‘For me, it’s just … the more I got used to their presence, the more I realized that I … looked forward to it. Organizing a joint effort between two departments is Hell enough, but … the more I got used to them, the more they got involved, it just … one day I just realized that I wouldn’t … mind calling one of them my, um … own.’

The Major squeaks the last word, covering his reddened visage with his two hands.

Wow.

‘Hell of a build up to a revelation,’ he practically spits out. ‘Anticlimactic and out of left field.’

>‘That’s not just your decision to make, though.’ (Placate)
>‘Probably.’ (Agree with him)
>‘Well, you’re probably not alone if that’s any consolation.’ (Nonchalant)
>‘So, any single one caught your eye in particular?’ (Pry a little more)
>Keep silence
>Leave
>Get up and talk to others
>Write-In

>>3029304
>>Keep silence

>>3029378
Was going to call it. Just saw the vote. Give me a sec.

File: partyyyyyy.jpg (14 KB, 160x160)

14 KB JPG

You don’t say a word. You don’t think he’d appreciate anything you had to say, anyway. It was … oddly relieving to see that The Major, who you had seen as a uniform incarnate, actually falling to the depths of—by the definition of the public overlooking your preferences—perverse depravity in this position. It wasn’t particularly taboo, of course, just … quite unhealthy, as they’d say. For many in the public, KanMusu were closer to inanimate objects and tools than anything resembling a prospective soulmate … but even if it wasn’t quite the breath of fresh air you’d hoped, the vindication that you were able to drag up seeing someone adjusted (The Vice-Admiral didn’t count), was … well, invigorating. Slight, yes, but invigorating nonetheless.

Neither of you talk to one another much after that.

The both of you finish your food up, washing the meat down with a few generously-offered beers. You stop yourself halfway through the second bottle, unwilling to risk another unproductive morning. Weekend it might be, but with due consideration to the fact that the last time that you were—and there was no other word for it—shitfaced, you highly doubt there would be an appreciative set of souls awaiting an intoxicated (provisional) Vice-Admiral to manage in the morning.

Besides, you had shit to do.

A grunt and a light handshake later, you find your company departed … and you alone again, in your spot. Around you, the half-bare bodies of the Army folk shuffle and laugh, immune to the cold.

Good for them.

‘I wonder if I should get a move on,’ you wonder to yourself.

It wasn’t quite late …

But with the tension from this afternoon, you’re not quite sure if you wanted to risk getting jumped.

>Look for the Vice-Admiral
>Look for Loudmouth
>Look for the Sergeant
>Mingle with the other soldiers
>Return
>Write-In

>>3029465
>>Return

>>3029465
>Return

File: Sarge2.jpg (85 KB, 500x750)

85 KB JPG

You shuffle your feet up the stairs, looking back at the columns of flame and the bodies around them. With or without you, war or no war and weekend still young, the soldiers didn’t have any care save for the rotation of burning lamb. Considering the events that had transpired over the last two months, you couldn’t hold it against them for wanting to get wild, even in the middle of a war. The chill of the night comes upon you again as you turn your back to the rowdy party-goers, intent on returning to the warm embrace of the barracks, hard mattress and all. Foot by foot, step by step, you make your way to the top and onto the street, me—

‘Commander!’

You frown, turning your head to the foot of the stairs.

It was The Sergeant, dressed in the same manner that you had seen her before. Bikini top, bikini bottom … and a thick army set on top to keep her from

‘Didn’t know you were around,’ she starts, taking a few strides up the uneven stone steps.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, grimacing as a particularly sharp chill hits you in the side. It’s amazing that she could manage not to look the slightest bit bothered; it truly is. You shake your head, trying to somehow warm your ears up without pulling your fingers out from your pockets.

Nothing doing, of course.

‘Hope I wasn’t too much of a downer,’ you joke, unable to think up of anything more witty. ‘Good party, shame I can’t, uh … stay. Vice-Admiral tossed me an invite, but tomorrow’s looking to be a little hectic so I, sorry to dine and dash, but, uh … I’m thinking of calling it an early night.’

She nods in understanding … before closing the distance until you’re barely the skin of your nose away from her.

‘Before you go, do you mind if we talk … in private?’

