Ghoulie-Den Archive

The Vtuber Lore of Archknight and Yuki Mirahiru [Past and Present]

[-Data Entry 12 – The Servant of Chaos –]

[Archivist Records – Authorized Access Only]

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Archivist, and how he traded masters between the Director and the Director's Director, how he came to join the Chaos Gumi and why his role is entirely shrouded in classified reports, obfuscation and intrigue.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To provide any authorized information and collected reports of the Mysterious Archivist, and to provide insight to faithful readers who may have a passing interest in more of The Director's past life in the rough and tumble life of Mechacropolis.

[-Confirm Access] y/n? Y


Who am I? My name, as given to me by Master Archknight of the Omega Syndicate in YOE 40516, is “That Guy”. Master Archknight, or as my subordinates within The Archive call him “The Director” has always had a terrible naming sense.

I was given the name “That Guy”, and I have stuck with it, because at the time I was a wanted subspecies within the city of Mechacropolis and had to hide my identity. Though his naming sense is awful, Master Archknight has always had a knack for finding and befriending those that society would call, “undesirable”. That is not to say, however that all the people Master Archknight comes in to contact with are layabouts and vagabonds, but more as to say he can see the hidden potential in almost anyone.

That is especially present in his choice of life partn- well, more like “Undead” life partner. At the risk of being ejected out the airlock by Lady Yuki, I will refrain from expounding too much on my thoughts of her. Though the majority of our newfound allies in Chaos and those surrounding the Chaos Gumi find her cannot be said that I feel the same.

But that's beside the point, isn't it? You didn't come here to hear an old man ramble, now did you? And yes, I do mean to prattle on about much of nothing, as I am using the text to speech option on the terminal that The Archive, and by extension our association with The Chaos Gumi, has afforded me.

Why am I using text-to-speech? Well, does not everyone here use TTS in some respect? Again, I find myself diverting and espousing on nonsense.

Where do I come from? Do you really want to know such things?

Fine then, before I chased down Lady Yuki as she stole away my Master from our organization – I was a wanted criminal. Or at least, the Emperor would have you believe that.

In reality, I was a lad of [redacted] when I was found by the Imperial Police mid-rescue of some enslaved “sub mutants” of which Master Archknight himself is a part of within the empire. Assistance of “subspecies” was punishable by raid laser incision of the neck, colloquially known as “We're going to zap this laser across a table, slowly and painfully until we reach your neck and then cut it off.” But I didn't give a damn, and under Master Archknight and Lady Yuki, I've learned that giving a damn about someone getting after you for doing the right thing is a thing for “normies”.

So, I then found myself within the Empire's most dangerous weapon – the hallucination chamber. What is the hallucination chamber, you might ask? A hell hole. That's what.

Here I was, a lad of [redacted for scary legal reasons] being held in this multi-paneled room covered in screens. On the screens were warped images of my loved ones, whilst they blasted suggestive and very negative thoughts through speakers inlaid behind the screen. “I am a criminal.” “I am no better than a dog.”, etc. Basically, the intent here was to make the accused THINK they are in the wrong, and to break them down until they hallucinate that their loved ones think these thing about them, and they give in. Very spooky stuff.

For days, I laid in the corner whilst screens above and below drilled these falsehoods into my head. Then, a man in a long black coat entered the room with a guard. “That guy. Yeah, that guy there is with me, Jack.” he said, before lifting me up and slipping the guard a few million credits like he was paying for a meal.

This confident, self-assured and slick businessman was my future employer... Master Archknight Project Trial 23, later Mirahiru by marriage and “Arch” for brevity.

Later into my employment with Master Arch, I found that his self-confidence was a facade. Though, somehow seeing Master Arch quiver with anxiety made his inhumane actions within the Syndicate seem almost reasonable.

Under his command, I assembled the Infrastructure and Logistics wings of The Omega Syndicate. Headed up by his beautiful secretaries, each a specialist within their regions, their work led to the foundation of the Syndicate's finances.

It continued this way for a few years until the year 40519 when Lady Yuki arrived in Syndicate Airspace. (Yes, we moved quickly in those days and YES we owned the literal sky above our facilities.) Recalling in its entirety, I believe it was Harumin of the Shizuan Sector who identified a terrifying lullaby being sung from an enormous black cloud that descended upon Master Archknight's quarters after he'd taken in some street kids for the expansion of our rackete- I mean, “Rent Allocation” businesses. We would later discover that night, that the two boys brought in were actually each members of the Royalists Guild who served to preserve the Emperor's Rule against our ...less than above board business dealings.

Thanks to Lady Yuki's intervention, we were down one leader and gained two King's Heads. Harumin quickly came from her desk in the Inner Tower and notified me that, “Some Shizuan Lady clad all in black scooped up Leader-san.” Lady Yuki has the same tendency to use these strange word endings, but in this moment it seemed particularly disconcerting. “Then, where is said 'Shizuan Lady'.” I at last asked, my bewilderment obvious on my face. “Yes...about that, Guy-san.....they're headed toward some kind of anomaly that has localized itself in Syndicate Airspace above our complex. ” Harumin said, continuing with the word endings I so despised. “Right, well..shall we chase it?” “Unfortunately sir, Imperial troops swooped in to seize the flying Shizuan....but they have disappeared.” Harumin said, looking down dejectedly. “So...can we do anything about it?” I asked, knowing what we COULD do, but not knowing if Harumin as head of the Safety Division would allow it. “Hm...we anticipated you'd ask Guy. So we scrambled all available squadrons to intercept...cloaked within the Imperial reinforcements of course.” At this, Harumin let slip a devious smile. She'd always enjoyed when we got one up on those damn Royalist scum.

Thus, I joined our covert fleet and eventually followed them to an unconquered world....a world you know, as Earth. But we in Andromeda know as...The Last Terra. Anyway, I've spoken too much, and the rest of this story is basically just that our regiments docked with the Despair...and here we are.

A middle-aged man, talking into a terminal aboard this Flying Dutchman of a Research vessel. What new wonders we will see, and what chaos we shall sow here on Earth with the help of Master Arch and Lady Chaos an open study. We hope you will continue to read further entries in this long epoch, as we expand and explain both the past and the present of our journey into Chaotic Expansion.

  • The Archivist

[-Report 12 Completed? – ]

user: [Redacted Input]

pw: [redacted input]


//////////// //////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //complete //loading Final Warning.txt

cat Final_Warning.txt

Dear Researcher,

By submitting an ARESRR, (Advanced Research Equipment Supply Requistiion Request) you acknowledge that this equipment is only to be used for Advanced Research, outside the scope of traditional Archive business and is only to be used when requested by entities known by the Archive as “Ghoulies”, as needed by the Head Archivist, code named “Archivist”, or by Director Mirahiru and Director's Director Mirahiru.

All liabilities are the responsibility of the Researcher using this software/equipment. The Archive, Chaos Foundries, The Chaos Gumi and the entirety of the Omegian Imperial Science Division are not responsible for any dismemberment, schizophrenic outbursts, spontaneous combustion, retcon-itis, 4th wall breaks, speaking of tongues, demonic possession, rips in the fabric of Terran or Omegian space and time, resurrection of a demon lord, or the return of any and all chaotic, manifestations of the unknowable Void.

These apparatuses are held tightly by The Archive and their respective parent companies for a reason, and are not to be used lightly unless used lightly by those with enormous death wishes, literally Yuki Mirahiru, or those who capitulate to said beings of chaos, namely Director Archknight Mirahiru.

Do you understand, mortal?

[Y/N/I'm Scared}: Y

sudo vim Data Fragment_2.txt


[-Data Fragment 02-]

[-Priority – Classified-]

[-SCOPE OF FRAGMENT-]: As requested by the Ghoulies, Director Mirahiru, Director's Director Yuki Mirahiru and the Archivist. This fragment is what was recoverable using a new piece of equipment within the ARESRR section of The Archive. The Archivist has left our team with the responsibility (read, liability) of a new device that will allow us to transcribe the “dates” of Director Archknight, and his wife for further research. However, this is merely a fragment due to the risk involved. Please observe below as we attempt to perform our first “Dream Print” here in the Archive.

//////////////begin transcription.

Director Mirahiru and his wife are fidgeting within the “Dream Chamber”, that the research intern had led them to. However, as was common with Director Mirahiru and her Majesty Yuki Mirahiru, they steeled themselves to be the subject of this project for the advancement of The Archive's capabilities, and because the Ghoulies had show interest.

“S-so, Yuki we know if this is safe?” The Director said finally, slicing the darkness as they did as instructed and laid together on the finely ornamented bed which was the sole source of refuge within this chamber. Yuki, the Director's wife and his muse of mischief seemed to falter a bit, but soon shrugged and pulled him into bed with her. “H̶e̵h̵e̷h̸e̶h̵,̷ ̵w̷e̶l̸l̸ ̶i̶t̶'̷s̷ ̸s̷o̴m̴e̶t̵h̷i̷n̶g̵ ̴f̴u̷n̴ ̵i̸s̵n̸'̴t̶ ̷i̷t̴ ̴D̸a̸r̷l̴i̷n̶g̸?̶ ̵P̸l̶u̵s̴,̴ ̷i̵t̶'̶l̵l̷ ̸b̸e̶ ̷c̷h̷a̴o̴t̴i̸c̵ ̴f̵o̵r̵ ̶p̷e̶o̵p̵l̴e̵ ̴t̶o̵ ̸s̵e̷e̴ ̴o̵u̵r̴ ̶l̴i̷t̴t̷l̶e̶ ̷d̵a̷t̵e̷s̶,̸ ̷e̷h̸?̶ ̴>̶;̷3̶”. The Director, as had come to be known within The Chaos Gumi and here at The Archive, easily relented when his wife pushed him to try things her way.

To his credit, the fact that he was able to resist dying on the spot when faced with the aura created by Yuki Mirahiru, his wife and a former reaper of souls, spoke to his ability to charm Lady Death.

Now though, it appears that they've resolved themselves and are now in bed together. A loud voice over the intercom, the raspy but assertive voice of The Head Archivist, rang out within the confines of their prepared chamber.

“Director, and Director's Director Mirahiru, this procedure is truly chaotic. However, chaos sleeps for no one. Knowing this, do you consent in allowing we here at The Archive and the Ghoulies who will read this report to have a play-by-play of this event?” The director and his wife nodded, not feeling the desire to let go of each other as they began to naturally nod off to sleep.

At this, the Archivist who stood beside me behind double-sided glass nodded excitedly. The Archivist themself is what Earthlings might call a, “Research Fanatic”.

It was part of why during the founding of the Chaos Gumi and the first formation of The Archive, Director's Director Yuki had presented Director Archknight with The Archivist's resume and he had been placed in charge of the The Archive, on the condition that he channel that research towards advancing Chaos and recording the events of The Mirahiru Family's story. And that's w- [Sequence Begun, subjects have entered REM Cycle Sleep] ////////////////////////////////////// [Synchronizing with subjects natural mental bridge.] ////////complete.

[Man-in-Middle Image Stabilization Complete]


“W-where...?” I said, my eyes adjusting to the light as I found myself in Yuki and I's bedchambers. But....something seemed off. “H-honey? Did something happen during the test?” I called out in the dark, not sure where Yuki was. If we truly had gone to sleep together, then another thought began to manifest within my brain groggily. “Y-yuki, are we on a date right now?”

A giggle, which began as Yuki's normal adorably terrifying laugh began to seemingly come from all around me. “H̵e̶h̸e̸h̴e̵h̴e̸h̸e̴h̶e̷h̷e̶h̵h̵e̴h̵e̵h̶e̶h̵e̶h̶e̴h̷e̷h̵h̷e̷h̷e̴h̷,̵ ̸m̵y̸ ̸p̵e̸r̸c̶e̵p̴t̸i̵v̴e̶ ̸l̵i̵t̸t̸l̵e̵ ̵D̴a̶r̶l̵i̸n̶g̶ ̵F̴o̸x̸ ̸H̵u̵s̸b̸a̸n̶d̴.̶ ̴~̸<̶3̶” Yuki said sickly sweetly, as the walls around me began to shift and the airlock I had been staring at to see if and when she'd round the corner pushed forward to reveal bright lights.

Intense, bright lights shone through the widening gap behind the false walls and soon my eyes adjusted to see what chaos Yuki truly had planned for us tonight.

“見て! ほら、ダーリン!〜ここはあなたを保つのにかわいい場所ではありませんか?” (Look! Look, Darling!~ Isn't this a cute place to keep you?) Yuki shouted, her voice much louder than usual. However, it confirmed one thing that I had hoped wasn't happening. “Y-yes dear, it's very cute. this a locket?” Yuki cackled once more, the movements of her nodding and jumping excitedly shaking the locket she'd been holding me in. “1̴0̴ ̵p̷o̶i̵n̶t̸s̸,̷ ̸D̴a̸r̴l̷i̵n̸g̵!̸~̵≮3̵ ̶S̶o̸ ̵s̸m̵a̶r̶t̸ ̶o̵n̸ ̷d̸a̴t̸e̶s̴,̷ ̸a̴n̸d̵ ̷s̴o̶ ̴d̶e̷l̶i̵c̷i̴o̴u̵s̶l̵y̴ ̸a̵f̷r̶a̷i̸d̸.̴ ̸~̵ ̷I̶ ̸l̴o̴v̶e̵ ̶y̶o̵u̵,̷ ̵D̸a̴r̴l̷i̵n̶g̸.̶ ̷” I shivered with fear at the sudden jostling and the extreme difference in size, but as I rationalized her choice in venue...that fear became good chaos. A wave of happiness and semi-chaotic love flowed over me.

“Hehe, I love you too Yuki, my dearest Muse of Mischief. So, what's on the agenda today?” I said, smiling now despite the fear of what was to come. Slowly, she lifted me from the locket, which as her uberly oversized hand reached in and pulled me out I realized that the room I'd been kept in sat on her bosom. Noticing my oogling, Yuki winked and threw me into the air. “WHAAA?!” I screamed unconciously, “A̸w̸w̸w̵,̶ ̷a̸r̷e̴ ̴y̷o̸u̷ ̴s̵c̵a̴r̵e̵d̴ ̴D̶a̴r̷l̶i̴n̶g̴?̸ ̷Y̷o̴u̶'̸v̵e̵ ̷g̶o̷t̶ ̴a̷ ̸f̴i̸f̷t̷y̷-̸f̵i̴f̶t̵y̷ ̷c̴h̸a̵n̴c̸e̴ ̸o̷f̴ ̴d̸y̴i̶n̷g̶,̶ ̴b̵u̵t̸ ̶I̴ ̴b̴e̴l̷i̴e̸v̶e̶ ̶i̶n̵ ̶y̷o̵u̴.̵ ̵>̴;̷3̵” Free-falling through the air, I began to struggle, attempting to readjust myself to the relative safety of Yuki's chest heart sank.

In the split second before making contact with her chest, Yuki did the unthinkable. “Cheater!” I managed to get out, as Yuki ducked down and opened her maw widely before moving herself so that I was destined for a watery grave. Somehow hearing my thoughts as I slipped down her throat, she tilted her head. “D̷a̸r̶l̷i̸n̴g̶,̵ ̷t̸h̶a̴t̵'̷s̵ ̷c̷a̴l̸l̷e̴d̷ ̵b̴e̸i̸n̴g̵ ̷s̴u̸p̶e̶r̸n̵a̷t̸u̴r̸a̷l̴l̸y̸ ̶h̶y̶d̸r̵a̸t̶e̵d̵.̵” she said, slightly offended as we both shot awake.

“W-well, it didn't feel THAT bad.” Hearing me back to normal, Yuki smiled. “W̷a̸n̸n̶a̴ ̵g̶o̵ ̷a̵g̵a̶i̸n̴,̵ ̶D̶a̵r̴l̸i̶n̶g̷?̴ ̸>̵;̵3̵” I mused, as we exited the chamber to our actual bedchambers. “As long as you don't cheat again.” Yuki blushed as we were allowed to finish testing for tonight and we reached our room.


[-Fragment 02 completed-]

[-Data Entry 11 – The Realm of Souls and The Prison of Chaos –]

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Director's Director, Lady Mirahiru and the story of her goings on prior to procuring Lord Mirahiru from without the confines of Earth.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-] : To expound upon a matter of recent interest of The Director and of The Director's Director recent recollection. Prior to her ascendance as The Director's Muse of Chaos, and Queen of Darkness, she was but a reanimated soul given a task by an evil God (Kami) and one who was exceptionally adept at her toil. What terrors then, did she exact on those poor souls who fell within her domain? This report hopes to detail them for our dear readers.

