>>1386320

A terrible pain, as if your entire body had been broken open and forced back into shape, haunts you as you roll over onto your back. Gazing up at the sky, your hazy vision settles on a raised hand. Your hand, with a sliver of broken glass speared through the palm. With a kind of macabre fascination, you watch as the dagger is pushed out of your flesh, the wound closing itself up soon after. It's always like this, leaving nothing behind but a faint tingle. No scars, no markings, no proof that the wound had ever been there in the first place. Just a memory, and those fade quickly enough.

Then, looking past your hand, you see the night sky falling down upon you. Feeling reality snapping back into action, you throw yourself up and back, somersaulting away from the ruined car mere moments before the Intruder crashes down. Already a crumbled wreck, the car is smashed to unrecognisable scrap in an instant. Barely slowed, the Intruder rises up to face you. Protean shadows flow, occasionally reaching out with grasping hands or opening up with staring eyes, but the core form remains the same. Hunched, like an oversized gorilla, and bluntly headless. It towers over you, of course, but they always do. Even without a head, a mouth, it manages to howl at you, loud enough to rattle the windows around you.

Surviving that fall took a lot out of you, drained a lot of your power. Not all of it, though – you've got more than enough to launch a counter attack. Shifting your weight into a fighting stance, you prepare for battle. Calling upon the magic you have been endowed with, you summon your weapon.

It's not the first weapon you've ever held – that weapon is long gone, a bitter reminder of what happened back then – but it's still a weapon. It might not sit quite right in your hand, it might not feel like an extension of your own body yet, but it will have to do.

>A few arrows from your Moonlight Bow should end this quickly! (Magic type)
>Nothing can withstand a blow from the Collapsed Star Knuckles! (Physical type)
>With your Rod of the Native Gods, call upon divine power to smite this evil! (Versatile type)

>I'll leave this vote open for 15 minutes and then call it and start work on writing the next post.

>>1386322
>>With your Rod of the Native Gods, call upon divine power to smite this evil! (Versatile type)

>>1386322
>Nothing can withstand a blow from the Collapsed Star Knuckles! (Physical type)

>>1386322
>A few arrows from your Moonlight Bow should end this quickly! (Magic type)

>>1386322
>>A few arrows from your Moonlight Bow should end this quickly! (Magic type)
P

>>1386322
>>Nothing can withstand a blow from the Collapsed Star Knuckles! (Physical type)

Cmon brawler

>>1386322
>>With your Rod of the Native Gods, call upon divine power to smite this evil! (Versatile type)
Magical nun girl? Don't mind if I do

Rolled 2 (1d3)

>Hah, well, looks like we have a tie. I'll roll to break the deadlock. Sorry about this!

1 - Bow
2 - Knuckles
3 - Rod

>>1386345

>Looks like the dice were feeling punchy today. Writing the next post now!

>>1386345
Not to tell you how to run your quest but shouldn't you have waited a bit more for people to come in ?

It's a pretty important vote after all

Good old three way ties

>>1386345
The first time a tie breaker has ever gone in my favor.

Feels good.

>>1386349
6 is plenty, and three-way ties are amusing.

Fists are cool, Rod might have been better if it was actually magic but I can't tell if it was. Bow doesn't seem felixble enough to most situations.

File: SK1Test.jpg (65 KB, 586x853)

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Digging your heels in, you clench your fists and bring your hands together. As they clash together, a flash of gold light spills out, coiling up and around your arms as they are sheathed in the magical energy. The light quickly turns cold, hardening and taking on the clunky form of a pair of heavy gauntlets. Light as a feather for you, anything struck by the might of the Collapsed Star Knuckles will tell a different story. Facing a train head on might well be easier.

Sensing that the flow of the battle has changed, the Intruder draws back for a moment – just a moment – before it recovers its wits and howls again. Pounding shapeless fists against the concrete beneath, it hurls itself towards you. If you broke now, if you turned tail and fled, those terrible paws would crush you just as easily as the Intruder crushed that poor car.

You don't turn. You don't run. Clenching one fist, you throw your weight into a blow of your own.

“Flawless Block!” you cry out, driving your fist into the oncoming attack and stopping it dead, stopping it so suddenly that the Intruder seems to hang, transfixed, in the air for a short moment. With the thunderous crack of your blow still ringing in your ears the Intruder is blasted back and away, scrabbling against the ground as it tries to recover. You don't give it the chance, charging and following up with a second heavy punch. As you drive your other gauntlet into the Intruder, you shout out: “Massive Strike!”

Technically, you don't need to call out your attacks like this... but it's a hell of a lot of fun. Consider everything that you've been through, these past few months, you'll take whatever fun you can get.

Your blow lands heavily enough that the Intruder visibly deforms from the impact, the substance of its body turning briefly shapeless before it is launched back again. This time, it falls roughly and aimlessly, crumpling to the ground. When it rises, the Intruder is the one to turn tail and run.

“Heavenly Child-” the rough voice, so familiar to you, calls out from the back of your mind. Before Kurosawa can say anything else, you cut him off.

“I know!” you snap back, your boots slapping against concrete as you throw yourself into a run, “It's heading back into the Umbra, I'm going after it now!”

As the words leave your mouth, you see the fleeing Intruder charge towards a building, the low window catching the reflection of the moonlight for a moment. It leaps through the glass, but nothing shatters. Instead, the surface of the window ripples like water as the creature vanishes back into the Umbra. Without breaking stride, you follow close behind and launch yourself into the portal.

It's never easy, feeling the world turn upside down and inside out like this. Even after six months in the business, it's still a dizzying experience.

[1/2]

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>>1386369

Umbra. The Beneath World. Like a madman tried to paint the world you've grown up in, from just a half-remembered glance. Things that looks like buildings loom and leer above you, while twisted trees snake in and out of blind and hollow window frames. Still groggy from the transition, your first steps in this other world are reduced to a stumble, your eyes flick back and forth for any trace of the Intruder.

Pale and alien sky, check. Spooky abandoned buildings, check. Fleeing Intruder... not here. Frowning softly, you draw in a heavy breath to steady your nerves and look about you. Like a parody of a street, the buildings have drawn close around you. Plenty of blind corners for the Intruder to have fled around, your trail isn't cold yet. Slowly flexing the articulated fingers of your gauntlets, you start off down the most obvious path. A pool of shadow flickers like static on the screen of some ancient television, and then a figure emerges.

“Heavenly Child,” the cat scolds you, “That was reckless.”

“Relax,” you reply, “That thing was, what, a Thrall? Easy pickings, I just didn't want to let it slip away. I'm fine, Kurosawa, really.”

“If you're sure,” your guardian angel sighs, “But remember your Barrier.”

As if you could forget. Your Emotional Barrier, the source of your strength and magic... a near limitless source of power, so long as you can maintain what Kurosawa coldly calls “a stable and healthy mindset”. Injuries – even things like being thrown from high skyscrapers – are nothing to worry about, but despair and desperation? A far more insidious danger. There was plenty of despair, not so long ago, but those days are behind you now. Not something you want to dwell upon.

“I'm fine,” you repeat softly as you turn the next corner, “I'm just-”

You pause, the sight of something definitely and undeniably NEW causing you to lapse into silence. A low basalt dome, like something you saw in an old book about ancient civilisations, with a yawning entrance. You've never seen anything quite like it before in the Umbra, and the sight of it seems to stir something within you, a new unease.

“Heavenly Child?” Kurosawa says for the third time, before trying your real name, “Miho?”

“Right,” shaking your head, you take a step forwards, “What do you think?”

“This requires further investigation,” the cat decides, his firm tone offering no other option, “Proceed inside, Heavenly Child.”

>You're right, there could be a lot to learn here
>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it
>I don't really... want to. This doesn't feel right

>>1386386
>>You're right, there could be a lot to learn here

>>1386386
>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it

>>1386386
>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it
does Kurosawa have a bell?

>>1386386
>>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it

>>1386386
>You're right, there could be a lot to learn here

>>1386386
>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it

>>1386386
>You're right, there could be a lot to learn here
>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it

>>1386386
>>Of course, if it's a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it

>Closing the vote now, going with cleanse and purge. Writing now

>>1386386
>You're right, there could be a lot to learn here

Nodding to yourself and clenching your fists tightly shut, you make up your mind. “Of course,” you assure Kurosawa, “If this... thing is a nest of Intruders, someone needs to purge it. I don't see anyone else here, so it looks like it's up to me.”

“I'm glad to see that you're feeling confident,” the cat deadpans, his silhouette flickering briefly as he pauses to lick himself.

“Gotta love what you do,” you tell the cat lightly. Forcing a smile onto your face, you brush back your flowing scarf and head towards the uncanny structure. The air in Umbra is always still, without even a whisper of wind, but your scarf continues to dance. It does that sometimes, probably the most overtly magical thing about your entire outfit. Otherwise, you could probably pass for a regular, if gaudily dressed, schoolgirl – low boots, a skirt short enough to draw disapproving looks, and a scuffed jacket. You were hoping for something more glamorous, when you signed up for this, but...

“The gods frown upon the needlessly ostentatious,” Kurosawa reminds you, skimming the thoughts of the surface of your mind as he brushes against your leg. It's creepy, how he can do that.

“Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?” muttering more to yourself than anyone else, you pause outside the entrance to the structure and peer inside, “Eighteen gods, all frowning down on me. How awful!” Laughing softly at your own joke, you start inside the building. When the darkness inside reaches out to coil around you, your laughter dies.

“The gods frown upon the needlessly sarcastic, as well,” the cat whispers as he pads after you, his form vanishing into the gloom.

-

There's a word for places like this, you decide as you slowly descend the crumbling stairs, a necropolis. A city of the dead. The few landmarks that you've seen so far have all been purposeless and decorative, like monuments, but nothing about them has any meaning to you. Abstract shapes, that's all, although it hardly makes you feel any less uneasy. Maybe they DO have meaning, just not one that you can understand.

“No enemies so far,” you report, wincing as your voice echoes down, “Kurosawa, can you sense anything?” Your question hangs in the air, unanswered, for an unusually long time. Just as you're about to call out, your guardian angel answers you.

“Maybe. I have a theory,” he replies slowly, “Continue down, I need confirmation.”

“Great,” you mutter, “And what about enemies?”

“Maybe,” Kurosawa repeats, “Stay on your guard.”

Great...

-

At the foot of a great stairwell, your explorations come to an abrupt end. Like a giant coin worn smooth by the ages, a circular slab of featureless rock bars your way. Sighing, you glance back the way you came. This was the only path, you definitely didn't miss any side corridors. Was this all a waste of time, then?

No, wait-

[1/2]

>>1386431

Like whenever Kurosawa chooses to appear before you, there is a sudden but faint crackle of energy in the air around you, the prickling on the back of your neck immediately warning you of... something. Raising your fists, you lower yourself into a defensive stance and wait for a moment. When no attack comes, you turn cautiously back to the door.

It had been worn smooth before, but that long process has reversed itself. What had once been featureless rock is now wildly decorated with grim murals, all set in a kind of circle. You see a dragon – or maybe a wyvern, you've never really known the difference between the two – facing down a rank of armoured knights. The dragon breathes fire, you think it's supposed to be fire, and reduce the knights to a pile of flaking bone and empty armour. The final section of the mural shows the dragon feeding, but you don't linger on that. The centre of the door is far more interesting.

Where there had been nothing, there is now the unmistakable shape of a keyhole. As you reach out to touch it, Kurosawa's gruff voice rings out in your mind.

“I'm pulling you out,” he snaps, “Right now. I can sense movement, converging on your location. Thralls, Demons... even a Tyrant level threat. I've seen everything I need to see here, now you're leaving.”

“Wait!” you protest, “I don't understand-”

Dizziness. Disorientation.

-

Back in the human world, it takes almost all of your strength not to throw up the contents of your stomach. An emergency shift like that is never much fun, making a regular transition seem like a brief discomfort, but this one hit you harder than most. Kurosawa must have been spooked, to pull you out so suddenly.

Then again, you'd be spooked by a Tyrant level threat as well.

“I have to do some research,” Kurosawa tells you bluntly, stepping smoothly out of a shadow as if nothing at all had happened, “You may not hear from me for some time. I suggest keeping out of trouble, I can feel your Barrier growing weaker.”

“Only because of that awful-” you begin to snap back, only for your words to fall upon empty air. Throwing up your hands in disgust, you shuffle out of the alleyway and take in a deep breath of the cool city air. Eager to chase away the stale necropolis air, you set off walking in a random direction. Wandering the city streets like this... it's just what you need at a time like this, something to steady yourself.

But of course, you soon realise that you're not wandering randomly at all. You're heading to where you always go, to the site of the incident. Allowing yourself a soft laugh – SO predictable – you continue on your way.

[2/3]

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>>1386455

Your name is Miho Tsukada, and six months ago you became the Heavenly Child. You're still not exactly sure what that means.

When Kurosawa made you the offer, he didn't use the term “magical girl”, but you knew exactly what he was talking about before he'd finished half of his spiel. With the impulsive nature of a sixteen year old girl, you had accepted the offer straight away. You weren't alone, either – there were two others who signed up alongside you. For the first two months it was like a game, it really was, and then... the incident.

That changed things. It changed everything.

-

You've got to admit, Ark City is quick to recover. The wounds left by the incident have been patched up and covered over, with a sleek modernist memorial left behind as the only reminder of what happened. You come here, now and then, to remind yourself. You're not alone in that, apparently. Pausing as you approach the discrete plaza, you see a faint shape in the gloom – the silhouette of a short girl, lurking uneasily in the gloom.

Ayane Nakamura. Not quite a friend, but one of your allies. It's impossible to say whether she's seen you or not, with her slouched shape offering no clue.

In the gloom, you frown.

>Approach and greet her
>Go about your business, but pretend not to have noticed her
>Turn back and leave, before she notices you

>>1386476
>Approach and greet her
"We just keep coming back huh?"

>>1386476
>>Approach and greet her

>>1386476
>Approach and greet her

>>1386476
>Approach and greet her

>>1386476
>>Approach and greet her

>>1386476
>>Approach and greet her
I need that plot

>>1386476
>>Approach and greet her

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Smoothing away your frown, you force a more neutral expression onto your face. Then, reconsidering, you upgrade it to a suitably solemn smile. There's no point in being unfriendly, after all, she's been through just as much as you have.

Well, she hasn't been thrown out of a skyscraper yet, as far as you know, but the night is still young.

As you approach, Ayane slinks out of her hiding place, her hands buried deep in her pockets. Light from one of the nearby street lamps glints off her glasses, lending her a strangely sinister air before she tilts her head to the side. With her short hair and vaguely masculine style, Ayane always struck you as something of a tomboy, and her attitude often matches. Taking her hands from her pockets, Ayane sizes you up for a moment.