>‘Sure.’ (Agree)
>‘Can it wait for tomorrow?’ (Delay)
>Write-In

>>3029514
>sure

>>3029514
>>‘Sure.’ (Agree)

>>3029514
>>‘Sure.’ (Agree)

>>3029514
>>‘Sure.’ (Agree)

Resuming at 8 PM my time.

Couldn't do it last time. Doing it this morning. 10 AM. That's one hour and 30 minutes.

>>3030737
aight

File: Sergeant 7.jpg (138 KB, 850x1133)

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When you’d agreed to one last chat before you upped and left for the comfy confines of your barracks, you’d thought that it’d be just that: a quick chat. What you didn’t expect was for the Sergeant’s gesture for you to follow her back into the foray of over-aged fraternity applicants in what you can only fathom was her own definition of a veil of privacy … and towards the tents. Approaching the nylon structures, a sort of strange unease comes over you; the wild howls of the soldiers behind you beginning to fade away … and a new, dull series of what you can only conclude to be muffled cries of strangled sheep reaching your frozen ears. Pairs of men and women march out of the tents, some of them wearing sly look, others teetering between inebriation and lucidity … and not caring for either.

Perhaps it’s just you, but seeing the men giving you smirks and shaking their heads as they walk past you with their partners clinging to their arms or taking some extra strides ahead, you wonder if there was some joke that you weren’t quite in on … and should be.

And perhaps you should have been more aware of your surroundings, because it’s not until a gesture into one of the cramped quarters and the droplets of deduction swirling into a conclusion that you realize just what those moans meant … and that of all the places that you’d rather have a private chat, you were stuck between a mess of very, very active young men and women playing sorority house dice rolls. As the Sergeant zips the flap up and takes her cap off, you find it a good time as any to voice your … misgivings.

The sound of slapping bodies and wet moans was, well, not what you would call ideal ambiance for chat, no matter how much privacy she wanted.

Especially not with the disturbing colloquialisms of the tent next to yours, up to your back.

The scent of the arrangement of blankets on the floor weren’t ideal, either.

‘Wait.’

‘What?’

Now was as good a time as any, you suppose, to voice your displeasure with the situation, despite your agreement.

Kasumi would probably call you a hypocrite right about now.

‘I know that you wanted to talk, but is there a reason that it has to be in the middle of a partitioned orgy, Sergeant?’

She nods, crossing her legs and kicking the mess of blankets off to one side.

‘People are less likely to listen in on—wait,’ she cuts herself off, wrinkling her nose as she turned narrowed her eyes at you. ‘Why is your first assumption that I wanted to have a private chat with you … that you thought that I actually just wanted to have a private chat with you?’

You frown. That was … quite an accusatory tone she’d taken.

>‘Because you told me you just wanted to talk?’ (DUH)
>‘You’re not?’ (Confused)
>‘If you aren’t, I really need to get going.’ (Impatient)
>‘I’m flattered, but … no.’
>Write-In

>>3031064
>>Write-In
>Sergeant, im not exactly a lady killer here, so excuse me for my first thought not being im about to have sex with a woman out of my league

>>3031064
also Mech how goes the Kulve Taroth farming?

>>3031083
This

>>3031083
+1

File: Sarge 8.jpg (72 KB, 317x731)

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‘You know,’ you start, cocking an eyebrow and crossing your arms, ‘I’d like to actually follow that up with a viable comment, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of gears are clicking there’—you make a slightly off gesture to her person—‘that you’d think that I’d work on a tangent assuming that an attractive woman pulled me away on spoken terms would be anything but. So if that suffices … that’s why.’

She eyes you oddly.

‘What?’

You raise a hand.

‘I’ll make it simple: do I look like I’d misinterpret a blunt statement to suit an uncontrolled sex drive?’

The Sergeant crosses her arms, grimacing … and nodding.

‘I’m inclined to agree to that, but the way you put it is making me seem like a total downer.’

‘No, ma’am,’ you muse, rubbing your chin for some heat. ‘I just don’t take things for more than they are unless I have reason to believe otherwise.’

She stares at you, as if incredulous. It’s quite true, though. Considering the missteps you’d made on missed assumptions and misreading data, you’d learned not to jump feet first. Learned, of course, being the keyword. With how much ire Nagato and Takao and Houshou and Kaga had thrown you over your decision-making biases, getting that experience to a point where a shift in behavior was finally built was more of a God-send than a development of environmental make … and to put it to use was to honor all those missteps. You saw no reason for the Sergeant to be sly with her intentions here.