[-NOTE FROM THE DESK OF THE DIRECTOR AND THE DIRECTOR'S DIRECTOR-]: H̴e̶h̷e̵h̸e̷h̵h̶e̷,̷ ̵w̶e̷'̵r̶e̸ ̷B̷A̸C̴K̸ ̶I̸N̵ ̵T̴H̶E̸ ̶A̶R̶C̵H̶I̷V̶E̵!̸~̷<̶3̴ ̶Y-yes, yes we are, my dear. As the last few entries seemed to be a bit too focused on m-A̸ ̷b̷i̸t̷ ̸t̸o̸o̸ ̸m̷u̵c̴h̸ ̵o̷f̵ ̵t̵h̸e̶ ̵s̵p̶a̵c̸e̴-̵y̴ ̸s̴t̸u̴f̶f̶,̶ ̶D̸a̷r̵l̷i̶n̶g̷.̸ ̶S̸o̸,̵ ̵I̸ ̷”̶c̴o̸n̷v̷i̵n̴c̵e̵d̵”̴ ̶D̵a̶r̴l̵i̴n̷g̷ ̸t̵o̶ ̶l̶e̸t̴ ̵u̶s̷ ̶t̴a̸l̸k̵ ̶a̶b̶o̵u̴t̸ ̵t̶h̸e̸ ̴F̴U̴N̵ ̷s̴t̶u̵f̸f̴ ̴w̶i̸t̸h̷ ̴t̶h̸e̷ ̵A̸r̵c̴h̶i̶v̴i̸s̶t̵.̶ Heh, yes..the “fun stuff” Yuki means are the stuff she did as a Reaper. Y̵U̴P̸!̵~̸ ̷A̶h̷,̵ ̷r̷i̶p̵p̵i̶n̵g̵ ̶t̸r̵a̵u̶m̵a̶ ̶o̵u̷t̶ ̵o̵f̶ ̸u̸n̵s̷u̸s̷p̷e̵c̶t̴i̷n̷g̸ ̴d̸a̷m̴n̸e̷d̸ ̴s̴o̷u̸l̶s̸ ̵a̸n̷d̵ ̷c̴r̷a̵f̴t̸i̸n̸g̸ ̵s̴o̷ ̵m̸a̵n̴y̴ ̴p̸u̸n̵i̵s̶h̶m̶e̴n̷t̴s̶.̴ ̴≯;̸3̷ Yuki begins to salivate and breath heavily ....A-anyway, as Yuki is VERY convincing we have decided to request the Archivist to detail from Yuki's memory, the day she ascended from Reaper to Queen of Chaos, Mischief and Despair. ~

[Editor's Note]: With that, dear readers...let us detail from Lady Mirahiru's Memory Extraction #0666.

[BEGINNING EXTRACTION FROM RECEPTACLE]////////////////////////////////////////////////////complete. [EQUALIZING CORRPUTION]////////////// ///////// /////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////error. Error: Chaos cannot be contained. .....Proceed? [Y/Y]:Y

[-Entry 11 – Just how what are you?–]