“We just keep coming back here, huh?” you begin softly, “Hey Ayane.”

“Got nowhere else to go,” Ayane agrees, finally offering you a hand to shake, “Just taking a stroll, Miho, or are you working tonight?”

“I was working, but I guess I'm done for the night,” shrugging faintly, you look around the plaza, “Alone tonight?”

“Yes and no,” Ayane points up to the sky, to a faint object hovering above. A drone, you recognise, a Kanzaki SkyWatcher. “The princess is still in her tower,” the other girl continues, “but she sent her eyes and her ears. I suppose it's the thought that counts.”

You don't answer that, allowing a trace of your old frown to surface instead. “Maika should come here more often,” you decide after a moment, “In the flesh, I mean. Hiding away won't help her.”

“Yeah, but...” Ayane steps around you and approaches the memorial slab, leaning down to read the names engraved onto it, “She lost a friend here, you know? It can't be easy to relive all of that. I barely understand what happened, myself.” Sighing, Ayane reaches into her messenger bag and takes out a very retro pad of paper. Flicking through it, she glances between the paper and the memorial. Not to look for anything, you sense, but to avoid looking at you.

“Kurosawa called it a crisis level event,” you say quietly, “An unforeseen emergency, no different from an earthquake or a typhoon.”

“Sure,” Ayane mutters, “Kurosawa said that.” Letting her paper hang limply from her side, she turns and gives you a surprisingly hard look. “Do you ever think about it?” she asks sharply, “Like... if there was anything else you could have done? If what you did was right? If-” Finally noticing how accusatory her voice had grown, Ayane looks away. “...Sorry,” she mutters, “I guess I'm still a little...”

“It's fine,” you reply with a vague gesture, “It's...”

>I didn't know what would happen, I didn't have time to think. I just... acted
>If I hadn't done what I did, the Intruders would have killed a lot more people
>I didn't see you doing anything. You or Maika
>Other

>>1386538
>Bad things happen all the time, second guessing yourself really doesn't help. Keep your eyes on the future even as you remember and learn from the past.
>yes, there are things I wish I could have done better or differently, but I can't change them now, can I?

>>1386538
>I didn't know what would happen, I didn't have time to think. I just... acted

"It wasn't something I was ready for. I don't think any of us were."

>>1386538
>would you trust me if another happened? Would ANY of us be ready?

>>1386538
>>If I hadn't done what I did, the Intruders would have killed a lot more people

>>1386538
>I didn't know what would happen, I didn't have time to think. I just... acted
It's all you can do really

>>1386538
>>If I hadn't done what I did, the Intruders would have killed a lot more people
"It doesn't make it easier, but everything happened so fast."

Rolled 7 (1d30)

>>1386538
>>I didn't know what would happen, I didn't have time to think. I just... acted

“It was an awful situation,” you continue after a pause, shivering a little despite the spring warmth in the air “And honestly? I didn't know what would happen, I didn't have time to think about it. I just... acted. It was all I could do. It wasn't something I was ready for. I don't think any of us were ready for something like that.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, one or two Thralls, sure, but...” Ayane shudders, “How many of them were there, do you think? I wasn't really in a position to count, but there must have been one of them for every human in the plaza. More, probably.”

A conservative guess, you think to yourself, it was probably more than that. The fountain, normally a peaceful thing to sit beside on a sunny afternoon, had blackened and transformed into a gateway to the Umbra. Like water pouring out of a broken pipe, the Intruders had flooded into the world and-

“If I hadn't done what I did,” you say firmly, “The Intruders would have killed a lot more people. They would have spread, further and further, and while we wasted time chasing them all down...” Spreading your arms wide, you indicate the streets extending out through the rest of Ark City. As orderly as it is, it still represents a maze of streets and blind alleys. “It doesn't make it easier,” lowering your voice, you look back to Ayane, “But everything happened so fast. It was act then, or do nothing. I chose to act.”

“I know that,” awkwardness creeps into Ayane's voice, her eyes clouding over slightly. Above you, the Kanzaki drone dips a little lower and flits about like a restless bird. “It's just...”

“Would you trust me?” you ask suddenly, “Would you trust me, if there was another crisis? Would any of us be ready for it, now that we know what we're facing?”

“I don't think we can be ready for that kind of thing,” Ayane shakes her head, “But, would I trust you to act again? I guess... I guess I would. Maybe that's why you get to be the Heavenly Child, because you can do the right thing when it needs to be done. I don't think I could...”

“Bad things happen all the time, but second guessing yourself won't help anyone,” you assure Ayane, “Just keep your eyes on the future and learn from the past. It's all either of us can do. We can't change the things we've done, after all. I wish we could, I wish we could do things differently or better, but we can't dwell on that.”

“You know what my mother would call this?” Ayane asks, forcing a laugh, “Old news. You're right, we can't get bogged down in there regrets. If we do, it'll just happen again – and it might be worse next time.”

“Exactly,” you agree with a firm nod.

[1/2]

>>1386598

“So, work!” as if seeking to put an end to the bleak conversation, Ayane claps her hands sharply together, “You found something, right? An Intruder? Where was it, what part of the city?”

Ayane, you consider with a faint smile, is never short of a question or ten. Fitting, then, that Kurosawa calls her “Seeker of Truth”. Kurosawa likes his fancy titles about as much as Ayane likes her questions. Sighing, you start to give Ayane her information. “An Intruder, just a Thrall, and it was over... uh,” pausing, you wave a hand back towards the distant skyscrapers, “One of the towers down that way. You know the one, it's still being built. I guess they'll have to put in a new window now...”

“I see,” nodding, Ayane scribbles down some coordinates, “I'll have to make a note of that later. A proper note, I mean. Thanks Miho, you always manage to find something interesting. Just a Thrall though... boring!”

“We've got to take them down early,” you remind her, “If they feed, they can get strong. If they get too strong-”

“I know, I know,” waving away your lecture, Ayane puts away her pad of paper, “Terrible things happen. Look, I'm just saying, Thralls pop up so often that they might as well be meaningless. I'm trying to correlate this data, maybe see if there's some kind of pattern emerging here, but so far... no good. It's so frustrating, I feel like I'm going mad!”

“Maybe you're looking for a pattern where there isn't one,” you suggest lightly, carefully, “Thralls are close to mindless, I don't think we can learn anything from them.”

“Yeah, I know. That's why I was hoping maybe you found a Demon,” shrugging, Ayane straightens her glasses, “Well, no matter. Hey, maybe you should take a look at my data, see if you can point out something I've been missing. How about it? My apartment isn't that far, and we'll have the place to ourselves.” Planting her hands on her hips, Ayane studies your reaction. “I've got snacks,” she adds, “Tempted?”

>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!
>It's been a long day, and we've got school tomorrow. I'll have to pass
>Hey, can I ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>1386625
>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!

>>1386625
>>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!

>>1386625
>>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!

>>1386625
>>It's been a long day, and we've got school tomorrow. I'll have to pass

>>1386625
>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!

>>1386625
>>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!

>>1386625
>Now that snacks are on offer, sure. Lead the way!

“These snacks,” you ask slowly, “Are they good? Delicious and plentiful?”

“Very much so, on both counts,” Ayane assures you, her tone grave, “I got them in specially for tonight, I was hoping to share them with Connor, but...” A sour look passes across Ayane's face for a moment, but she covers it up quickly enough. “Well, he bailed on me. Work, apparently,” she shrugs, “His loss, your gain. Long story short, there are definitely snacks.”

Connor, you think ruefully to yourself, is one of the reasons that your mother dislikes Ayane. Not just an older boyfriend, but an older American boyfriend... it might be much of a scandal, but your mother is something of a traditionalist. Then again, if it wasn't Connor, you're certain that she would have found some other way of looking down on Ayane...

“So?” the other girl prompts, “How about it?”

“Now that snacks are on offer, sure,” you decide with a fleeting grin, “Lead the way!”

-

Out of some vague awkwardness, you pretend not to notice the Kanzaki drone buzzing away above you as you follow Ayane through the streets. It's strange, knowing that Maika is watching you so closely without revealing herself. There's simply no way of knowing what she might be thinking or feeling, and that has you at something of a disadvantage. So, you ignore the humming drone as best you can until you reach Ayane's apartment building. Defeated, the drone stops at the doorway as you head inside.

“That's a weight off my back!” Ayane laughs, glancing back to the doorway, “Man, Maika is weird...”

Murmuring your agreement, you step into the elevator and lean against the wall. You hate elevators, the way their walls are always – without fail – polished to a mirror sheen. Reflective surfaces in general leave you feeling uneasy, considering how easily they can be transformed into portals to the Umbra. When the elevator smoothly draws to a halt and the doors slide open, you can't get out of it quick enough.

-

There's something delightfully anachronistic about Ayane's bedroom, with the printed map of Ark City spread across one wall, decorated with a mess of coloured pins. It looks like something from an old detective movie, or the map from a general's table.

“Yeah, I know,” Ayane coughs into her shoulder, covering up a faint flush to her cheeks, “Don't... laugh, okay? I find AR displays too distracting, that's all it is.”

“Sure,” you agree mildly, “That's all it is.”

“Hey, I invited you here, I can throw you out as well,” she warns you, “And... ugh. Just take a look, see if anything jumps out at you. I'll see about those snacks.”

As she hurries out, you laugh softly to yourself and take a look at the pin-pricked map.

[1/2]

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>>1386668

It's strange, looking at Ark City like this. Normally, when you need to look at a map, you just slip on a pair of glasses and look up the augmented reality interface. It's better than a crumpled sheet of paper, especially in windy weather, and you can paint a line right to your destination. Still, the paper map is detailed enough that you can tell – exactly and at a glance – what you're looking at.

The centre of the city is, of course, the Grand Arcology. A stark white pyramid, with a looming spire at each corner, it represents the heart of Ark City. You go to school there, at the Ark Institute, sharing a class with Ayane and Maika... when she shows up. There are very few pins in this region, representing very few Intruder events. The next ring out is the domestic zone, where you are right now. Nice apartments for comfortable living, and plush shops for emptying fat purses. More pins here, but the majority are speared through the third region – the vice district. Unlicensed and unregulated, it's little wonder that trouble is drawn to the vice district.

The only pattern you can see is that most of the attacks happen there, in the vice district, but one of the notes pinned to the wall has the exact same theory scrawled down onto it. Unfortunately, there's nothing else you can see. As you take a step back, as if that might reveal some new secret, a hushed voice causes you to jump.

“So Sis has roped you into her stupid game as well, huh?” the young girl asks, a faint smile on her face, “It's so boring, and she never talks about it.”

“Hey...” offering a weak smile, you give the girl a small wave, “Shiori, isn't it?”

“That's right,” the girl, Ayane's younger sister, nods, “I'm surprised you know my name. Sis mentioned it, I guess.”

“Right,” you agree dubiously, searching your memory as you pause. You're not sure if Ayane ever mentioned her sister, now you think about it, but she must have done. How else would you have known her name? When you notice Shiori giving you a careful look – she has old eyes, for a fourteen year old – you paste a brighter smile across your face and move on. “You look well!” wincing at the foolish sound of your voice, you press ahead, “You've, uh, really grown!”

“Sure,” Shiori agrees, “That happens.”

Somehow, you get the impression that Shiori doesn't have many friends her own age.

>I need to have a word with your sister in private. Can you... be somewhere else?
>You mentioned a game. What is it?
>How has Ayane been lately? You know, ever since...
>Can I ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>1386693
>You mentioned a game. What is it?
>How has Ayane been lately? You know, ever since...

>>1386693
>>You mentioned a game. What is it?

>>1386693
>>You mentioned a game. What is it?

>>1386693
>>You mentioned a game. What is it?

>>1386693
>>You mentioned a game. What is it?
Can't decide on if I want to ask the other one too or not.

>>1386693
>>You mentioned a game. What is it?
>>How has Ayane been lately? You know, ever since...

>favorite qm on /qst/
>now writing a campy magical girl quest
I'm feeling so many conflicting emotions right now

>>1386738
It's not my favorite genre either but I trust Moloch enough to stick around for a while and see how things progress.

“You mentioned a game,” you ask Shiori quietly, “What is it?”

“Oh, she hasn't brought you into it yet? I thought...” the young girl tilts her head to the side and looks at the map on the wall, “It's pretty dumb, and it's going to get her in trouble one of these days. Some of the boys in my class were talking about it.” Setting down her book – thicker than the sort of book you'd willingly read – she taps one of the pins on the map. “It's like... they sneak into places, places they're not supposed to be, and take pictures. Sometimes they leave graffiti, although the police don't like that.”

“Oh,” you reply with a faintly puzzled frown, “Why?”

“Because they're dumb,” Shiori stresses, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, “And they think breaking into places makes them cool. I don't know why Sis is doing it, she's supposed to be smart!”

“Is she?” you ask with a quiet laugh.

“I said “supposed to be” smart,” the young girl corrects you, “It dangerous, you know. Some of the boys in my class got hurt one time, after breaking into a storage depot. Someone beat them up.” Frowning lightly, Shiori points to one of the pins at the border between the vice district and the domestic zone. “That's where it happened. You'd better not let Sis head out there,” pausing, Shiori gives you a very serious look, “I mean it!”

“Alright, alright!” you relent, holding your hands up to ward her off. Shaking your head, you look around the door for any sign of Ayane – how long does it take to fetch some snacks? “How has she been, anyway?” you ask quietly, “Since... you know. What happened.”

“Quiet,” Shiori says gravely, “That's when all this started, this dumb map stuff. She's kind of busy with Connor though, so maybe she's already bored with it.” Mentioning Connor's name, a sour look touches Shiori's features. Not a fan, then. Before you can press the issue, Ayane returns with a heavy tray of baked treats.

“Sorry for the wait, I wanted to whip up some cream!” she apologises, nodding to a smaller bowl of frothy cream, “These are best with fresh cream, after all!”

“Wow,” you remark with a wan smile, “You'll make a great wife one of these days, Ayane. Connor is a lucky man.”

“If he lasts longer than two weeks!” Shiori giggles, snatching one of the pastries from the tray and slipping out, letting the door slam behind her.

“I'd die for that girl, I really would, but sometimes I feel like killing her,” Ayane mutters, her cheeks burning red, “You know how it is.”

Not really, you think to yourself with a sudden pang of sadness, the perils of being an only child.

[1/2]

>>1386738
I knew this day was coming since London since he expressed interest back then.

But like >>1386748 said I'll stick around since it's Moloch. Which is more than I would give most MG quests.

