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[x ] I’ll trade your story for what I’ve got so far. Secrets shared are friendships made.

You recite your vision, your shattered and reassembled memories that were jolted to the surface. You spare no detail in describing the beginning of your desires from killing ants and insects, and your gradual progression up the food chain until you were feeding off other humans, and finally the destruction your soul was subjected to at the hands of the professor, whose name and features are but a blur, but their words and actions remain.

Throughout the tale, Reisen reacts first with some mild shock, then a sort of understanding frown, before finally smiling as you describe how you were torn apart and reassembled.

“And that’s how the old Wu Zhenguo died.” You finish, “Probably for the better.”

Reisen’s ear twitches as she re-examines you with the lenses, “Looks consistent, your chest cavity is indeed partially destroyed. But, how?” She asks as she pokes you in the chest, obviously not feeling the hole, “What sort of entity with this amount of power will bother to disguise as a commoner and target a virtual nobody?”

You shrug, “I have some ideas, retired Greek gods being the first and foremost given the river invocations, but I’ll worry about that when I ask Conner about any strange professors we might remember if I can sneak back to the village. You know what? It might actually be him, now that I think about it. But it’s your turn, my dear rabbit.”

You flinch as Reisen, without a word, reaches out and caresses your neck...for a moment. Your eyes then lock with hers, and then your senses are no longer your own.

Foreign brain waves invade your own, a peculiar insanity.


It was your second year in the Lunar Capital

It was your fourth to last day in the Lunar Capital.

Your new master is cruel. Fair by her own words, perhaps, but mostly cruel.

The claim to the Watatsukis, whose scolding now feels more welcoming than ever for you, for a tithe of rabbits was intended to checkup on the health and discipline of your kind. Indeed, for most of the rabbit soldiers, life in the Capital was pa
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I was archiving the whole story at https://archiveofourown.org/works/30374592, but then I realized that with the power of a non-imageboard format, I could rewrite as much as I want.

There's a new story arc up as of this posting, if you would like to "vote" for the general direction of the new stuff feel free to post.
You posted the last chapter twice, just saying.

Thanks for the notice.

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Mt. Takao, Hachioji - 29th of March 15:19

“Scrap that, Renko.” I tell her, pocketing my phone. “You’re gonna come with me to a job.”

She raises her head from the ground. “A job?” She asks, perplexed.

“Yes. I do work.” I tell her. “I can’t spend all day everyday working this majestic body.”

She rolls her eyes in response, apparently not finding my sarcasm fun. “I mean, what do you do for work?”

“I fix holes in a giant invisible wall, essentially.” I tell her. “Then I also take care of the monsters that made that hole by forcing them back through it.” Which is oversimplifying it grossly.

She sits up. “And how am I supposed to help?”

“Who said anything about helping?” I ask. “You’ll be there to observe.”

“Oh thank god.” She lets out a relieved sigh. “I was afraid you’d ask me to fight it.”

“The whole point of this training, is to increase your chance for survival.” I tell her. “Sending you out like that would be sending you to die.”

“Yeah.” She scratches her neck. “I wouldn’t be too eager to throw my life away just yet.”

And yet you insist on training with me.

Odake Spring, Hinohara - 16:41
Renko Breach scene. Small puddle under a waterfall.

Odake spring used to be a popular tourist spot back when people still cared about nature, or at the very least, the small waterfall just before the actual spring. The mouth itself is located in a small area half encircled by a decently sized cliff. With the spring in the middle, filling out a puddle before flowing down the stream, this place creates a rather tranquil atmosphere.

“And done.” I stand back up and brush my hand off in my shirt.

Renko looks over my shoulder. “Done? That’s it?” She asks.

“For the preparation, at least.” I tell her. “All that’s left to do is wait.”

She takes a look around at the talismans I’ve placed. Some under the water, others up high on the cliffs and then a few more on the ground surrounding the puddle.