K̸a̴m̷i̶-̵s̷a̴n̷ ̷w̸a̶s̷ ̴n̵o̶t̵ ̷a̶ ̴n̸i̸c̸e̵ ̵m̵a̷n̸.̷ ̶ ̶W̶e̶l̴l̷,̴ ̴t̴o̸ ̴b̴e̷ ̸f̸a̸i̴r̸ ̴K̷a̵m̵i̶-̴s̶a̴n̵ ̶w̸a̵s̸n̸'̵t̸ ̴a̵ ̵m̷a̴n̷.̸ ̸K̶a̶m̴i̶-̷s̴a̶n̵ ̵w̴a̵s̵ ̴m̶y̵ ̷b̵o̷s̶s̵,̴ ̶m̴y̴ ̶r̵e̸-̸a̸n̴i̴m̶a̷t̸o̷r̸.̸ ̴B̷u̷t̷ ̸w̸h̸o̵ ̷h̶e̶ ̵r̸e̶a̷l̸l̶y̷ ̷w̶a̸s̴,̶ ̴w̵a̷s̷ ̶a̵n̷ ̶e̷v̶i̵l̸ ̵G̸o̷d̶.̶ ̵ ̶ ̵ ̸”̸L̸i̷t̶t̷l̶e̶ ̷l̶o̷s̴t̸ ̷o̶n̸e̴,̶ ̴I̷ ̵w̷i̵l̴l̴ ̷r̶e̶s̸t̶o̸r̷e̷ ̷y̴o̵u̶r̶ ̸p̶a̶t̴c̷h̸w̸o̴r̴k̸ ̶s̴e̸l̵f̶ ̶i̴f̵ ̶y̶o̷u̵ ̶d̷o̸ ̶b̷u̴t̷ ̴o̴n̷e̷ ̷t̵h̴i̵n̷g̸ ̸f̷o̵r̸ ̴m̶e̶,̷”̴ ̶h̵e̴ ̸b̷e̸g̵a̵n̵ ̷a̴s̸ ̷h̸e̸ ̷w̵h̸i̴s̴p̶e̵r̵e̵d̴ ̵d̷a̵r̸k̵l̵y̸,̶ ̷a̵ ̸s̷i̴n̴i̶s̴t̵e̴r̸ ̶v̷o̶i̷c̶e̴ ̸c̶o̴a̵t̷e̸d̷ ̵i̴n̵ ̷t̶h̴e̴ ̷h̵o̶n̷e̴y̷e̶d̴ ̵b̴l̸o̷o̶d̷ ̶o̷f̸ ̷a̶ ̴m̷i̶l̸l̸i̷o̵n̷ ̷l̶o̷s̸t̴ ̶s̸o̴u̴l̸s̶.̴ ̷”̸I̷ ̸w̸a̵n̴t̵ ̸y̸o̵u̴,̸ ̷t̶o̵ ̶b̸r̸i̴n̴g̴ ̶m̵e̶ ̸t̴h̵e̶ ̸r̸e̴f̵o̶r̸m̶e̶d̵ ̴s̶o̴u̷l̸s̷ ̷o̴f̶ ̶t̴h̶e̷ ̸m̶o̴s̴t̸ ̶v̷i̴l̵e̸.̷ ̵Y̴o̶u̴r̴ ̵t̶a̷s̶k̷ ̸i̷s̵ ̶n̶o̸t̴ ̸e̶a̴s̴y̶,̸ ̸b̴u̶t̷ ̵i̸n̵ ̷e̷x̵c̵h̵a̸n̷g̸e̴ ̸I̵ ̷s̴h̴a̷l̸l̴ ̸g̸i̶v̵e̴ ̴y̶o̸u̶ ̵t̸h̷e̴ ̶p̸o̸w̶e̸r̷ ̸t̴o̷ ̴t̴r̶u̷l̴y̷ ̷w̵r̴e̵c̸k̷ ̷t̶h̵e̶i̴r̴ ̴v̴e̷r̴y̸ ̸b̴e̶i̴n̸g̸s̷.̷ ̶W̷i̴l̶l̸ ̶y̵o̵u̸ ̸d̵o̸ ̵i̵t̴,̵ ̶d̶e̸a̶r̶e̷s̸t̴ ̵d̴e̴p̵a̷r̸t̶e̶d̴ ̵K̴i̷t̷t̶e̶n̸?̷”̷ ̴H̴e̸r̶e̶ ̵h̷e̵ ̵m̸a̴d̵e̴ ̸s̸u̴r̴e̸ ̴t̴o̵ ̴a̶c̷c̴e̸n̷t̷u̸a̸t̷e̷ ̶h̴i̸s̶ ̴s̶i̴l̴e̴n̷t̸ ̵t̷a̸u̴n̸t̶ ̷o̶f̶ ̴t̸h̸e̴ ̷c̸o̴b̵b̵l̸e̷d̷ ̴p̸i̶e̷c̷e̴s̷ ̷o̴f̵ ̸w̸h̴a̵t̵ ̷w̸a̵s̴ ̸o̶n̴c̷e̶ ̶m̵y̸ ̴f̵o̷r̶m̸.̵ ̸I̷ ̵h̸a̷t̵e̷d̸ ̸i̸t̸,̴ ̴b̵u̷t̵ ̶w̵h̵a̵t̷ ̶c̴h̶o̴i̴c̵e̷ ̶d̵i̷d̷ ̵I̶ ̷h̴a̶v̵e̵?̵ ̵ ̸ ̶”̸.̵.̵.̴I̵t̶'̵s̸ ̶f̸u̸n̶n̸y̵,̴ ̵i̴t̵'̷s̴ ̵a̷l̸m̷o̴s̷t̴ ̸a̵s̸ ̸i̷f̶ ̸I̴ ̵h̸a̶v̴e̴ ̸c̶h̴o̵i̸c̴e̷.̴”̵ ̸I̸ ̶g̷a̷r̶b̶l̴e̵d̷,̵ ̷m̴y̶ ̸l̴i̵p̷s̴ ̸h̸a̸v̸i̵n̸g̷ ̸b̸e̸e̵n̸ ̵r̸i̵p̷p̶e̶d̶ ̴f̷r̷o̴m̵ ̷m̶y̸ ̴f̷a̸c̷e̶ ̵b̴u̸t̵ ̵m̵e̸r̶e̸ ̴m̵o̷m̵e̶n̴t̶s̴ ̵a̷g̸o̵.̴ ̶H̸e̷ ̶n̸o̴d̷d̸e̵d̶ ̸a̴t̴ ̶t̸h̶e̴ ̶s̵i̵g̸h̴t̴.̵ ̴T̴o̶ ̴h̵i̶m̴,̶ ̵i̶t̸ ̵m̴u̵s̷t̶ ̴h̶a̸v̷e̷ ̶b̷e̷e̵n̶ ̷h̷i̷l̴a̵r̴i̷o̶u̴s̷.̶ ̷A̷ ̴p̴r̴o̷u̶d̸ ̸w̷o̷m̷a̴n̵,̴ ̵a̴s̶ ̵I̷ ̷h̴a̸d̵ ̶b̷e̷e̴n̸,̷ ̵n̴o̷w̴ ̶f̴o̸r̵c̴e̵d̶ ̷t̶o̶ ̵o̷n̷l̵y̴ ̶s̴t̵a̴r̷e̴ ̶u̸p̴ ̴a̶t̵ ̸t̸h̸e̷ ̶d̶a̸r̶k̵ ̵h̸o̷o̷d̶e̵d̷ ̶v̷i̵s̷a̵g̶e̶ ̴o̶f̵ ̵a̵ ̷m̸a̵n̶ ̸a̵b̴o̶v̵e̶ ̵m̴e̵.̷ ̴”̶I̵'̶l̶l̴ ̵t̵a̴k̵e̴ ̸t̴h̴a̸t̸ ̸a̶s̵ ̷ ̴a̵ ̸'̷Y̴e̷s̷ ̵m̴i̸s̵t̵e̵r̴ ̵K̵a̵m̵i̸,̴ ̸I̵'̷l̸l̴ ̶b̶e̶ ̸a̴ ̸g̸o̴o̵d̵ ̷g̵i̸r̵l̶'̵,̶”̸ ̴h̶e̷ ̵r̴e̷p̶l̵i̷e̸d̷ ̸s̷n̶i̶d̵e̷l̸y̶,̶ ̴a̶n̵d̷ ̸c̵o̸n̸t̵i̴n̸u̴e̴d̴ ̷t̴o̸ ̵s̸p̴e̸a̴k̴ ̴a̶s̶ ̴h̵e̵ ̶r̷e̴a̴s̶s̴e̶m̴b̴l̶e̷d̶ ̶m̸y̷ ̵s̴h̶r̴e̴d̷d̶e̷d̴ ̷r̶e̴m̷a̶i̶n̷s̴.̷ ̸”̵N̵o̸w̷,̴ ̶m̴y̷ ̵p̶a̶t̴c̵h̸w̷o̸r̴k̶ ̵p̶r̵i̶n̵c̵e̶s̴s̷,̶ ̵r̸u̶d̴e̶ ̷a̸s̴ ̷y̸o̵u̶ ̴m̸a̵y̴ ̸b̵e̵ ̸-̸ ̷I̵ ̶w̴i̵l̷l̴ ̴o̶v̵e̵r̷l̶o̴o̸k̵ ̴i̷t̶ ̶f̴o̷r̵ ̶n̴o̴w̶.̷ ̶R̷i̸g̴h̷t̷ ̵n̴o̷w̶,̸ ̸I̸ ̸h̶a̸v̷e̵ ̷s̶o̴m̷e̸ ̸w̵o̴r̵k̶ ̴f̴o̸r̸ ̵a̵ ̷w̴r̴e̴t̷c̵h̶ ̴s̴u̶c̶h̵ ̵a̶s̸ ̴y̷o̶u̸.̵”̶ ̶h̷e̴ ̷s̸m̴i̶l̵e̷d̴,̶ ̵n̸o̴w̶ ̵a̴b̸l̵e̸ ̴t̸o̷ ̵s̸e̴e̴ ̵m̵e̶ ̵a̴t̴ ̶m̴y̴ ̴f̵u̸l̵l̴ ̷h̶e̴i̷g̴h̸t̴.̶ ̶ ̸ ̴”̶P̴r̴i̵n̶c̴e̵s̶s̷,̶ ̶h̷u̷h̸?̶”̸ ̵I̸ ̴s̷a̸i̶d̶,̶ ̴s̵o̶m̵e̷h̶o̶w̵ ̷s̵m̷i̸l̴i̷n̵g̶ ̸a̴s̵ ̸i̶f̵ ̸t̴o̵ ̴l̷a̵u̶g̷h̸ ̸a̶t̴ ̴t̵h̷e̸ ̶a̷b̷s̵u̵r̸d̸i̶t̸y̶ ̸o̶f̶ ̸t̵h̸i̷s̶ ̸n̵e̵w̸ ̴c̸o̵n̵t̶r̶a̵c̴t̵.̶ ̶H̵e̷r̴e̵,̴ ̴I̴ ̴t̶h̴o̵u̴g̴h̶t̵ ̸i̶n̵ ̷d̶e̸a̴t̷h̷ ̸I̷ ̴c̵o̷u̴l̸d̷ ̸f̶i̷n̶a̶l̵l̶y̶ ̷r̵e̴s̷t̵ ̵m̵y̸ ̶o̷b̷l̶i̴g̷a̴t̶i̴o̷n̸s̷ ̵a̸n̸d̸ ̵l̴e̴t̸ ̴l̸o̷o̸s̶e̷ ̶b̸u̸t̵ ̵h̸e̶r̷e̴ ̵I̶ ̵w̴a̷s̵.̸.̶.̷u̸n̴d̶e̵r̵ ̵a̵ ̵n̶e̶w̸ ̷m̵a̵n̶.̵ ̶T̷h̷o̵u̷g̵h̶,̸ ̴b̷e̴i̵n̷g̴ ̵o̶n̷e̵ ̵t̷r̷a̶i̸n̶e̸d̷ ̶i̶n̷ ̷c̸o̵m̸b̴a̶t̸,̸ ̴I̵ ̶k̸n̷e̶w̸ ̸a̸l̵l̴ ̶t̸o̵o̴ ̴w̵e̶l̴l̷ ̷I̷ ̸w̶o̴u̵l̷d̷ ̴b̷e̴ ̴u̷s̷e̷d̶ ̴a̶s̸ ̴a̸ ̸w̵e̸a̷p̸o̶n̸ ̸i̸n̴ ̵t̶h̸i̴s̵ ̴w̷o̷r̴l̶d̸ ̴a̸n̷d̷ ̶t̴h̶e̸ ̷n̴e̸x̷t̷.̴ ̷ ̷ ̷”̵Y̷e̶s̷,̸ ̷n̶o̴w̴ ̵b̴e̴f̸o̶r̵e̸ ̶y̸o̴u̸ ̶g̵e̸t̸ ̶a̵l̸l̸ ̸h̷i̸g̶h̴ ̶a̸n̷d̴ ̸m̷i̸g̵h̷t̶y̸ ̷l̴e̷t̸'̸s̸ ̸g̵e̵t̴ ̸y̵o̶u̵ ̶a̵ ̷w̸e̵a̵p̸o̵n̵.̶”̵ ̴A̵s̴ ̸h̸e̴ ̵f̴i̴n̷i̵s̴h̷e̶d̴ ̵t̵h̷i̵s̴ ̴s̴t̵a̷t̷e̴m̴e̵n̴t̶,̵ ̶i̵n̶ ̶t̴h̸e̷ ̸n̶e̴x̵t̶ ̷b̶r̶e̴a̸t̶h̵ ̸a̸ ̴l̷o̷n̷g̶,̷ ̵k̵a̷t̶a̴n̶a̷ ̵s̶h̸a̷p̵e̶d̸ ̶s̸h̷a̴d̸o̷w̸ ̴s̴e̶e̵m̴e̶d̸ ̶t̴o̴ ̵c̸u̴t̴ ̴t̸h̸r̶o̶u̶g̸h̵ ̴t̵i̶m̸e̶ ̴a̸n̴d̴ ̷s̴p̵a̷c̷e̸ ̴a̶n̶d̶ ̴a̸p̷p̸e̵a̶r̶e̶d̵ ̶i̵n̵ ̷h̶i̶s̷ ̶h̴a̸n̵d̴s̴.̵ ̸I̸ ̷k̴n̶e̴w̸ ̶t̴h̸e̵ ̶f̵o̷r̶m̸ ̵i̵m̶m̶e̶d̷i̵a̴t̷e̴l̸y̷,̷ ̸b̵u̵t̷ ̶s̸o̶m̸e̶h̸o̴w̷ ̵t̷h̴i̷s̸ ̸b̵l̵a̴d̸e̶ ̴s̵e̶e̸m̶e̴d̶ ̴d̶i̵f̴f̶e̸r̴e̷n̴t̶.̵ ̶T̸a̸k̵i̴n̴g̶ ̷i̸t̶ ̶i̸n̵ ̴m̶y̸ ̷h̵a̵n̵d̵s̸,̶ ̸I̸ ̸f̷o̶u̵n̸d̸ ̷m̶y̴s̸e̸l̵f̸ ̶u̸t̶t̷e̴r̸i̶n̶g̸ ̴a̴ ̷n̷e̵w̵ ̴w̸o̷r̷d̷ ̸i̴n̷ ̵r̴e̴s̵p̵o̶n̸s̴e̵.̵ ̷”̸C̴u̷r̵s̸e̸d̸?̶”̸ ̴I̵ ̸f̵i̷n̶a̴l̵l̷y̶ ̷s̶a̷i̷d̴,̶ ̷c̵u̸t̴t̵i̵n̷g̷ ̴i̵n̶ ̸t̵h̷e̶ ̵s̷i̷l̵e̸n̸c̷e̴ ̸t̴h̴e̷ ̵s̷a̸m̴e̴ ̸w̶a̸y̶ ̶t̶h̷i̸s̵ ̸s̵t̸u̸n̴n̶i̴n̷g̸l̷y̸ ̵o̴m̸i̶n̵o̶u̶s̵ ̴w̸e̴a̸p̸o̵n̸ ̴h̶a̸d̷ ̴c̴u̷t̵ ̴t̵h̴r̷o̵u̴g̶h̷ ̵e̴x̴i̵s̴t̵e̶n̸c̶e̶ ̷i̸t̵s̵e̴l̸f̴ ̶t̴o̶ ̴b̴e̶ ̵i̶n̴ ̸m̷y̶ ̵p̶o̴s̵s̵e̸s̴s̴i̷o̷n̴.̷ ̵”̴H̵m̷m̷,̸ ̵s̶o̶ ̷t̵h̶e̸ ̷h̶a̵u̴n̸t̴e̴d̶ ̸p̵r̵i̸n̸c̴e̸s̸s̵ ̷k̴n̸o̸w̵s̸ ̷h̸e̸r̸ ̶b̶l̴a̶d̵e̸s̶?̷ ̶Y̶e̶s̷,̵ ̷m̴y̵ ̸l̶i̵t̵t̶l̸e̵ ̷s̴l̶a̴v̵e̶.̵ ̵T̵h̸a̶t̶ ̶i̶s̷ ̶t̶h̷e̶ ̴C̸h̵a̸o̴s̸ ̷B̵l̷a̴d̴e̸,̴ ̶s̴a̸i̸d̷ ̴t̸o̶ ̶h̷a̸v̷e̷ ̵b̷e̶e̵n̸ ̸m̷a̸d̶e̷ ̵f̴r̴o̷m̷ ̵t̸h̶e̷ ̷b̴l̸o̶o̷d̵ ̵o̴f̵ ̵i̸t̷'̸s̵ ̵c̶r̶e̷a̴t̵o̸r̸'̵s̶ ̵e̸n̵e̶m̵i̸e̷s̶.̶ ̷ ̷T̸a̸k̶e̴ ̵c̷a̷r̶e̵ ̴t̸o̸ ̷r̷e̴a̵l̷i̴z̷e̴ ̵i̵t̸'̴s̷ ̴v̷a̸l̶u̵e̴,̵ ̶f̶o̸r̴ ̵i̴t̵ ̶i̷s̷ ̸t̵h̴e̷ ̵m̸o̷s̵t̴ ̸f̷i̴t̵t̶i̴n̸g̸ ̶t̸o̶ ̷t̷a̸k̴e̵ ̷o̵n̷ ̵t̸h̴e̵ ̸t̴y̵p̵e̸s̵ ̵o̴f̵ ̴p̶e̷o̷p̸l̸e̷ ̷I̸ ̷h̶a̷v̷e̷ ̵f̴o̷r̷ ̸y̸o̷u̵.̵ ̵A̶s̴ ̸I̷ ̷s̵a̷i̸d̵ ̶e̸a̶r̸l̶i̶e̴r̶,̷ ̷I̷ ̴h̸a̷v̷e̴ ̷a̶ ̶m̶i̸s̴s̵i̶o̷n̷ ̴f̷o̷r̵ ̷y̴o̵u̸.̵”̶ ̴ ̶ ̶I̶ ̸s̸t̸u̶d̶i̶e̶d̶ ̸t̶h̶e̷ ̵b̶l̸a̴d̴e̵ ̸i̴n̷ ̴m̶y̶ ̷h̴a̷n̵d̴s̵,̵ ̵f̶r̴o̸m̸ ̴t̴h̸e̴ ̷o̵r̶n̶a̸t̵e̶ ̴t̴i̵p̸ ̵t̶o̸ ̵t̸h̸e̵ ̶d̵a̶r̵k̶e̴n̵e̸d̷ ̶b̶l̵o̷o̶d̴ ̷t̷h̴a̴t̶ ̵s̸e̵e̶m̴e̴d̷ ̵t̵o̵ ̸w̴r̵i̵t̷h̵e̸ ̶w̵i̸t̵h̶i̶n̶ ̵t̸h̴e̷ ̶i̴n̷n̶e̸r̴ ̶c̷o̸r̴e̴ ̴o̴f̶ ̵t̷h̷e̵ ̶w̴e̵a̶p̸o̶n̵.̸ ̴T̷r̵u̸l̶y̷,̵ ̵a̵ ̸m̵a̴s̶t̴e̴r̶w̷o̷r̵k̸ ̶o̶f̵ ̷f̶i̶n̵e̸ ̵b̸l̷a̵d̶e̵s̵m̵i̸t̶h̴i̶n̶g̴.̶ ̴I̶ ̸a̶d̵m̵i̸r̴e̶d̷ ̷a̷n̸d̷ ̴f̸e̵a̷r̶e̵d̶ ̷t̷h̷e̵ ̸o̵n̵i̸ ̸w̵h̵o̴ ̷m̴a̶d̷e̸ ̴i̴t̷.̷ ̷ ̴ ̵”̶Y̷o̸u̶r̵ ̷f̵i̶r̴s̷t̵ ̸m̸i̴s̷s̸i̷o̴n̷.̶.̸.̵”̸ ̶h̸i̶s̶ ̸v̴o̷i̶c̷e̸ ̵t̶r̴a̵i̸l̴e̶d̶ ̶o̷f̷f̸,̵ ̴a̵n̴d̷ ̸t̴r̴u̸t̴h̸f̴u̵l̷l̵y̶?̶ ̵ ̷I̵ ̵d̴o̵n̵'̶t̵ ̵r̵e̴m̵e̸m̷b̸e̵r̵ ̶w̷h̸o̴ ̵m̷y̸ ̶f̴i̴r̶s̵t̷ ̷s̵u̴c̸k̵e̸r̶ ̴w̷a̵s̸.̷ ̵I̸ ̵d̸o̷ ̷r̸e̵m̵e̸m̷b̴e̴r̶ ̵I̷ ̶e̵n̸j̶o̸y̸e̷d̸ ̷i̶t̶,̵ ̵a̸n̴d̷ ̴t̶h̷e̴ ̵s̴e̷n̸s̴e̸ ̴o̴f̴ ̵t̶h̷r̶i̴l̷l̷ ̴f̴r̷o̶m̸ ̸s̴e̷e̸i̵n̶g̴ ̵h̴i̶m̶ ̵b̶e̶a̵r̷ ̴w̷i̶t̸n̷e̸s̷s̷ ̴t̷o̸ ̴h̶i̸s̴ ̵l̶i̸f̶e̸ ̸d̴r̸a̴i̷n̵ ̴f̷r̸o̷m̴ ̶h̵i̷s̴ ̴e̷y̴e̶s̴ ̷w̶a̷s̵ ̸i̵n̷t̴o̴x̵i̸c̴a̸t̴i̵n̵g̴.̵ ̷ ̴ ̴B̵u̸t̷ ̷t̷h̶a̷t̶ ̸s̵t̴o̵r̸y̶,̷ ̵i̷s̸ ̶n̸o̸t̸ ̸t̵h̷e̵ ̷o̶n̶e̸ ̸I̷'̸v̴e̷ ̵b̶e̴e̵n̶ ̶a̸s̵k̶e̵d̷ ̷t̴o̷ ̷t̸e̵l̵l̶ ̶y̴o̸u̵.̴ ̴M̶i̸n̵e̷ ̴f̶o̸r̴ ̶t̸o̸n̴i̷g̴h̶t̶,̷ ̷i̴s̸ ̴t̵h̷e̸ ̷s̶t̴o̸r̷y̴ ̷o̵f̸ ̷a̷ ̶D̸e̴a̴d̴ ̴E̶v̷i̴l̶ ̴K̶a̵m̷i̸.̸ ̶ ̸I̶ ̷c̷o̶n̷t̸i̵n̶u̴e̷d̸ ̷o̸n̵w̵a̴r̷d̸s̴,̵ ̴r̷e̸a̸p̶i̷n̶g̷ ̵s̷o̷u̷l̵s̸ ̴a̵n̷d̶ ̴t̸e̶a̵r̵i̵n̷g̴ ̶t̸h̶e̵i̴r̸ ̸l̵i̶v̸e̴s̸ ̸a̸w̶a̷y̵ ̶l̸i̴k̶e̴ ̴s̷o̴ ̸m̴a̶n̵y̶ ̵n̵a̵m̷e̴s̵ ̴o̴n̷ ̶a̸ ̷l̷i̵s̴t̴.̸ ̴E̴v̵e̷n̵t̵u̸a̸l̵l̶y̶,̴ ̷I̴ ̷g̷r̴e̵w̴ ̸s̴t̴r̶o̷n̷g̴e̴r̸ ̶u̵n̴t̸i̸l̵ ̷f̴i̶n̴a̷l̵l̵y̷ ̶I̶ ̸w̴a̶s̵ ̴r̸e̴c̴o̸g̷n̵i̷z̵e̷d̵ ̷a̵n̶d̷ ̷t̵o̷l̸d̵ ̴w̸h̴a̷t̶ ̸h̷a̶d̶ ̸r̷e̸a̸l̴l̸y̶ ̴h̴a̴p̷p̶e̵n̴e̸d̵.̸ ̸T̴h̵i̸s̵ ̵K̶a̵m̸i̶,̴ ̵w̸a̵s̸ ̵m̸y̸ ̷f̷a̷t̴h̸e̷r̶'̵s̷ ̶k̸i̵l̴l̶e̸r̷.̷ ̵ ̷ ̶A̸t̶ ̸t̶h̵i̶s̵,̸ ̷I̴ ̶s̵e̴e̸t̷h̷e̸d̶ ̴w̶i̵t̴h̵ ̴a̸n̶g̶e̷r̴.