Day 115

[from Striker Man]

"You think Ryan's done with his exams yet?" asked Striker Man. "It's been seven weeks now." In that time, Striker Man and friends had been stuck in the temple, unable to proceed with the storyline without the narrator present. Striker Man was currently sitting on a swinging pendulum of doom, casually reading Steven Gerrard's autobiography - "I like the part where he doesn't win the Premier League" - while The Genius was attempting to play poker with Stuporwoman. The key word in that sentence is "attempting".

"Three nines," said The Genius, laying her hand out on the table. "What do you possess, Stuporwoman?"

Stuporwoman took one look at the cards in her hand, and then ate them all. "I'm hungry," she said.

"Why do I even endeavour…" muttered The Genius. "Nevertheless, now that the narrator is present, we can advance."

"Can it wait a minute?" asked Striker Man. "I've just gotten to the part where Stevie G doesn't win the Premier League."

"You're the one who was complaining for two score and eleven days that we were impuissant to advance due to the narrator's nonattendance!" complained The Genius. "And you've been making those Steven Gerrard jokes for an entire month now! It is not amusing!"

"Someone's a Liverpool fan~" said Striker Man jokingly.

The Genius sighed, but otherwise ignored him. "Let's just get going," she said. "Come on, Stuporwoman."

Stuporwoman gobbled up the rest of the playing cards, then followed The Genius as the two stick figures headed further down the dimly-lit sandstone passageway. Striker Man, realizing they really were going to leave him behind, quickly scrambled off of the swinging axe and followed them, stowing his Steven Gerrard book away in that strange hammerspace that all stick figured were apparently able to access.

"How much further do you think this goes?" asked Striker Man.

"Probably a substantial distance," The Genius replied.

"We'd better press on, then," said Striker Man, "so we can get to the end before the narrator stops writing again for another six weeks."

Stuporwoman suddenly burped, regurgitating a playing card that she then snatched out of the air. It was the ace of spades. "Is this your card?" she asked, showing it to Striker Man.

"How do you keep doing that?" asked the incredulous stick figure.

"Doing what?" asked Stuporwoman, shortly before burping up the queen of diamonds.

Suddenly there was a loud clunk, as The Genius stepped on a loose floor tile. "Watch out!" she cried out. A second later, a hail of poisoned arrows began firing at the group from every direction. Of course, with the trio being mere stick figures, not a single arrow struck them, and the arrows clattered harmlessly to the floor. "Well, that was a pointless trap," remarked The Genius.

"I'd say it had rather a lot of points," quipped Striker Man. The Genius groaned at the terrible pun, and the three continued on their way.

After a few more minutes of walking and mild peril, including Striker Man almost falling down into a pit of spikes, the trio finally came across a heavy stone door. "This has gotta be the entrance to the treasure room!" said Striker Man.

"If so, then there will most likely be some manner of ambuscade ready to ensnare us," said The Genius.

"I don't think ambulances count as treasure," said Striker Man, a little confused.

"Ambuscades!" insisted The Genius. "It means traps! Opening this door will set off some kind of trap! I explained this to you in the previous instalment!"

"Oh yeah, so you did," said Striker Man. "I guess the narrator must have forgotten. Doesn't matter, the audience probably will have forgotten as well."

"Well, anyway," said The Genius, "we should be very careful when opening this-"

SLAM. Before the other two could react, Stuporwoman had rushed forward and charged into the door, knocking it down. The stone slab landed on the floor with an almighty crash, opening the doorway to the treasure room. In spite of The Genius' warnings, nothing else happened, except for a dizzy Stuporwoman staggering backwards and then vomiting up a straight flush. Striker Man poked his head inside the treasure room and quickly let out a gasp.

Inside the treasure room were numerous gigantic piles of gold coins, some of them stacked as high as the ceiling. There were other riches too: mounds of silver, heaps of precious gems, mountains of jewellery. And under the laws of finders-keepers, it was all theirs.