>>1386755

Later, as you're steadily working through the tray of pastries and cream, Ayane gestures to the map on the wall. “I suppose you didn't get any bright ideas,” she suggests with a faint shrug, “Well, I'm not all that surprised. I'm starting to wonder if you're right – maybe I'm wasting my time with all this. I might as well be throwing darts at a board!” Groaning, she flops back on her bed and glares up at the ceiling. “This is so frustrating!” with a sigh, Ayane kicks at one of her pillows, “We just... we know so little about these things. Intruders, Kurosawa calls them... well, intruding from where? And why?”

“They feed on negative emotions,” you tell her quietly, “On... well, I suppose you'd call it sin. They're drawn to it, to people weighed down by the stuff.” Suddenly losing your appetite, you push away the tray of snacks and look back at the map. “I don't know where they come from though, I can't help you there,” pausing here, you frown, “Although... maybe they DO have a home. I found something today...”

“Yeah? So-” Ayane pauses, sitting up sharply and patting down her messy hair, “Wait, how do you know this stuff?”

“Kurosawa told me, after the incident. He thought that knowing what we were fighting for might help me... recover,” you bite your lip, “I suppose it must have worked. I'm out here, fighting the good fight after all.”

“Huh,” there is another long pause as Ayane studies you, clearly debating something with herself. There's something she wants to say, and it's only when you offer her a weary smile that she allows herself to give it voice. “Where is he anyway?” she asks, “That cat of yours?”

“He's busy with something,” you reply with a vague gesture, “He said that he might be away for a while.”

“Perfect,” Ayane nods, smiling a humourless smile.

“Ayane, just spit it out,” you sigh, “Please.”

Frowning, Ayane takes a moment to pick her next words with care. “So he said that stuff to you,” she looks away from you for a moment, her eyes flicking down before returning to yours, “And you believe him? I mean, do you think he's telling the truth?”

>Of course he is!
>I don't think so, but it's what I needed to hear at the time
>You don't trust him, do you?
>Other

>>1386785
>>You don't trust him, do you?

>>1386785
>>Other
"No idea. I'm still wary since he decided to tell me all this AFTER the incident instead of straight up. Like I'm on a need to know basis instead of being straight with each other.

I'll take his words with a grain of salt, but nothing disproves what he's said so far. I'll just have to see things with my own eyes while I 'work'."

>>1386785
>>You don't trust him, do you?
Do we have any reason to doubt him? Might have ulterior motives I guess.

>>1386785
>>You don't trust him, do you?

>>1386785
>>I don't think so, but it's what I needed to hear at the time
>>You don't trust him, do you?
Never trust Kyubey

“You don't trust him,” you ask Ayane in reply, “Do you?”

“Hey, c'mon,” Ayane protests, “That's dodging the question, you can't do that!”

“You're dodging the question as well,” you point out, “You can't do that either. All I'm saying is, you must have some reason to ask this – so, you don't trust Kurosawa, do you?” Pushing the tray a little further aside – nothing would ruin the dramatic moment more than getting cream all over your skirt – you lean forwards. “Ayane, look, you don't have to answer me, but...”

“No, it's just-” shaking her head, Ayane frowns hard, “Hey, you know me – I'm more of a dog person.” Her comment, said in a tone of forced joviality, hangs in the air for a few moments before you snort out a curt laugh. Ayane joins you in laughing, sitting up and punching you lightly on the shoulder. “Seriously though? I want to trust that cat of yours, I really do, but it's not easy. For a while, after the incident, I thought he had cut me loose – just flat out abandoned me. Then, one day, he shows up out of nowhere and tells me to get to work. With an attitude like that... yeah, I don't really trust him. I can't help it, but that's how it is.”

“That... doesn't sound like him,” you reply after a moment's thought, “Not in my experience, at least. Like I said, he was pretty quick to try and talk things over with me, although...”

“And here it is,” Ayane nods, “The “although” I was expecting. Go on then, let's hear it.”

Sighing to yourself, you run a hand through your hair. “I don't know, honestly,” you admit after a moment, “He talked to me, sure, but only after the incident. I didn't think much of it at the time, but... it feels like we're on a need to know basis, rather than being straight with each other.” Rising, stretching, you give the map a passing glance. “I'm going to take his words with a grain of salt from now on,” you decide, “But what I've seen so far, it doesn't disprove what he said. Maybe he was just telling me what I needed to hear, maybe he was telling me the truth – from now on, I'm going to keep my eyes open and make up my own mind.” Looking back around, you laugh. “Something to keep me busy while I work,” you add, “As if we weren't busy enough, right?”

“Right,” with a heartfelt smile – more genuine than anything you've seen on her face up until now – Ayane nods slowly, “You're pretty sharp, you know. Gotta keep asking the difficult questions, Miho – we both do.”

“The Seeker of Truth,” you muse, “Yeah, I guess so. Now come on, let's finish off this mountain of pastry – just how much were you expecting to eat?”

“Connor,” Ayane tells you gravely, “Has a big appetite.”

[1/2]

>>1386865

After your unusually serious conversation, the talk swings back to more casual matters. For the first time, you feel the stirrings of friendship between you and Ayane. Your conversation, unguarded like never before, has gone a long way to breaking down the barrier of formality between the pair of you. Now, you can talk as equals, instead of allies in some cosmic struggle. It's... nice.

And the snacks helped. The snacks were definitely a perk.

As you were leaving, Ayane took out her phone and showed you a picture of her and a young man, Connor. He looks like he's in his twenties, if you had to guess, with a roguish cast to his features. Definitely the type that your mother would disapprove of, you decided as you walked into the elevator. A short and tense ride later, and you're heading out into the night air. As if on cue, the Kanzaki drone buzzes down through the air and begins to follow you like a faithful pet.

Sparing it a brief frown, you shrug and head back towards home.

-

You hadn't realised it before, but your apartment block is a carbon copy of Ayane's, the product of some soulless building plan. It casts a new and faintly uncanny light on your home, as if you don't really belong here, but you put that down to your long and stressful day. It's a strange day, you think as you enter the elevator, when being thrown out of a skyscraper is one of the less eventful things to happen.

When the elevator reaches your floor, you see a faintly unwelcome sight – Kurosawa, sitting primly outside your front door. Biting back a grimace, you approach the black cat.

“The research is progressing well,” he tells you, “But I still need to confirm a number of things. We should discuss things tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you repeat numbly, “Sure. I'm looking forwards to it.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” the cat pauses, “You're on your own for this.” Having given this dolorous warning, he flickers out in a crackle of static and leaves you alone in the corridor. Grimacing, you reach out and try the door. It's unlocked... of course it is.

Squaring your shoulders, you head inside to face the music.

-

“It's very late,” Yui Tsukada, your mother, says grimly as she taps a finger against her glass of wine, “You know better than most how dangerous the streets can be. Where were you?”

“I can take care of myself,” you begin, without much hope for success, “And the streets are actually pretty safe. The police are-”

“The police can't be everywhere at once,” Yui cuts you off sternly, “Where were you?”

>I was just out, you know? Nowhere special
>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...
>Ayane invited me over for cake. It was nice
>Other

>>1386946
>I was just out, you know? Nowhere special
>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...
Taking a walk to clear my head, ran into a friend

>>1386946
>>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...

>>1386946
>>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...

>>1386946
>>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...

>>1386946
>>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...

>>1386946
>>I was visiting a friend. You're always saying I should make more friends...

“I was just out, you know?” you reply, squirming faintly in place, “Nowhere special, I just needed to clear my head. So there I was, getting some fresh air, when I bumped into a friend from school. We got talking, and she invited me back to hers for a bit.” Looking down at your shoes for a moment, you force yourself to meet Yui's eyes with a flare of defiance. “You're always saying I should make more friends, right?” you insist, “Well...”

“Miho, stop,” Yui sighs, taking a sip of wine, “You're a sensible girl, but only when you remember to be.”

“Yes mother,” you reply simply, your gaze dropping back down to your feet, “I know...”

“And you DO have a point,” she adds, grudgingly conceding the point, “So I can't be too harsh on you. What did you do, with this friend from school?”

“Uh... studying,” looking up, you risk a cunning half-truth, “Geography and local history. It's pretty interesting stuff really, although I never really thought about it much before now. We had something to eat, and we talked about-”

“Fine,” sighing again, Yui relents and lets the issue drop, “I'm happy to see you making friends, especially after everything that's happened.” Pushing aside her glass of wine, Yui stretches and fights back a yawn. “Oh yes,” she adds, “Your father called. He won't be able to come home for a while, not until things have calmed down at work. I'm sorry, but you know it is.”

“It can't be helped,” you reply with an attempt at a carefree shrug, “It's not like this is the first time, is it?” It's sad to say, but this is closer to the norm than the exception. Your father's position at Renko Biotech affords you certain privileges – your place at Ark Institute among them – but sometimes you'd trade them all away to spend a little more time with him. “Well, uh, I'm pretty tired,” you add a moment later, “I'm going to go to bed now. Thanks for staying up for me.”

“Get some sleep,” Yui warns you, “You don't get to skip school just because you're tired.”

Sighing, you slink away into your bedroom.

-

You call it “your” bedroom, but it doesn't really feel like anyone's bedroom at all. You were just about to start redecorating when the incident happened, and that killed most of your desire to decorate the place. Now, it feels like a hotel room – empty space, temporarily occupied. It has a bed, however, and sometimes that's enough.

Lying back and closing your eyes, you let sleep creep up over you.

>I'm going to pause things here, and continue tomorrow. If anyone has any questions, I'll try and answer them as best I can
>Thanks to everyone who participated today!
>My twitter, for future updates: https://twitter.com/MolochQM

>>1387041
Welcome back, Moloch!

>>1387041
Thanks for running Moloch

>>1387041
Thanks for running

>>1387041
Thanks for running, Moloch! Any inspirations of note for this quest?
When are we going to lose an eye this time around?

>>1387090
Hey, we went a whole quest with all eyes intact. Let's keep the streak going.

>>1387090
I'm pretty sure Amelia and Mia had both their eyes at the end of SMT London S1 and S2.

>>1387090

I wouldn't say I've had a single main source of inspiration this time, nothing that comes to mind at least. I have been reading Joker Quest lately, so a bit of that might show up in the mix.
I'm hoping to keep the missing limbs/eyes on the down low this time. If nothing else, I'll aiming for a slightly lighter tone for this quest.

>>1387124
>slightly lighter tone
>starts off in the aftermath of some unexplained but morally grey incident
Yup, that's the Moloch I know and enjoy. Looking forward to more!

This quest seems like it'll be fun, though I've never been too big a fan of magical girl stuff. Also, I noticed you haven't added Northern Gods Quest to your pastebin

Oh hey, a new Moloch Quest!

>>1387124
I have been reading Joker Quest lately, so a bit of that might show up in the mix.
So we're going to be super OP while fucking up everything forever and almost dying every single fight? Good to see you back, buddy.

When morning comes, you feel like you've been hit by a train. No, it's far worse than that. Still, it does satisfy one curiosity – you've always wondered what it's like to be on the receiving end of the Collapsed Star Knuckles. Not pleasant, apparently.

There's a certain ritual you have in the morning, something you've been doing for the past four months. In the bathroom, you glare hard at the mirror as you brush your teeth, throwing a towel over it before letting it out of your sight for more than a few moments. You don't have many standards, not really, but you simply refuse to fight in a bathroom. You've never had to, and you can't honestly imagine it ever happening, but it's the principle of the thing.

A quick breakfast, and then you're out of the door on the way to the Grand Arcology. You like to rush early so that you can take your time walking to school, the humble routine giving you a quiet contentment that you never felt before accepting Kurosawa's offer. By night, Ark City has a certain cold and fearful beauty about it, but by day... it's just charming. The streets are clean, the regimented rows of buildings are pristine white, and the background hum of the traffic is the hushed tone of electric engines. Simply put, it's a nice place to live.

Your path is mostly a direct one, but you do make one diversion – stopping off at a quiet side street known for several antique shops. As another little daily ritual, you spend a few moments gazing forlornly into one particular window, at the dusty sword that takes pride of place in the display.

You had a sword once, and not just a dusty antique either. It was the real deal, a gilded blade that roared with inner power. The Sword of the Sun, the true weapon of the Heavenly Child. You had it, you wielded it well, and then you lost it four months ago. No, not lost it – sacrificed it. A lot of things were sacrificed that day.

Sacrifice, Kurosawa told you later, is a virtue. One of his seven Great Virtues, in fact, although learning that did little to comfort you.

Shaking off the memories, you pull your gaze away from that dusty old sword and force yourself to move on. Taking the scenic route is all well and good, but you can't afford to linger too long. You're already running a little late. Putting a little extra haste in your step, you hurry out of the side street and rejoin the main route. Soon, you're heading into the Grand Arcology, the vast white pyramid flanked on all four corners by looming corporate spires. To your left, Kanzaki Automated Industries. To your right, the ArkMedia tower. The other two towers, belonging to Renko Biotech and Hieroglyph Marketing, are just barely visible.

The corporate spires loom above the tip of the pyramid, the chambers of government. A subtle reminder of where the balance of power lies.

[1/2]

File: Professor Carrington.jpg (45 KB, 430x950)

45 KB JPG

>>1389014

“Now remember class, I want you to find a poem that you feel has some special meaning to you and bring it in for next week,” your English literature teacher says with an admirable attempt at perkiness, pacing from one side of the room to the other as she speaks. “There are no wrong answers,” she adds in a slight tone of warning, “But I will expect you to explain your reasons, so at least pretend to have read it!” A faint murmur of laughter runs through the class as she says this, and a small but genuine smile takes shape on her lips.

She's not the best teacher you've ever had, Professor Carrington, but she's probably your favourite. Ever since the incident four months ago, she's gone the extra mile to get to know all of her students, even if only a few of them bothered to return her efforts. You're one of that small number, occasionally chatting in your spare time between lessons. If nothing else, it's a nice distraction from the four empty desks dotted throughout the classroom. Three of those desks belonged to students who died in the incident, while the fourth is Maika's. She's absent today... again.

“Glad that's over,” Ayane grunts once Professor Carrington brings the class to a close, “I'm going to have lunch on the roof. See you around, Miho.” Rising, she stretches and joins the rest of the students flowing out from the classroom.

Calling it a “roof” is something of a misnomer, you consider, it's really more of an oversized balcony. One of many extended platforms that jut out from the side of the great pyramid structure, allowing people to bask in the sun and the open air. The view is pretty fantastic, although it's never been as popular a place to relax as you might expect. Still, it gives people like Ayane a place to eat in relative privacy, and there's something traditional about eating lunch on a school roof – even if isn't really a roof at all.

Soon, it's just you and a few of the stragglers left, with Professor Carrington going over her notes for her next class. Normally, you'd head to the library to work on your assignments – the more you do now, the more time you can spend on “work” later – but now...

Well, you decide as the last of the stragglers file out, you'll have to think of something. It's either that or just sit here, after all.