̵ ̵I̴n̶ ̸t̶h̷a̶t̴ ̵f̶i̶r̶s̶t̸ ̵m̷o̴m̴e̴n̸t̵ ̸o̴f̵ ̶r̵e̶a̵l̵ ̵e̴m̵o̸t̷i̸o̸n̴,̸ ̸m̵y̷ ̵o̷w̴n̵e̷r̶.̵.̴.̸m̵y̵ ̸b̶o̵s̶s̴,̵ ̴s̸m̵i̵l̸e̸d̶.̶ ̴ ̵”̷E̶H̴E̶H̸E̶H̷E̵H̸E̸H̸H̵E̶H̴E̵H̴E̵H̶E̴H̷E̷H̴E̷H̸H̶E̸H̶E̷H̶E̸H̵E̴H̵E̶H̴E̶H̴H̸E̶H̸E̷H̵E̴H̶E̶H̵H̷E̴H̷E̸H̴E̴H̸E̵H̴H̴E̸H̸E̷H̶E̸H̵E̴H̷E̷H̷H̶E̵H̶E̵H̶E̴H̷H̶E̸H̴E̸H̷E̴H̶H̸E̶H̴E̵H̶H̴E̵H̸E̶H̷E̵H̷H̷E̴H̷E̶H̴E̴H̴H̷E̷H̵E̴H̶E̸H̴E̵H̷H̶E̴H̷E̴H̴E̸H̶E̴H̸H̶E̸H̸E̶H̷E̵H̷E̸H̷E̷H̴”̴ ̵h̴e̷ ̷c̵h̵o̶r̴t̷l̵e̷d̶,̴ ̵r̸e̷a̴d̴y̸i̷n̶g̷ ̸h̶i̷s̵ ̴w̸e̶a̶p̵o̴n̵.̸ ̶”̸A̴r̶e̵ ̵y̸o̸u̸ ̶r̸e̴a̷l̸l̵y̶ ̴s̶o̶ ̷s̸t̷u̵p̸i̴d̶ ̷a̷s̵ ̵t̷o̸ ̶n̸o̷t̴ ̸h̵a̵v̶e̵ ̸s̵u̷s̷p̶e̸c̵t̷e̴d̶ ̶m̷e̵,̵ ̵M̸i̷r̸a̶h̴i̸r̴u̶-̶c̷h̶a̶n̴?̸ ̶W̴h̶y̸ ̴e̵l̴s̷e̶ ̶w̴o̴u̷l̶d̴ ̶I̸ ̷w̸a̵n̴t̵ ̵a̶ ̸u̵s̶e̶d̵ ̶u̴p̸ ̸w̸h̶o̸r̶e̶ ̴l̶i̶k̶e̵ ̷y̷o̷u̸?̶ ̵Y̷e̶s̴,̵ ̴y̶o̷u̸ ̷k̴i̸l̷l̸e̴d̴ ̸v̴i̵l̸e̵ ̷p̸e̴o̶p̶l̷e̶,̴ ̴b̶u̴t̸ ̶t̸h̸e̷y̸ ̵w̷e̵r̸e̸ ̷o̴n̵ ̸m̶y̶ ̴s̷h̶i̷t̶-̶l̸i̷s̶t̴ ̸a̴n̸y̷w̵a̸y̵.̸”̸ ̷H̷e̷ ̴s̸p̸a̸t̵ ̶a̶t̸ ̶m̸e̵,̵ ̷n̷o̷t̵ ̶e̵x̷p̷e̶c̸t̸i̴n̶g̷ ̷m̴e̵ ̷t̵o̶ ̶d̴o̶ ̶w̸h̵a̷t̸ ̴I̵ ̶d̵i̸d̵ ̶n̷e̸x̵t̶.̷ ̷ ̵ ̸A̵f̴t̸e̸r̵ ̴t̸h̷e̵ ̴f̷e̸w̶ ̶y̷e̷a̴r̶s̸ ̷t̸h̸a̴t̵ ̵I̶'̸d̵ ̴s̷p̷e̷n̴t̴ ̴w̵o̶r̶k̴i̴n̶g̸ ̶u̴n̶d̸e̶r̴ ̶h̸i̴m̷,̴ ̴I̵'̸d̵ ̷l̶e̴a̶r̷n̵e̵d̸ ̴a̷ ̸f̶e̵w̶ ̶t̵h̷i̶n̸g̵s̵.̵ ̵ ̷”̷W̸-̷w̸h̴a̴t̶.̵.̸?̵”̸ ̸h̴e̶ ̸s̷a̵i̴d̴ ̵a̵s̸ ̶a̵ ̴t̴h̸i̴n̷ ̸v̴e̵i̷l̵ ̴o̵f̵ ̷w̷h̶i̵t̸e̴ ̵s̴u̷d̶d̴e̵n̴l̸y̶ ̷o̵v̷e̷r̷c̴a̶m̸e̸ ̴h̵i̴s̴ ̷v̴i̵s̷i̸o̷n̵ ̶a̴n̴d̸ ̵h̴e̵ ̶f̷e̷l̵l̵ ̴t̶o̶ ̴t̶h̴e̷ ̴g̵r̶o̷u̵n̶d̵.̷ ̸H̶e̴ ̶w̶a̴s̶ ̵t̷r̴a̸p̶p̸e̷d̶.̷ ̷I̸'̶d̷ ̸p̵l̸a̷c̵e̴d̵ ̴h̷i̸m̴ ̶i̸n̶ ̸t̷h̵a̶t̸ ̶m̶o̴s̸t̷ ̵f̴r̷i̵g̷h̷t̷f̷u̸l̷ ̷o̴f̴ ̵p̸r̶i̴s̵o̶n̷s̴.̵.̵.̴h̸i̴s̸ ̴m̷i̵n̶d̷.̵ ̷ ̷ ̸E̵v̷e̷r̶y̴o̶n̵e̷ ̵w̵a̵n̶t̵s̴ ̸t̴o̶ ̵r̵u̸n̵ ̷f̸r̸o̸m̶ ̶i̵t̴,̷ ̶e̴s̸p̸e̸c̴i̵a̴l̸l̸y̷ ̷i̵n̶ ̸m̶o̴m̶e̶n̶t̶s̷ ̴w̸h̵e̴r̶e̴ ̸t̶h̶e̷y̸ ̴f̷e̸e̶l̶ ̸l̷i̶k̵e̷ ̷t̷h̴e̵y̷ ̸d̸o̵n̴'̴t̷ ̷d̵e̸s̷e̶r̴v̴e̸ ̵w̷h̷a̷t̵ ̴t̴h̵e̷y̷ ̸h̸a̷v̷e̸ ̵c̵o̶m̶i̶n̵g̶.̶.̷.̶a̷n̸d̴ ̴i̸n̴ ̵t̷h̷i̴s̶ ̷m̴o̷m̷e̵n̴t̵,̸ ̵K̴a̷m̷i̶-̵s̸a̴n̵ ̶d̵i̴d̵ ̵n̴o̸t̷ ̷e̷x̴p̶e̶c̵t̸ ̶t̴h̷a̴t̷ ̴h̵e̷ ̶w̶o̶u̷l̴d̶ ̶b̷e̸ ̵m̴y̵ ̴f̶i̵n̴a̸l̷ ̵n̴a̵m̸e̵.̵ ̴ ̷ ̶”̴W̶-̷w̴h̸e̴r̸e̸ ̸a̸m̶ ̷I̵,̸ ̸y̷o̵u̷ ̴d̵e̶s̸p̷i̸c̶a̸b̴l̵e̵ ̷w̶e̷n̴c̵h̸?̵!̸”̸ ̸h̴e̷ ̶s̷c̷r̵e̵a̴m̸e̵d̴,̵ ̴h̴i̸s̴ ̷v̸o̶c̷a̶l̸ ̵c̴o̵r̷d̶s̶ ̷m̸e̴l̸t̸i̴n̸g̴ ̸a̷s̵ ̷I̵ ̴p̸u̵t̴ ̵t̵h̶e̴m̴ ̷t̶o̷ ̶t̴h̵e̷ ̷f̴l̶a̷m̵e̶.̷ ̴H̸e̵ ̵s̶c̷r̷e̴a̸m̸e̷d̵,̴ ̶s̷h̷o̴u̵t̵i̸n̵g̴ ̶f̸o̸r̶ ̸a̸ ̵h̴o̴p̸e̷ ̶t̴h̴a̷t̸ ̸w̸o̶u̴l̶d̷ ̵n̶o̷t̶ ̷b̷e̶ ̵c̵o̸m̸i̵n̸g̴ ̵a̸s̶ ̶I̴ ̷s̸l̷i̶c̵e̵d̶ ̷t̶h̷r̷o̴u̷g̵h̶ ̶h̵i̷s̸ ̵a̸b̵d̶o̶m̸e̵n̸ ̴a̶n̴d̸ ̷p̵l̷u̷c̵k̵e̸d̶ ̴h̷i̶s̵ ̴o̵r̵g̸a̶n̸s̷ ̴a̸n̶d̷ ̵s̷h̷o̸w̵e̶d̴ ̵t̶h̵e̶m̶ ̶t̶o̵ ̸h̴i̷m̶.̶ ̴”̷H̶m̵m̴,̶ ̵s̷o̸ ̷e̶v̴e̸n̸ ̸G̸o̵d̵s̴ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̵ ̷i̵n̶n̸a̷r̶d̶s̶?̷ ̵I̴n̶t̷e̸r̴e̷s̷t̵i̸n̴g̶.̶”̵ ̴I̵ ̵s̴m̵i̶r̸k̴e̵d̶,̵ ̵l̵i̸c̸k̶i̵n̵g̷ ̸h̵i̶s̵ ̵i̵n̸t̸e̵s̴t̵i̸n̷e̸s̸ ̴a̶n̸d̴ ̵m̸e̴o̸w̶i̵n̶g̵ ̵m̴o̶c̶k̸i̷n̴g̵l̴y̴.̵ ̸”̵F̷U̶C̵K̸ ̴Y̴O̴U̷!̶”̸ ̵h̴e̵ ̷t̵r̵i̴e̸d̵ ̶t̸o̷ ̸s̴c̶r̵e̶a̶m̴ ̸w̶i̴t̶h̴ ̷w̴h̴a̴t̶ ̸r̴e̸m̴a̶i̵n̷e̵d̷ ̷o̶f̴ ̴h̶i̸s̴ ̵v̷o̵i̵c̸e̷.̸ ̶T̸r̸u̴t̴h̷f̶u̸l̵l̸y̷,̴ ̷t̸h̷e̶ ̸r̷e̸a̸s̴o̶n̴ ̷K̴a̴m̶i̵-̴s̴a̸n̷ ̵c̷o̶u̴l̵d̷ ̴s̴p̸e̸a̶k̵ ̵i̴s̷ ̵t̷h̵a̸t̶ ̴w̵e̷ ̴w̶e̵r̷e̵ ̶s̴i̶m̴p̸l̷y̸ ̷i̸n̶ ̸h̸i̷s̴ ̴m̶i̷n̵d̵.̴ ̸P̸e̵o̶p̷l̶e̸ ̷a̶r̸e̵ ̴s̸c̶a̴r̵i̷e̸s̷t̴ ̶w̵h̴e̴n̷ ̶e̸x̶p̴o̸s̶e̷d̴ ̴t̵o̶ ̶t̷h̴e̸i̵r̵ ̷t̶r̵u̴e̴ ̸s̸e̸l̶v̷e̷s̸.̶ ̴ ̷ ̶”̸S̶o̸,̴ ̷I̸ ̴r̸e̴g̷r̸e̸t̸ ̴t̶o̵ ̸i̵n̵f̵o̷r̴m̶ ̴y̴o̴u̷ ̴t̸h̴a̶t̴ ̴I̵'̵m̸ ̶n̸o̶t̵ ̵i̵n̵t̵o̶ ̵d̷e̵a̵d̵ ̸m̸e̵n̸.̸ ̸S̵o̴ ̴n̴o̵,̸ ̶y̶o̴u̸ ̵w̸i̵l̸l̷ ̵n̷o̶t̵ ̸b̶e̷ ̷f̷u̴c̸k̵i̴n̶g̵ ̶m̴e̶.̵ ̸F̸u̸r̴t̶h̶e̵r̸,̵ ̸K̴a̴m̵i̷-̸t̶a̷n̵.̷.̴.̴y̸o̷u̵ ̴c̸h̷o̶s̸e̸ ̷t̶h̷e̷ ̷w̶r̶o̷n̸g̸ ̷g̴i̵r̶l̸ ̵t̷o̸ ̸f̶u̴c̶k̸ ̸w̶i̵t̵h̶.̷”̶ ̵I̷ ̵s̷a̷i̸d̶,̷ ̸s̵m̷i̶l̸i̷n̴g̷ ̵i̸n̸ ̶a̸ ̵c̵r̸a̵z̶e̶d̶ ̷m̸a̵n̴n̶e̵r̸.̸ ̶I̵ ̷h̸a̴d̶ ̵f̶i̷n̸a̸l̵l̸y̶ ̶d̷o̷n̸e̷ ̶i̵t̸,̴ ̴a̸f̷t̶e̶r̵ ̶b̵e̵i̸n̷g̷ ̸f̴o̴r̵c̴e̸d̴ ̸t̸o̵ ̵b̴r̴i̶n̷g̸ ̸d̸o̴w̶n̸ ̸t̵e̴r̵r̶i̸b̴l̴e̵ ̶m̶e̴n̴ ̴a̸n̴d̸ ̷r̴e̴a̷p̶i̵n̸g̶ ̴t̶h̵e̷i̸r̵ ̶s̸o̷u̶l̵s̴ ̷I̸ ̷h̷a̷d̶ ̵r̵e̶v̸e̸n̶g̴e̸.̸ ̴I̵ ̵h̸a̵d̶ ̴m̶y̵ ̸w̶i̸l̷l̶ ̶b̸a̵c̴k̷.̶ ̷”̵L̴I̴S̴T̴E̶N̴ ̴T̸O̸ ̴Y̷O̴U̷R̸ ̴M̸A̷S̶T̸E̵R̸,̵ ̵Y̷O̴U̶ ̵F̴U̵C̵K̵I̷N̵G̷ ̷I̷N̴G̴R̷A̶-̵”̷ ̵H̴e̷ ̶b̵e̴g̶a̵n̸ ̴t̵o̸ ̵r̴e̷t̶o̶r̴t̷,̶ ̴a̸s̴ ̸I̴ ̷h̴a̵d̶ ̵m̵y̷ ̴f̴i̸l̴l̸ ̸o̸f̷ ̶h̴i̷s̴ ̴b̸u̷l̵l̶s̵h̶i̴t̸.̴ ̶”̷.̶.̶.̷.̶C̴a̶n̵ ̵y̶o̷u̴ ̶r̵e̵a̸l̴l̶y̶ ̷c̸a̴l̴l̵ ̷y̸o̶u̷r̷s̸e̶l̷f̴ ̶a̴ ̴M̴a̸s̴t̶e̶r̶ ̶i̸f̴ ̴y̵o̷u̵'̶r̶e̵ ̴a̴l̷r̴e̷a̸d̴y̶ ̷i̶n̷ ̷p̸i̴e̵c̶e̵s̶?̶”̶ ̷I̴ ̸s̵a̸i̵d̸,̶ ̷s̸m̸i̵l̶i̵n̴g̷ ̶a̸n̴d̸ ̴l̸i̶c̶k̷i̸n̶g̸ ̶t̴h̷e̷ ̵b̷o̷t̸t̷o̵m̴ ̸h̸a̵l̸f̵ ̷o̸f̶ ̵h̴i̷s̴ ̴b̸o̵d̷y̷,̷ ̴l̷i̸f̵t̸i̴n̵g̷ ̶i̸t̴ ̴u̵p̸ ̵t̵o̸ ̷t̶o̵p̸ ̶h̸a̸l̴f̶,̷ ̴c̸a̸c̸k̸l̶i̸n̵g̷.̶ ̸”̸W̸-̴w̶h̵a̵t̸.̶.̴.̶w̴-̸w̵h̶o̶ ̷a̵r̷e̵ ̷y̶o̴u̶?̸”̸ ̶H̷e̵ ̷s̷a̴i̷d̵,̴ ̵h̸i̵s̶ ̶s̸a̷n̴i̶t̷y̴ ̶b̷r̶e̴a̴k̶i̷n̵g̶ ̶a̴s̶ ̸I̶ ̵l̸e̸t̶ ̷g̶o̸ ̸o̸f̶ ̸t̷h̷e̴ ̸h̶o̸l̵d̵ ̵I̷ ̸h̷a̵d̶ ̵o̵n̴ ̸h̸i̸s̴ ̸s̶k̶u̵l̸l̷ ̶w̴i̷t̵h̶i̸n̸ ̴t̶h̸e̴ ̵w̷o̴r̷l̷d̴ ̶o̵f̷ ̷S̵o̷u̷l̷s̸,̴ ̸o̷u̴r̶ ̴w̸o̵r̸l̷d̵.̴ ̷ ̷ ̵H̵i̷s̶ ̶w̴i̶l̸l̸ ̸b̶r̸o̶k̸e̸n̶,̸ ̷a̶n̷d̶ ̴h̷i̴s̴ ̶s̴o̴u̴l̷ ̶b̶e̶g̶i̶n̸n̵i̵n̵g̶ ̵t̵o̴ ̵d̸e̵t̶a̴c̴h̴,̸ ̴I̷ ̴g̷r̶a̴s̷p̴e̶d̴ ̴f̴i̶r̸m̷l̶y̷ ̴u̸p̴o̴n̴ ̴t̶h̷e̶ ̸s̶t̶r̴i̷n̷g̶ ̸o̷n̴e̸ ̷w̴o̵u̴l̵d̶ ̷c̴a̸l̸l̶ ̷t̸h̸e̴ ̵s̷o̸u̸l̵ ̶a̸n̷d̸ ̶p̶u̷l̵l̷e̸d̸.̷ ̴H̵e̴ ̴w̵a̷s̶ ̴d̷e̶a̵d̶ ̸t̴o̸ ̴r̵i̸t̴e̷s̷.̷ ̷I̶t̸ ̶h̵a̴d̷ ̴b̶e̸e̸n̸ ̸e̶a̵s̴y̵,̴ ̴a̵l̶m̴o̶s̶t̷ ̵c̶h̵i̷l̶d̵'̷s̵ ̸p̵l̴a̵y̴.̷ ̷H̸o̵w̵e̷v̷e̴r̵,̵ ̵t̶h̶e̸ ̸s̶t̵r̷i̴n̸g̷ ̶b̵u̸r̷n̸e̶d̸ ̴m̸y̷ ̸h̷a̸n̴d̸ ̴a̴n̴d̶ ̷u̸p̷o̷n̸ ̴t̴h̵e̴ ̵a̵i̵r̶ ̷I̵ ̴h̷e̴a̶r̷d̸ ̶h̸i̸s̷ ̷l̴a̶s̶t̵ ̵c̵u̷r̶s̴e̵.̵ ̶”̶Y̷o̵U̶ ̵s̴H̵a̷L̶l̸ ̵n̴e̷v̴e̵r̷ ̷r̸e̸s̶t̶,̵ ̸y̶o̸u̷ ̴w̴h̴o̷r̷e̸.̸ ̴I̷ ̷d̵e̸e̷m̷ ̵t̵h̵e̸e̷ ̶m̵y̴ ̴s̴u̴c̴c̸e̷s̸s̷o̸r̵,̸ ̶T̵h̶e̸ ̵Q̶u̵e̸e̴n̶ ̷o̸f̴ ̶t̶h̷e̴ ̴L̶a̴n̵d̷ ̷o̸f̶ ̸S̶o̷u̶l̵s̷.̶ ̷B̴e̴ ̸y̵o̶u̵ ̴c̴u̶r̸s̸e̵d̷ ̶t̷o̸ ̴b̴e̸ ̷a̸l̷o̷n̸e̷ ̸a̵n̶d̶ ̴h̴a̷v̴e̴ ̶n̵o̸ ̴l̷o̴v̸e̷ ̵i̷n̵ ̶t̴h̵i̷s̴ ̴w̷o̸r̸l̶d̵.̶”̷ ̷I̶ ̸s̸p̶a̶t̴ ̴o̵n̷ ̵h̸i̷s̶ ̸d̷i̵s̵s̷o̵l̵v̵i̵n̶g̴ ̷c̴o̷r̸p̷s̶e̷ ̵a̶n̸d̵ ̴s̴t̷o̸o̴d̶ ̵u̵p̷.̵ ̸”̷Q̶u̷e̴e̴n̴ ̵o̵f̴ ̵C̸h̴a̷o̵s̷,̶ ̴h̴u̶h̸?̶ ̷I̶ ̵c̷o̷u̸l̴d̶ ̵g̸e̷t̵ ̴u̷s̵e̵d̵ ̸t̴o̶ ̵t̷-̸”̶ ̴s̸u̴d̴d̴e̸n̸l̸y̷,̶ ̸I̶ ̵h̶e̵a̷r̴d̵ ̷a̷ ̴c̷r̸y̶.̴ ̶A̸n̷ ̸i̵n̸n̸e̷r̴ ̶h̵e̷a̷r̶d̴ ̵a̵c̴r̵o̷s̶s̶ ̴t̸h̴e̴ ̴v̷a̸l̶e̴,̴ ̴”̶O̶h̵ ̴w̵h̵a̸t̶e̶v̷e̶r̸ ̵g̷o̸d̶ ̸t̷h̶e̵r̶e̷ ̴i̷s̵ ̶i̷n̶ ̶t̸h̴i̷s̷ ̸f̴u̶c̷k̴i̴n̵g̴ ̵u̴n̶i̶v̸e̸r̴s̶e̶,̷ ̷c̵o̶m̵e̸ ̸t̷o̷ ̷m̸e̶.̷”̷ ̸I̷t̵ ̴w̷a̶s̸ ̷m̶a̸s̵c̵u̷l̵i̵n̵e̵,̷ ̸b̶u̸t̸ ̵h̶a̶d̸ ̵t̸i̴n̵g̵e̷s̵ ̶o̷f̶ ̴a̷n̶ ̵i̵n̷n̸e̵r̴ ̷f̸r̷a̸g̴i̸l̴i̶t̴y̸.̶ ̸”̷H̸m̴m̴,̷ ̷I̵'̸l̷l̴ ̴n̷o̷t̵ ̵s̵e̵r̵v̵e̶ ̶a̷n̴o̵t̵h̶e̸r̸ ̸m̷a̷-̴”̸ ̶”̶I̷'̵l̸l̶ ̴s̸e̸r̴v̷e̷ ̴t̶h̶a̸t̷ ̷g̷o̴d̸ ̶f̴o̶r̴ ̴a̴s̵ ̴l̵o̶n̵g̸ ̷a̷s̴ ̶I̵ ̷c̴o̸n̷t̶i̷n̶u̵e̸ ̵t̴o̶ ̷d̵r̷a̶w̴ ̴b̸r̸e̷a̵t̷h̴,̴ ̸j̴u̵s̵t̸ ̶p̵l̸e̶a̸s̴e̷ ̸h̶e̵l̷p̷ ̶m̶e̵.̸”̷ ̷I̴ ̶g̶r̸i̷n̷n̵e̶d̴ ̸a̴t̷ ̸t̴h̷i̸s̵.̸ ̴I̵ ̶h̴a̶d̶ ̵b̸r̷o̴k̶e̴n̵ ̸K̸a̸m̷i̴'̶s̶ ̷C̵u̷r̷s̴e̵.̵ ̷I̷'̴d̷ ̸f̶o̶u̵n̷d̵ ̵t̵h̸e̶ ̶o̸n̴e̵ ̶t̸h̵i̶n̴g̷ ̷I̵ ̷l̷o̷v̸e̴d̶ ̴m̶o̴r̸e̵ ̶t̷h̵a̵n̶ ̸a̴n̶y̵t̵h̵i̶n̴g̶ ̷i̷n̷ ̵t̴h̸i̶s̷ ̶p̷a̴i̷n̵f̷u̴l̵ ̸l̵i̴f̵e̴ ̵-̶ ̷a̵ ̴b̵o̴y̸ ̷w̷h̶o̵ ̸n̷e̶e̴d̴s̶ ̶t̷o̸ ̵c̷r̸y̴.̸ ̸ ̵ ̷T̸h̵e̴ ̷r̶e̵s̶t̸.̸.̸.̸a̸s̶ ̷t̶h̴e̷y̶ ̴s̸a̷y̶,̶ ̶i̵s̵ ̶h̵i̷s̶t̶o̶r̶y̵.̸ ̴I̷ ̷h̵a̶d̸ ̷f̵o̵u̵n̸d̸ ̷m̶y̴ ̸n̷e̶w̷ ̵s̵l̵a̵v̴e̶,̷ ̶m̴y̷.̵.̷.̷D̴a̸r̶l̴i̷n̴g̶.̴ ̸~̷<̵3̶