After all, she wasn’t a KanMusu, she was human … and as a human, you kind of suspected her designated strike-zone didn’t include formerly overweight cooks thrust into the trial of war. Brotherhood was one thing; attraction, another. You’d been around humans enough to know the vast majority didn’t have an adherence aligned to yours. Getting ahead of yourself wasn’t something that you wanted carved into a behavioral matrix.

Huh.

Maybe Nagato and the others were rubbing off on you a little more than you’d thought.

‘Damn,’ your companion sounds, her shoulders shaking as her voice takes a playfully aristocratic quality. ‘Why, Commander, I didn’t know that you could communicate such bounds of charm and elegance.’

‘Sergeant,’ you state warily, hoping to bring her back to the topic at hand. You didn’t want to stay here any longer than you had to … and the first half-strand was already being stretched. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

Her expression returns to its typical arrangement.

‘It’s about Haszad.’

You shift uneasily.

‘Politics again?’

‘If you want to call it that,’ she answers curtly, continuing, ‘I just received Intel that there might be a Haszad agent that's slipped into my platoon.’

>>3031271
>'Might? That sounds a little unreliable.' (Skeptical)
>'Why would they have an agent around? I thought they'd hammered a treaty out?' (Delve)
>'Any ideas who it might be?' (Paranoid)
>'Why're you choosing to tell me this?' (Question)
>'I'll keep an eye out, then. Thanks.' (Dismissive, Leave)
>Write-In

>>3031275
>>'Why would they have an agent around? I thought they'd hammered a treaty out?' (Delve)

>>3031275
>>'Might? That sounds a little unreliable.' (Skeptical)

>>3031275
>>'Why're you choosing to tell me this?' (Question)

>>3031275
>'Why would they have an agent around? I thought they'd hammered a treaty out?' (Delve)

File: You OK.jpg (104 KB, 447x596)

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‘Why would they have an agent around?’ you question, the first thought that comes to your mind immediately forming into words. ‘From what I know, they have a treaty all but hammered down on their own terms. Having someone around to do spying on their behalf feels redundant if you ask me: The Congregation of Lords’s already sitting down with them. What’s the motivation behind that?’

‘I’d chalk it down to paranoia,’ The Sergeant scoffs, playing with the buttons on her half-open top. ‘But Haszad didn’t get where it is today by playing a safe hand. I don’t know what they’re trying to do with this, but if they are … it’ll probably have something to do with The Admiralty’s operations here. You’re essentially the most active base left of the three sites … so it makes sense that if they’re going to do some scouting on the sly, it’d be here.’

‘Still doesn’t make sense for an agent to infiltrate a military attachment,’ you state, wrinkling your nose … and trying to ignore the howls of pleasure from the tent behind you. ‘It’s not as if The Admiralty’s playing choosy beggar right now; if they were trying to get anything, they could just send someone in through the front door and just say they’re some sort of inspector with actual diplomatic authority. This seems like a total waste of time, right? Speaking from a neutral perspective here, it’s just … wasteful.’

The Sergeant only stares at you.

‘That’s some very … broad criticism.’

You shrug. ‘It’s not as if there’s a lot on this base that’s not already on a record that they can push for the Congregation to convince the Court to divulge. It’s a pretty … redundant move. It’s like stopping to cheat in a race when you’re five inches from the finish line and the others just got off the blocks.’

‘I think you’re being a little too harsh there.’

‘My military experience consists of hospital stays and barking orders at beings with decades of battle wired into their blood,’ you snort out. ‘If a peon like me can point that out, there’s someone in the Senate that has a reefer underneath their work desk for signing off.’

Except, of course, unless the Haszad Senate already suspected that something was already ongoing under a jurisdiction that wasn’t within operating scope.

The events leading to your occupant taking tenancy come to mind.

Very much so, in fact.

You pause. No, it wasn’t a wasted move. It was a move that they’d made on the experience of your own venture into their affairs. Your actions had more than lit up a warning beacon … it had made the Admiralty an entity they wouldn’t take as lightly as to let someone like you slip by and confound them again.

You’re unsure whether to be terrified at the prospect that you were accessory to escalation in espionage … or to write a book.