>Join Ayane on the roof
>Head to the library to do some work
>Talk with Professor Carrington for a while
>Other

>>1389017
>Talk with Professor Carrington for a while

>>1389017
>Talk with Professor Carrington for a while

>>1389017
>>Head to the library to do some work

>>1389017
>Head to the library to play candy macerate 4 on your phone

>>1389017
>>Head to the library to do some work

>>1389017
>Talk with Professor Carrington for a while

Well, you decide after a while, why not stay a while and talk with Professor Carrington? It's a good a way to pass the time as any, and you always got the impression that she enjoyed talking with you as well. As you're thinking about how to begin your conversation – something suitably casual, without straying into disrespectful territory – she notices that you're still here and gets the first word in.

“Miho?” she asks, her soft English accent giving your name an unusual sound, “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

You like that about her, the fact that she's English by birth as well as teaching it by vocation. It feels right, somehow, very appropriate. Still, her words put you briefly on the wrong foot and leave you fumbling for a response. “Huh?” you blurt out, “No, I mean, sort of. I was just...”

“I know how it is,” nodding to herself, Professor Carrington closes her notebook and gives you a slight smile, “I'm not really a huge fan of poetry either. Prose, on the other hand, nice long novels... Still, I'm here to teach a wide range of material, and you're here to learn it. We've both got our jobs to do!”

“Sure,” you agree, “I'm sure I'll think of something. I was going to head to the library soon, anyway, to see if I can find a good collection.” Even so, you don't make a move to leave just yet. With a comfortable silence descending over the classroom, you let your eyes wander across the room, pausing only when they fall upon one of the empty desks.

“Forgive me if this is too soon,” Carrington begins, a faint note of hesitation in her voice, “But it really was a miracle that you survived. Every night, I thank God for every one of you that was spared.”

Ironically, it's not the mention of the incident that sours the mood, but Carrington's mention of God. Ever since Kurosawa entered your life, you've had to make a few very sudden adjustments to how you view matters of faith. To be told, in no uncertain term, that not just one but eighteen gods exist... it came as quite a shock. Seven Great Virtues, and eleven Curse Gods.

Why, you had asked, are there more curses than virtues?

“Because men can be very wicked,” Kurosawa's had answered, simply and bluntly. After that, you hadn't asked many more questions.

-

“Oh, I'm sorry for bringing that up so crudely,” Carrington says hastily, taking your thoughtful silence for grief, “I just... seeing you there, it felt like something I needed to say. Excuse me, please.” Wincing at her own words, Carrington bows hastily enough that her lab coat flaps out like a cape.

You're not sure why an English literature teacher would need to wear a lab coat, but maybe it's just another of her eccentricities.

“I'll let you go, you needed to work...” the Professor continues, “Sorry again for...”

>It's fine, forget about it
>I'm worried about Maika. She's been out of school a lot...
>I did have something to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>1389050
>>I'm worried about Maika. She's been out of school a lot...
>>1389050

>>1389050
>I'm worried about Maika. She's been out of school a lot...

>>1389050
>I'm worried about Maika. She's been out of school a lot...

>>1389050
>>I'm worried about Maika. She's been out of school a lot...
Maybe we can find out some more about creepy stalker chan.

As you finally get up to leave, you take another glance back at the vacant desks – this time, at Maika's space. Clearing your throat, you turn back to Professor Carrington. “I'm a little worried about Maika,” you admit, “She's been absent for so long. Do you think she's... ill?” You leave that last part vague, so that Carrington can take it however she likes – mentally or physically unwell.

“I was told that she would be taking her lessons at home for some time,” your teacher replies slowly, “I was given assurances that her grades wouldn't suffer, and the work she's submitted seem to agree with that.” After glancing about to make sure that nobody can overhear you, Carrington continues in a secretive tone. “Of course, I don't think I could fail her even I had good reason to!” she laughs, “Considering her family situation...”

Of course. One doesn't just “fail” the heir to Kazaki Automated Industries. “But she's not unwell?” you press, “Right?”

“Her sort doesn't get unwell, not like we do. Something to do with gene therapy, I think,” Carrington says carefully, “But you'd be better off asking Stuart... I mean, Doctor Carrington about that.”

Her husband, one of your other teachers – biochemistry. Not quite as approachable, in your experience, but that's largely because of how absent minded he is. One time, he forgot he was talking to you in the middle of a conversation. Maybe there's a gene therapy to cure that as well, these days.

“Maybe I'll ask him when I see him,” you agree, “Well, thanks anyway!”

“Take care!” the Professor says as you hurry out of the classroom, “And good luck with that assignment!”

-

You've often thought about how strange the library is. With modern storage devices, you could store the entire library, in digital form, in something no larger than one of the books kept within it. Yet, a great deal of space and resources are still devoted to keeping and preserving old paper. It's a curious thing, and slightly decadent when you think about it. Still, there's an undeniable pleasure in surrounding yourself with these old relics – the same sort of pleasure you get from peering through antique shop windows.

At the front desk, you have to ask several times about poetry – English language poetry, that is. The head librarian repeatedly tries to steer you towards collections of haiku poetry or other traditional Japanese material. As you leave, you can still hear him complaining about the decline of “true” culture, and the inherent superiority of Eastern art.

The rhetoric would be more convincing, you think to yourself, if the head librarian wasn't a white guy called “Glen”.

[1/2]

>>1389070

What you thought would be an easy assignment turns out to be anything but, with countless fat volumes of verse leaving you stuck for a place to start. There are gaps in the shelves where thinner, easier to read books might have been found, but your classmates seem to have snapped them up first. Just as you're starting to consider giving up, maybe playing some fool game on your phone instead of working, a hushed voice from behind you causes you to jump.

“Poetry,” the voice deduces, “For one of your classes, right?”

Shiori, you realise as you turn, looking as intensely serious as ever. “Yeah, that's right,” you tell her, “For English lit. I've got to find something that means something to me, but...”

“But first, you have to read some of it,” Shiori finishes for you, narrowing her eyes in a way that reminds you, strangely, of Kurosawa, “What a pain.”

“Right,” you agree sullenly, “I don't suppose you can give me any recommendations, can you?”

“It doesn't work that way,” the young girl scolds you, “What means something to ME might not mean anything to YOU. There's no quick and easy way about it, I'm afraid.”

Sighing, you slump your shoulders in defeat. “You know,” you tell Shiori with a faint and lingering bitterness, “You don't really act your age, do you?”

“Do I?” this takes her by surprise, causing her eyebrows to lift slightly, “What were you like when you were my age, then?”

“Well, I was-” you begin, before falling silent. Frowning, you think hard and try to dredge up a few memories from that age. It's more difficult than you had been expecting, and the memories that do come to mind are strikingly colourless – bland scenes of sitting in boring classrooms or wandering about Ark City with your parents. Anything uniquely “you” is... hard to focus on. “I must have been a very boring child,” you decide at long last, “I can't even think of a hobby I once had.”

“Hmm,” Shiori studies your face for a moment, “Maybe you should have read more poetry.”

Her absolutely deadpan tone forces you to laugh, while a few glares from some of the other students quickly kill your laughter stone dead. Glancing around, you flash an apologetic smile to them before looking back to Shiori. At least, to where she used to be. The young girl is nowhere to be seen. Sighing again, you slip one of the dense books down from the shelf and carry it over to a desk. Time for some light reading.

-

The rest of your day passes without incident, your other classes offering little in the way of trouble. When the time comes to leave, Ayane waits outside the classroom for you, matching your pace as you walk down the corridor. Her expression, you note, is one of distaste.

“Poetry,” you guess, “Right?”

“Poetry,” Ayane repeats, as if daring to voice some vile profanity.

[2/3]

>>1389091
just putting it out there, we should ask ayame what she remembers from before being a heavenly child

>>1389070
>As you leave, you can still hear him complaining about the decline of “true” culture, and the inherent superiority of Eastern art.

>The rhetoric would be more convincing, you think to yourself, if the head librarian wasn't a white guy called “Glen”.
God damn weebs.

>>1389091

As you approach the school gates with Ayane, a thought occurs. Your strangely unclear memory from before is still nagging at you, leaving you with unanswered questions. If she shares these lapses, maybe it's something to do with your... position, your role as Heavenly Child. Just as you're about to ask, you slip through the front door and into the afternoon sunlight. Ayane, startled by something, lets out a soft cry of surprise.

At the school gates, a particularly unusual sight awaits you. Like a giant from some grim fairytale, a towering black man waits at the side of the road, standing at attention by a sleek car. Ayane glances across to you, giving you a sceptical look, and then she starts off towards the man. A protest dies on your lips as she marches away, and all you can do is follow in her footsteps.

“Hey!” she calls out to the man as you approach, “You can't loiter around like this, there are laws-”

“Miss Ayane Nakamura?” he asks, his voice very deep and very calm, “And Miss Miho Tsukada?”

“That's us,” you reply slowly, nodding despite yourself. Why would a towering man, built like a wrestler, in a black suit know your names? You can't possibly imagine why, except maybe... there is one possible explanation.

“My name is Bradley, I am employed by the Kanzaki family,” reaching into his suit jacket the man produces an ornate seal, with the appropriate family insignia engraved into it, “The young Miss Kanzaki has requested the pleasure of your company. Would you care to come this way?”

“Wait a minute,” Ayane protests, “Is this an offer that we can actually refuse?”

“Of course!” Bradley insists, his voice lifting slightly although his expression doesn't change in the slightest, “You are free to do as you see fit. However, the young Miss was quite specific about wanting to see you in person.”

“Ah hell, why not?” Ayane decides with a shrug, “I'm game. Always wanted to see where the princess lives. What about you, Miho?”

A sudden thrill of nervousness runs through you. This would be your first time seeing Maika in person, since the incident. She lost a good friend, technically because of what YOU did... now she wants to see you? This might not be a pleasant visit.

>Okay, I need to see her as well. We need to talk
>I'm sorry, I can't do this. Maybe some other time, but...

>>1389103
>>Okay, I need to see her as well. We need to talk

>>1389103
>>Okay, I need to see her as well. We need to talk

>>1389103
>>Okay, I need to see her as well. We need to talk

>>1389103
>>Okay, I need to see her as well. We need to talk
Time to bite the bullet.

No, even if Maika just wants to yell at you and curse your name, it's something that needs to be done. If she gets it out of her system, maybe you can both move on with your lives. Then again, maybe you're being pessimistic – maybe Maika has asked to see you for a nicer reason, to extend the hand of friendship. Either way, you won't know unless you take the chance.

“Okay,” you decide with a firm nod, “I need to see her as well. We need to talk, face to face.”

“Excellent,” Bradley says with a tiny but dignified bow, “This way please, I will be driving you.”

“Hey Miho,” Ayane nudges you with an elbow as the looming manservant turns to leave, “Looks like we're moving up in the world!”

-

With its sleek chassis, all smooth lines and graceful curves, the luxury car rather feels like you're riding in a giant mechanical wasp, purring along in near perfect silence. Flawless suspension only adds to that impression, granting you the illusion of flight. All in all, it's a rare treat to travel like this – you just wish you could enjoy it properly. Expensive leather creaks as you shift and fidget, causing Ayane to glance over.

“It'll be fine,” she whispers, reaching across to pat you on the shoulder, “We're in this together.”

The unexpected show of solidarity brings a smile to your face, but your inner unease is largely undiminished. “Hey Ayane,” you begin, pausing as you glance at the thick, soundproof screen separating you from the driver, “Hey, I needed to ask you something. It's not about Maika, anything like that, it's... old stuff.”

“Old stuff?” Ayane frowns, “You mean like, antiques?”

“Memories,” you correct her, “What sort of stuff do you remember from before? Like... before we met Kurosawa. Is there anything you can't remember?”

“There's a lot that I wish I could forget,” Ayane laughs awkwardly, “The first boyfriend I had, maybe a year and a half ago, we were getting down to business when my mother barged in. I mean, can you imagine? I wanted to die. I spent a whole week in my room, just wanting to die... and the boy, he never spoke to me or even looked at me again! Ugh, it was-” Stopping herself from going any further, she gives you a curious look. “Well, you get the picture,” Ayane finishes lamely, “But to answer your question... nope. I can't say I've got a perfect memory, but there's nothing abnormal about it. Is there something bothering you?”

Swallowing heavily, you look away and focus on the streets flitting past outside the car window. “I don't know,” you admit after a while, “I just... don't know.”

[1/2]

>The next post may be slightly delayed, I need to run a short errand. Apologies in advance.

>>1389103
>>Okay, I need to see her as well. We need to talk

>>1389137
How old are we again?

>>1389151
16

>>1389137

Entering the Kanzaki family home feels rather like breaking into prison, or perhaps some kind of military installation. Bradley has to present credentials at the front gate, showing them to a man in a black suit identical to his own. The main difference is, the guard has an automatic rifle slung at his side, ready for use in an instant. You shudder a little at the sight of it, but Ayane appears fascinated.

“Belgian,” she tells you in a low voice as the car crawls forwards a little more, “Nice.”

“I like Belgian chocolate,” you reply numbly, feeling as though you might have started dreaming at some point. Maybe you fell asleep reading dreary poetry, and this is all a strange dream...

Ayane chuckles softly at your comment, before the humour falls away from her face. Too quiet for you to hear, you would have missed it if not for the movement of her lips. When she catches your questioning look, Ayane repeats the word aloud.

“Pariah?” you echo, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It's what your buddy Kurosawa calls her,” Ayane mutters darkly, “You're the Heavenly Child, I'm the Seeker of Truth, and Maika... she's the Pariah. Nice, huh?”

-

The Kanzaki family home is not really built in the western style, but neither is it traditional Japanese – it doesn't seem to have a style at all, save for the brutalist military aesthetic you saw outside. Stark white walls and pillars, with equally harsh white lighting pouring down from glowing ceiling panels. With gestures rather than words, Bradley leads you through the sterile lobby and into a slightly more homely chamber. Like a small house, with all the walls between rooms stripped away. Slipping off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, the black man ambles into the open kitchen.

“You'll want the elevator on your right,” he tells you, point to indicate a row of steel sliding doors, “The furthest to your right. Top floor. The young Miss will be expecting you.” With that, the manservant busies himself with knives and utensils, letting his professionalism slip just enough to hum softly as he works.

Ayane offers a faintly confused smile, as if she can't quite figure out what to make of the man, and then you head off to the bank of elevators. Bradley told you it was the top floor, but you don't have much choice in the matter – there's only two buttons, up and down. Shrugging, you press the up button and wince as the mirrored doors slide shut.

Elevators. Why are they always the same?