“So what do al
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Seems like I accidentally cut that part out.
Alice was working on a lock spell that will seal her grimoires so only she can open them.
The spells used for the seal would be the key indicators for that. Physical and magical resistances to avoid being forced open. Mana identification to id her and unlock the book.
She wanted to examine your 'dispel' and test her own spell at the same time. But Spell Break is not a dispel, which threw her for a loop.
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Hakurei Shrine, Gensokyo - 18th of Water Month, 13:37

“It really did start pouring.” The shrine maiden stands drenched on the shrine's porch. “How'd you know?”

“Not sure. If I had to guess, it'd be the air pressure.”

“Air pressure?” She unties the ribbons holding her sleeves in place and they drop to the floor with a wet splat.

“Yeah.” I point to my ear. “It's easiest to feel deep in your ear.” I explain. “When it's about to rain, the pressure will get higher.”

“Huh.” Is all she says as she wrings surprising a amount of water out from her skirt. “Think I'll be heading to the bath first. Wouldn't want to get sick.” She looks up at me.

“Sure, go ahead. I'm already drying off.” I state as I raise my arms, showing the steam coming off my body.

This is one of the underappreciated features of the heat regulating talismans. Getting drenched in cold water, they heat up the surface flesh to maintain a safe body temperature. Honestly, this is probably why I never catch a cold.

The drenched girl raises an eyebrow at the sight but ultimately shrugs and walks off.

Now then.

I turn to face the downpour.

How exactly did I know it was going to rain? The trick with the ear really only works when you're outside and when it's already overcast.

It feels like a bit of a leap in logic, but dragons in Chinese mythology were connected to the weather. Though I'm sure that when Yukari told me I was a dragon, she meant a Japanese dragon. It's a stretch, but that's the only explanation I have.

What was it she said again? That my draconic side shows when I take in more mana than I can hold? That's what happened in the Forest of Magic last time I was there.

I prod into myself, poking at my tiny mana reservoir to gauge it's capacity.

Sure enough, it's leaking. There is more mana in my system than I can hold. Assuming I'm right, that's probably the trigger.

I channel my mana through my arm up into the tip of my finger, where I forcefully
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[x] Helping them might help clear my name, even if Akyuu has to wait a bit longer.

Priorities, people.

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“Most people live out their days on an isle of vapid ignorance, shying away from the dark and hungry waters that surround it,” said the goddess. “But not you, child. You crave for more. I see it plain in your eyes.”

The child looked behind, where the lights of her hometown glowed dimly in the dark, just far enough for her to walk back. Back where her parents slept soundly at home, still unaware of her elopement. Back where an easy, uneventful life of prosaic toiling awaited her; where she saw herself laboring the fields from sun to sun, getting married off to some man from the neighboring village, siring children and working the kitchen until her skin withered and her bones were ground to dust. Mundanity was not the life for her. The child felt, no,
knew, she was destined for something greater.

“I will bond you as my apprentice and my follower,” the goddess declared. “I will teach you everything I know. I will teach you every spell I have. You will become more powerful than any other person in the world, in history.”

The child’s dusty face lit up, greedy and covetous.

“But power and knowledge demand sacrifice, child. To seek magic is to brave the tides, but one who does should not expect to see those shores again,” continued the goddess, gravely. “Cast aside your old life, your old acquaintances, your old name. Only then I shall accept your plea.”

The child took one deep breath, then another. She did not need to ponder for long. That decision had already been made the moment she sneaked out of her room in the midst of dark.

“Very well,” the goddess smiled, brighter than the moon and stars above. “Eternity lies ahead, and behind. Will you drink your fill?”


It was a fine morning at Higan, the kind to make a woman happy to be alive. And probably the woman would have been happier to be alive. She was, in
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[x] She was too tense for suggestions. She needed to be calmed down.
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The village bustled with activity, townsfolk pacing to-and-fro over the main street, exchanging morning pleasantries, pulling their carts full of the day’s produce and putting up their stands to sell it. Nobody paid attention to the unassuming girl hungrily eyeing a pile of apples greener and shinier than her own hair, nor to the goddess who floated leisurely at her side, amused.