"Loot at all this- I mean, look at all this loot!" exclaimed Striker Man. "There's enough here for The Gaffer to turn our club into the next Barcelona! Heck, we could even buy Barcelona with all this loot! We could buy the entire league!"

"Or fund the cure for cancer!" suggested The Genius.

"Or buy lots and lots of pickles!" suggested Stuporwoman.

"Or we could just keep it all to ourselves," suggested Striker Man, prompting glares from the other two.

"Well, first we must retrieve it from within these catacombs," said The Genius. "Let the plundering commence!"

"Yeah," said Striker Man, "and let's start taking the loot while we're at it."

The three of them made their way into the treasure room. Still there were no traps going off. "I don't like it," said Striker Man. "It's too quiet."

"I'll take care of that!" said Stuporwoman, and with that she started spontaneously beat-boxing.

"That wasn't really what I had in mind," remarked Striker Man, "but thanks anyway."

Striker Man came to a halt in front of a particularly large pile of gold. "I think I'll start with this pile!" he said. "This will be our new 100,000 seater football ground, complete with golden lavatories, golden labradors, and a fifty-foot statue of Maxim Tsigalko! Made entirely out of gold, of course. Now, come to Striker Man…"

Striker Man reached out for the gold, but the moment his hand touched the pile, the entire room suddenly started to tremble ominously, the coins on the pile jittering and teetering. "What did you do?" asked The Genius wearily.

"I didn't do anything-" said Striker Man.

"FREE!" bellowed a voice that came from seemingly nowhere. "AT LONG LAST, I AM FREE!"

"I hope that's a genie, come to give us three wishes," said Striker Man.

"Ooh! Ooh! I wish for pickles!" said Stuporwoman excitedly.

Sadly, it was not a genie. Instead, from out of the enormous pile of coins came a ghostly-white stick figure with a long purple cape that fluttered out behind him despite the lack of wind. His eyes were completely red, and glowed faintly in the dim light of the treasure room. "I AM FREE!" proclaimed the figure. "NOW THAT I HAVE RETURNED TO THIS WORLD, I, FARUK AL-FARUK, WILL SET ABOUT CONQUERING IT AS I DID THREE-THOUSAND YEARS AGO!"

As Striker Man and The Genius looked on in horror, an oblivious Stuporwoman asked, "Do I still get my three wishes?"

Day 114

[from StarLight]

As the bell rang to signal the start of homeroom, the classroom door opened and a pretty woman in a generic teacher's outfit stepped inside. She was in her early-to-mid twenties, had long brown hair, and generally resembled almost every other anime teacher in existence. It was reasonable to assume that she was also single and had a massive complex about it, but that's a story for another day.

Despite her seemingly generic appearance, Sanae and Amaya recognized her immediately as their science teacher from last year. "That's Inaba-sensei!" said Sanae excitedly. "We're going to have Inaba-sensei as our homeroom teacher for this year!"

"Nice!" said Amaya, smiling. "She's the best teacher ever! Except for that one from Kiniro Mosaic."

"Alright, settle down, everyone," said Inaba-sensei, motioning for her class to be quiet. "I'm sure some of you will know me already, but for those who don't, my name is Inaba-sensei. I'm going to be your homeroom and science teacher for this year." Picking up a piece of chalk, she wrote "YUI INABA - HOMEROOM TEACHER" on the chalkboard, then turned round and bowed politely to her students. "I hope we all get along well."

"Now, there's a few things we need to sort out," Inaba-sensei continued. "Firstly, and most importantly, we need to decide on your seating allocations for this year." From behind her desk, Inaba-sensei produced an upside-down top hat filled with small pieces of paper. "When I call your name, you will come up to the desk and take a piece of paper out of the hat. Written on that paper will be your seat for this year. There will be no arguments and no trading of seats, understood?" There was a general murmur of agreement from the class, and Inaba-sensei pulled up the class roster. "Okay then… Kojima, you get first pick."