‘You all right?’

‘Huh?’ You raise your head. ‘I’m fine. Sorry.’

>>3031380
>‘So you tell me this, but … are you going to do anything about it?’ (Question)
>‘Sometimes I wonder just who the real enemy is.’ (Sarcasm)
>‘How reliable is this intel?’ (Dig)
>‘Sorry, just … feeling a little uncomfortable having this talk with orgasms happening all around us.’ (Dry)
>‘I’ll keep your warning in mind … thanks.’ (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3031380
>>‘So you tell me this, but … are you going to do anything about it?’ (Question)

>>3031384
>>‘How reliable is this intel?’ (Dig)

>>3031384
>>‘So you tell me this, but … are you going to do anything about it?’ (Question)

>>3031384
>‘How reliable is this intel?’ (Dig)

File: Sergeant 5.png (428 KB, 565x558)

428 KB PNG

‘So, you tell me this … but if there’s someone in your battalion, I’m not going to be able to do anything about it anyway,’ you say, catching onto the thread … or you hoped was, anyway. ‘That leaves you and any of your higher-ups with a foot in this mess to sort it out, so what do you want me to do … and what are you going to do about it?’

‘Believe it or not, the Army doesn’t like its operations compromised, even by perpendicular means,’ she states, looking up. ‘There’s no reason not to believe that the possibility’s just a suspicion, either, but I don’t think it’d be good form not to tell you, seeing as you’re more than likely the objective of an intelligence agent on the probability that there’s already one present.’

‘So why not tell The Vice-Admiral? He’d probably be able to do a lot more about this than me.’

She chortles. ‘Actually, I was hoping that you’d be the one to do that; I know you better than your … Vice-Admiral or Admiral, after all.’

You tilt your head slightly. That was a good point.

‘I’ll take it to heart,’ you reply, nodding, if only by a string of reluctance, ‘but you haven’t answered my question on what you’re going to do about this. If someone’s compromised, then—’

‘Then it’s something that the Officers will have to sort out,’ she declares sternly. You elect not to cross that boundary … at least not yet. ‘Consider this a professional courtesy. Better on my conscience to tell someone on the butt end of an incursion that they are then keeping quiet about it.’

You nod.

Looks like if nothing else … her respect for your station was at least genuine.

‘Would it be a professional courtesy for me to not remember that this conversation happened, too?’ you question slyly, winking with your good eye.

Her smile is more than enough as a reply.

You take it.

>‘Shall we get going?’ (Leave)
>‘The whole unit’s informed, then?’ (Question further)
>‘Is the Major aware of the … well, everything?’ (Ask about his involvement)
>‘So did they …’ (Spot the thread, roll a 1d6 each)
>Write-In

*Correction: it should be Battalion, not Platoon. I messed up.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>3031503
>>‘So did they …’ (Spot the thread, roll a 1d6 each)
im feelin ballsy today

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>3031503
>‘So did they …’ (Spot the thread, roll a 1d6 each)

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>3031503
>‘So did they …’ (Spot the thread, roll a 1d6 each)

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>3031503
>>‘So did they …’ (Spot the thread, roll a 1d6 each)

Just reminding you guys. Restart at 8 PM my time. Which means about 8.30 if you want to come in and vote.

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>3031503
>‘So did they …’ (Spot the thread, roll a 1d6 each)

Sorry, wasn't around. Will be running as promised tomorrow.

>>3032392
our tomorrow or your tomorrow?

Session will be running as usual. 10 AM is when I start writing. 10.30 AM for the prompt.

>>3032877
aight

File: Sergeant 10.jpg (330 KB, 636x900)

330 KB JPG

However, that doesn’t mean that it’s all you’re able to take.

Her explanation is consistent, her composure unwavering … but that’s precisely what has you looking this particular gift horse in the mouth. Two months of shadowplay was enough to change a man’s second and third glances into the seemingly innocuous, and by good or bad luck, the Sergeant’s precision had given away more than she had intended to communicate. You weren’t one to question her motives, nor her stance … but you have to wonder how she expected you to believe that that measure of information was, for all intents and purposes, one that she thought would slip by without you noticing the subterfuge to pay-grade ratio.

It was unlikely that she was lying about the information.