[2/3]

File: Maika Kanzaki.jpg (272 KB, 1080x1080)

272 KB JPG

>>1389178

When the elevator purrs to a halt and opens its doors, you take a moment to grasp what you're looking at. The room is circular, windowless but lit by a soft light that seems to have no source at all. The air itself almost seems to glow. Almost completely empty, the room has a single piece of decoration – a bed in the middle, although it takes you a moment to recognise it as a bed. Above it, a set of projectors hang from the ceiling, thick cables running down into the figure sitting up in bed.

The figure has its back to you, pale and bare skin glowing in the soft light. Heavy pieces of machinery are fixed to its body – a helmet, gloves, pieces set around the shoulders, maybe more that you can't see – and the cables from above connect up to these machines. Images flicker into life, projected onto the walls around you. Images of... you and Ayane. In the city streets, outside school, even images shot a few meagre moments ago that show you shifting uneasily in the elevator.

[Welcome to Kanzaki Automated Industries] a calm, synthesised voice announces [The future is automated – don't get left behind.]

“What?” Ayane mutters, as the armoured figure on the bed shifts around. Much of their face is hidden behind smooth polymer, but the dark lips are distinctly feminine. With a hiss of displaced gas, the helmet slides open to reveal a familiar face.

“A new program for our public relations suites,” Maika Kanzaki explains, “What do you think?”

You are, quite simply, speechless. You and Ayane both.

“Forgive me, I thought it might amuse you,” slowly, Maika begins to strip off the various pieces of machinery fixed to her body, “I meant to... break the ice. I understand that perhaps you might be... ill at ease, seeing me so suddenly.” She wears nothing beneath the armour, but her bare flesh is more akin to a Greek sculpture than anything else. By refusing to acknowledge her nakedness, Maika renders it sterile and sexless. Even so, it's only when she slips on a robe of thin Chinese silk that you feel more at ease.

Then, you feel strangely bitter. This was all a performance, a perfectly rehearsed display on her part – meanwhile, you were left uncertain and uneasy. It's all so typically Maika... and she probably doesn't realise how cruel it might seem.

Someone once said that the super rich were barely human any more, with all their genetic tampering. Looking at Maika, you can believe it.

>What's this about, Maika?
>That machinery you were wearing, what is it?
>You've been watching us, ever since the incident... why?
>I need to ask you something, now that we're face to face... (Write in)
>Other

>>1389185
>>What's this about, Maika?
>You've been watching us, ever since the incident... why?

>>1389185
>>You've been watching us, ever since the incident... why?

>>1389185
>That machinery you were wearing, what is it?
>>You've been watching us, ever since the incident... why?

>>1389185
>>You've been watching us, ever since the incident... why?

>>1389185
>What's this about, Maika?
>That machinery you were wearing, what is it?
>You've been watching us, ever since the incident... why?

This is one of these rare moments where Ayane is lost for words, leaving you to ask the first question. “Maika,” you ask through a suddenly dry throat, “What's this about?”

“I've been busy, ever since the crisis level event. Thinking, mainly, and experimenting a little,” Maika explains, shifting the pieces of her armour – or... whatever it is – aside before sitting back down on her bed. “You see, after the incident, I was struck by something – at how utterly useless I was. Put simply, I failed. Failure of that sort, of any sort, is unacceptable,” she pauses here, picking up one of the discarded gauntlets and slipping it over a pale, delicate hand, “So I decided that I would do better, even if that means turning my hand to something other than... overt physical combat. You've noticed my drones, I suppose?”

“Well... yeah!” Ayane blurts out, “They've been following us everywhere, we could hardly miss them!”

“You've been watching us ever since the incident,” you agree, in a rather more calm voice, “Why is that?”

“I'll admit, curiosity was a part of it,” the noble girl says lightly, “I wanted to see how you behaved, how you recovered from what could be considered an atrocity. How many died, was it... forty?”

“Forty-three,” you correct her in a whisper, “But you knew that already.”

“Well, yes. I wanted to see how you were dealing with it. Poorly, as it happens, but that was only right and proper. For you to be cold and unaffected by it... you would be as much of a monster as any Intruder,” shrugging, Maika clenches her armoured fist, “So, I started watching you to indulge my curiosity, but I continued to monitor you for research. You seek out Intruders, after all, which makes you my best source for combat information. I've learned certain... techniques. The experiments that I mentioned earlier.”

“Something to do with the drones,” Ayane murmurs to yourself, “Not just the ones we've seen, but... all of them? Your whole network?”

“Correct. I've taught them a new trick,” allowing herself a small smile, Maika nods, “Intruders, before they force their way into our world, create a kind of distortion, something that can be detected and measured. It's not nearly flawless, not yet, but I believe that I have created an early warning network. Helpful, wouldn't you say?”

“Sure,” you agree with an attempt at a smile, “So we can do even more of the hard work.”

“I knew you'd see the benefits of it,” that tiny smile grows a fraction wider as Maika swipes an armoured finger through the air, summoning up a map of the city from one projector, “Now then-”

“Hey, what is that stuff?” you ask suddenly, cutting her off before she can launch into another lecture, “That armour you're wearing, what is it?”

[1/2]

>>1389217
Maika doesn't talk like a rich nerd. We have an ojou on our hands.

>>1389217

“This?” frowning a little at your interruption, Maika looks down at the gauntlet she wears, “An advanced interface. From here, I can access the building's security, as well as any drone on the Kanzaki network. Only visually, mind you, I don't have direct control. The gloves provide feedback and precise control, effectively removing the need for a keyboard or any other physical interface. Various other components provide tactile feedback, fully immersive-”

As Maika talks about this new technology, her voice lowers a little and grows slightly breathless, a slight hint of colour rising in her otherwise pallid cheeks. Seeing her like this, it's the closest she's come to an actual human being.

“Okay,” Ayane says with a faint wince, “We get the picture.”

“Preliminary models enter the market next year,” the corporate heir adds, her voice taking on a light note of petulance, “I'm helping to test the prototypes. Now then, where was I?”

“Good question,” you mutter to yourself, “Uh... Drones, right? You trained them to sniff out Intruders.”

“Quite so!” like a teacher congratulating her favourite student, Maika gives you an indulgent nod, “And already, I've had some interesting results. Six days ago, I detected an Intruder preparing to enter our world, except... something prevented it from breaking through. Regrettably, I was not able to discover what happened, or how it worked.”

“Maybe another one of us?” Ayane suggests, “Although... I don't know, can we stop them breaking through?”

“We've never had the chance to try before now,” you reply, “Even Kurosawa can't reliably give us early warnings.”

“Can't... or won't,” Ayane mutters, looking away from you as her expression darkens.

“Okay, so where does that leave us?” ignoring Ayane's pointed comment, you give Maika a probing look, “We've got an early warning system, that's great, but what next? Will you be calling us up all hours of the day, sending us off to hunt Intruders?”

“Yes,” Maika says bluntly, before smiling a little, “Or rather, I would be willing to. It may help to prevent further loss of life. Of course, I can't compel you to do anything about the information I relay. There is one favour I would like to ask of you, however.”

And here it is...

“Could you visit the site of this failed incursion and take a look around?” the noble girl asks, “Perhaps there won't be anything to find, but I'd like to be sure. What do you say?”

>Only if you come with us, Maika
>Sure, fine. We'll check it out
>Sounds like a waste of time. I'm out
>I need to ask you something about this... (Write in)
>Other

>>1389237
>>Only if you come with us, Maika

>>1389237
>>Only if you come with us, Maika
>You being a recluse isn't helping yourself.

>>1389237
>Only if you come with us, Maika
Might give some extra insight and it's good to go outside every now and then.

>>1389237
>Sure, fine. We'll check it out
To make her go out more we should take her out to have fun, not investigate monster incursions

>>1389237
>>Only if you come with us, Maika
She's the one who knows what we're supposed to be looking at, she needs to come with us to the site.

Considering the offer for a while, you glance across to Ayane to see if she has anything to offer. The girl just shrugs, willing to defer to your “natural leadership” - a trait that you never realised you possessed. With just your own thoughts to go on, you reach a decision.

“Sure, fine,” you tell Maika, holding up a single finger before she can celebrate, “But only if you come with us, Maika. You're more likely to know what we're looking for than either of us two, after all.”

“I see,” Maika replies slowly, pursing her lips as she thinks, “This would be my first piece of field work, since the crisis level event. You do realise that, don't you?”

“You don't have to fight, if it comes to that. Just stay out of the way and we'll handle that,” you assure her, “Afterwards, if everything goes well, we can all go out and do something fun together. That's gotta be tempting, right? I mean, being a recluse isn't going to help you feel any better. How about it?” You look across to Ayane again, giving her a warning look. “We'd both be happy to have you along,” you add sternly, “Right Ayane?”

“Oh sure, certainly,” Ayane nods, taking your lead, “Maybe your nice driver can give us a lift out there!”

“Well, that won't be possible, but fine. This matter is important enough that I'm prepared to concede the point,” tilting her head to the side, Maika gestures to the elevator, “But first, I need to dress. You proceed ahead, and I will join you in the lobby. Bradley will fix you a light meal, if you wish.”

Now she's modest about dressing around you? Letting the point lie, you shrug and turn back for the ghastly elevator. Before you can press the button, though, Ayane calls out a question to the rich girl.

“Hey, did he ever come talk to you after the incident?” Ayane asks bluntly, “The cat, I mean. Kurosawa. Did he ever come speak with you?”

You turn, and watch as Maika slowly shakes her head. “No,” she replies simply, “Not once.”

-

“Ugh,” Ayane sighs later, as the elevator begins to purr slowly downwards, “She's so weird!”

“And,” you point out, nodding up to a discrete security camera, “She probably just heard you say that.”

“Oh yeah,” wincing a little, Ayane looks straight up at the security camera, “Hey Maika, you're so weird!”

“I wonder if there are more of us out there,” you think aloud, trying desperately to change the subject, “Kurosawa would tell us, wouldn't he?” You say this, but you're already uncertain about that. Maybe he has a few spare girls somewhere, a backup option just in case his first three girls failed. Would that really be such an unlikely thing to consider? It would be the pragmatic choice, certainly, and you can see the value in it.

But still, the thought of being disposable is far from comforting...

[1/2]

>>1389270

“I understand that you'll be escorting the young Miss on an outing,” Bradley rumbles as you return to the lobby, his low voice carrying all the way from the kitchen, “It will do her good to get out for a while.”

“And you're just gonna let her go out?” Ayane asks incredulously, “Without that private army out there?”

“A rapid response unit will be prepared, among other measures,” the black man replies calmly, as if talking about something as plain as shopping, “She will be in no danger, I'm sure of it. Now, would you like a light meal before you leave? I was instructed to prepare something, if you so wish.”

“Uh, sure,” you agree with a nod and a shrug, “I'll eat whatever.”

“Very well then,” Bradley turns away without ceremony, immediately getting to work. When his attention is fixed on preparing the food, Ayane turns to you.

“Did you see his arm, that tattoo he has?” she whispers, “US Military, special forces – I'm sure of it. Kinda makes you wonder how he ended up here, working for the Kanzaki family, right?” Excitement flickers across her face for a moment, casting her in a strangely childish light. “Kanzaki had a lot of drones up in the air during the last border war, I hear that the troops loved them,” she continues, “If not for that air support, I bet a lot more Americans might have died over in Mexico. Must make for pretty loyal servants.”

“The border war!” you blurt out, with a sudden sense of relief, “I remember that! That was two years ago, right? Roughly, I mean, that sort of time.”

“Yes it was,” Bradley confirms in his mournful voice, “I remember it well. You'll forgive me if I don't say anything else on the matter.” As he says this, he touches one cheek – the skin there has an unnatural sheen to it, the crude relic of primitive reconstructive therapy. Ayane jabs an elbow into your side, then hurries across to the kitchen. You follow her, but only after a thoughtful pause. That wave of relief you felt is retreating quickly, leaving a hollow feeling in its wake.

You remembered a minor and inconsequential border war in surprising detail, while your own life remains mired in a haze. That can't be a coincidence.

-

Picking listlessly at your food, something made with seafood – actual, real meat – and a light sauce, you find your appetite to be less than healthy. In the end, you push the small plate away and sigh.

“Uh, Maika sure is taking her time,” Ayane offers, glancing back at the elevator, “Gotta get her outfit just perfect, I guess.”

“The young Miss is very particular about her clothes,” Bradley agrees, stressing the formal title slightly, “But I imagine she'll be down shortly.”

>I understand. We're in no hurry
>Do her parents live here? I've not seen anyone else, apart from the guards outside...
>What else do you do for the Kanzaki family?
>Other

>>1389314
>Do her parents live here? I've not seen anyone else, apart from the guards outside...

>>1389314
>>I understand. We're in no hurry

>>1389314
>>Do her parents live here? I've not seen anyone else, apart from the guards outside...

>>1389314
>>Do her parents live here? I've not seen anyone else, apart from the guards outside...
>>What else do you do for the Kanzaki family?

“I understand,” you reply slowly, “We're in no hurry. Not... much of one, at least.” Even though you've said this, part of you feels the exact opposite – eager, desperate even, to get moving. It's less out of genuine enthusiasm, and more to do with feeling awkward. Sitting here, doing nothing but waiting, it's easy to feel your uncertainties piling up around you. What you need is something to take your mind off it all, anything. A question would do, even if it is the first one you think of.

“Do her parents live here?” you ask Bradley, “Uh, I mean... I've not seen anyone else, other than the guards outside. It's pretty quiet around here.”

“Master Kanzaki does not often have time to return home, but he does stay on occasion,” Bradley explains quietly, taking your awkward question in stride, “He keeps quarters in the spire, at the Grand Arcology. The young Miss has quarters there as well, although she prefers her lodgings here.”

“Huh, okay,” there is a short pause as you consider whether or not to continue the conversation or not, “And what about her mother?”

“The young Miss doesn't have a mother. She was one of the very first children to be born through an artificial womb,” Bradley's calm, measured done doesn't change in the slightest as he says this, “It's no secret – in fact, Master Kanzaki holds it as a point of pride. The Kanzaki family has always been known for pioneering new technologies. The young Miss, in her own way, is an unmistakable part of history.”

When Bradley finishes his declaration, a stilted silence falls across all three of you. It might not be a secret, as he says, but you're really not sure what to say to it. Ayane is equally lost – and, you note, looking faintly queasy – so you have to break the silence yourself. “Well, uh, what else do you do for the Kanzaki family?” you ask the American, “You're not just a driver and a chef, are you?”

“I have many roles to play,” Bradley tells you, with what might be a trace of playful mystery sneaking into his voice, “But they are not the sort of jobs that men discuss in polite company. Suffice to say, I was hired for my varied and diverse set of skills.” Nodding briefly to Ayane, Bradley pats the tattoo on his thick forearm, then turns away at the chime of the elevator. “Here she is now,” he concludes, more to himself.