As Kojima went up to the front to select his seat, Sanae patiently awaited her turn. She didn't need to wonder which seat she was going be assigned: since she was the protagonist, she was guaranteed to get seat 4A, the one second from the back on the leftmost row, next to the window. Every self-respecting anime protagonist had that seat. There was no way she wouldn't-

***

"What is this?"

Seat 2F. The seat second from the front, on the rightmost row. Sanae had been assigned the seat completely opposite to the one she had wanted.

"Is there a problem, Hikari?" asked Inaba-sensei.

"Yes!" said Sanae. "I'm the protagonist, I can't sit in this seat! I'm supposed to have that seat!" She pointed at her preferred seating location.

"Sorry, Hikari, but that's just how it goes," said Inaba-sensei. "You have your seat, now please sit down so I can call the next person."

"But it's not fair!" said Sanae, pouting. "I deserve a better seat than this!"

Inaba-sensei leaned across the desk, glaring at Sanae. "I deserve to be in a better anime than this," she retorted, "but we can't always get what we want, Hikari."

With a sigh, Sanae resigned herself to her situation, and slunk off to the seat she had been assigned to, sitting down at the desk with a sour look on her face. Her expression brightened up a little when Amaya sat down at the adjacent desk a few minutes later. "Looks like we'll be sitting next to each other this year," she said.

"Well, that's something, I guess," said Sanae.

"Bummed that you didn't get that nice window seat?" asked Amaya.

"You bet I am," said Sanae. "Who did get that seat, anyway?"

Looking over, Sanae and Amaya noticed a bored-looking male sat in the seat Sanae had so desperately wanted. He was mostly unremarkable except for his hair, which was bright blue with golden streaks and stuck out all over the place like a technicolour explosion. He may well have been the protagonist of his own anime.

"I didn't know there was a card game anime being filmed here," remarked Amaya.

Day 113

[from Cyborg Team Alpha]

"Do you understand what I've just told you?"

In the time it had taken the woman to explain Ichiko's predicament to her, the girl lying in the hospital bed had finally regained full use of her senses, and was feeling the control return to her body. Her limbs still felt somewhat numb, but she at least seemed to be able to use them now; her hands were curled tightly into fists as she tried to process what she had just heard. She had died. She had been blown apart, and then put back together again. She was a Cyborg now.

"I'm really sorry," continued the voice. Ichiko still could not see the owner of the voice, though she could tell that it was genuinely remorseful about her satiation. "I know how upsetting this must be for you. Believe me, it was upsetting for me as well." So this woman is a Cyborg as well, Ichiko realized. "But you shouldn't worry," the woman continued. "We'll be here for every step of your recovery, to help you get used to your new Cyborg parts. In time, you won't even realize you have them."

"That's not strictly true," said the male voice. Though Ichiko could hear everything else as clear as day now, the man's voice still sounded slightly muffled, as though he were speaking with his mouth hidden behind a scarf. "I hate to tell you this, Ichiko, but being a Cyborg isn't something you can just forget about. Especially not with the level of conversion you've had to undergo. But what I think she means is… before long, you'll be able to do everything you were able to do before your conversion. And quite a few things you couldn't."

At this point, as she felt her voice returning, Ichiko decided that she had to ask the numerous questions that were preying on her mind, swirling around like a violent storm inside her head. The moment she removed her oxygen mask, pulling it away from her face with trembling fingers, the most important question of all came weakly forth from between her pale lips. "Why?" she gasped. "Why… did you do this…?"

The male answered this one. "You are a teenage prodigy, Ichiko," he said. "From what I've heard, your test scores are among the highest in the country, and you're one of the finest chess prodigies in the world. When we heard what had happened to you, we decided we had to save you, to preserve your intellect, for the good of Japan."

Ichiko didn't have to ask who the man meant by "we". There was only one place in Japan capable of resurrecting a person as a Cyborg: the Toriyama Institute, the world's leading research centre when it came to cybernetics, and the inventor of the Cyborg System by which the recently-deceased could be resurrected as Cyborgs. But… didn't they shut down after the war?