“Listen well, child. This will be your first lesson,” said Hecate. “In order to become a witch and harness what you call ‘magic’, you must learn to exact your will upon the world. You want to eat that apple? Then you’ll have to take it, if you can.”

Mima (the name still sounded alien to her) looked back at the azure goddess, who only raised a curious eyebrow, and then back at her target. She went through a number of scenarios in her head about how the goddess expected her to go about acquiring that tasty apple. Did she imply she could make it levitate and float to her? It couldn’t be; she had stared at it for long enough to know that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe she meant she could make another apple pop up right in her hand? Perhaps. But even Mima knew spontaneous creation was beyond the power of a simple human like her, will or no. No, her only feasible options were to either quickly snatch one of those apples and hope nobody saw her stealing (fat chance), or somehow make the stand owner give it to her for free.

The neophyte witch squared her shoulders and strode to the stand with all the reassurance her disheveled, slender build could muster. Whatever effect that could have had on the man was attenuated when Mima had to tiptoe to make herself seen behind the stand, but she didn’t let that deter her.

“Give me an apple, mister,” she said, her shrill voice barely a whisper.

The store owner gave the scraggly child a long look, and sniffed. “That’ll be a copper, missy.”

“I don’t have money.”

“Then scram,” he shooed her away with a greasy hand. “I don’t have time for the likes of you
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Waiting warmly

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She paced the edge of it, ruddy-red waves lapping gently over her ankles, painting the soil in full, dark wine: a crater-lake of blood, its heady scent filling her core with the gnawing hunger of centuries. Above her spun the stars of a sky of always night, the Moon, perhaps, crowning them high overhead.

Or perhaps it hung somewhere off the coast of Brazil. She couldn’t tell: there was no light from it, after all, not without the Sun to illuminate it. But it was one or it was the other, because it was high tide on the lake, which meant the greatest extent of freedom allowed to her by the terms of her sealing, if only by a few feet of damp backshore.

She paced it nonetheless.

[ ] Savouring it, for all that it was worth.
[ ] Hating every moment of it.
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If you're not well for writing, historical background like this is still appreciated.
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I've been persuaded to upload the doodles for this story to an external repository, in the event that someone comes across this thread in years to come and finds that it's been pushed off the active pages of the board.
Here it is: https://archive.org/details/thp_exile
Also replying to the OP (>>31363) in case backlinks ever get added to the archives here.
This is not a statement either way on whether I plan to continue the story, but right now my priorities remain elsewhere.

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Previous thread: >>31609

There are only a few patrons in the pub, mostly sitting at the bar and making light conversation among themselves. An old man, the owner, nods at you as you come in and Komachi picks a small table towards the back of the place. She orders right away, reclining in her chair as you wait for drinks.

“Been a long day, hasn’t it?” she asks.

“Has it?” you reply, “it feels as if most of the time you were napping, eating or sitting around.”

“Keeping an eye on you is pretty tiring, trust me,” she ripostes, none too bothered. The sake is quick to arrive, brought by a young girl who asks if you’d want something to eat as well. You tell her that you’ll think about it and Komachi agrees. “Cheers,” she raises her glass, “to work.”

“To work,” you echo, somewhat more seriously. Sake is nice and all, and you drink it gladly, but you also take the opportunity to write down more thoughts in the notebook. It’s not quick-going since the shinigami keeps talking to you throughout but over the next hour—while enjoying a few more drinks and some finger food—you manage to build up a satisfactory record of the day and what was going on in your mind. You close the notebook with a satisfying thump and finally put it down.

It is fortuitous that you decided to do at least that much as Komachi’s freewheeling drinking session comes to an abrupt end. She was in the middle of a story about putting a celestial in her place. In an instant an ample smile and ruddy cheeks morph into a reserved stare and ashen face. Your back is to the door but you turn to follow her eyes and see the source of her sudden transformation: Lady Shiki has come into the establishment.