“I do apologise for the delay,” Maika begins, not sounding particularly sorry at all, “Picking the appropriate outfit can be such a chore sometimes. Shall we be off?”

As you rise, you examine her outfit. Her clothes are a uniform grey and brutally practical, without even a hint of extravagance about them. Seeing it, you can just imagine dozens of identical outfits hanging in a wardrobe.

“Sure,” you sigh, “Let's go.”

[1/2]

>>1389314
>Do her parents live here? I've not seen anyone else, apart from the guards outside...

>>1389386

“He's an interesting guy, your bodyguard,” Ayane says as you're leaving, her fascinated eyes flicking back and forth as she studies the guards you pass, “Good chef as well. Real good with his hands.”

“He is,” Maika agrees, “Once, I was looking in on one of father's deals – a rather tiresome thing, but I was young and curious. The man he was dealing with thought he would negotiate better with a pistol in his hand. Bradley had it in pieces within a matter of seconds.”

“Uh...” Ayane winces to herself, “The pistol?”

“The man's hand,” Maika says instead, quite casually, “I learned a lot about business, that day.”

-

As you're leaving the compound – there's no other word for it – Maika slips a pair of glasses from her pocket and slips them on, the faint glow of an AR display lighting up her face. A map, you presume, painting a route to this incursion site of hers. She points ahead of her and then sets off without a word, leaving you to scurry along behind her. Expecting nothing less than unquestioning obedience... there's that corporate upbringing at work. If you're going to work together, she needs to learn that you're not employees that she can boss around.

Then again, maybe she just doesn't know any different.

As Maika forges ahead and Ayane lingers a few paces behind, you hurry to catch up with them both. Together, the three of you don't exactly paint the picture of a unified team, but it's better than before. For one thing, all three of you are together in person. Maybe Maika isn't such a Pariah after all.

-

“Here we are,” the noble heir announces briskly, “This alleyway here. Come along now!”

As she slips into the gloomy alleyway, you trade an uneasy glance with Ayane. This is right on the edge of the vice district, and that means that trouble – with people, rather than Intruders – is always a possibility. What was it that Shiori said, you think to yourself, about a few of her classmates being attacked? The attack happened in a place like this, along the border. Swallowing heavily, you follow Maika into the alleyway with a warning on your lips.

You never get a chance to say it. Instead, the sight that awaits you causes a gasp to replace it. A low window, on perhaps the second floor of one building, is rippling like the surface of a pond. A portal to the Umbra, it's unmistakable. What covers it, though, that's something you've never seen before – a faintly glowing net, spun from golden light and nailed in place over the entire window. A seal of some sort, but...

Before you can study it further, the window jumps as though struck by a giant fist. A hollow crash rings out through the alleyway, soon followed another. From its prison in the Umbra, some THING fights to break through into your world.

>I'm going to pause this here for today, and continue things tomorrow. If anyone has any questions, I'll answer them the best I can
>And thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>1389495
Thanks for running!

I'm so tempted to post the dark plot twist random table from Magical Burst for some reason.

>>1389495
Interesting. There has to be someone to put that seal, so either Kurosawa really does have other girls around or there's other powers at work.

In any case, thanks for running, Moloch!

>>1389314
>“The border war!” you blurt out, with a sudden sense of relief, “I remember that! That was two years ago, right? Roughly, I mean, that sort of time.”
I want to live in this timeline.

Adrenaline floods into your bloodstream, every muscle in your body tensing with sudden readiness. Obeying your unspoken command, the Collapsed Star Knuckles flash into shape around your hands while your clothes flicker with a new sheen. Unbidden, your magical scarf unfurls from around your neck. That's all the changes that pass across your form, but the others...

Ayane crouches low, a sudden and unnatural wind blowing up a twisting column of equally unnatural autumn leaves to cover her. When they vanish, she stands in new garb – the rough clothes of a huntsman, complete with a cape slung rakishly over one shoulder. Maika changes similarly, the fragmented shapes of a computer glitch hiding her from view for a moment, only for her to reappear clad in sleek polymer armour – like the suit she had worn earlier, only a few decades more advanced.

They get costumes, when all you get is a scarf. This, as much as anything else, has always been an absurd sore point with you. Why do they get costumes and not you? Before you can voice a complaint, a new crash from the sealed portal reminds you of why you came here. Raising your fists, you prepare for battle.

The portal rattles as another impact is hurled against it, soon followed by another... and another.

And another.

“You know,” Ayane says, her glib tone breaking the tension, “I don't think it's going to get through.”

“Whoever must have sealed this did a good job of it,” Maika agrees, her armoured shoulders slumping slightly, “That explains why the Intruder failed to break through. I believe we're the only ones who can notice these sorts of things – my drone camera didn't pick up any of that... glowing nonsense. I'll have to see if I can improve on that. Still, I dare say that we won't need to worry about fighting the thing.”

“Oh,” you remark, trying to ignore the absurd sense of disappointment that creeps up on you, “That's... good. I guess.” Sighing, you shrug – the heavy gauntlets around your arms lending the gesture a ridiculous air – and point up at the window. “Do you think it's just going to keep pounding away?” you ask nobody in particular, “Or is going to get bored and-”

A sudden silence, that last pounding blow marking the end of that assault. Apparently, whatever was trying to break through had enough sense to know when it was beaten. At the very least, you can search the area in peace and quiet.

-

“Well, let's start with the basics,” you decide, banishing the Collapsed Star Knuckles before clapping your hands briskly together, “I know I didn't put that there, did either of you two put it there?”

“Nope,” Ayane confirms.

“I certainly don't recall doing so,” Maika agrees, “And my memory is virtually flawless.”

“Well then,” you conclude, “It looks like we've got ourselves a third party involved!”

[1/3]

>>1393137

Your moment of brilliant deduction is met with a resounding lack of reaction, with Ayane and Maika exchanging a baffled shrug. “Okay,” Ayane says at last, “So that leaves us with another question – someone like us, or someone not like us?”

“A rather broad category, that second one,” Maika points out delicately, “Mainly, the vast majority of Ark City's population. Of the whole world's population, in fact.”

“Not quite,” you argue, “It's got to take a special kind of talent to do, uh... glowy gold stuff like that. That's got to narrow things down.” Having said this, though, you find yourself reconsidering. “Then again, we can't exactly go around asking people at random, can we?” you let out a brief sigh before adopting a foolishly jaunty tone, “Hello sir, do you have a moment to talk about magical glowing sigils?”

Snorting out a crude laugh, Ayane shakes her head. “Yeah, that might not go down so well. I mean, anyone who does have these powers wouldn't admit it, and the sorts of person who would admit it...” drawing herself up to her full height – not much – Ayane fakes a shrill laugh, “I, the heir to Solomon, will command these forces vile and demonic with my terrible powers! Cower before me as I... as I...” Her words trail off, devolving into ludicrous laughter as she leans against the alley wall. She opens her mouth to say something else, but then Maika lets out a thin cry of alarm.

“Wait!” she calls, the visor of her mask sliding down to cover her eyes, “I'm getting something. A signal from one of my drones. That Intruder – I think it's the same one – is trying to create a different portal. It's not far from here, come on!” Without waiting for your reply – again – she leaps up and starts to rebound from building to building, using whatever handholds she can.

“Hey, wait!” Ayane protests, looking between Maika's retreating back and you, “Can WE do that as well?”

-

It's surprisingly easy actually, once you get the hang of it. The trick is to jump, to leap and bound, without thinking about ordinary human limits. Once you get past that stumbling block, it's simple enough. The smaller buildings out here on the border of the vice district help as well – you wouldn't like to try and scale one of the skyscrapers in the city centre, that's for sure.

Now, standing in a tight knot on one of the low rooftops, you look down at the emerging portal. It's still weak, like a faint ripple on the surface of a lake, but each pulse is that little bit stronger than the last. This is the first time you've been able to watch a portal forming, and it's strangely hypnotic. Almost... beautiful.

But if you've never seen it before, why does it seem so familiar to you?

[2/3]

>>1393138

“Demon class, I'd say,” Maika offers, her prim voice pulling your thoughts back to the present, “Could be nasty.”

“That street looks isolated, but it gets a fair bit of foot traffic, especially in the evening,” Ayane adds, in the voice of someone who knows what they're talking about, “Young couples out on dates, most likely. It would be easy for an Intruder to break through and snatch them both, jump back to the Umbra before we can get them.” Shaking her head, she tuts softly to herself. “Not the kind of action you want at the end of a night,” she mutters, “Right?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” the noble girl replies.

Tuning the pair of them out, you look down at the portal. A shaded boulevard, with a row of artificial trees keeping you from getting a good view. The portal is a window, as they so often are, two stories above the ground. Judging by the way it's trembling, it won't be long before it opens. It might-

It shatters, before you can even finish that thought. Rippling out like water, the window is transformed into a gateway to the Umbra. Any time it chooses, the Intruder could spring out and start to cause trouble. If it IS a Demon class, it can think – choose its time to strike, when human prey draws close.

“Hell,” Ayane mutters, “What do we do? There's no sign of anyone coming to seal it up, either. Sure would be nice if Kurosawa could show his damn face right about now, maybe answer a few questions...”

“He's not a pet, he doesn't come when called,” you sigh, “But... it's not like him to be so distant. Normally, he'd be nagging me about my Barrier or whatever else. There's nothing we can do - I guess it's up to us for now.”

That's right, you think to yourself, it's up to the three of you to decide what your next move might be. With those damn trees in the way, you can't even tell if there's anyone close. Jumping down to take a better look might make you a target, drawing the Intruder out. Then again, you could hit the portal itself, take the fight to the enemy...

The others turn and glance your way, as if you hold all the answers. Even Maika, who was all too willing to shout orders before, has nothing to say. So much for the three of you – it's up to you to decide your next move.

Great.

>Let's wait here and see what happens. Maybe our third party is running late
>I'm going down there to get a better look, I'll shout if I need help
>Let's hit that portal, take out the Intruder before it can cause any trouble
>Other

>>1393139
>Wait a few minutes, then hit the portal.
>Try to put a drone inside first

>>1393139
>Let's hit that portal, take out the Intruder before it can cause any trouble
I don't know of these things get tired but it might've wasted energy trying to get through the window.

>>1393139
>>I'm going down there to get a better look, I'll shout if I need help

>>1393139
>Try scouting with a drone.
>Let's hit that portal, take out the Intruder before it can cause any trouble

>>1393146
>>1393139
Yeah, sacrificing a drone to get a glimpse of the intruder's abilities might be a good idea. In any case, we don't have any assurance that whoever put up that seal is going to appear, so let's not waste time waiting too long.

“Hey Maika?” you ask quietly, as you look down into that gently swirling portal, “Can you send a drone in there? I mean, you've got to have a couple ready for use, right?”

“And why would you assume that?” the heiress asks softly, raising her visor to give you a sceptical look, “Do you think that I go everywhere, ready and able to spy on whoever I so please? Is that the sort of person you think I am?”

“Do you really want us to answer that?” Ayane butts in, fighting to keep a straight face.

Sighing to herself, Maika swipes a finger through the air. A moment later, and a quietly buzzing drone flits down from the sky to join you. Sitting down on the edge of the room, Maika slides her visor back down into place. “Sending it into the portal now,” she murmurs to herself, the drone's tiny engines whining as it flies away, “It's... it's... oh god, that's awful!” A shudder runs through her body as the drone vanishes through the window and into the Umbra. “No, wait, it's settling down now,” she glances around at you, lips forming a faintly apologetic smile, “It was more disorientating than I remember, that's all.”

“Right, right. So?” you prompt, “Any sign of it?”

“I'm getting a lot of interference. I don't think our drones were ever designed for this kind of work. Wait...” Maika purses her lips for a moment, then jerks back in sudden shock, “Damn it! Lost it!”

“Lost it?” Ayane snaps, “Lost what?”

“The drone. The Intruder must have taken it out. I didn't see where the attack came from,” flipping up her visor, Maika glares hard at the portal, “That model of drone has a blindspot underneath it, the Intruder must have come up from the ground. I was flying low, though...”

“Could it have tunnelled up from beneath?” Ayane wonders aloud. Before they can get bogged down in discussion, you clear your throat loudly.

“We need to hit that portal,” you announce, “There's no point waiting around for our third party to show up. I'm going down there to take a look, once I know that the coast is clear, you two follow me down. We'll move in and hit the thing on it's own turf. Understood?”

“Understood,” Maika and Ayane say, with matching nods.

-

Dropping down from the building, you slip into the shade cast by one of those fake trees and wait. When the Intruder doesn't show itself, you whistle softly and the others leap down to join you. Gesturing for them to stick close, you hurry across the boulevard and draw closer to the portal. A moment more, with no response from it, and you leap up into it. The others follow, although Maika does so with noticeable reluctance.

Well, it's never easy after all.

[1/2]

>>1393166

Stumbling into your new surroundings, you raise your fists in preparation for a battle. Nothing hits you immediately, but you keep your guard up regardless. Surrounding you, crooked and crumbling buildings cast stretched out shadows. Above you, a sky the colour of milk throbs softly. No sun or moon here, just an unchanging twilight. A few twisted, malformed trees jut out from the buildings, while ahead of you...

A single root, gnarled and coiling up into a pillar, spears up and holds the drone transfixed, pierced clean through. At that sight, Maika breathes out a few surprisingly crude words and then summons her weapon. A weapon – not the one you remember. Last time you saw her in action, she had wielded a rifle of ancient and archaic design, a kind of ludicrously ornate matchlock gun. A museum piece. Now, though, she carries something that wouldn't have looked out of place in a science fiction movie.

Curious, you muse, where did she get that from?

“I don't see it,” Maika complains, holding her rifle at the ready, “Anything, either of you two?”

“I can handle this,” Ayane says, with a brash note of confidence stealing into her voice. Reaching into her tweed jacket, she pulls out her own weapon – a silver whistle. Putting it to her lips, she blows a long and silent note. Her call is soon answered, with the hunched shape of a ghostly hound sliding out of the shadows. This, at least, is a familiar sight, the same old “weapon” that she's always used.

It's just like she said – she's more of a dog person.

“Go on boy,” she says, gesturing towards the twisted root, “Get a good sniff. See if you can get a scent. Show us where he's hiding.” As the hunting hound prowls ahead, she turns around to give you a sad shrug. “Doesn't always work,” Ayane warns, “But it's worth a try, right? At least that drone might have bought us a bit of an advantage. It could-” A sudden burst of barking cuts her off, the hound roaring in sudden fury. Still barking like a mad thing, the hound races further into the Umbra.

“Damn it!” Ayane wails, chasing after her pet, “Not so fast!”