For now, however, there was a far more pressing question to be asked. "You said… a bomb…" gasped Ichiko. "Who… planted it…?" She had a feeling she knew the culprits already, but she wanted to be sure.

"The Rising Sun have claimed responsibility for the bombing," said the woman. "We don't know specifically who planted it, but believe me, we're working with the police as hard as we can to track them down and apprehend them. They won't get away with what they did to you."

Ichiko nodded, her hands clenching tighter. She knew it. The Rising Sun. They were an ultra-nationalist movement that had sprung up three years ago, beginning a campaign of terror against the Japanese government. It was easy to understand their reasons for hating the government, after the five years of war that had engulfed the region during the first years of Ichiko's life. Their methods, however, were far less agreeable. To everyone but themselves, the Rising Sun were nothing more than violent terrorists, who were destabilizing a country that had only just been getting back on its feet.

There was one more vital question to be asked. "How bad… is it? I… I want to see…"

The female hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you want to see?" she asked eventually. "It's going to be quite a shock for you-"

"I'll have to… see it at… some point," breathed Ichiko, who could already feel herself starting to tire. In her current condition, just speaking was far more effort than it normally would have been. "It… might as well be… now. I'm… ready."

"She sounds just like I did," remarked the male. He's also a Cyborg… I wonder how many others are here. I thought they were all shut down… "Go ahead, Gumi. Show her."

There was relative silence for a moment while Gumi, presumably the female, went to fetch something, presumably a mirror. Then footsteps, and when Gumi spoke again she was standing right beside Ichiko, leaning over the bed a little. "I'm going to remove the bandages over your face now," she said. "Take a deep breath."

Ichiko did as she was told, and slowly, she felt the layers of bandages peel away from her face. The darkness slowly began to recede, but it was not until the bandages were removed completely that she could finally see. As her eyes settled on her reflection in the mirror being held above her face, the horrible reality of what had happened to her finally hit home.

Most of the right side of her face was gone. In its place was a patchwork of steel-grey metallic panels, stitched together with micro-joints to replicate the flexibility of her facial muscles. Her right eye, however, bore no resemblance to her left whatsoever, and she finally realized why she had been unable to close or even blink it. Set in her right eye socket, surrounded by the fake metal skin, was a glowing green artificial eye that resembled an old laser pointer more than an actual eye. The emerald glow was reflected by the mirror back into her eye, until it seemed to consume the entire right-hand side of her face, leaving only half a shocked expression staring back at her. It was both her face and not her face at the same time.

"As you can see, the explosion caused quite a lot of facial damage," said Gumi. "We'll make it look prettier, trust me-"

"What else?" breathed Ichiko, almost unconsciously. A tear rolled down from her left eye, running down her cheek before dripping onto her sheets; her robotic right eye could not and did not weep. "What else did they take from me?"

Gumi let out a heavy sigh before continuing, in a surprisingly more direct manner. "Your left hand. Your right arm, at the shoulder. Your legs, just above the knee. Part of your lower-right torso. All these things were lost in the explosion, and have been rebuilt. Again, I'm very sorry. I wish we hadn't had to have done this to you."

Ichiko looked away, closing her left eye. She could not bear to look anymore. It wasn't that she hated what she had become; it was that she hated what the Rising Sun had done to her. She could feel the pain returning to her extremities, her arms and legs aching as an unfamiliar fury started to well up inside her. They killed me… I'm going to get them back for that.

Day 112

All SHRED operatives, upon completing their training, were assigned a specific city or county to protect. Aaron Price, having completed his own training, had been assigned to Volusia County, Florida; specifically, the coastal city of Silverburg, which was currently under siege from the metallic supervillain known as Titus. Aaron's first assignment, therefore, would be to track down Titus and defeat him, finally bringing his one-man crime spree to an end.