It was very probable, however, that a Sergeant’s basic access to information didn’t entail what amounted to another nation’s attempt at subterfuge, second-hand or no.

‘So, did …’

You trail off, biting your lip.

The Sergeant raises her head.

‘Yes?’

Maybe it was the fact that one of the times you’d opened your big mouth and overplayed your hand, you’d gotten three men shot and put yourself in the MASH. Maybe it was the fact that you’d learned when to shut up and when to talk in your loyalties to your Division and to The Admiralty. Maybe it was that you had the continual reminder to play it safe over blurting out declarations like some syndicate cartoon’s hero. Whatever it was, right now—

‘Commander?’

You’re unsure.

>Confront her with your suspicions
>Leave it at that
>Write-In

>>3033124
>>Confront her with your suspicions
im feelin ballsy again
also forgot to turn on auto update again

>>3033124
>Leave it at that
A girl should have some secrets afterall

>>3033124
>Confront her with your suspicions

Having some issues with Libre. It's capitalizing random words and I'm having a doozy of a time rewriting some parts.

Parts which are auto-capitalizing as well.

File: Q for a Q.jpg (15 KB, 236x275)

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You can’t help it.

Maybe you hadn’t quite learned your lesson yet … or that previous experiences hadn’t bumped onto your noggin enough to make those experiences stick. Maybe it’s even the fact that you couldn’t help but pry. You’d been surrounded by gossipy hens during your tenure as wanderer of kitchens enough that some of it may have rubbed off … or maybe you were more disarmed by the presence of a pretty woman than you’d thought, even with previous experience.

But you couldn’t help it.

‘I don’t mean to be rude, but,’ you pause, trying to gather your words proper. You really didn’t want to be rude; she’d been more than helpful, even if she wasn’t being entirely transparent. ‘I really don’t want to be rude, Sergeant, soldier to soldier, as presumptuous and arrogant as it sounds … but I’m having a hard time believing that you just came by this and just willing to give it to me for free.’

Her face becomes, predictably, icy at your words.

You don’t blame her.

‘Whether you trust it or not, that’s your grain of salt, Commander.’

‘Oh no,’ you reassure her, adjusting your eyepatch and shifting yourself in your seat. ‘I do, Sergeant, it’s just … well, it’s not about the reliability of what you’ve told me; you’ve left enough room to wiggle for me to weigh it in for myself. You wouldn’t be putting it in my hands if you didn’t trust me enough to operate on it by my own judgment in the first place. It’d be easier for you to plant it right over than doing all this, after all.’

Apprehension turns into confusion.

Maybe you needed to dial it down a little bit more.

You confound that college education of yours. You should have never taken up economics as an elective.

‘I’m just finding it hard to believe that a Sergeant would have access to this kind of information,’ you declare, lowering your voice and scooting closer to her, furrowing your brows. ‘Reliable or not, it’s operating on the premise that you’re somehow privy … and I know it’s rude to bring up, but there’s no way that kind of intel’s that convenient to impart, and definitely not to me.’

She stares at you, seemingly incredulous.

‘I’d ask how you’d got ahold of that information,’ you continue, trying to sound as level as you could manage, ‘but I think that’ll only get more questions up, so I’m going to skip that and get to what I really want to know … is who you really are.’

‘Not mincing words, Commander?’

‘I just don’t want to be rude,’ you clarify. Heaven and Earth, you really didn’t want to be.

She giggles unnaturally. ‘Fine, then … a question for a question?’

>‘You first.’ (Nonchalant)
>‘All right.’ (Agree)
>‘I think I’m fine leaving it at this for now.’ (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3033240
>>‘All right.’ (Agree)
hey now, Economic courses can help one learn good money habits

>>3033240
>>‘All right.’ (Agree)

>>3033248
Oh boy. I really wasn't expecting this.

A question for a question?

It seemed fair. She’d relayed some good intel your way out of the—and you stretch the term, but that doesn’t mean it’s untrue—kindness of her heart … so it was only right that you give a little back after receiving something in advance. You’re unsure of your preparedness for this situation, now … and you find the lid of your covered eye feeling a little bit itchy at the prospect of anything sensitive bouncing off your tongue too late to rectify. At the same time, however, what you didn’t want to do was alienate probably one of the few good acquaintances that you’d made in the last several years of life. Professional or personal, under that fox-like demeanor was what you believed to be a good person.