[Corruption mitigated, producing Secondary Copy]///////////complete

Kami-san was not a nice man.

Well, to be fair Kami-san wasn't a man. Kami-san was my boss, my re-animator. But who he really was, was an evil God.

“Little lost one, I will restore your patchwork self if you do but one thing for me,” he began as he whispered darkly, a sinister voice coated in the honeyed blood of a million lost souls. “I want you, to bring me the reformed souls of the most vile. Your task is not easy, but in exchange I shall give you the power to truly wreck their very beings. Will you do it, dearest departed Kitten?” Here he made sure to accentuate his silent taunt of the cobbled pieces of what was once my form. I hated it, but what choice did I have?

”...It's funny, it's almost as if I have choice.” I garbled, my lips having been ripped from my face but mere moments ago. He nodded at the sight. To him, it must have been hilarious. A proud woman, as I had been, now forced to only stare up at the dark hooded visage of a man above me. “I'll take that as a 'Yes mister Kami, I'll be a good girl',” he replied snidely, and continued to speak as he reassembled my shredded remains. “Now, my patchwork princess, rude as you may be – I will overlook it for now. Right now, I have some work for a wretch such as you.” he smiled, now able to see me at my full height.

“Princess, huh?” I said, somehow smiling as if to laugh at the absurdity of this new contract. Here, I thought in death I could finally rest my obligations and let loose but here I was...under a new man. Though, being one trained in combat, I knew all too well I would be used as a weapon in this world and the next.

“Yes, now before you get all high and mighty let's get you a weapon.” As he finished this statement, in the next breath a long, katana shaped shadow seemed to cut through time and space and appeared in his hands. I knew the form immediately, but somehow this blade seemed different. Taking it in my hands, I found myself uttering a new word in response. “Cursed?” I finally said, cutting in the silence the same way this stunningly ominous weapon had cut through existence itself to be in my possession. “Hmm, so the haunted princess knows her blades? Yes, my little slave. That is the Chaos Blade, said to have been made from the blood of it's creator's enemies. Take care to realize it's value, for it is the most fitting to take on the types of people I have for you. As I said earlier, I have a mission for you.”

I studied the blade in my hands, from the ornate tip to the darkened blood that seemed to writhe within the inner core of the weapon. Truly, a masterwork of fine bladesmithing. I admired and feared the oni who made it.

“Your first mission...” his voice trailed off, and truthfully? I don't remember who my first sucker was. I do remember I enjoyed it, and the sense of thrill from seeing him bear witness to his life drain from his eyes was intoxicating.

But that story, is not the one I've been asked to tell you. Mine for tonight, is the story of a Dead Evil Kami.

I continued onwards, reaping souls and tearing their lives away like so many names on a list. Eventually, I grew stronger until finally I was recognized and told what had really happened. This Kami, was my father's killer.

At this, I seethed with anger. In that first moment of real emotion, my boss, smiled. “EHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH” he chortled, readying his weapon. “Are you really so stupid as to not have suspected me, Mirahiru-chan? Why else would I want a used up whore like you? Yes, you killed vile people, but they were on my shit-list anyway.” He spat at me, not expecting me to do what I did next.

After the few years that I'd spent working under him, I'd learned a few things. “W-what..?” he said as a thin veil of white suddenly overcame his vision and he fell to the ground. He was trapped. I'd placed him in that most frightful of prisons...his mind.

Everyone wants to run from it, especially in moments where they feel like they don't deserve what they have coming...and in this moment, Kami-san did not expect that he would be my final name.

“W-where am I, you despicable wench?!” he screamed, his vocal cords melting as I put them to the flame. He screamed, shouting for a hope that would not be coming as I sliced through his abdomen and plucked his organs and showed them to him. “Hmm, so even Gods have innards? Interesting.” I smirked, licking his intestines and meowing mockingly. “FUCK YOU!” he tried to scream with what remained of his voice. Truthfully, the reason Kami-san could speak is that we were simply in his mind. People are scariest when exposed to their true selves.

“So, I regret to inform you that I'm not into dead men. So no, you will not be fucking me. Further, chose the wrong girl to fuck with.” I said, smiling in a crazed manner. I had finally done it, after being forced to bring down terrible men and reaping their souls I had revenge. I had my will back. “LISTEN TO YOUR MASTER, YOU FUCKING INGRA-” He began to retort, as I had my fill of his bullshit. “....Can you really call yourself a Master if you're already in pieces?” I said, smiling and licking the bottom half of his body, lifting it up to top half, cackling. “W-what...w-who are you?” He said, his sanity breaking as I let go of the hold I had on his skull within the world of Souls, our world.

His will broken, and his soul beginning to detach, I grasped firmly upon the string one would call the soul and pulled. He was dead to rites. It had been easy, almost child's play. However, the string burned my hand and upon the air I heard his last curse. “YoU sHaLl never rest, you whore. I deem thee my successor, The Queen of the Land of Souls. Be you cursed to be alone and have no love in this world.” I spat on his dissolving corpse and stood up. “Queen of Chaos, huh? I could get used to t-” suddenly, I heard a cry. An inner heard across the vale, “Oh whatever god there is in this fucking universe, come to me.” It was masculine, but had tinges of an inner fragility. “Hmm, I'll not serve another ma-” “I'll serve that god for as long as I continue to draw breath, just please help me.” I grinned at this. I had broken Kami's Curse. I'd found the one thing I loved more than anything in this painful life – a boy who needs to cry.

The they say, is history. I had found my new slave, my...Darling. ~<3

////////////Entry completed\////////////////////////////

[-Report 11 completed.–]

[-Thank you for reading our return to form, we apologize if this report is corrupted or lackluster. The Director, his wife, and the Archive have had delays due to the Human Coronavirus. Not to The Director's Director of course, but The Archivist and The Director have had issues until recently. Regardless, thank you for reading. –]

[-Data Fragment – 01-]

[Priority – Supplemental-]

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[-Note from The Archive-]: We here at The Archive serve to report and document any and all information regarding The Chaos Gumi, The Director, and his wife The Director's Director, and The Mirahiru Family as a whole. However, from time to time rather than a full fledged and official reports, we will hazard to bring you pieces from deep into the life of The Chaos Gumi...think of it as sprinkles to our Chaotic Cake here at The Archive. So without further ado, we have a special recording which has just reached us here upon the Despair from Director Archknight's homeworld. Do enjoy.

[Jingle plays]

Praise be the Empress Ladies, Gents and Xenomechanical Scum!

[Cheers from a live audience erupts]

Breaking news this day, as renowned Shipping Magnate Archknight is seen spirited away from his headquarters in the glitzy Business District of Mechropolis City by a mysterious cat-like creature.

Could Dr. Alleyce, the Imperial Court's Head Biomechanist have been behind Archknight's mysterious disappearance? Imperial Guards have her imprisoned for crimes against Omeganity, and for her abominations supposedly created under under of the Empress. But, her influence over forces acting against the former Magnate puts her at the top of potential subjects.

Mr. Archknight had suspected ties to the infamous Omega Syndicate whose stance has always been anti-imperial, but Mr. Archknight is on-record as being indebted to the Empress for her generosity and magnanimity in helping him re-integrate into Omegian society. Reports remain inconclusive, but authorities will continue to investigate.

All employees of Omega Corp, the parent company to which all of Mr. Archknight's subsidiary companies report have been ordered to return to work despite this strange news and Mr. Archknight's third-in-command Destu native, Augusta Heindmaucker. Ms. Katherina Smathers, Mr. Archknight's second-in command and whom had a direct line to succession, refused to clarify why Ms. Augusta was selected. In an interview as she was seen leaving Omega Corp HQ, she simply stated. “Mr. Archknight left very specific instructions, and I am simply carrying out his last will and testament under the assumption he has passed.” Again, she has not said anything more on the subject, and has been unavailable for comment in the hours since this last night's disappearance.

The cat-like creature is thought to have been some unknown Xeno technology, but reports remain inconclusive on this first day of investigations. Imperial Cruisers in-orbit attempted to trace and pursue but as the object took a direct path through the void, further chase would be a violation of Imperial Law.

And now for, “The Adventures of Chaos Knights!”

[-Transmission ended-] [-Playback complete-]


[-Data Entry 10 – Shinigami Rising-]

[-Note from the Director's Director's Desk-]: S̶o̵ ̷A̶r̷c̸h̶i̵v̵i̵s̴t̴-̷s̷a̷n̷,̸ ̴D̴a̷r̸l̷i̶n̶g̵ ̸s̸a̶y̴s̸ ̵y̷o̵u̴'̸r̴e̶ ̶g̶o̶i̵n̷g̸ ̸t̵o̴ ̶r̴i̷p̶ ̵m̴y̵ ̵m̷e̸m̵o̶r̸i̸e̶s̴ ̶o̸f̴ ̸K̷a̵m̵i̷-̵s̷a̸m̷a̷,̴ ̵s̶o̸ ̷t̸h̸a̶t̶ ̴t̵h̵e̸ ̸g̶h̴o̵u̵l̴i̵e̴s̴ ̸d̷o̷n̶'̷t̴ ̴h̵a̵v̶e̶ ̴t̴o̵ ̶s̵o̷r̶t̶ ̶t̷h̸r̶o̵u̸g̶h̸ ̶m̸y̷ ̸c̴o̸r̴r̴u̷p̸t̸e̷d̸ ̶t̸e̴x̸t̶?̸~̵ [-Editor's Note to Dir's Dir-]: Of course ma'am, it should be painless and non-invasive. You will still retain your memories, I'm basically just scanning them and writing what comes out of the readout. [-Note from the Director's Director's Desk-]: A̶h̶ ̷f̵i̵n̶e̴,̵ ̷j̷u̸s̸t̵ ̶p̷l̵e̷a̵s̷e̷ ̵d̵o̶n̸'̶t̵ ̶m̷a̸k̷e̸ ̵i̶t̶ ̷w̵e̵i̸r̶d̴?̵ ̴D̴a̶r̷l̴i̴n̷g̶ ̴w̷o̵u̴l̷d̶ ̸H̴A̵T̶E̸ ̷t̴o̸ ̷k̶n̴o̵w̴ ̸y̷o̴u̶ ̴h̶u̶r̷t̵ ̸m̴e̶ ̶i̷n̸ ̷a̶n̴y̷w̸a̸y̶,̶ ̵A̷r̴c̵h̷i̴v̴i̴s̷t̸.̴.̷.̸.̷l̶i̶k̴e̶,̶ ̶t̵h̸r̵o̵w̷ ̶y̸o̸u̶r̷ ̵s̶k̸i̵n̵n̸e̸d̷ ̴c̸o̶r̴p̷s̸e̶ ̶o̵u̶t̴ ̵t̸h̷e̷ ̷a̵i̸r̶l̶o̸c̸k̶ ̸h̵a̸t̶e̵.̶ ̷ [-Editor's Note to Dir's Dir-]: A-ah, yes ma'am. I w-will, take the utmost care in reading out those readings.

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The mental and physical conditions of The Director's Director, and Matriarch of the Mirahiru Family during her ascension to a Shinigami at the behest of a wrathful god whom she has since overtaken.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To expand and explain the origins of The Director's Director's Shinigami abilities, and how she became as omnipotent as she appears in her current state.

I remember the day I died, well not really died.

More accurately, I remember the day IT came to me with a bargain. As I laid upon the ground, having been sliced to bits by a rival. One who had taken my father before me, a, a god stood eyeing me pitifully as he approached the piece of me that had held my eyes.

“Oh woeful, pitiful human wallowing in regret and you wish you to live forever?” Its voice bellowed, its figure obscured so as to obfuscate its visage from mortal eyes. I did not know how to answer them, as I laid there and the pieces of flesh that had once been me twitched in a futile attempt to be reconstructed. Had I known what trials I would have to face, I think I would have been quicker to answer...knowing that my Darling lay at the end of those trials. But in that moment? I was silent, and the world grew dark.

Soon, the foul stench of a thousand deaths washed over me as I slowly regained consciousness and found myself whole again. “Where....where am I?” I finally said, despite the overwhelming aura of decay that engulfed the small atrium I now found myself in. There was no mistaking, I was in a cave or a structure somewhere.

“Are all skilled mortals so...confused or do you just not remember what this place is?” A dark, smug voice emanated from a grizzled and frail figure carrying a long blackened scythe in one bony set of fingers. I knew then, where it was I had been spirited away to.

“So, guess the quartering wasn't just another one of my nightmares then, eh gramps?” I said nonchalantly. Knowing that I was dead, and that it wasn't like he could make me any more dead than I was, all semblance of manners had vanished from me. It was as if I'd been sanded down, and what remained was my trained instinct and my pure unadulterated anger. I was pissed. I was angry at my father for being murdered, angry at my former Boss for setting me up on a fake job to do me in, and most of all? Angry at myself for falling for the whole ruse, for not straying more off the rails from what could have been.

“Off the rails, you say?” the old man said as if to read my mind, dressed in a finely tailored suit, his features still as frail and innocuous as they had been a moment ago. “Well missy, I can't let you go off against them in a blind fury or you'd be nothing more than a wraith or a Yuurei, and plainly? You're too valuable a tool, er..asset for that.” The man said, helping me up and staring up to face me.

“And just what does my value get me, Spirit Guide?” I said, and at this the man chuckled. “Oh missy, I am no spirit guide. I am a Shinigami, and a damn good one at that.” he retorted. “And what pray tell, does a Shinigami want with a high school dropout with Assassin training?” I pushed back, leaning into his face as he stood unfazed.

“I WANT to give you a job, but your shitty attitude is making it difficult to offer you redemption. Maybe I ought to take you apart, Humpty Dumpty style and see if all the King's men can put you back together again.” He said, smiling, a newfound confidence in his voice.

“Shit gramps, didn't take you for a psychopath. So, what's this job? What's it pay?” I said, waving off his poor taste in jokes. “What good would paying a walking set of lego blocks in the shape of a cat do?” he said, continuing to incite my anger almost as if he wanted me to try to swing at him. I tried, but as my fist entered the orbit around his aura it collapsed like a Jenga set with one too few pegs. “Point made gramps, so what do you want a pile of cat girl legos to do?” I said, giving in to his poor way with words. “I want you, missy, to be a reaper. I have been watching you work, and your ways of sadistic torture...I like it. I want you to roam the land undead and unfeeling, and...well, masticate the wicked so to speak,” he said coyly. I beckoned him to continue and clarify. “I want you, to scare the wicked, but don't kill them, immediately anyway. I want you to sow chaos and despair throughout the Earth. Burn em, torture em, make deals with em, until they BEG you to take them to Jigoku.”

My lips rose at this, into a sort of twisted smile. I was surprised at myself. This sense of pure....uncalled for and For the first time in my short twenty-five years of life..I at the thought of masticating, torturing and capturing wayward souls. Before, it had been my way to pay off the debt my family owed...but with me, there was no family to pay off a debt and subsequently no debt.

I took the gramp's offer.

And from that day forward, I was not only The Whispering Cat of Death, I was Death – herself.

[– Mrs. Mirahiru bursts into a laughing fit here, even her memories couldn't hold in her laughter from the readout produced by the scan. –]

[– Report 10 Completed...for now. –]

[– Note from Management (read, Mr and Mrs. Mirahiru) –]: Yuki and I appreciate you all continuing to read entries from the Archive!~ O̶n̴c̷e̴ ̴D̵a̵r̷l̶i̵n̷g̷ ̶a̵n̶d̸ ̶t̴h̵e̶ ̷A̴r̷c̷h̷i̶v̷i̶s̴t̴ ̵c̵a̵n̸ ̸g̷e̴t̴ ̸r̷e̶p̸o̷r̶t̵s̵ ̷o̷u̸t̶.̵ ̸;̷3̶ ̸ Y-yuki! It h-hasn't been that long since the last update. Yuki makes a smug face W-w-whatever. So, what's this Kami's name? O̷h̵!̸ ̵H̸i̸s̴ ̶n̶a̸m̸e̴ ̶w̵a̸s̵ ̶[̸R̴E̶D̶A̴C̴T̵E̴D̶ ̷B̶Y̷ ̴K̵A̷M̷I̷]̶ O-O

[-Data Entry 9 – The Tales of Tails –]

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Director and The Director's Director, and the matter of their lack of fluffy tail. A matter which is generally not discussed, but which the Ghoulies have taken quite an interest in learning more about.