Aaron had received his suit, and it was a lot better than he had been expecting. True to Alice's designs, it was a bright golden-yellow with two electric-blue lightning bolts running down the front. The mask was a simple yellow domino mask, with stylized lightning bolts running down from each eye across his cheeks. According to the suit's technical specifications, it was bullet-proof, stab-proof, and fire-proof, yet it felt surprisingly comfortable and breathable. They had even managed to incorporate the electrically-powered "Jet Boots" that Alice had thought of, allowing him to fly through the air at high-speed in order to quickly attend emergencies. It had taken him a little time to get the hang of using them, but as he flew towards Silverburg in pursuit of Titus, he was having no problems at all, tearing his way through the azure sky as easily as if he were walking.

As he approached the city limits, Martin Barnes' voice sounded in the earpiece he had been given. Martin had been assigned as his handler, tasked with making sure the new hero did as he was told. "Titus has been spotted," said Martin. "He's outside City Hall. Apparently he's waiting for you to come fight him, just like we thought he would." SHRED had made it no secret that they were sending a superhero to Silverburg, in the hopes that Titus would be lured out by the prospect of battle. It seemed as though that plan had been a success.

"Somebody tell him I'm on my way," said Aaron.

"I'm sure he'll be able to see that for himself, soon enough," said Martin. "Alright, good luck, man. With your abilities, this should be a walk in the park, but even so, be careful. This is your first mission, and I'd appreciate it if you came back in one piece."

"So would I," remarked Aaron.

His remark was met with a chuckle from Martin. "You'll do fine, man," he said. "You got this. Now go give 'im hell, Electron." Electron was Aaron's superhero name, decided upon after much brainstorming between himself and Martin. From now on, he was both Aaron Price and Electron. Fortunately, he would have SHRED's support when it came to juggling the two. When it came to fighting as Electron, however, he was on his own.

Electron was flying over the city now. From his vantage point several hundred metres up, he could make out City Hall in the distance, a large white building surrounded by a small park. He could just barely make out a silver dot in front of it; this dot was Titus, waiting for the hero to arrive in order to battle him. This was it. There was no backing down now. It was time to see whether his training had truly paid off.

Day 111

A long time ago, there were three sisters, who lived in a village in the eastern woods. Their father was a proud warrior who had died in battle, leaving their poor mother to raise them. While the youngest sister was fairly attractive, her two elder sisters were exceptionally beautiful, and very proud of it. They constantly ridiculed their younger sister, telling her that she was ugly, that no man would ever want her, and that she would never find happiness. They boasted of the wealthy men from the cities that they were going to marry, men they claimed were out of the younger sister's reach. The poor girl would go running off to her bedroom in tears, and cry herself to sleep. Taking her sisters' words to heart, she began to loathe her appearance.

Finally the time came for the three sisters to be married and have families of their own, and so they went out into the world to find husbands. The eldest sister traveled to the capital city, where a rich baron fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. She agreed in an instant. The middle sister traveled to a nearby town, and married a wealthy merchant. The elder sisters were very proud of their catches, and bragged about them endlessly to the poor youngest sister.

The youngest sister remained in the village, too afraid to go into the wider world. She was convinced, due to her perceived ugliness, that no man would ever want her. However, a young farmhand from the village fell in love with her, and after courting her for some time, he finally convinced the reluctant girl to marry him. The elder sisters were delirious with laughter. How could a farmhand compare to a baron, or a rich merchant?

They were about to find out.

The eldest sister moved into the baron's castle, where to her horror, her new husband treated her like a slave. He forced her to cook all his meals, wash all his clothes, scrub the castle, and make love to him every night. This was not the life the woman had expected, and when she asked to be treated with the respect she felt she deserved, the baron just laughed in her face.

When it became clear that the woman could not produce an heir for the baron, he grew tired of her. One night, he decided to get rid of her. He smothered her with a pillow, and dumped her body in the moat. He married another woman who could bear children, and acted like the eldest sister had never existed.