Groaning to yourself, you grab Maika by the arm and chase after Ayane. Rushing through the tight corridors, you suddenly find yourself entering an open expanse, almost like an empty field with Ayane standing in the centre. She turns as you approach, and starts to wave a greeting.

And then the ground explodes up from beneath, showering you all with a rain of rancid soil. Ayane cries out as she is thrown back, and you have to cover your face to keep yourself from behind blinded. Shaking the clods of dirt free, you look up at the Intruder – a fat tree, bloated with curses and slashing out with jagged branches.

>Maika, get Ayane out of here, I can handle this!
>Keep your distance, Maika, but I need you to shoot the damn thing!
>Don't worry, I've got a plan... (Write in)
>Other

>>1393184
>You're not going to have many chances to shoot this thing Maika, so I hope you shoot fast or through soil or something.
>Ayane, let's try to keep it from burrowing again!
pin the roots or something

>>1393184
>>Keep your distance, Maika, but I need you to shoot the damn thing!

>>1393184
Close the distance and get between the tree and Ayane. Focus on using the Perfect Guard until Ayane gets to her feet. Maika can start shooting but try and have her stay somewhere behind us.

Also if we can stay off the earthen ground we should. Those vines came from the ground and pierced the drone after all.

>Closing the vote now, and writing the next post. Sorry for any delays

“Maika, keep back!” you yell, “But keep firing - this thing might not give you many chances, so shoot fast!”

“I...” Maika stammers, taking a step backwards.

“Shoot the damn thing!” you order, risking a quick look back, “And watch out beneath you, that's how it got your drone!”

The mention of her drone, as much as anything else, is what snaps Maika to attention. Her lips press together into a hard line and she nods firmly, slamming down her visor and throwing that strange rifle of hers against one shoulder. “I'll do it!” she cries, “I won't fail again!”

Without sparing another backwards glance, you charge ahead towards the creature, seeking to close the gap and get yourself between it and Ayane. The bloated tree stabs a cluster of branches down into the ground, only for those same branches to burst out from beneath you – from beneath where you had been standing only a few short moments ago. Jinking to the side, you shake off another spray of stinking earth and laugh aloud. Fighting like this... your mind has never felt clearer. All the doubts and uncertainties of the past few days are wiped away in an instant, leaving your body feeling as light as air.

Skipping around the trunk of the tree, you reach Ayane's side and hastily look her up and down. Her face is black with filth, while her eyes are groggy and unfocused. A few bright stains of blood show on her skin, but the wounds have already faded to nothing. When you call her name, she groans and starts to rise. Then, her eyes flash open.

“Miho!” she yells, “Behind you!”

Turning, digging your heels into the soft soil, you see a thick branch powering towards you. No time to dodge, you'll have to meet this one head on. Even so, you can't help but shout out a challenge. “Flawless Block!” you yell, crossing your gauntlets as the branch slams into you. The force of it drives you down a little, the loamy earth yielding while your defence remains unbroken. Before you can muster a counter attack, a sharp sound – like fabric being harshly torn – and a beam of white light slashes into the tree from behind. The smell of burning wood reaches you, and the Intruder's attack breaks off.

As the tree flails, you kick out of the clinging soil and lunge at it, punching hard into the centre of the trunk. Wood splinters as you tackle it, the force of your Massive Strike enough to uproot the thing and tip it over. A fresh shower of soil rains down upon you as it tumbles to earth, swampy liquid bubbling out of the broken bark. Through that splintered wood, you can see something throbbing wetly, something far more meaty than wood has any right to be.

[1/2]

>>1393226
I wonder if this wood is good for smoking meat

>>1393226

As you draw back a fist to strike again, to break open the wooden hide and get at that loathsome meat, the tree rolls over and throws you aside. Even with the soft soil, you land hard and bounce a few times. Seeing stars, it's only when Ayane calls out again that your thoughts sharpen once again.

“It's trying to run!” Ayane yells, “It's burrowing!”

“Not on my watch!” you counter, lunging and grabbing the trees roots. Your strength, raised to incredible levels by your gauntlets, is still just barely enough to keep it from digging an escape tunnel. Pinned in place, it writhes and flounders – the flailing branches almost comedic in how panicked they seem. When Ayane's hunting hound reappears and pounces upon the fallen tree, biting and savaging it, that only makes you laugh louder still. Great chunks of bark fly free as the hound ravages its prey, urged on by its master.

Grunting, you give the roots one last mighty tug and release them, throwing yourself at the exposed part of the tree instead. Ayane's hound is quick enough – and clever enough – to leap back out of the way before you land, driving both fists down into your target. With a final yell – no calling your attacks this time, just a shout of exhilaration – you strike the vulnerable core.

It bursts. Wetly.

-

“That was easy,” Maika says as she approaches you, “I thought Demon class Intruders were supposed to be threatening.”

“Well, there were three of us,” Ayane points out, wiping dirt from her face to reveal a disgusted expression, “You know, we never really worked like this before, did we? Together, as a team. I mean, once or twice sure, but it was pretty rare.”

“And usually only when we had no other choice,” you agree with a sad laugh, shaking off the slime and filth. If there's one good thing about your outfit, it's that dirt doesn't stick to it – it always just slides right off. “But yeah, that thing seemed oddly... tame,” you continue, “You think maybe it was tired out? Do these things get tired out?” Frowning to yourself, you try to think back to your past battles, and how the Intruders tended to behave.

“Maybe that's why it was hiding and waiting for prey rather than, you know, intruding,” Ayane suggests with a shrug, “It didn't want to risk getting caught. Well, anyway, we did our job. That's all I'm bothered about. Let's head back.”

“Right,” you agree, “We can talk thing over later, maybe when we're somewhere nicer than this...”

“If we're leaving,” Maika adds, “There's one thing I need to do first...”

[2/3]

>>1393251

“You think she's going to bury it in a shoebox?” Ayane whispers to you, once the disorientation of returning to the human world has passed, “Maybe say a little prayer over the grave?” Smirking a little at her own joke, Ayane watches Maika – and the broken drone she carries under one arm - for a while longer before shaking her head.

“Actually,” Maika corrects her, the noble girl's sharp ears picking up the whisper, “I'm going to see if I can repair it. I don't see any point in abandoning it, if I can get it working again. I think it deserves that much, don't you?”

“Uh... sure,” you agree with a slow nod, “Never leave a man behind, right?”

“I knew you'd see it that way,” the heiress says with a smile, apparently taking your comment at face value, “Now then, what shall we do with the rest of our evening?”

“Vice district is a few streets away,” Ayane suggests, nudging you with an elbow, “How about it? We don't have to do anything dirty or anything, just hit up a cafe. C'mon, it'll be fun!”

>Sure, why not? It'll be an experience
>I'm done for the night, I'm going home. It's tiring work, this stuff
>I want to head back, take another look at that sealed portal...
>Other

>>1393252
>how about we go to a sweetshop we ARE familiar with and educate Maika on the art of consuming sugar?

>>1393252
>>I want to head back, take another look at that sealed portal...

>>1393255
This is probably a better idea. It wouldn't do for someone like Maika to be seen hanging around the Vice district. Supporting.

>>1393255
>I want to head back, take another look at that sealed portal. See if anything changed.
>Then how about we go to a sweetshop we ARE familiar with and educate Maika on the art of consuming sugar?

>>1393252
>I want to head back, take another look at that sealed portal. See if anything changed.
>Then how about we go to a sweetshop we ARE familiar with and educate Maika on the art of consuming sugar?

“I wouldn't mind going somewhere nice,” you agree, “But why don't we go somewhere a little more... familiar? I know a nice place we can go to, lovely cakes and sweets. Besides...” Pausing here, you glance between Ayane and Maika before continuing. “Besides, it might be pretty bad for Maika to get caught in a place like that. Bad for her reputation, and bad for us if...” you shudder here, “If Bradley starts to think we're a bad influence on her.”

“Oh,” Ayane pales a little at the thought, “You know what, Miho? That place of yours sounds like a delightful idea! I think I know the one you're talking about, but why don't you lead the way?”

“Will do,” you acknowledge, “But first, I want take another look at that sealed portal... thing. We never really got a change to examine it properly, did we? Maybe there's nothing left to find, but I want to be sure. It's hardly a detour, anyway.”

“Wonderful!” Maika claps her hands together, banishing her magical armour as she does so, “That all sounds like a charming time!”

“Alright Maika!” you decide with a laugh, “It's time to educate you in the art of eating sugar!”

-

For all your jaunty tones, the oppressive alleyway soon dampens down your mood. The net of spun gold – more like light than any physical object – is still fixed over the window, but the portal beneath has vanished. That must mean...

“The portals are inherently linked to a single Intruder,” you guess aloud, “When it gets destroyed, the portals close. While it's alive they remain open, at least for a while. That's interesting.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Ayane begins, “Does that mean an Intruder could just run around punching holes in reality at random, as much as it likes? We could be flooded with Intruders, gateways springing up all over the city! It would be...”

“A crisis level event,” Maika agrees, her voice strangely flat and toneless, “But widespread, too spread out for us to focus on any one group.”

The possibility hangs in the air for a while longer, strangling any remnants of your good mood in a single moment. “But that hasn't happened yet,” you point out with a desperate attempt at optimism, “So maybe there's something stopping it. Maybe only Demons can do this, or maybe they have their limits. Maybe... oh, I don't know!” Throwing up your hands in frustration, you give the glowing sigil a dirty glare.

“Hey, Miho, chill out,” Ayane touches your shoulder, offering you a wan smile, “You promised cake, so don't go spoiling my appetite, okay?”

Swallowing hard, you meet Ayane's gaze for a moment, then nod firmly. “You're right,” you decide, “This will look much better once we've had something to eat. It's going to be just fine.”

It's going to be just fine.

[1/2]

>>1393290
So if the seal is still here even after the portal closed, the that must mean the seal is fixed not to the portal but to a particular location. Perhaps, if we figure out how to do the seal or find whoever put the seal, we can't just slap a seal over any and every possible portal locations? Entirely out of our means, likely, but we can probably force the portals to appear or not appear at particular locations, no?

>>1393307
There are *a lot* of reflective surfaces in a city. Even if we learned how to seal it would be very difficult to funnel.

And that's even assuming these things don't have a level of intelligence that will do more than [Go to nearest portal entrance].

>>1393290

The cafe is French, or at least it pretends to be. You've always had the sneaking suspicion that the letters above the door doesn't actually spell anything, and the ridiculously ornate script it just used to disguise how meaningless it all is. People just call it “Paris”, since the sign also has a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it. It stays open late and opens early, so it's a popular place with students or those working irregular hours.

Or anyone with a desire for absurdly sweet cakes, really.

“Why do they have a girl taking orders?” Maika asks as you're retreating away to a discrete table, folded screens mostly shielding you from view, “A machine could do that job just as easily, and it would be both cheaper and more efficient.”

“Think about this, Maika,” Ayane counters, “Some people might actually enjoy talking with other people.”

“Really?” leaning back, Maika widens her eyes in mild surprise, “Why?”

“I genuinely can't tell if you're being serious or not,” you reply, glancing between the pair of them, “Either of you.”

“I'm always serious,” the heiress insists, although the corners of her mouth do lift in a slight smile. With an air of perfect decorum, she picks up her tiny silver fork and cuts off a sliver of her cake, a spectacularly rich and moist chocolate sponge. Identical slices sit before you and Ayane, along with steaming cups – hot chocolate for you and Maika, black coffee for Ayane. Maika paid for all of it with a wave of her hand, some manner of subdermal handling the payment.

There are some advantages to being friends with an heiress, you consider.

“So,” Ayane announces after taking a sip of her chocolate, “What next?”

“Next,” you tell her firmly, “We sit here and relax. We talk, we have a good time, we pretend to be normal human beings for a while. That, Ayane, is what we do next.”

“Okay,” the girl agrees, offering a wan smile, “So what do normal human beings talk about?”

“Oh,” you sigh, your mind coming up blank. Maybe a little bit of work talk would be okay...

>We need to find whoever is leaving those seals, agreed?
>Maika, that gun of yours is different, isn't it? It changed somehow...
>Hey Ayane, has your sister always been so serious?
>Alright, let's talk about something... (Write in)
>Other

>>1393334
>Maika, that gun of yours is different, isn't it? It changed somehow...
>Hey Ayane, has your sister always been so serious?

Then when we are finishing up.
>We need to find whoever is leaving those seals, agreed?

>>1393334
>Maika, that gun of yours is different, isn't it? It changed somehow...
>Hey Ayane, has your sister always been so serious?
>Why the hell do we only get a scarf, that's not fair at all
>Maybe we should make ourselves a proper magical girl outfit, with ribbons and frills and stuff?

>>1393338
>>1393334
Me likes this combo

>>1393334
>>>We need to find whoever is leaving those seals, agreed?
>>Maika, that gun of yours is different, isn't it? It changed somehow...

>>1393334
>>We need to find whoever is leaving those seals, agreed?
>>Maika, that gun of yours is different, isn't it? It changed somehow...

>>1393334
>Maika, that gun of yours is different, isn't it? It changed somehow...
>We need to find whoever is leaving those seals, agreed?

“Hey Maika, that thing of yours, that...” pausing, you lower your voice a little before continuing, “That gun of yours is different, isn't it? It's changed somehow, ever since the incident...”

“Oh yeah, I saw that. It's so cool, it's like a laser gun!” Ayane grins, “Why do you get a laser gun, and I get a dog?”

“Why do you two get costumes,” you counter, “And I just get a scarf?”

“Ahem,” clearing her throat, Maika stops the pair of you before you can get started, “I'm a little curious about it myself, if truth be told. This is only the second time that I've seen it. The first time was... the same day that I detected that portal being sealed. When I realised something odd was going on, I decided that I needed to investigate. With that thought in mind, I readied myself and then...” Trailing off here, Maika hides her frown with a sip of her drink. “And then I didn't,” she finishes simply, still frowning slightly, “I stayed inside instead. I did, however, realise that my weapon had changed. Fascinating really – I have a theory about it.”

“I'm sure you have a lot of theories,” Ayane chuckles, “About a lot of things.”

“Yes, quite,” as if she can't quite decide whether or not she's being mocked – she probably is – Maika gives Ayane a hard look for a moment before continuing. “After the incident,” she says carefully, “I took a brief course of therapy... surgery, to be more precise. Neurological sculpting, it's called. I won't bore you with the specifics, but it drastically reduced how prevalent some of my older memories were. I still remember them all, but only if I choose to. As an unavoidable side-effect, my personality was somewhat altered as well.”

To something not entirely human, you think guiltily. Looking down at your cake for a moment, you clear your throat and push your misgivings aside. “And you think this changed your weapon?” you guess, “This... surgery?”

“I believe so, yes,” Maika nods, “I believe these weapons and costumes are, in part, drawn from our personalities. By changing myself, I changed my weapon.”

