enough to let an ACCIDENT made by the OWNER OF THE BATH YOU'RE USING piss you off that much? Endure it a little, love, please. If you endure, then you will surely grow strong against this 'side effect' you talked about.
>> No. 32566
File 129290106669.jpg - (88.30KB, 690x640, 2bb064c0272539174685b5393b53b5ba.jpg) [iqdb]
32566
>Cheers.
Meh. That's not the YAF we know and love.
>> No. 32567
>Any guesses on the side-effect? Do girls with immortal bodies still have that time of the month?

If that were the case, I think she would be a little more adverse to shared baths or participating in bed-top sports.

'Side effect' implies some antecedent effect, like that of a spell, or a curse, or shady Lunarian pharmacology. The latter which she recently had ready access to, along with Kaguya' apparent blessing, her having approved of Shooter.
>> No. 32568
[X] Sides aside – if they want to have a cat-fight, they can have it without you.
>> No. 32572
File 129297523357.jpg - (14.36KB, 138x151, this_is_my_actual_real_face.jpg) [iqdb]
32572
>>32566
What do you want me to do?
Describe in excruciating detail the girly blush that I cover in whenever somebody praises the story?
>> No. 32573
[x] Mokou, I know you said it's stronger than you, but are you weak enough to let an ACCIDENT made by the OWNER OF THE BATH YOU'RE USING piss you off that much? Endure it a little, love, please. If you endure, then you will surely grow strong against this 'side effect' you talked about.

You should lay off those british sitcoms man.
>> No. 32574
File 129298005668.jpg - (432.57KB, 800x800, fdeed654310cae0a97c56f64911611a0.jpg) [iqdb]
32574
>>32572
Short answer: Yes with a but afterwards.
Long answer: No, with a but at the end.

Anyway, if you're aware that we like the story, that's good enough for me.
See you in the next update. Until then
>> No. 32575
[x] Side with Mokou, politely.

Mokou might clam up, let's get her to open up about these side-effects. Who knows, maybe we can get Mokou to apologize later.

>>32572

I quote this story on a regular basis, these opening monologues are delicious.
>> No. 32576
[X] Sides aside – if they want to have a cat-fight, they can have it without you.
>> No. 32580
File 129302400522.jpg - (24.11KB, 195x186, my_face_blushing_you_pervert.jpg) [iqdb]
32580
>>32575
Oh great, now I'm all pink, sheesh.

>>32573
I actually pride myself on never having watched a single sitcom in my entire life!
… all right, except a few sappy Venezuelan soap operas, but those hardly count, okay? OKAY?

>>32574
>See you in the next update.
It might be some time before that, though – since we're on the threshold of a very busy period, it being Christmas—and more importantly New Year—and all that.
I will say you're right, however – I know you like the story, I quite like it myself (and like knowing that you like it), and while compliments and praises are a massive ego boost indeed, I don't think either me or you really need that right now – plus, psst, although I have already been pampered by you to the point of squealing like a schoolgirl, certain other writers on the site could very well, methinks, use some pampering, hint, hint, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, need I say more, need I say more?
I will do my best to see you soon… with a new thread and a new OP pic! Woo! How blooming awesome is that!

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32585
File 129315284758.jpg - (461.05KB, 1100x1400, kaguya_is_not_a_good_mother_figure.jpg) [iqdb]
32585
Quick note. I'd thought I could update before Christmas Eve, but whoop dee doo, turns out I'm an easily distracted twat. By the way, the pussy-out option is winning, but if you want to change anything, or add something else, or would like me to answer a question regarding whatever – you've still got time, so go ahead and keep the place lively. I might be able to hop in every now and then before I return to my normal schedule (which should be either around Wednesday next week or the 2nd of January next year).

Until then, folks. Until then.
>> No. 32586
>By the way, the pussy-out option is winning, but if you want to change anything, or add something else, or would like me to answer a question regarding whatever

YAF, if you're going to show naked favoritism for or against one of your voting options, please save us all some time and just tell use what to vote for from the start. Or better yet, don't put in options for things at all if you don't want to write them.

With that said, vote changed.

[x] Side with Reimu, sympathetically.
>> No. 32587
File 129324634290.jpg - (674.51KB, 1600x1131, 15410347.jpg) [iqdb]
32587
>>32555
[X] Side with Reimu, firmly.

Christmas vote for the cranky and eternally misunderstood miko. And no, YAF, this isn't because of you, only because there's no good Mokou Christmas art
>> No. 32588
>>32586
>YAF
>Railroading

Somehow I'm not surprised.
>> No. 32592
File 129326981583.jpg - (205.72KB, 1000x1000, I_come_bearing_presents_theyre_charred_sorry.jpg) [iqdb]
32592
>>32586
Ding dong, you're wrong. I called it the pussy-out option only for the sake of curtness. If you absolutely must know, though, I'd have liked to write the pussy-out option the most, actually! But I don't really know how to count the vote, now…
>>32588
Chugga-chugga, choo-choo!
>> No. 32593
[X] Sides aside – if they want to have a cat-fight, they can have it without you.

Will they be wrestling in the mud naked? Because I wouldn't complain if they did.
>> No. 32594
I do believe that you should start a new thread as well.
>> No. 32595
File 129335079532.jpg - (361.34KB, 827x1169, 0f005d8550a5d3323a2091aca0e36e51.jpg) [iqdb]
32595
YAF sure is not biased. No sir, no. I will not change my vote, i will not be corrupted by you.
>> No. 32596
File 129336509558.jpg - (440.71KB, 700x700, 14480036.jpg) [iqdb]
32596
>>32594
Sure, let's call it the Reav Reavski's Whinge & Tit Workshop.
I am trying to find a leisure hour or five, but things get so bleeding busy around Christmas every time. I have no hope of being let sit down and write neither today nor tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow I am going to spend either travelling back to my place or trying to and dying in a spectacular traffic accident. Hassle, hassle.
Once I am let off the theological and social leashes, however (a colourful metaphor for this meaningless blogpost!), I am going to down some good spirits (most probably true!), make my best effort to type an update down (a blatant lie!), and then make that new thread – with new tits (of both mikoey and mokouey sort!), less typos (hopefully!), and no whinging (as if!).

Until then, folks (the falsest catchphrase there is!). Until then.

Oh, and if somebody could count up the votes, that would be very nice. If it is tied, the pussy-out option wins automatically – the Choo-Choo Railroad Shoe abhors you, haters!
>> No. 32597
File 129338858577.jpg - (194.63KB, 937x502, 1281125685354.jpg) [iqdb]
32597
>>32596
Seems you have passed Teruyo in terms of ranting.
>> No. 32598
>>32596
>Oh, and if somebody could count up the votes, that would be very nice
2 siding with Mokou
3 siding with Reimu
3 Mokou write-ins
4 pussy outs
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