The middle sister, by contrast, found that her new husband paid her no attention at all. He spent all his time travelling the land, buying and selling, as merchants do. The few times he did venture home were not enough for the woman, who began to crave male attention.

She caught the eye of another merchant, and the two began a passionate affair. However, word soon got out about it, and when her husband heard he was furious. He kicked her out of the home that he barely visited himself, and she was forced to live on the streets, branded a whore by the locals for her adultery. A month later her body was found drowned in the local river. The shame and humiliation had been more than the proud middle sister could bear, and had driven her to suicide.

The youngest sister, meanwhile, lived out her days in the village where she grew up, together with her husband the farmhand. She learned of her sister's fates, born of their own pride and selfishness, and finally realized that inner beauty was more important than outward looks. Her sisters had had ugly hearts, and had met ugly ends. But her heart was pure and beautiful, and she lived her days in peace and joy. In the end, the youngest sister - constantly told she would never experience true happiness - was the only one of the sisters that did.

Day 110

[from Project Sky]

It's been a couple of weeks now since I set out on my journey. I've visited the five colonies that were the closest to my own, but none of them held any clues as to how I might be able to reverse the effects of the Ruin. So now, I'm travelling towards the town of Harford, which is apparently the biggest colony for miles, and not too far away either. Perhaps I can find some useful information there.

I've already gotten used to the travelling lifestyle. It's usually recommended that one avoids flying at night, primarily because of the poor visibility, but also because at this altitude, it gets extremely cold after the sun sets. For that reason, I have to stay overnight at each colony before flying off in the morning. Of course, renting a room for the night isn't free. This fractured world has no unified currency, so I have to pay my rent by doing errands and favours instead. That's the way this world works: a favour for a favour. The elder likes it better this way, and hopes that once the world is restored we won't return to the old ways of being ruled by greed.

As the dozen or so floating islands that make up Harford gradually grow larger in front of me, I realize for the first time just how large it really is. Having spent all my life in my tiny village of only a dozen or so houses, the thought of a town as large as Harford is hard for me to comprehend, and yet there it is in front of me, gradually filling my vision. Even at this distance I can make out far more houses than I've ever seen in one place before. And from what I've been told, even this is a drop in the ocean compared to the very largest colonies. I can't even begin to imagine how large they must be.

As I get closer, I notice something strange. Extending from one of the islands and out into the horizon are three thin blue lines, shimmering in the midday sunlight. I have no idea what they are, but there's no doubt that they have some sort of magical property. Perhaps they're connected to other far-away colonies, and provide some kind of rapid communication or transport between them. It might be worth investigating those lines, once I've landed.

It's not long before I'm flying directly over Harford, looking for a place to land. It truly is enormous. There must be at least a hundred buildings, possibly more. One large island, easily the size of our entire village, is completely taken up by a massive farm. In the centre of the town is a large clock tower, at least thirty feet high, surrounded by a large cobbled square. I can make out the people below me now, as they make their way through the paved streets and across the bridges linking the islands together, some of which are made of stone. I've only ever seen wooden bridges before. I can't help wondering why stone bridges would be necessary.

I can now also make out the remains of a river snaking its way between the centremost islands, split into its opposite banks where the Ruin caused the landscape to rupture along its centre. The river would have been drained as the shattered pieces of land rose up into the sky, but the enterprising townsfolk appear to have built walls around the edges of each river segment, causing the rainwater to collect in them and form makeshift lakes that trace out the river's path. No doubt this is where they get their water supply from. It's quite a clever engineering solution.

Spotting a wide open bank next to one such lake, I decide this would be an excellent place to disembark. I guide my pegasus towards it, gradually descending before slowing down and coming to a rest next to the water's edge. As I climb off the pegasus' back, looking at the shimmering mass of liquid before me, it suddenly occurs to me that I've never seen a body of water this large before. It's a narrow strip, only about two metres wide, but at least a hundred metres long. It's surprisingly clear and blue, just like the sky above.