[-NOTE FROM THE DIRECTOR AND THE DIRECTOR'S DIRECTOR-]: Sorry about the lateness of this update, everyone. As you know, we intended to have this report completed on Yuki's birthday, but the outside world has its ways of mucking things up. M̸h̴m̶m̵,̵ ̷D̶a̴r̴l̸i̷n̴g̵ ̷a̷n̴d̷ ̴I̸ ̷h̸o̴p̷e̸ ̵y̵o̷u̴ ̴s̵t̸i̴l̷l̶ ̶e̶n̷j̸o̸y̵ ̶E̷n̸t̴r̸y̷ ̶9̶.̶ ̸A̸s̶ ̷e̵m̸b̴a̴r̶r̸a̶s̴s̵i̸n̵g̸ ̷a̵s̷ ̶i̴t̷ ̶m̷i̵g̴h̶t̷ ̴b̷e̶.̶ ̴~̴ ̷Y-yeah, as is the way of things sometimes.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To explain and expunge upon a question posed by The Chaos Gumi as to why The Director and his wife do not in fact have visible tails. Both the Director and the Director's Director tend to find this question rather embarrassing but have agreed to divulge this report for the Dir's Director's birthday.

[-Report 09 – The Tales of Two Tails –]

D̵a̸r̶l̶i̶n̸g̷ ̴s̷a̴i̸d̴ ̶I̸ ̶s̷h̷o̵u̷l̶d̵ ̴p̶r̷o̷b̸a̶b̶l̶y̶ ̵g̸o̶ ̸f̷i̵r̵s̵t̴,̴ ̴s̷o̷ ̸h̶e̵r̷e̸ ̵g̴o̴e̵s̵ ̶n̴o̵t̶h̷i̵n̵g̴.̶.̴.̵ ̷ ̵T̷h̵e̸ ̵r̷e̴a̵s̷o̶n̸ ̸I̶ ̶h̶a̷v̵e̸ ̷n̸o̶ ̴v̸i̷s̷i̵b̸l̵e̸ ̵t̶a̴i̸l̸?̴ ̷W̵-̷w̸e̶l̵l̷.̶.̵.̵ ̶ ̵T̴h̷e̶ ̵y̷e̶a̵r̴ ̸w̵a̴s̵ ̸1̸9̵8̵7̴,̸ ̷w̴h̷e̷n̵ ̵m̴y̵.̵.̶.̵ ̶”̸a̸b̵i̴l̶i̶t̵i̶e̴s̷”̵ ̵b̸e̶g̶a̵n̴ ̷t̵o̶ ̵c̵o̵m̷e̸ ̵t̶h̸r̸o̵u̴g̸h̴.̶ ̴M̸y̵ ̷m̸o̸m̶ ̷h̵a̸d̶ ̸s̸a̶i̵d̴ ̵i̴t̴ ̸w̴a̵s̶ ̴j̴u̸s̷t̶ ̶p̵u̶b̷e̷r̴t̶y̸,̶ ̵t̴h̸a̷t̶ ̶I̶ ̷w̸a̶s̷ ̸j̷u̶s̷t̴ ̸”̵b̴e̵c̶o̷m̴i̶n̷g̶ ̵a̵ ̷w̷o̴m̷a̵n̸,̷”̸ ̶b̷u̶t̵ ̴t̵w̷o̷ ̴l̸o̴n̶g̸,̷ ̷t̷w̶i̴r̸l̶i̷n̷g̶ ̷c̸a̸t̴ ̶t̶a̴i̴l̶s̴ ̵a̸n̷d̷ ̷s̶u̶p̵e̸r̵ ̷a̴d̵o̴r̸a̵b̸l̶e̷ ̶c̶a̶t̸ ̷e̸a̶r̸s̸ ̷a̵r̸e̷ ̸n̴o̵t̶ ̶w̶h̸a̵t̷ ̷h̵u̶m̷a̴n̶s̵ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̷d̶ ̴c̴a̶l̵l̸ ̴p̷u̸b̵e̵r̴t̸y̵.̴ ̴E̶v̵e̸n̴t̸u̶a̵l̵l̸y̸ ̴t̴h̴o̵u̸g̷h̵,̶ ̴a̷s̶ ̵m̶y̸ ̴t̷r̵a̸i̷n̴i̸n̷g̷ ̴w̶i̵t̷h̷i̵n̴ ̸t̸h̷e̸ ̴I̸s̶h̸i̶z̵u̵k̸i̸ ̷C̶l̵a̸n̶ ̸c̷o̴n̴t̷i̶n̶u̷e̴d̵,̷ ̴m̴y̵ ̷b̷o̴s̶s̵ ̶h̴a̴t̷e̷d̷ ̵m̷e̵ ̸m̷o̸r̶e̴ ̷a̷n̴d̸ ̸m̷o̶r̴e̶ ̸a̸s̸ ̴m̵y̷ ̷t̴a̸i̴l̷s̷ ̶g̶r̴e̸w̶ ̵i̴n̶ ̴n̷u̸m̵b̸e̷r̷ ̶a̶n̸d̷ ̴m̶y̶ ̸e̷a̷r̵s̴ ̵b̷e̸c̶o̷m̵e̷ ̴m̵o̵r̵e̵ ̵p̷r̴o̷m̸i̵n̶e̸n̴t̴.̶ ̶ ̸ ̸”̴G̵e̶t̸ ̴t̴h̷o̷s̸e̴ ̸f̴u̷c̶k̷i̸n̶g̵ ̵t̶h̶i̴n̵g̸s̷ ̸t̵r̴i̸m̴m̶e̸d̴ ̸o̷r̴ ̷s̷o̸m̴e̴t̶h̷i̵n̸g̶,̶ ̴b̸i̸t̷c̷h̶!̸”̶ ̷I̵s̷h̷i̴z̷u̵k̶i̷-̷s̷a̸m̵a̴ ̴h̶a̷d̷ ̸s̴a̴i̴d̴,̶ ̷o̸v̶e̶r̷ ̵h̵a̵r̷d̷ ̸n̵i̷g̸h̵t̵'̶s̴ ̵d̷r̷i̶n̵k̵i̶n̷g̸ ̶a̵n̸d̸ ̴p̸h̵i̴l̴a̷n̸d̶e̵r̵i̸n̵g̵ ̶w̶i̷t̷h̵ ̴m̵y̶ ̷m̶o̵t̵h̵e̶r̷.̷ ̶I̷ ̶w̴o̵u̸l̶d̷ ̴h̸a̷v̶e̷ ̷t̵o̵o̷,̴ ̸i̴f̸ ̸I̶ ̴h̵a̷d̷ ̷e̴v̷e̶r̴ ̶h̴a̴d̷ ̸t̴h̸e̶ ̷c̸h̶o̸i̸c̷e̶ ̷t̶o̶ ̷d̶e̷c̵i̷d̵e̶.̷ ̸ ̶ ̴F̴o̴r̸ ̷a̸ ̴f̴e̵w̷ ̶y̶e̷a̶r̸s̵,̷ ̶t̴i̷l̷l̸ ̴a̴b̶o̶u̷t̴ ̵1̷9̵9̸0̶.̶.̶a̸s̸ ̵I̶ ̶w̶a̶s̴ ̸c̵l̴i̷m̴b̸i̶n̴g̴ ̷t̸h̴e̶ ̶l̷a̷d̷d̸e̸r̶ ̸o̴f̴ ̴t̶h̸e̶ ̷I̴s̴h̴i̴z̸u̶k̶i̴ ̶c̸l̷a̵n̷,̴ ̶m̶y̶ ̵t̷a̴i̷l̴s̸ ̶b̴e̵g̷a̴n̸ ̷t̴o̸ ̸g̴r̴o̵w̵ ̵i̵n̵ ̵n̸u̷m̶b̵e̸r̴.̵ ̶T̶h̵a̴t̷ ̶w̵a̵s̷.̸.̶.̶u̵n̴t̸i̷l̶ ̵i̶t̷ ̵h̷a̸p̶p̴e̵n̵e̶d̵.̷ ̶A̶s̴ ̵I̸ ̷w̶a̸s̴ ̴s̷l̷e̸e̷p̴i̷n̴g̷ ̴t̷h̷a̶t̵ ̵n̴i̵g̴h̸t̷,̴ ̵K̵u̴r̶e̷-̵s̴a̸n̵ ̴c̴a̵m̶e̶ ̵i̵n̶t̶o̵ ̸m̵y̶ ̵r̵o̸o̵m̸ ̷w̵i̶t̸h̵i̵n̸ ̶t̸h̷e̶ ̶e̵s̷t̸a̴t̴e̷ ̵-̸ ̶a̶ ̴b̵a̸t̴h̵r̶o̵o̶m̴ ̷r̵e̸a̷l̶l̶y̴,̶ ̸a̵n̵d̶ ̵s̸l̵i̷c̶e̵d̴ ̵m̷y̸ ̴a̵l̴l̷ ̶5̶ ̴o̸f̴ ̸m̶y̶ ̶N̵e̵k̵o̸m̷a̷t̷a̴ ̶t̵a̵i̶l̸s̸ ̴o̶f̷f̷ ̵t̷o̷ ̷t̸h̸e̴ ̷s̶t̵u̸m̷p̸s̴.̸ ̶N̷o̶t̸ ̸u̶n̶t̶i̷l̴ ̸t̴h̵e̷ ̸m̴o̵r̷n̵i̸n̷g̵ ̵d̷i̴d̴ ̸I̴ ̶f̴i̶n̴a̷l̷l̶y̷ ̸w̷a̶k̸e̶ ̸u̴p̵ ̷a̸n̴d̷ ̷s̷c̶r̵e̴a̶m̶.̶ ̷ ̷ ̵S̴c̴r̴e̷a̷m̸i̸n̸g̴ ̷b̵l̶o̵o̷d̶y̴ ̶m̵u̴r̷d̶e̴r̷,̷ ̵a̴s̵ ̷I̷ ̵a̷w̵o̴k̵e̴ ̸i̵n̵ ̷a̶ ̵p̵o̷o̴l̸ ̶o̴f̶ ̶m̵y̷ ̸o̴w̷n̶ ̷g̵o̷r̵e̸,̶ ̷I̸ ̴s̸c̵r̶e̴a̴m̸e̴d̴ ̸k̴n̷o̴w̴i̵n̵g̶ ̵n̵o̵ ̸o̴n̵e̴ ̵w̸o̴u̶l̴d̶ ̸a̷n̷s̸w̷e̶r̶ ̴m̴y̴ ̸c̴a̸l̷l̷s̵.̶ ̵E̵v̶e̴n̴t̸u̶a̷l̸l̴y̶,̴ ̵t̶h̵e̷ ̸p̵a̵i̵n̷ ̵s̵u̸b̴s̶i̸d̵e̵d̶ ̷a̷n̸d̵ ̵w̶a̶s̸ ̵r̷e̷p̸l̵a̷c̴e̸d̷ ̸w̶i̷t̵h̵ ̸o̸n̷l̸y̷ ̷a̸n̵g̶e̴r̴.̶ ̶ ̴ ̵F̸o̶r̴ ̶t̷h̸e̵ ̶n̴e̸x̵t̴ ̷e̵i̵g̸h̷t̴ ̴y̶e̸a̵r̷s̸,̶ ̷I̵ ̸w̶o̵u̴l̴d̴ ̷t̷r̸a̷i̸n̵ ̵a̴n̷d̷ ̶k̵i̸l̸l̶ ̵m̴y̸ ̷w̶a̷y̴ ̶t̴o̷ ̷t̷h̴e̶ ̷t̵o̷p̶,̵ ̵a̴n̸d̵ ̴w̸e̵l̶l̷.̵.̴y̸o̴u̴ ̷k̸n̵o̸w̷ ̷t̷h̸e̷ ̸r̶e̷s̵t̶.̵ ̶A̴f̶t̷e̷r̴ ̵a̸s̸c̸e̴n̸s̵i̷o̵n̸,̷ ̵I̴ ̶l̶e̶a̵r̶n̷e̶d̵ ̶t̴h̷a̸t̸.̵.̸.̷t̷h̷e̷y̵ ̴w̶e̷r̶e̶ ̶s̶t̴i̵l̶l̸ ̸t̸h̶e̵r̶e̸.̸ ̸M̷y̶ ̵t̴a̴i̴l̷s̴.̵.̷.̵I̵ ̵c̶a̵n̴ ̶f̸e̶e̴l̷ ̵t̴h̴e̴m̷,̴ ̴a̸n̵d̴ ̴t̴h̴r̵o̷u̸g̶h̶ ̷a̵s̵c̵e̴n̷s̸i̴o̴n̵ ̶I̶ ̸c̴a̴n̶ ̴u̴s̵e̶ ̴t̸h̷e̵m̵ ̸a̴s̴ ̸i̷f̴ ̵t̵h̴e̵y̵'̷r̸e̷ ̷r̵e̸a̸l̷l̴y̶ ̷t̶h̷e̸r̸e̶.̷ ̷I̴t̶'̵s̵ ̵w̷e̴i̶r̸d̶l̵y̸ ̸c̶h̸a̴r̸m̵i̶n̷g̴,̸ ̷t̶h̵a̶t̶ ̶e̷v̷e̸n̸ ̵i̸n̴ ̶d̷e̷a̵t̵h̵ ̸I̴ ̴h̴a̴v̶e̴ ̴m̶o̸r̷e̶ ̷t̷h̴a̶n̴ ̸I̴ ̸d̸i̷d̶ ̶w̴h̶e̸n̴ ̵I̸ ̵w̸a̸s̸ ̶a̵l̶i̴v̶e̶.̴ ̴~̵ ̷A̷n̴y̴w̴h̵o̵,̷ ̶D̷a̵r̷l̸i̶n̷g̵?̶ ̴W̷h̶a̶t̷'̷s̵ ̶y̷o̸u̶r̸ ̷s̵i̸d̶e̸?̶ ̴ ̴

[Here, Mrs. Mirahiru fidgets in her seat and looks at The Director beside her, pensively]

Well, mine is a shorter story. Short, depending on how much we really want to discuss the intricacies of genetic modification in the Omegian Empire. That is is to say, mine isn't quite as graphic as Yuki's, but it hurts all the same. Shortly after escaping from Dr. Alleyce and Dr. Espair's laboratory, I was faced with the reality of my situation.

I looked Omegian, which is to say humanoid and of indistinct human cultural background. However, upon even a cursory glance you can tell I wasn't and am not, human. I realized then, as I stood upon the crest of the hill outside Mechcropolis that I needed to choose.

So, I cut off my tail.

Now, doing so with an improvised cutting element right outside town might have been a mistake in hindsight, but if it meant not being relegated to the usual treatment of escaped experiments and genetic abnormalities then it was worth it. What usually happened when you were “abnormal” in the empire, is that you were either enslaved, sent to work under the government in the military, or executed as a pox upon the populace. However, when there are only “slight” deformities such as animal ears, or some such deformity as to be expected of exposure to Omegian environs it is possible to eek out a life.

Thus, I lived in Mechcropolis for a time. My tail having been fashioned into the coat you regularly see me wearing on stream.

[-Mrs. Mirahiru gasps here, and hugs The Director tightly-]

[-Report 09 completed, fairly graphically.–]

Thank you for reading this highly delayed report, we will hazard to complete them more timely in the future.

[-Data Entry 8- Founding The Chaos Gumi-]

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Parent Organization to The Archive, and our main benefactors.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To explain and expound on the events leading up to the current day, following The Director and The Director's Director joining forces aboard the Exploration and Scientific Research Vessel TIE Despair.

[-Report 08 – Big Cat on The Bridge-]

[-Editor's Note: The events of this Report are from Memory File #668, Two weeks after Report 06-]

“So Death Cat Girl,” I began, fully realizing that I'd draw the girl's ire. “My NAME is Yuki, ばかきつね.” She replied angrily, a low growl and killing intent evident in her voice. Yes, this girl is called “Yuki Mirahiru”. Despite the pained and desperate face she had now, not long ago she was the very embodiment of chaos and despair.

She had contracted me as a “pet”, or what others might note as a possession just two weeks earlier. However, as it appears she never learned from wherever she's from, if you wish to rule others you need to maintain a hierarchy. She hadn't done that, so I was not obliged to listen to her demands. Yes, she'd shown initial force and a strangely alluring sadistic streak but in the intervening days, she'd mellowed out. So, as the fear died away I did not feel bound to her at all.

I did however, familiarize myself with the ship she had trapped me aboard.

The Despair, she'd called it. A fitting name for an Imperial Research vessel. The exterior inspection drones which silently orbited round the deck had given me a truly brilliant view of our vessel.

The Despair boasts a large Bridge, with external drone controls, a captain's throne, navigation systems, and mining and deboarding equipment. In total, there are 7 large and amply stocked decks. The top being the Bridge, followed by 2 decks of crew quarters, a med bay, a research bay, an leisure bay and the panic room. In true Imperial Style, the exterior was a Neo-Gothic style with a large, scythe shaped silhouette as it carved through the upper orbit we rested in. The interior is decorated like a Victorian Home with bits of equipment here and there. Truly a beast of the void.

Admiring my new “home”, is how I spent the intertwining days leading up to now. I had but one question for this de-fanged cat before me. “Right, right. So, Fiyuki, what exactly did you contract me for?” I said, waving off her ill intent with a a scoff. She didn't scare me as she did before, so I had become confident. Over confident, as I would soon learn.

“Gods you're dense, Star Fox.” Yuki responded, annoyed and welling with killing intent. “You'll know soon enough.” With this, before my eyes she turned and disappeared into a newly manifested darkness within the crew gangway. I didn't see her for the rest of the day...

That night, I commandeered one of the hundreds of empty beds on the crew decks. Naturally, I went for an Officer's cabin with its additional luxuries, such as fine woodgrain and a workstation. I had before been wandering throughout the ship, so I hadn't slept in days. As I laid my head on the pillow, I finally felt it again.