The Yama spots you instantly, offering a sober nod as she comes over. “Candidate. Komachi,” she greets each of you with a polite nod.

“Enma,” you stand to return the greeting.

“Lady Shiki,” Komachi speaks quietly, “come to join us for a drink?”

“A tipple would not be unwelcome,” the Yama says to her surprise, “I
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We gotta have enough death flags to see the "failed judge experiment" BAD END at this point.
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“I’m not sure that’s a very good answer,” comes the reply. It’s not the Yama who says it but rather Komachi. There is concern in her eyes and she soon catches herself, realizing that she shouldn’t have said anything. “Sorry, I may have had a little too much to drink,” is her excuse.

“Would you say that it’s a little too arrogant?” Lady Shiki asks her with a slight smile on her lips.

“Ah, a little maybe. Then again the people in the ministry-” she catches herself again, this time before she says something truly stupid. Shaking her empty cup, she says instead, “well, Makoto is persistent. Hasn’t let up yet.”

“Both subordinates are bad at answering direct questions,” the Yama grumbles and bites into another dumpling. She chews as she thinks, looking less like a judge and increasingly disgruntled. With a sigh, she concludes, “I need to concern myself more with the day to day running of things.”

Komachi’s guard is once again down. Showing you a smile that you believe is supposed to be encouraging, she the blurts out, “Maybe you should go out just the two of you and be more direct when it comes to teaching,”

“There is a time and a place for everything,” Lady Shiki asserts. “There are deficiencies to correct first. Overwhelming someone is not likely to lead to good results.”

“Makoto looks a little overwhelmed right now,” the shinigami says, puffing up her lips. Her cheeks match the tint of her hair. With her hands upturned and elbows on the table, she cradles her head and pouts. From loquacious to childish and fed up in an instant. She could easily be talking about herself.

“That’s because you got my Candidate drunk,” the Yama blames her for your state. Like a weary mother dealing with an unruly child, she says a few other sharp words that put her in her place.

“Please excuse Komachi,” you intervene, “she is just concerned for me. It’s was my choice to drink. And I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

“Yes, I know,” Lady Shiki sighs again. She grabs the last of your notes.

“That’s a pretty good drawing of you, Enma,
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I'm going to be honest in saying that I don't quite understand what effect most of the votes had on anything. Not like it particularly matters, mind. Still a reasonably enjoyable story; I wouldn't mind a sequel/prequel/remaster at some point.

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The dead man accepts judgment with unusual aplomb. Whereas others might squirm at having their sins read out or—as had been the case earlier—attempt to interrupt the session with hasty interjections and justifications, he seems almost indifferent to what the Yama has to say. If the judge is surprised by this unusual man, she hides it well, being as meticulous in presenting the facts of the case as with every other preceding soul that day. His quiet poise still makes an impression on the others watching and they pay careful attention to the build up to the sentencing.

Being sentenced to hell seemed like the obvious outcome; the lot of most sinners is an opportunity for repentance followed by punishment. So you're surprised when he is instead sent to the Netherworld. The man offers a bows to the judge once the proceedings are concluded. Then he is escorted away from the court, his fate to be advanced by a shinigami acting as bailiff. This proves to be the last act of the court for the day.

The presiding yama thanks the clerks of the court for their hard work and ends their long shift. She puts away her hand mirror into a protective bag and then rises from her seat. Before retiring to her chambers, however, she looks over at you and beckons you to come with a nod. That’s a very exciting development for you, as you’ve never been in the private chambers of a judge before. Truth be told, you have no idea what to expect. Your first courtroom experience today has already made your head swim more than once.

It appears that the Yama does not have very extravagant tastes. The room is an austere space with a few chairs, a simple shelf with some scrolls and a large desk with a stack of documents. She takes a seat and invites you to do the same. “How was your first day at court?” she asks, allowing a slight smile to form on her lips for the first time in the day.