And what does that say about you, you wonder to yourself, if you have something that is barely a costume and a weapon you were never meant to wield?

“Hey, wait a minute...” Ayane says suddenly, sitting up straight and looking Maika hard in the eye, “Was this all just so you could call me a dog?”

“No,” Maika says calmly, shaking her head, “That was just a bonus.”

A look of absolute outrage slowly forms on Ayane's face, although it's matched by an insistent smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. In the end, good humour wins out and she throws back her head, laughing long and loud. It's a good laugh, and you find yourself joining in.

[1/3]

>Lost my internet connection, sorry for the delay

>>1393360
Yes this. We need a proper outfit, we can't just go on with just a scarf. Even if it's a very fancy scarf.

>>1393402

“Still,” you manage once you've recovered, “I don't see why I have to get a raw deal, just a dumb scarf. Hey, do you think I should try making a costume of my own? A proper one, with all kinds of ribbons and lace and... stuff!”

“You'd look ridiculous, you should definitely do it,” Ayane decides, frowning as she tries to picture it in her mind, “I'm seeing... something with a lot of gold. Not pink or anything like that, just a lot of gold. Heavenly, you know, like your title. Heavenly Child Miho Tsukada, here to protect everyone's smile!” She snorts out a blurt of laughter. “Oh man, Shiori would love to see that,” a softer smile crosses Ayane's face at the mention of her sister, “She'd never admit it, but she loves that sorta thing. Keeps a bunch of comics hidden under her bed. At least, she thinks they're hidden.”

“Huh,” you guess, “I never would have taken her for the type. She's always so serious around me – has she always been like that?”

“Around other people, yeah. Hell, even around me or our mom,” Ayane nods to herself, “Smart and serious, we're all very proud of her. My mom is always asking me why I'm not more like her.”

“Do you get on better with your father, then?” Maika asks calmly, asking more out of politeness than anything else. The question hangs in the air for a moment, and you wince in anticipation.

“He's, uh, not really around much these days,” Ayane says, frowning a little, “Or at all. He, uh... vanished when I was younger. Just went out for a walk one day, never came back. Miho knows, I mentioned it before. I guess I never got around to telling you. It's... not a big deal. It happened a long time ago.” With a sudden lunge, Ayane spears a massive lump of cake on the end of her fork and shovels it into her mouth, chewing aggressively – giving herself a good excuse not to say anything else on the matter, in other words.

“Well, uh, next order of business,” you declare after an awkward pause, “We need to track down whoever is leaving those seals, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Maika replies with a graceful nod, Ayane grunting her own agreement, “I'll keep an eye on things and see if I can train the drones a little better. However, there is the chance that all this could come down to random chance – being in the right place at the right time. I must confess, I don't like that much. I don't like relying on variables we cannot control.”

“It's late, anyway,” you yawn, “Too late to be getting stuck in anything else. I'm going to sleep on this, see if I get any bright ideas in the morning. You two do the same, and we can, I don't know, meet up somewhere and see what we've come up with. That okay with you two?”

“I think that would be best,” the heiress agrees. Ayane, for her part, just gives you a thumbs up.

[2/3]

>>1393428

As you finish your cakes and drinks, Maika touches a stud in her ear – a rather discrete thing, usually hidden behind a curtain of straight black hair. Even though she notices your curious look, she offers no answer other than a mysterious smile. When the time comes to leave, Bradley is waiting outside with the elegant car.

“Miss Kanzaki,” he rumbles, bowing deeply, “Miss Tsukada. Miss Nakamura. Can I offer either of you a lift home?”

“Hell yeah!” Ayane agrees, nodding eagerly and giving the car a hungry look.

“I'll pass,” you decide, “It's not far, and it's a nice night. I'd like to walk for a while.” Stepping back from the car, you watch as Ayane and Maika enter. Bradley bows again, giving you a very brief glimpse of something that might be gratitude before he slides into the driver's seat. As the car purrs away, you give it a solemn wave. When it vanishes around a corner, you let out a slow sigh.

“Good work with that Intruder today,” a raspy voice – the kind of voice one might get after smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for twenty, or maybe two hundred, years – says from behind you. Turning, you see a feline form slinking out of the shadows. “I'm glad to see that you're working as a team,” Kurosawa continues, “Lone agents are vulnerable, prone to Barrier damage and resulting injury.”

“Thanks,” you reply grudgingly, “I'm okay, by the way.”

“Good,” Kurosawa nods, as much as a cat can nod, “Be sure to remain as such. You should go home now and rest. Humans need rest.”

>I'm going, I'm going...
>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean
>I have to ask – do you like me more than the others? More than Ayane or Maika?
>I need to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>1393445
>>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean
>That seal, was that your work? Could we do that?

>>1393445
>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean
>I have to ask – do you like me more than the others? More than Ayane or Maika?

>>1393445
>>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean

>>1393445
>>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean
"It's a big city after all."

>That seal, was that your work? Could we do that?

>>1393445
>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean
>I have to ask – do you like me more than the others? More than Ayane or Maika?

>>1393445
>Hey, are there any more of us in the city? Magical girls, I mean
>I have to ask – do you like me more than the others? More than Ayane or Maika?

“Hey,” you ask Kurosawa simply, “Are there any more like us in the city? Magical girls, I mean. This is a big city, after all, so I figure...”

“Magical girls,” Kurosawa repeats, cutting you short, “This is not the first time you've mentioned these, but I still fail to understand. Is that what you have chosen to call yourselves?”

“No, it's sorta...” pausing, you flounder for a moment, “You know what? Let's chalk this one up to cultural differences and talk it over later. The important thing is, are there more of us in the city, or is it just the three of us?”

“At present, you three are the only ones,” Kurosawa confirms in a steady voice, “However, there are two more potential candidates. They have not yet been awakened, but they are here. Presently, we are waiting to decide whether or not to approach them.”

“Two more, huh?” you wonder aloud, “Do you know their names?”

“The Temptress and the Executioner,” your guardian angel answers, “Their human names, however, remain unclear. In truth, we do not know... precisely where they are. Only their general vicinities, the locations they frequent. They can be found, if need be, do not worry about that.”

“I don't know if I like the sound of those names,” you admit, shrugging heavily and starting the walk back to your apartment, “But I guess it's good to know that we've got the possibility of reinforcements, if things get really bad.” A cold silence descends as a new thought strikes you. “Hold on a minute,” you add, “How bad are we talking, here?”

“Perhaps it's best if you don't know the answer to that,” the cat replies gravely. Wincing slightly, you nod your agreement.

“But what about that golden seal, how weird was that?” you ask instead, seeking safer ground, “Was that something you did? Can you teach us to do it?”

“Seal?” Kurosawa asks sharply, before his outline is blurred by a violent wave of static, “I see. I've examined it now. This is new to me, something I've never seen before. I was not aware that... hmm. This is the product of human hands – ingenuity rather than instinct, experimentation rather than divine guidance. A terrible sin.” He adds that last part in a more thoughtful tone, strangely free from blame or judgement. Just stating a fact, nothing more than that.

“So you can't tell me anything about it?” you press, “Not even a guess about who could do such a thing?”

“I would like to know that myself,” Kurosawa says carefully, choosing to say nothing more than that. Sighing, you let the matter drop – when he doesn't want to say something, Kurosawa doesn't say it. There isn't a force on this earth that could compel him to speak, if he didn't want to. That's why, when you ask your next question, you do it without much hope of an answer.

[1/2]

>>1393486

“I've got to ask,” you begin, “Do you... like me more than the others? More than Ayane and Maika?”

“It doesn't come down to anything as simple as that. We share an affinity, you and I,” Kurosawa explains, “You are... who you are. You serve the Great Virtue of Duty, as do I. The others do not.”

“Huh?” frowning, you stop dead in your tracks and look at him, “Wait, is this something to do with my title thing? About being the Heavenly Child?”

“That is correct,” the cat agrees, “You have your own god, just as the others have theirs. The Seeker of Truth serves the Great Virtue of Faith. The Pariah serves the Curse of Sloth. All of your kind serve one of the Native Gods, and the Native Gods are each served by one of your kind.”

“So... there are at least eighteen girls like us, but no more than that?” you guess, “Right? The other two you mentioned, who do they serve?”

“The Temptress serves the Curse of Shame,” speaking quietly, walking ahead of you, Kurosawa lists them off, “And the Executioner serves the Curse of Fury.”

“Wow,” you mutter to yourself, “I'm sure they're both lovely people, but-” Pausing before you can finish that sentence, you look up to find Kurosawa nowhere to be seen. “That bloody cat...” you say with a sigh, shrugging your shoulders and heading on your way. Maybe he had something more important to do somewhere – some terribly vital duty, or something equally drastic. At least you can walk the rest of the way in peace.

-

“Studying again?” Yui asks when you return home, giving you an unreadable look. She's always been a hard one to read, your mother, but you think you can see a flicker of amusement in her eyes. She can probably smell chocolate on you, that must be it.

“We were working hard,” you insist, “So we decided to go to Paris for a slice of cake afterwards. That's the sort of thing that friends do, right?” Straightening up, you paste a victorious smile onto your face. “And,” you add, “I think I made another friend today – it's pretty easy when you put your mind to it, y'know? Having some common interests helps too.”

“Well, don't spend too much time with them, otherwise your schoolwork might suffer. Do you have any homework to do, anything you need help with? Any...” she pauses here, faced with the inevitable awkwardness of a parent trying to be approachable, “Personal matters you wanted to talk about?

>No, I'm just tired. I'll see you in the morning!
>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...
>You mean like the birds and the bees? I'm a little old for that stuff...
>I did want to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>1393528
>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...

Sure, let's give her a shot here

>>1393528
>>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...

>>1393528
>>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...
No harm in asking for a hand.

>>1393528
>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...
It's English, we can just make some bullshit about how the poems a connection to our parent, right?

>>1393528
>>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...

>>1393528
>Actually, I did need to find a poem for school...

“Nah, I'm...” a thought strikes you here, stopping you from saying anything more. “Actually, yeah,” you correct yourself, “I need to find a poem. Do we have any poetry books tucked away somewhere? English language stuff, not anything traditional.”

It's an innocent question, and you ask it casually enough, but something about it causes the colour to drain from your mother's face.

“Uh, forget about it,” you say hastily, waving your hands in some meaningless gesture of... something, “I can check the library tomorrow, it's no big-”

“No, I'm sorry, I was just reminded of something, that's all,” drawing in a shuddering breath, Yui retreats back into her usual unreadable self, “There may be a few books in the storage room, although you might need to dig for them. Nobody here has needed to use them, or wanted to read them, for years now. You can look if you like, but you're on your own. There's just too much dust in there for me, I'm afraid.”

You pause for a moment longer, caught between fleeing away into the storage room and asking for explanation, but then you lose your nerve. “Thanks!” you sing, with a big phony laugh, “I guess I'd better get my shovel ready!” Still laughing awkwardly, you scurry away to the storage room.

-

You've never given much thought to this place before, the spare room. It was probably intended to be a bedroom once – Ayane's apartment is the exact same design, and hers uses the spare room as Shiori's bedroom – but you've only ever known it as a rubbish dump. Things get put here and forgotten about, left to gather dust instead of being recycled or disposed of. Your father is largely to blame – he's a formidable hoarder, Akito Tsukada, probably because he's so rarely here to look at the mess.

“Well now,” you mutter to yourself, “Where the hell am I supposed to start with all this crap?”

Nobody answers you, obviously, but you don't need an answer. You already know where you have to start – at whichever random spot catches your eye. With a shrug and a frown, you get to work moving boxes aside and sifting through their contents. The top layers seem to be old clothes, mainly belonging to your father. Work shirts and neatly folded ties, all packed with obsessive care. Even a box with nothing but old spectacles, kept neatly in their cases. Women's clothes as well, things that must have once belonged to your mother. Even through you still feel faintly uneasy, looking at some of the clothes makes you giggle lightly. It's hard to imagine your mother as a young woman, wearing these sorts of frivolous things.

Putting aside the clothes, you open a new box and let out a soft murmur of satisfaction. It's packed with books, their titles all in English. Several of them, you note, are collections of poetry.

Success!

[1/2]

>>1393639

Buoyed by your lucky find, you quickly set about taking the volumes of poetry out and stacking them up in a neat pile. As you're doing this, you notice that one of them has a bookmark still tucked inside. Smiling faintly, you pick up the book and flick to the marked page. The bookmark is...

The smile slowly falls from your lips. It's not a bookmark at all, not really – it's an old photograph, but not that old. It hasn't faded with age, and there are no other signs of damage. Even accounting for careful storage, it can't be more than a few years old – two, three at the most.

The picture shows your parents, walking casually though a park with your younger self marching between them. You're all holding hands, all three of you. A pleasant domestic scene, the kind that you'd normally be delighted to find. That's why the fourth figure is so disturbing. She stands close to your father, too close to be a stranger, but her face is turned away so that most of it is hidden. Even so, her profile is perfectly visible, and you can't help but touch your own nose at the sight of it. There's a definite resemblance there, common ground between you and this stranger.

With her face turned away, it's hard to guess the stranger's age. Maybe sixteen, the same age as you are now. Her hair is lighter than yours, a soft brown, and her outfit was probably fashionable at the time. The outfit of a carefree teenage girl.

This scene, this pleasant family picture, means nothing to you. Any memories you might have of it being taken are sealed away, stolen from you or outright destroyed.

“Who are you?” you whisper softly as you stare down into the picture. It's not the stranger that you're talking to... it's yourself.

>I think this is a reasonable place to conclude for today, and for this week. I will start a new thread on Friday, and if anyone has any questions, I'll answer them as best I can
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today, and sorry for some of the delays!

>>1393663
Thanks for running, Moloch!

Though, if the other girls are of the evil gods, whose responsible for the Intruders?

>>1393663
I have a hypothesis about gates. It takes a great deal of energy to open one, the reason that demon was so lackluster was it had to open two, which weakened it a great deal. Opening more than that might have killed it from drain.

>>1393639
>It's an innocent question, and you ask it casually enough, but something about it causes the colour to drain from your mother's face.

What just-

>>1393663
Ah I see. The plot thickens.

Thanks for running Moloch.

Just a thought but maybe the reason the cat doesn't tell us much is because if Miho learned the grand scope of how fucked things are she'd fall into despair and in turn be useless. Ignorance is bliss right?

>>1393668

Ultimately, the Curse Gods aren't seen as "evil" as such, although they do definitely represent the darker aspects of mankind. The girls they champion could be seen as a form of redemption or penance. The Intruders are named as such because break into what is otherwise a sealed system. Their source or origin is otherwise unknown to us

>>1393697

Well, a little knowledge can be a very dangerous thing!