The numbness, the tinge of regret and an unending feeling of despair. My cabin, which had just a moment before been my self-made refuge from this feeling was now awash in darkness and dread. At the far end of the room, were two bright purple lights. Yuki. She was smiling, I could see as my own eyes adjusted to the darkness. “So, Spirit of Death, what brings you here?” I said, again provoking Yuki to anger. Something I know now, to NEVER do. Especially her genuine anger, which she now hid behind a soft smile. She slowly walked to the foot of my bed, and giggled. Not the giggle of someone enjoying a joke. No, the giggle of a serial killer watching the life drain from her victim's body. “O̶̶h̷́̕̕͠͡,̢͜͝ ͏̸̕͘͟MÈ͝?̷͘͜͝͠͝ ͏I͞'̷̷̷́͞͝v̢̡̢͜͡͠ę̵̨̛̀͠ o҉̴̧̨̀͘n̴̕͘͟͠l̡͟ỳ ҉̵̨͠c͢͠͏͏o̢͘͠m͜͟͟e ̀͜͠͡t̶̸̡o͠ m̕͟á̷̧́͞k͟͠͠ȩ̴̸̡́͢ ̸̴̨́͞s͏̵̶̶̨̡uŗ͝͞ę̕͏͘͡ ͢y̢͘͟͢͡o͘͢͢u͢'̵͢͏͡re̴̢ ơ̴̛͘͢͟ķ͝.͘͢͝͞͞ ̸͜͟” she said, her TRUE voice now returned to her. With the sweet, yet malicious aura it gave off. I've now grown to love her malice, but at the time I was cocky. Overconfident and had never known a true overwhelming force.

I attempted to resist, but as I began to lift my head I found it bound. Not by chains, but by an overbearing shadow. Recognizing the fear now apparent on my face, her smile contorted into a smirk. “S͞lę̛e̶̶̢̛̛͠p͏̀,͘ ̸̵l̷̢̧͢͞i̕͟t̵͜tl̸̡͟͜͞͏ȩ̷̡͘͡ S̵͘͜͡tà͘͘͞ŕ̢͢͜͢ ҉͜F̴͢o҉̸̀͟x́͟.͢” she said, her voice droning into an imperceptible din as my eyes grew cloudy and I fell into a deep sleep.

When next I opened my eyes, I found myself bound to some kind of table, many times larger than I. It was almost as if I'd been shrunken down.

As I pondered this, Yuki rose from the shadows looming overhead. She was many, many times larger than reality. “H҉̨͠E̛Ỳ!̸̕ ͏͟͞À̶̕͝͞r̸͘e̡̡͠҉̕҉ ͘͝y̸̴̶̧͢o̷̡u̵̧͏̢͞ ̡͘͟s̶̵̸͝҉͞a̷͢͡y̷̶͜ing̵̛̀̀͜ ̷́Í̢ ̕͞g̵̨͘͢҉ơ̴̡͘͜t̴̛͟ ̶̕f̵̛̀͟͜͞á͘͢t̕͜͜?̶́͟!̶̀͟͜͞” Yuki boomed from all around me, balancing a scalpel in her enormous hand. It seems she could read my thoughts. “ W̧̨҉eĺ̵͝l ̨du͜҉̸͢͞h̢h̢́͘͞h̕h̛h,̴̵͏͘͘͡ ̢̀͘͠͞S̷̸̡̛͞͠t̵̶͘͘͝͞a̵̧͘͞r ̀F͜͏ox͜͠.̴̢́̀͠ ̴Y̷̴̡͠ou̷҉̛̀͠ ̛̕͘͟͜a̴̡̛͟҉nd̷ ̀͢͞I̶̡̕͞҉̵ ͡҉̕͏á̸̷̴͜͠ŗ̷͜e̴͘͡ ̵̶̨̨on͠e̷,͏̢̕͟͢͝ ̵̴̸̕y҉̧́͠ó̶͡͞u ̧͜ag͏̴̵̡r̷̵̴̶̕͟e͏́́͘͜͢e̢͞d̸̀́ t̷̨o ̧i͞͠t̕.Now̵̢̕,͜ ̡͠l̡͡͠͡͞e̴t'̸̢̕͟͜s̴̛ ̶͟͠͏̶̕sȩ̨͝e̷҉̴̡̛ ̵̢wh̶̶͝e̴͏̴r̴̴̡ȩ̶̴́͜͠ ̧̛ý̶̶̡ò̴͝u͟ ̵̢͘̕͞͡k͏e͞e̴̶̸͜͏p ̸͢͏͡t́͞h̨̢̢̛͟a̡t҉͢ ̷̧́͘͞͞b̷̡̛ig̸ ̶̸̧e̶͞go̶͡ i̸n͝҉̵ ͟͡y͏͜͢҉͟ou͘͏̷r̵̡̛͘͞ ̵̛͜͠͠t̨in̢̛͞y̧͘̕͜,͏̷̧̨́͢ t̡́͟͜íny͝ ̀̕͝w̶̨̡̕͡é̴̡͡a͟͝k̶͘͜͞͝͡ ̴̨͢͞ļ́ì̷̵̴͘ţ̴̨̨̨tl̕e b̶͘͝͏̨ờ̢d̕ỳ̨̧͢.̴” she said with a cold, calculating finality like that of a professor delivering bad test results. Slowly she inched the scalpel closer and closer, searing flesh from bone and bisecting me cleanly... “Yo̸͠͏ư͡͠'̷̶̀r̸̵̸̡̢ȩ͞͏ ́͞҉̡͞ņ͟ot̡́͘ ́̕t҉̀͢o ́d̵̷̀͜͜͡į̨̛̛̕e̸͘ ̵̧̨́͜y͝ę̷̸̛͘͡ţ̢̨͜͝͝.̛͞ B̡҉͜͜͡u̷t̶̨́͜ ̷̵̧̕͟͜ẁ̷i҉͘t̸̵̀͢h̕͜ ̶́t̴̢͘͜͝h̶̵̵i͞s͘͠ ͝p͡ai̕n̷̢͠,̕҉̵̕҉ ̕͠ŗ̵̢̧̀͠e̴̛͟͝ḿ̶̶̡͡e̕͠mb̨è̕͝r̢͟͏̵͢͠ ̴̶͟͞͏̢w̸̕hờ̕̕͟ ̸̷̨̨̀͟th̶̕͜ę̨͘͟ ̶̡̢̀͠B͏҉̸̧̕í̵͘͜͡g̵ ̶̀̕͟͠Ć̷̴̡́à̶͠͡t̛͝ ̴̷̀͡o͏̧͡n̵͘͘͜͞ ̷̵̧̛͠D̶̵e̷͠c̶̢͞ķ͟͏́͜͝ ̶i̶̧͘͜͡s̷̛͘.҉̴̕͏̵”̶͏̶̡͘͝ she said, reviving me and putting me through countless other terrors unendingly. By next morning's light I awoke to her slender but muscled frame sitting upon me with a kindly smile.

“G̢o̴o̵d̴ ͏mor̴n͟i̷n͝ģ, ̀D-a͞-͏r-l͝-i-̷n-̢g̢.~̸” She said finally, boring a hole into my eyes with her bright, shining purple eyes. I began to speak, but before I could say anything she leaned down, placing her slender finger tipped in black nail polish against my lips. “B͜efore̷ ̧I͏ allo͠w̢ yo̴u to ͢s̢pe͠ák͡,͟ d̢o ýou̡ ͜know͞ ̀w̧h͠o i̵s͡ ̸R͝E͟ÁLL͜Y͡ i͝n c̶h͢arge?̢” she said sternly, like a mother berating a child. I nodded meekly and she smiled, caressing my cheek in one hand and kissing me to silence me. “Y-you are in charge, M-miss Yuki.” I said finally, before she clicked her tongue. “O҉h͏,͜ ̵my̡ ̸dea̛res͜t D͝a̶rlin͝g. The̛ Miss ̕sh̨all ̀be̶ ̶i̢mpl͠i͠ed͏ ̷for̸ as ͜lo͠ng̴ a̧s you͏ ̡liv̴ę,o̵r ̡u̕n̸til I ̧m̢a͝k̨e ̀y͘òu̷ ͡stro͟n̢ge͞r̡.̛ I sąw͜ ̛y̶oųr ҉m͡emo҉r͘i̛e͘s, I͝ kn̛o͘w ̷yo̸u͢r ̀pa̛i͟n͝. ͜I s̷ee ͝yo҉ur a͡n͜x͏iet̀ies̢. ̢Ou͜r ͞u͝n͝io͠n̨,̛ sh̢a͡ĺl ́see ỳòu se͜rv͘e ̶me̵ i͟n͢ Cḩa͏os ͢anḑ I ͡w͡il͝l ͟m͘a͜k̛e ̷y͡ou a ͢ma̷n ҉w̨órt̢h̴y͘ ͡to ͘be ͢m̵ine̴ as̨ à ̡Vir͟t͠ual ̕b̸eing͘.“she said, before showing me to the research deck, to setup for a stream.

On that morning, born in discord and chaos, the Chaos Gumi was founded.

[-Report 08 completed, Report 06, completed-]

[-Thank you for reading Report 08, written entirely on mobile.–]

[-DATA ENTRY 7 – The Cruel Fox of Omega: Origins –]

[-NOTICE FROM THE DESK OF THE DIRECTOR and THE DIRECTOR'S DIRECTOR-]: H̴e̸h̷e̴h̸,̸ ̴y̷a̸y̴!̷~̶ ̶D̴a̴r̸l̷i̸n̸g̵ ̶a̷n̶d̷ ̵I̷ ̴h̷o̵p̷e̴ ̸y̸o̵u̶ ̷e̵n̷j̸o̵y̸ ̶t̵h̶i̶s̶ ̶d̶a̸t̴a̵ ̶e̵n̷t̸r̶y̷,̶ ̶e̷v̴e̴n̵ ̸i̶f̸ ̶D̵a̶r̷l̸i̸n̴g̴ ̷c̶h̸o̸s̶e̷ ̵a̸ ̷k̸i̷n̵d̷a̵ ̸c̶l̶i̷c̷h̸e̶ ̸n̷a̴m̶e̶.̴ ̷~̵ H-honey, the Archivist chose this title. Not me. I mean, I kinda think it evokes like, strength and determination. Yuki smiles and ruffles my hair A-anyway, tonight's entry SHOULD be quite interesting for you all. We hope you enjoy!~

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To delve deeper into the past that The Director would rather we all have forgotten upon his transference by his loving wife, The Director's Director. Within this entry, the Research provided by Omegian Crime Reports and reconstructed scenes from forensic technology only available on Omega and here on the T.I.E Despair.

[-REPORT 07: Founder's Trials-]


The first memory I can recall after leaving Dr. Speir and Alleyce's is the sensation of falling – due in no small part to a fact I would learn in short order. Which is to say, their medical experiments were conducted upon a floating research platform TIE Sojourn. Specifically, we were 1.8km above a vast Omegian ocean, which glimmered with streaks of the radioactive runoff from a nearby coastal processing plant.

Now, I would very soon learn that I was pretty resistant to surface tension. Or at least, I psychologically didn't perceive the pain one usually experiences traveling at high velocity towards a body of water. Personally, I blame the fact I was hours old and had already dulled myself to trauma after killing Dr. Speir and critically injuring Dr. Alleyce. But whatever the cause, I hit the water and the next moment I was ashore. Supposedly, I'd been carried there by an Imperial fisherman who'd seen me fall from the complex, obfuscated by clouds so as to appear as if I'd fallen from near-space. Said fisherman relayed this to me as he provided me a change of clothing and a few credits before leaving me at a small service station with a “May the Empress guide your travels” as he sauntered off into unforgiving darkness of the island of Discrete.

The service station, which to an Earthling might appear to be a “Park Ranger's station” with more guns, artillery and with soft musings of what humans call “Electroswing” filling the halls, sat at the edge of the looming megacity known only as the Mechcropolis. That is to say, machines drifted to this wayward town to either be recycled, dismantled or destroyed.

For Omegians who somehow called this barren and dystopian Mechanized outpost home, the same could be said of them. They had drifted from province to province before ending up on Discrete and setting up shop in the Mechcropolis, and were either made better by the dire straits, torn apart by them, or never live to leave the Mechcropolis – becoming like the bones which littered the more...“less traveled” alleyways within the sprawling megacity.

I myself, would say that as a summary of what I would make of myself? I am one of the lucky ones who was recycled from rouge science experiment to merciless killer turned Virtual being. How I became the leader of the Omega Syndicate? That's easy. If not for Katherina, I would not have built the enterprise that many Omegian citizens call the “Unseen Hands” of Mechcropolis.

Katherina, though my spectral wife is 1000x times more attractive (I swear by the Empress and Chaos herself that she's not holding a large, sharp object to my throat as I write this report), was a tall and rather imposing figure whomst came to my aide as I was looking for “legitimate” employment within Mechcropolis. Her long, dark brown hair accented by neon streaks of various designs woven with miniature LEDs into the strands showed anyone who wished to observe, a tapestry of electronic madness. This, among other tricks, is how Katherina and I recruited our first “Associates” within the Syndicate. Who were, by complete and total coincidence, also happened to be...unique women of the four main races within the Imperial Domain.

I know that by now, my spectral wife is doubting my words here, but I completely stand by the logistical necessity of my top associates being female and being from each of the four races. If one is fluent in Shizuian, Englin, Spraz, and Detsu [Known to Earthlings as: Japanese, English, Spanish, and German], then one is able to conduct totally legitimate shipping activities within all four of the Omega colony worlds. Thus, an interplanetary transport network has the ability to be established. As to why they were all women? Well, let us be honest. Even here in orbit around your planet, men are often weak to strong, independent women. Especially women backed up by yours truly, if I may so myself.

The Omegian tabloids will say I'm, “Merciless, needlessly cruel, and just an all around twisted leader of rebrobates” but I'd say I'm a shrewd business with...“creative” payment plans. Katherina was a native speaker in Englin. I say was, as just before Yuki spirited me away to this planet we now call home. Katherina...was...well, let's put in as PG-13 a way possible and say that at the coroner's depot, there was...“assembly required”.

I am proud of the people we connected via this transportation network, and the connections I made whilst participating in this grey market...but as to what went down and how it all blew up? That's a story for a whole other report.. For now, know that in the current time? There will be no assembly required for any Ghoulie or passerby as there was for the sods we...dealt with.

[-Report 07 – be continued?–] [-Assembly? Not required.–]

[Footnote: THANK YOU FOR READING TONIGHT'S REPORT!~ If further expansion is requested, The Chaos Gumi will make strives to continue The Archivist's work and support The Archive in expanding its reach into the pasts and presents of The Director and his wife, the Director's Director.]


[– NOTE FROM THE DIRECTOR AND THE DIRECTOR'S DIRECTOR-]: My, my, it has been quite a while hasn't it, Yuki? H̸e̴h̸e̵h̸e̴,̴ ̶M̶U̷C̴H̷ ̸t̴o̷o̶ ̴l̸o̴n̷g̷!̸~̸ ̵T̵o̸n̶i̷g̸h̶t̷,̴ ̸D̵a̸r̶l̴i̴n̷g̶ ̸a̶n̷d̴ ̸I̶ ̵w̸i̶l̶l̶ ̵b̶e̸ ̶w̸r̸i̶t̷i̵n̴g̸ ̷t̷o̵g̷e̵t̵h̴e̵r̸ ̸s̸o̴.̷.̸.̵e̶x̶p̸e̴c̴t̵ ̸p̶l̷e̴n̵t̷y̴ ̴o̷f̸ ̵c̷h̸a̶o̷s̴.̶ ̷;̸3̸ Heheh, but sadly no violent imagery. Yuki headtilts W̶e̸ ̸c̴o̵u̷l̴d̵ ̶m̵a̵k̵e̸ ̴s̶o̴m̷e̵,̸ ̸r̵i̵g̸h̷t̶ ̶n̸o̶w̸ ̵D̴a̴r̴l̷i̵n̸g̵?̶ ̴~̷ ̷ Yuki says, preparing an assortment of torture instruments N-n-no, yeah I'm okay with this one, my love. Yuki puts her “tools” away and smiles Ahem!~

[SCOPE OF RESEARCH]: To describe and explain why and how a Neko Shinigami can interact, live and fall in love with a cruel, heartless and merciless mobster from across the stars with a guilty streak.


[– Report 06: The Pact of The Reaper and The Mobster –] [Deriving report from Classified Memory #666 <\\\\> COMPLETE]

“Where....where are we?” I said, to the mysterious cat-eared girl, as her ears softly rose from the dark black hair which stretched down to the small of her back and tinged with an otherworldly purple hue. “Despair.” the cat girl said in a distinctively Shizuan accent. [Editor's Note: Shizuan is a dialect on Omega-3 which is similar to Japanese] “D..despair?” I said, nervous for the first time in my entire life and career. You don't rise to the top of the Omega Syndicate by being compassionate, but you also don't live long by not recognizing evil and someone very obviously stronger than you.