“It was fascinating, Enma,” you answer. “Hearing about what goes on and actually seeing it with my own eyes is like night and day. I am not certain I am ready.”

“Modesty is good, Candidate,” she says, using the official term
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[x] Join her.
[x] There's still work to do.
New thread >>31879

It would probably be helpful to other readers if you shared your reasons for believing that instead expecting everyone to accept your conclusion just because.

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Tokyo is the same as it has been these past eighty years, crowded, cramped, but at the same time a very free and open environment. Sure new buildings are built, but what makes this city what it is has failed to change.

It is a city of dreamers, conmen, and opportunists; it opens its doors wide for those willing to do what it takes to claim what they want, though it has a nasty of habit of turning those same into the destitute.
Though this city has no place for one such as yourself anymore.

You didn’t board the first train the Gap Master sent out, there was an exodus of us, the forgotten, but you stayed behind, there are still plenty of games to play in a city such as this.

That was 1954.

Every ten years another invitation would be sent out, giving promise of a paradise, this “Gensokyo”, and every time more of us would leave, by 1994 there was hardly any left to board the trains.

It wasn’t until most children couldn’t even see you that you decided to leave.

The year is 2014.

You clutch the ticket in your hand as you enter the train station, busy as always with people bumping into each other and rushing about, lost within their own mental schedules. At least you’re not out of place, slicked back black hair, a nice business suit, you’d look like a model salary man.

That would be of course if they could even see you.

You head through the station to the designated loading station, there are a few Youkai here already, waiting patiently for the train to “paradise”.

Compared to the first exodus there are hardly more then a dozen, and at that mostly Tsukumogami, a rose haired women dressed in a white coat is chatting amicably with a violet haired woman carrying a biwa.

This could almost pass off as normal, if not for the drum set floating behind the red haired woman, and that would certainly get attention.
If people could see them.

Beyond an errant child trying to point out the mysterious flying object to his over stressed parent, nobody pays them mind.

You sit down on a nearby bench and choose to people watch until the train arrives. The Tsukumogami couples are joine
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Erien, get the fuck back here. Move to /shorts/ if you have to, but get back here.
No, don't particularly wanna.
got 'em

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Previous Thread: >>29707

[X] Awyrgan, what do you want?

Everybody else falls silent as the tank slowly drives up to you. "HATCH DIRECTIVE REQUIRES A COMMANDING UNIT TO DEFINE. DO YOU WISH TO REVOKE THIS LIMIT?"

"Yes." You affirm, "Nobody other than you yourself know better than what to do in this case."

"Hold on!" Nitori protests, "What if it decides to just never hatch?"


"I do not know." Tenma says, with just the hint of nervousness, "What are your parameters, Iron Wing?"


You gesture around, fishing for any disagreements. To your surprise, nobody, not even Nitori, lodges a protest. Seeing that, you confirm "Awyrgan, commence with your chosen incubation protocol."

"AFFIRMATIVE." The hatch opens and a shower of sparks are sent out, accompanied by a loud rumbling sound from within. The kappa tending to the tank scatter immediately at the sight. "INCUBATION PROTOCOL LOCKED IN. REQUESTING MATERIALS."

"All hands on deck!" Nitori orders. "Get those supplies to the tank now!"

The kappa mob answer in the affirmative, and hurry off in different directions with Nitori continuing to shout orders over them. Soon, you see more of those spider-bots from before coming over either loaded with heaps of scrap metal or dragging broken vehicles of various sorts behind them. Some of the vehicles, you note, look to be cut up portions of military hardware. Awyrgan immediately begins laying into the resources, shoving piles of scrap metal into its hatch and using its cannon's flamethrower to cut apart some of the larger chunks.

While you are
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[x] I’ll trade your story for what I’ve got so far. Secrets shared are friendships made.

bun sekrits
[x] I’ll trade your story for what I’ve got so far. Secrets shared are friendships made.

We've too many secrets and not enough friends.