What the reality would be, however, would be decided with the next few sentences.

Ones that you had to make count.

‘All right.’

She nods, picking up her crumple of clothes and tossing them to one side. For a few moments, all that you can hear is the violent rustle of lovemaking from your neighbors. Your prosthetic fingers and your flesh and blood digits meet, hesitation and anticipation taking over in a two horse race for dictating terms on your emotions.

Did she know about Haszad? Did she want to know about what happened there?

Was this about the on-going spy games within Yokosuka?

What did she want to as—

‘What was it like for you before all this?’

She gestures to your eyepatch, your arm.

You hadn’t anticipated that either.

>‘I liked having a working limb and an eye that didn’t give me headaches and mono-color.’ (Joke)
>‘I don’t get what you’re asking.’ (Ask for clarification)
>‘Huh?’ (Huh)
>‘Before I joined the Admiralty? I thought you had enough of a read on me.’ (Sly dig)
>‘It’s not something I like talking about, but …’ (Reluctant, divulge)
>‘Flipping burgers and frying fish. What’s there to tell?’ (Nonchalant)
>Write-In

>>3033327
>‘I liked having a working limb and an eye that didn’t give me headaches and mono-color.’ (Joke)
>‘It’s not something I like talking about, but …’ (Reluctant, divulge)
Joking seems to be our way of handling difficult and stressful situations which I'm okay with.

>>3033327
>>‘It’s not something I like talking about, but …’ (Reluctant, divulge)
being stuck in a never ending rut of a dull life aint much of a life
the longer you're in that rut, the harder it is to leave it

>>3033332
single choice only m8
thats the way we roll here

>>3033327
>>‘It’s not something I like talking about, but …’ (Reluctant, divulge)

>>3033327
>>‘Flipping burgers and frying fish. What’s there to tell?’ (Nonchalant)

File: Sergeant Again.jpg (134 KB, 850x1081)

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You find yourself mimicking her previous apprehension.

Why did people keep trying to bring your past up? Everyone seemed to want to pry into who you were before.

No one cared to know who you were until you donned the uniform. Now everyone had an eye over the fence to who you were behind it, or, as she eloquently put it, before the eyepatch, before the prosthetic exoskeleton … and before the KanMusu. To put it short, at this point, you were—you are—tired of the inquiries. Tired of having to answer the same old question with an answer that you just wanted nothing to do with … no matter how strongly it had leeched to your identity.

That you were nobody.

‘It’s not something I like to talk about,’ you confess, growing more agitated by the moment. Not so much from the confession … more from the fact that the moans of pleasure were getting louder around you in the last few minutes. She really had to pick this spot of all places, didn’t she? ‘Dropped out of college, couldn’t hold down anything decent, drifted from one place to another, working for rent and coming home to an empty apartment with posters of cartoons and waking up to a job that I should like but found myself hating doing with every passing day. The package of urban living, right there.’

She smiles slightly; a sort of non-verbal pseudo-apology.

Either that or the alcohol was finally getting to your system.

‘Part of life’s realizing that every single waking moment is a possible disappointment,’ you continue, despite yourself. ‘I guess it just hit me one day that I didn’t want it to be that way anymore. Can’t say when, but it was probably before I took a bus ticket for the recruitment drive. I don’t miss that life. I don’t want to be associated with it anymore than an Abyssal wants to be at the end of Nagato’s barrels.’

That was a nice thought.

‘A harsh assessment,’ she comments.

You snort.

‘You sound like Kaga,’ you blurt out, without thinking. It’s a good thing she wasn’t here to—

Oh.

You’d forgotten about that.

‘Kaga?’

‘Never mind.’

Neither of your say a word. Your good eye trains down to your crossed legs. You don’t bother to see where she looks, either. If you were honest, you didn’t care. There was a little bit of … irritation that was building up now; it was hard to let it all out on a good day and in an effort to not be rude, you’d pretty much succeeded the most in drudging up aspects of emotion you’d just rather not have at present.

You didn’t like what you were.

You’re scared it’s still what you are.

‘I apologize if it was … a little over the line,’ she suddenly sounds out. ‘It’s just … I always found it a little strange about what allowed you to make the criteria for Commander. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could correlate. I’m sorry.’