As I look along the water's edge, I see a figure crouched by the river bank a short distance to my right. It's a girl, about the same age as I, perhaps a year or two younger. She appears to be drinking from the river, gathering water in her cupped hands and then raising them to her lips. It's the most readily available source of water in the town, and it looks clean enough, so it doesn't surprise me too much to see someone drinking from it.

After watching the girl silently for a moment, I decide that this would be as good a place as any to start my usual investigation. Leading my pegasus gently by the reins, I make my way along the river bank towards her. 

Day 109 [WE'RE BACK, BITCHES!]

"Eh? You're coming with me?"

Kousen, having caught up to Sanae only a few minutes later, nodded. "I decided that following you to your school would be an excellent way to continue learning about your time. Besides, I must admit that I'm curious about what your school is like, since I've never been to one."

"You've never been to school?" repeated Sanae, surprised. "Then how did you learn to do math and stuff?"

"I don't know," admitted the youkai, shrugging her shoulders. "I must have had some sort of education, but I don't remember what exactly."

"How could you not remember going to school?" asked Sanae. "It's either the worst time of your life, or the only time you'll ever be an anime protagonist! Or it could be both, I guess, depending on what anime you end up in…"

"I'm thousands of years old, remember," Kousen pointed out. "The first few hundred years of my life are all just a blur now."

"I guess immortality has its downsides, huh?" Sanae remarked, before pausing for a moment, looking suddenly pensive. "Wow, this got really deep all of a sudden. Should I go fall over or something to lighten the mood?"

"That won't be necessary," said Kousen, "although you are about to walk into a lamp-post."

"What do you mean I'm about to walk into a-" CLANG. Sanae, who had been looking at Kousen the whole time and not at where she was going, had indeed just walked head-first into a lamp-post. She staggered back, wincing and limping slightly. "Ow. Ow. My legs. Ow."

"And the universal balance is restored," remarked Kousen drily.

***

[some school stuff happens, then...]

***

"I'm home!"

Amaya's greeting fell on deaf ears, as it had every day for years now. It wasn't that there was nobody there to hear it; it was that the only other person in the house was far too preoccupied to do so. Amaya's eyes shifted from her unresponsive mother to the TV, and the console plugged into it. Her gaze grew disdainful.

"I'd tell you how my day went," Amaya continued in an annoyed tone, kicking her shoes off, "but I doubt you're even aware I'm standing here right now, are you?"

No response, only the continued tapping of the buttons on the controller, and the sounds of the game on the TV.

"Mom, please", said Amaya, in a softer, more hurt tone. "You can't just spend your whole life playing video games, and ignoring everyone and everything around you. That's why Dad walked out, because he couldn't take being ignored any more, and neither can I! You're wasting your life, just like the fat neckbeards who watch this show! Can't you see that?"

Still no response. It was no use. Amaya could run in front of the TV shouting at the top of her lungs, and her mother would simply shift positions so she could see the screen again. Nothing registered but the feedback from the monitor. Only when her bodily needs began impacting her gameplay did she finally stop to eat, rest, go to the bathroom or whatever else she needed to do, resuming gameplay as soon as she could. It had been like this for years now. Amaya knew it well, but this had been a good opportunity for an expository monologue, cluing the readers into her situation.

Amaya reluctantly trudged upstairs to her room and put her rucksack away. As she changed out of her school uniform, she reflected bitterly on her situation.

It's not fair, she thought. Everyone else's parents pay attention to them. Everyone else's parents care, but not mine. All my mom cares about are her stupid video games. Even my dad doesn't really care about me: if he did, he would've taken me with him when he walked out. The only person who really cares about me is Sanae. She sighed heavily. Sanae... her parents may be gone most of the time, but at least they actually come home when they can and spend time with her. My parents don't even do that. Amaya positioned a black beret on her head. I wish, just once, people would pay attention to me.