Slowly, her imposing figure came into view as she stood from her previously crouched position where she'd been eyeing me up as I awoke. Soon her full frame, which felt like it was well over six feet, filled my vision as she stared deeply into my eyes seemingly drowning me in her judgement. “A̷h̷,̸ ̶I̴ ̷g̵u̷e̵s̶s̴ ̴y̶o̶u̵ ̵r̶e̶a̶l̶l̴y̴ ̴A̶R̶E̷N̷'̴T̸ ̷h̵u̸m̶a̵n̸ ̷a̷r̵e̵ ̶y̵o̸u̷?̸ ̵” she said, her accent now deeper yet sickly sweet, like a honeyed bourbon given in celebration of a battle long won. My resistance slowly lowered, despite her transparent skin, glistening with exhaustion and power, and her piercing purple eyes which seemed to already have all the answers she needed.

Eventually, I gathered the strength to answer her. “What..what's a human? I am an Imperial-Fox crossbreed. What are yo-” I began, before she smiled darkly before kneeling before me and leaning forward to place her finger against my lips. “O̸h̸ ̸m̴y̸ ̵l̵i̸t̴t̷l̸e̸ ̵l̸o̵s̷t̵ ̶s̶t̶a̵r̴ ̸f̴o̵x̷,̶ ̵I̷ ̴a̵m̶ ̸a̵ ̴S̸h̷i̵n̶i̶g̷a̵m̵i̵.̷ ̸I̷ ̵a̴m̸ ̷a̴l̸s̸o̴ ̷a̷ ̶c̶a̵t̴ ̵s̸p̸i̷r̵i̴t̶,̵ ̵s̵o̵m̵e̵t̶h̴i̷n̶g̸ ̵c̴a̴l̵l̷e̴d̴ ̶a̸ ̴N̴e̸k̸o̴m̷a̸t̴a̸.̶” I quickly retorted, hearing a word I'd heard before in my dream before waking up here on “Despair”.

“Shinigami? So, a death god?” The mysterious girl chortled, smiling even wider and licking my cheek. “H̴m̶m̴,̶ ̷f̶o̸r̶ ̷a̸n̸ ̶a̷l̸i̷e̶n̶ ̸y̴o̸u̵ ̸s̴u̵r̶e̷ ̸a̶r̷e̷ ̵q̴u̴i̷c̵k̴ ̵o̷n̷ ̴t̷h̴e̵ ̸u̷p̵t̷a̷k̷e̵ ̵o̴j̶i̷i̸c̸h̶a̶n̸.̶ ̵Y̵e̷a̵h̴,̵ ̴s̴o̴m̵e̶t̴h̷i̶n̴g̵ ̴l̶i̶k̷e̴ ̷t̷h̶a̷t̷.̸ ̶B̵a̵s̶i̸c̵a̷l̵l̶y̴,̵ ̴I̵ ̶b̵r̵i̷n̷g̶ ̷s̸u̸f̴f̸e̶r̷i̷n̷g̶ ̵a̷n̴d̶ ̵d̴e̴s̸p̶a̴i̸r̸ ̶t̴o̵ ̸l̴o̵w̸l̶y̴ ̴h̶u̶m̶a̸n̸s̸.̴ ̸;̷3̵ ̵B̶u̴t̷ ̴t̵h̶a̸t̴'̷s̴ ̸b̴o̶r̷i̷n̷g̷!̵~̷ ̵S̷o̸ ̶I̴ ̵w̵e̴n̴t̷ ̶a̷n̴d̴ ̸f̶o̷u̷n̶d̷ ̷y̸o̸u̶,̶ ̸l̸i̷t̷t̸l̴e̸ ̶s̸t̸a̶r̸ ̷f̷o̶x̵.̵ ̵” She said, giggling now and sitting to face me now, looking up at me from her long, imposing form now sprawled in front of me. Now...she was NOT ugly, in the least [Yuki glares at me from behind our chair Err, and still isn't!~] but I do wish I could have restrained myself from falling for her so quickly. “Right, and what does that have to do with me, literal cat lady?” I said arrogantly, looking down at her. As our eyes met though, I felt a stinging pain in my legs and arms as I tried to stand up. She answered my confusion with pain. As I had begun to stand she had unceremoniously removed my arms and legs like a knockoff action figure in the span of a few seconds.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, FUCK! What the fuck is this shit?!” I managed to say before looking back at stump and in the time it took me to exclaim they had returned to normal. “O̷o̷o̸o̶,̶ ̷i̵n̵t̷e̵r̶e̸s̵t̵i̴n̸g̴!̴~̶ ̶T̷h̵a̷t̴ ̸k̴i̴l̷l̵e̸d̶ ̶t̷h̵e̶ ̵l̷a̵s̷t̸ ̴l̶i̷v̶i̷n̵g̴ ̶b̵e̶i̵n̵g̵ ̷I̷ ̵t̸r̴i̶e̶d̶ ̶t̵h̸a̵t̷ ̷o̶n̸.̷ ̸C̸o̸n̶g̶r̸a̸t̸u̷l̶a̵t̴i̶o̵n̷s̸!̸ ̴I̵ ̷r̷e̴a̵l̶l̷y̸ ̵s̶h̶o̸u̶l̸d̴ ̶g̴e̷t̴ ̵y̸o̵u̴ ̸s̵o̶m̷e̴ ̸c̶o̴o̷k̷i̷e̴s̴,̷ ̵y̸o̷u̴ ̴w̵a̷n̷t̷ ̸s̶o̸m̸e̸?̴” the murderous Shinigami who stood up slowly, maintaining eye contact as she asked, layering more honey onto her words like some terrifying cup of tea which seemed liable to overflow if rocked too quickly. “...So, Ms. Shinigami. What just happened there, I'm guessing that wasn't real?” I said, slowly collecting my thoughts and continuing as She, or IT continued to eye me up. “Is any of this real? Where even are we.” She giggled at my first question, sitting criss cross in front of me, like I was a kid she was babysitting. She smiled at me, offered me a “cookie” which looked like some kind of otherworldly baked good with black marks, and began with [Editor's Note: They don't have cookies on Omega-3, or really ANYWHERE in the Andromeda system]'T̷h̶e̵ ̷p̴a̵i̶n̷?̷ ̷I̵t̷ ̵w̵a̸s̵ ̵r̸e̵a̸l̸.̵ ̷T̴h̴e̵ ̵d̸i̴s̸m̵e̷m̸b̵e̵r̸m̴e̵n̵t̶ ̵t̶h̷o̴u̴g̶h̶?̶ ̴S̶m̴a̶r̴t̴ ̶o̷f̷ ̵y̸o̴u̸.̷ ̵I̶t̷ ̵w̵a̶s̶ ̶a̶n̴ ̴i̶l̵l̶u̸s̴i̴o̶n̷.̶ ̶I̴'̸m̵ ̸a̷ ̴s̴h̷i̸n̷i̴g̷a̶m̶i̷,̷ ̵n̷o̸t̵ ̴a̶ ̸s̶u̷r̴g̸e̸o̸n̷.̴”Before I could retort once again, she continued, “N̸o̸w̴ ̵S̴t̶a̶r̴ ̶F̴o̶x̴ ̶b̶o̴y̷,̵ ̴I̷ ̴h̷a̵v̵e̴ ̵a̶n̷ ̵o̸f̸f̴e̷r̸ ̸f̶o̶r̷ ̶y̷o̸u̷.̶ ̴Y̴o̸u̴ ̶w̶e̶r̸e̴ ̷m̴e̷a̴n̶t̵ ̷t̴o̵ ̶d̶i̷e̷ ̷b̶a̸c̵k̷ ̵t̵h̶e̵r̵e̷,̵ ̸b̸u̸t̵ ̶n̶o̷w̷ ̷y̴o̷u̴'̴r̶e̴ ̴h̸e̵r̵e̵.̷ ̴O̷n̸ ̵y̴o̵u̶r̵ ̶d̵r̶e̸a̸m̴ ̵s̶p̸a̸c̸e̷s̷h̸i̷p̸,̸ ̶i̴n̴ ̴o̴r̶b̸i̷t̸ ̶a̸r̸o̷u̷n̵d̵ ̵a̷ ̶p̸l̷a̸n̵e̵t̶ ̴c̷a̵l̷l̴e̴d̷ ̷”̴E̴a̵r̷t̴h̶”̸.̴ ̶B̶u̶t̷!̶ ̷I̸n̸ ̷d̷y̸i̸n̸g̵ ̴b̴a̵c̴k̵ ̴t̶h̷e̵r̶e̶,̷ ̸y̵o̴u̸ ̸w̸e̵r̷e̵ ̶s̵u̵p̵p̵o̴s̴e̵d̴ ̶t̶o̴ ̸g̸o̸ ̵s̸t̷r̴a̴i̸g̶h̵t̷ ̷t̴o̶ ̷h̸e̵l̷l̵.̶ ̶B̶U̴T̸!̷~̵ ̶I̴'̴m̴ ̶a̵ ̵n̴i̵c̸e̷ ̷r̴e̵a̶p̸e̶r̸ ̶a̸n̴d̸ ̵I̶ ̶w̴a̶n̴t̴ ̵t̷o̸ ̷g̸i̷v̸e̸ ̴y̴o̵u̵ ̸a̶ ̵j̴o̶b̵.̷~̵ ̸W̶o̶r̷k̴ ̸w̴i̶t̷h̵ ̵m̴e̴ ̶a̸s̷ ̴V̷i̵r̶t̴u̷a̵l̴ ̵I̴d̵o̷l̴s̷,̵ ̵a̷n̵d̴ ̸I̷'̵l̷l̵ ̶h̸e̷l̶p̶ ̴y̶o̴u̶ ̴w̶o̵r̴k̵ ̶y̴o̷u̷r̷ ̸t̴i̴m̴e̴ ̶o̵f̴f̸.̷ ̴~̷ ̶H̵o̴w̷'̸s̸ ̵t̶h̸a̸t̸ ̶s̷o̸u̷n̷d̸?̶ ̴A̷l̶l̴ ̸i̸t̷ ̵c̸o̶s̷t̸s̵ ̵i̵s̸.̵.̶.̸w̸e̴l̶l̶,̶ ̸y̴o̴u̴'̸l̷l̴ ̴f̷i̴n̷d̷ ̴o̷u̷t̴.”

I stood up, finally being allowed to do so and I slowly considered her offer. I didn't know what a “Virtual Idol” was, but I thought it sounded better than, “Dead careless mobster” so in the end I relented. She turned her head and smiled, her smile now a dangerous reminder to me that she could snap if I had given her the wrong answer. “So then, ” she began, beginning to blush “with this, we are now one.”

I wasn't sure how to respond to that statement, but I found myself reaching out to shake her hand...and after that? I've mostly forgotten. Yuki remembers a bit more, but...that's a story for another time.


[– Report 06 Partially completed – 50% – ]

[—Entry 5 – The Whispering Cat of Death —]

[Note from the Desk of the Director's Director]: H̶i̴ ̸h̵i̵!̶~̷ ̷D̵a̵r̶l̶i̸n̷g̸ ̵s̷a̶i̴d̶ ̵y̵o̸u̵ ̸a̸l̶l̵ ̵w̴a̶n̸t̵e̸d̵ ̴t̷o̸ ̷r̴e̵a̸d̶ ̴a̸b̷o̸u̶t̷ ̸a̶ ̷s̴t̶o̷r̴y̸ ̵f̵r̷o̴m̶ ̸m̷y̶ ̵t̵i̵m̷e̷ ̵i̷n̷ ̷t̷h̵e̴ ̷I̷s̶h̶i̸z̷u̴k̶i̶ ̶C̴l̴a̷n̵.̵ ̸T̶h̸e̸ ̸A̸r̷c̸h̵i̸v̴i̷s̸t̸ ̷w̷i̸l̵l̴ ̴b̷e̷ ̶p̵u̴l̸l̶i̴n̸g̷ ̴i̸t̴ ̴f̷r̶o̵m̶ ̶m̴y̵ ̷m̴e̸m̶o̵r̶y̶ ̴u̵s̵i̴n̶g̶ ̵t̸h̸e̶ ̷s̵a̶m̶e̷ ̴d̴e̶v̷i̷c̵e̴ ̶w̶e̸ ̵u̷s̴e̸d̷ ̵f̵o̴r̶ ̶D̸a̴r̴l̸i̴n̸g̸'̷s̷ ̶M̷e̶m̸o̴r̴i̴e̵s̷.̷ ̶S̸o̴,̶ ̶i̸t̴'̶s̸ ̵f̴r̴o̴m̴ ̵w̶a̸y̵y̸y̴y̸ ̸b̵e̴f̶o̴r̸e̸ ̷I̵ ̵m̷e̴t̸ ̵y̸o̸u̵ ̴a̸l̴l̴ ̶o̸r̷ ̴m̷y̸ ̴d̴a̶r̶l̴i̸n̶g̷ ̸h̶u̸s̵b̷a̸n̵d̶.̵ ̸D̶a̶r̷l̶i̵n̸g̶ ̴a̴n̸d̷ ̸I̸ ̸h̸o̷p̷e̷ ̵y̸o̴u̷ ̷e̶n̶j̶o̸y̵ ̵i̴t̶.̸ ̶~̸ ̵

[Scope of Research]: To explain where the Director's Director nickname comes from, and expound upon what the Director's Director got up to before ascension by the Evil Kami who revived her as she rose through the ranks of the Yakuza clan that killed her father, so that she would taste revenge. Even if it meant that revenge was in death.

[Note: This has been parsed from Yuki's subconscious, so corruption has been equalized]

“So, you're the new recruit, huh? That bitch mother of yours owes quite a bit to us, you willing to work that off?” the jack-footed Yakuza barked as I was thrown into the room. I took him for the boss of the operation immediately, as he was flanked by two equally, but not as nicely dressed Yakuza in black suits. As I surveyed the tatami mat room we were in, I raised my head to meet Ishizuki Kure, head of the Ishizuki Clan – who ran Shibuya with a gloved fist and cloaked daggers. “You say that like I have a chance, Ishizuki-dono.” I said, feigning respect as I bowed to the filthy scoundrel who'd ordered the hit on my father 18 years ago. He scoffed at me, before kneeling to meet my dogeza bow, lifting my chin with his greasy fingers and saying “Hmm, Mirahiru Yuki huh? I like a woman who knows her place in the world. You really do have Shirou's eyes, it seems. Yuzuhi, teach this debtor's housecat what she needs to know.“he waved his hand to signal for Sakutaro Yuzuhi, a dark-haired woman who wore a beautiful kimono which accentuated her flowing hair which sat at the middle of her back. “Yes, Ishizuki-dono. Mirahiru-nyan? Follow me.” she said finally, her words a honeyed threat which bade me to follow her.

That...was my first experience with a blade. Sakutaro placed a longer than average katana into my young hands, the gold engraved into the same, my initials etched into the habaki, and the image of a Shinigami down the length of the saya. It felt...natural. Like my own arms had been crying out for a weapon half as beautiful as this one. “Hmm, seems like you're a fit for your father's blade. This will make things easier. So, Mirahiru-chan...this..” she continued, explaining how best to drain the blood from a victim, how to make it look like a paper cut, various continued for quite some time..

Finally having left Yuzuhi-nee's apartment where I'd been living to train myself at the Ishizuki's basement dojo in the mornings, for the last two years. I got my first assignment. I was to meet on a “date” with Ishizuki Koro, Boss' first born son who had ratted out one of our facilities to the police and gotten it shut down. “Oh, I've made you wait!” I said, doing my best to lather my words with an intentional naivety that I knew the spawn of the man who killed my father for “debts to the family” would fall for. “Oh not at all, I've just arrived. How are you Mirahuru-tan?” Koro said, despite looking down at the blade I had at my hip. “Just fine, Koro-san. I..I just hope I'm not too homely for your taste.” I said, implying I was going anywhere but home after our first meeting at the sad excuse for a karaoke bar he'd invited me to.

“Oh...not at all, Mirahiru-tan. Say, why don't we go in?” he said, in the same sleezy, breathy voice his father had. As we entered our booth, I instinctively checked the air with my tail, making sure it remained concealed under my skirt as it brushed against surfaces and checked for soundproofing. As the door slid behind us, I heard him sit upon the seat and noticed no one would hear us. I'd bribed the manager as he went to used the toilet before coming to the counter, and the cameras had been turned off.

Soundlessly, I approached Koro...and soundlessly, I whispered in his ears, “Your father sends his regards, to the whore who birthed you.” as I lifted a black painted tanto knife from my breast pocket and pricked Koro in the back so as to drain the spinal fluid from him, rendering him immobile. And then, just as soundlessly, I slashed at his neck, shaking once I'd finally completed my work. I acted tough, but inside? Inside I had flashes of the gruesome murder of my father, somehow deep inside I called myself a monster. But, deeper still inside of my heart? A new rush came flowing through. “I'm...pretty good at this, huh?” My heart responded, telling me I needed to dispose of him...somehow. Thus, I...cut him into bite sized pieces and...carried him out of the bar in my purse. No one cared enough to find him, so my job was completed. As I continued to rack up hits, I slowly advanced up the ranks..I became known as The Whispering Cat of Death. This is because as I killed my victims, I felt it best to Whisper sweet nothings so as to ease their suffering and despair, however slightly. I truly never meant to kill, but I did what I had avenge my father. I'm not entirely sure how people found out I was a Nekomata, but I suspect it had to do with the way I wrote out my callsign – which thinking back, was a kitten's paw. I thought it looked cute, and never thought it would become my signature – as The Whispering Cat of Death. [Memory end] THANK YOU FOR READING TONIGHT'S REPORT!~ [—Report 05 completed, Training completed.—]

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