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Old thread

I stood there, one second stretching out into eternity. The memory of my previous days flashed before my eyes—so much had happened, just to lead up to this point. Being chased by fairies across a lake, breaking into a manor on the edge of space and time, eating lunch with a vampire...though my life had never been dull, this week ranked pretty damned high on the strangeness scale. And after all that bullshit? I stood with my own two feet upon the surface of the moon, trying to carry out one of the most audacious heists that I have ever tried.

Now, I just had to get of the pesky fairy in front of me. The annoying bint was grinning at me with fireballs in her hands, just daring me to try something. Anything.

I needed something strong, something that packed a punch, something powerful enough to whack this youkai wannabe out of the air and get me out of the door safely. As my thoughts sped, just to the side I could still feel the steady magical pulses of the drum, emanating from underneath the rubble. Like the flirtatious winks of a coy maiden.

Horrible metaphor, but the whimsical imagery somehow made up my mind. I leapt, barely managing to dodge two bolts of energy fired my way, and landed hard onto the rubble. My knee raked against a ripped wooden beam, and I sucked in air through my teeth as I felt a thousand splinters imbed themselves into my thigh. Ow. I swallowed the pain as I started to scramble forwards like a lizard, keeping my profile low to avoid the fairy's potshots. It was like advancing forwards in some demented fairytale version of ‘Nam. I winced as the multicolored bullets whizzed above me, each one of them closer than the last.

And finally, my luck ran out. A bullet crashed into my arm, and I could feel my protective charms whine in protest-- right before I was flipped over bodily by the force of the blow. Something sharp pierced through my sleeves and into my arm, but I bit down on the scream and looked to my goal with watering eyes.

It was close. So close. Gritting my teeth, I lunged forwards for the last time, my hand finally la
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[x] No pillaging. There was simply no time to waste, a shock team of fairies could drift in at any minute and I was little more than deadweight at this point.

I appreciate his enthusiasm, but he can barely walk.

[x] Let her decide, long as it may take. Plus, I was curious as to why she was taking so long to do so. Waiting for her might shed some light on the matter.

Great, I'm curious as well now.
check the dates lads

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She was standing against the blistering assault of white, entranced in it.

The violent wind felt poetic in a way for how she felt. Always changing direction, never forgiving to the people inhabiting it. The wind threatened to tear away her hat, so she took it off, letting her golden blond hair flow freely in the wind's torrent. She looked at the scenery from the top floor, hoping her sister would come back soon, but inwardly she assumed the worst. She quickly shut it out of her mind.

It was only a few days away from tonight that the anniversary of that event would arrive. She felt the melancholy seeping in once again. She couldn't sleep, which made her end up here. Footsteps made their way upwards, cloaked by the howling blizzard.

A girl of light blue hair opened the door to the top floor. She saw her gold-haired sister gazing blankly. Inwardly she felt irritation at her constant gloom. It happened, the blur haired sister thought it should be left at that. Quietly, she walked back downstairs to go back to sleep.

Neither was going to hold tolerance for the other much longer.


The Fifth Day

When I woke up, I felt incredibly warm. I felt several blankets on me, all of which were familiar. Right, I brought spare blankets with me. The warmth nearly lulled me back to sleep, but I couldn't let that happen. After waging war in my mind for about 10 minutes, I got up out of bed.

I was in the tent of the camp, and a few fairies were sleeping, but most were empty sleeping bags. My my felt hazy, and I tried to recall what happened yesterday just before O feel asleep. After a good bit of recalling, I remembered I didn't fall asleep, but passed out. The war between those two threatened the camp, and I told Lyrica to try to stop them.

Daiyousei was sitting up in a sleeping bag next to me, slowly bringing herself out of sleep. I decides to ask her what happened.

"Daiyousei, are you awake?" I asked.

"Mmmmm... mhmm,"
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[X] "No thanks; I'll ask Lyrica."
[X] "No thanks; I'll ask Lyrica."
[X] "No thanks; I'll ask Lyrica."

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