Now dressed for her walk, and unaware of the plot element she had just foreshadowed, Amaya left the house. Her mother continued playing, unaware that her daughter had ever entered the house at all.

***

It had become a habit for Amaya to wander the junkyard once she had come home from school and changed. There was no point in her staying at home, with nothing to do and no-one to talk to. Out in the junkyard, she almost felt more at home than at her house.

Everything here is discarded, she thought. Unwanted. Kinda like me. Amaya smiled suddenly. Damn, this is getting heavy for a story that's supposed to be a comedy. Maybe I should fall over or something. People like physical comedy.

Before Amaya could find something suitable to trip over, something dark glinted in the corner of her eye, catching her attention amid the dull rusts and peeling paints. Amaya turned back, heading towards the abnormally shiny object.

It was a black, circular object about four inches in diameter, partially embedded in the junk. It had been carved into a perfect five-pointed star, with a thin circle around the rim, enveloping the points. It seemed unnaturally shiny and new-looking for something found in a junkyard; Amaya could see her face reflected in it. Amaya wondered what it was, and how it came to be here; it looked exceedingly out of place amongst the piles of rusting machinery.

Maybe this would make a good wall decoration or something, thought Amaya. She took the object in one hand, and tried to pull it free of the junkpile. It seemed to be stuck; it wouldn't move no matter how hard she pulled. Amaya grabbed the object with both hands and pulled ferociously. "Come on, you stupid piece of-"

CLUNK. The object slid free of the junkpile, and Amaya's momentum sent her flying backwards into the opposite pile. Amaya fell to the floor, dazed.

Once her head had cleared, Amaya suddenly realized that she was no longer wearing the clothes she had been wearing when she stepped outside. Her sneakers had been morphed into black high heels whose straps wound up her shins. Her shirt and jeans had become a black minidress with white frills, exposing her pale legs; her jacket was gone. Even her hair seemed to have changed; her previously neatly-parted fringe had now been swept downwards over her right eye, partially obscuring her vision. Her beret had morphed into a witch's hat.

The strange star-shaped object was still in her hand, only now it has morphed into a long black rod-shaped object. A strange energy seemed to be flowing from the object into her body, filling her with a mysterious sensation like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was almost like magic. Could this be a…

"A magic wand?"

Startled, Amaya scrambled to her feet, looking around frantically for the source of the voice. Who said that? she thought. That wasn't the narrator. What's going on?

"I just told you, nyaa~. Magic. Or at least, that's what you'd call it, nyaa~"

Amaya jumped about six inches in the air, and found to her horror that she did not come back down again. When she finally tore her eyes away from the ground hovering beneath her feet, she finally spotted the source of the mysterious voice: perched on top of the junk pile in front of her was a strange-looking woman in a black dress. She seemed to have fangs, and... were those demon wings sticking out of her back?

"Why, yes, I suppose they are." said the strange woman, throwing a glance at her wings, as though she had just read Amaya's thoughts. "And yes, I am reading your thoughts, nyaa~. Sorry if it creeps you out, but it's a natural ability, I can't help doing it, nyaa~"

Until now Amaya had simply stared disbelievingly at the strange woman on the junkpile, but now she finally found her voice. "Wh... what are you?"

"What am I?" The question seemed to surprise the winged lady. "Why, I'm a youkai, of course. Don't tell me you've never seen a youkai before, nyaa~"

"Well... no, I haven't." replied Amaya. "I thought youkai were only a myth."

The strange winged woman - or youkai - frowned, crossing her arms. "I must have been in there longer than I thought, nyaa~. What year is this?"

"2013... I mean, 2015. Stupid writer, taking forever to write his shows… speaking of which, what the heck is going on here?" asked Amaya. "Who exactly are you? And what is this thing?" She held out the black wand-like object.

The youkai smiled, a fang poking out from between her thin lips. "Allow me to explain, nyaa~. But first, I'm starving. Could I get a bite to eat, nyaa~?"