You sigh, shaking your head and raising a hand. Apology accepted.

‘Data only tells you so much,’ she continues. ‘I’m glad that there’s at least a perspective behind that.’

Now she sounded like a nicer Yuubari.

You could honestly laugh at the thought. You almost do, in fact.

‘So, in essence, you … left nothing behind.’

>‘I wouldn’t say that.’ (Defend)
>‘I guess, yeah.’ (Concede)
>‘I think it’s your turn to answer my question.’ (Counter)
>‘We’re done here.’ (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3033391
>>‘I guess, yeah.’ (Concede)

Running in an hour or two.

>>3033391
>>‘I guess, yeah.’ (Concede)

Sorry. Had to go and pick up my brother's nebulizer from the clinic and drive all the way to the house last night. I'll be running like usual in 2 hours to make up for last night's non-attendance.

>>3034315
aight

File: Sergeant 3.jpg (77 KB, 510x496)

77 KB JPG

No.

You didn’t.

‘I guess, yeah,’ you answer quietly.

Not much enters your thoughts or exits your mouth for a while. Angst was a stretch of a label to put on your silence, but there’s little energy that you had left to debate the point with your current companion. She was little more than an acquaintance, for all intents and purposes, which … no, that only made your current predicament that little bit more awkward. Courteous your actions may have been (at least to you), but remembering who and what you once were, the depths of just mediocrity you’d resigned yourself to … it wasn’t something that you wanted to go back to, at all. Passing conversation aside, contemplating the past was something that you really wished was a lesson that you loathed to repeat.

You had enough of that from an insistent glutton of a heretic that you called a Master.

‘Not … what I was expecting.’

You look up to see the wry expression of the Sergeant, somehow—more than likely, really—looking unimpressed with your brief assessment. You don’t blame her; you’d be sporting it too if you had to deal with the baggage pile of garbage you’d poured out.

‘Don’t know why you chose to ask that of all things,’ you point out, sighing. ‘You going to strap it to a folder or something? Pen and paper works; I can write it up for you if you want it in full.’

She wears a half-smile, a little apologetic from where you’re sitting.

‘No, it’s just … I guess I was a little curious about who we’ve put all the eggs in the basket for,’ she confesses, looking up a little bit more. ‘But I guess you kind of want an answer from me now.’

You nod.

‘I am a Sergeant of the Imperial Army,’ she accentuates, nodding, ‘and when I told you I worked myself up through the ranks on paper, I wasn’t lying, either.’

She pauses. That last part sounded like how she looked.

You nod again.

‘I’m part of an Internal Affairs investigation unit,’ the Sergeant reveals. ‘The whole reason I made Sergeant so quickly was because I, uh … excelled in investigative and bureaucratic areas and … management.’

She says the last word with a strange, annoyed tone. You could probably even stick “disgusted” on there.

‘I was elected to my post for excelling in a sideways element than isn’t representative of traditional demands,’ she states formally, as if reading off a sheet. ‘That meant that occasionally, I get … intel that even some higher-ups aren’t aware of. They told me to be extra careful and I … I thought you could use the reminder too, since chances are, they’d probably be here more for your sake than mine. Didn’t want you going around just trusting everyone willy-nilly.’

You frown.

‘I know to be careful.’

She stares at you, unimpressed … and points to herself.

‘Fine, fine.’

>>3034665
>'In my defense, I'm still careful what I give out.'
>'That's a little weird, isn't it? How do you get promoted to Sergeant with that kind of, uh, qualification?'
>'How do I recognize the, uh, agent?'
>'Your turn. You have a question?'
>End the conversation
>Write-In

>>3034669
>>'How do I recognize the, uh, agent?'

>>3034669
>'How do I recognize the, uh, agent?'

File: Sarge.png (1.08 MB, 692x1000)

1.08 MB PNG

It’s a stupid question, but …

‘Anything that you can actually give me other than a warning?’ you ask, leaning in … and trying your best to not be distracted by what was most definitely the sound of two men going at it in another nearby tent. Those growls were loud. ‘Anything that can help me pin-point who the intelligence agent is?’

‘I can’t do anything more than a background check, I’m afraid,’ she sighs, running her hands up and down her bare shoulders. ‘I’d say to look into things like facial profiles that are out of the norm, but if Haszad did send someone, they’d be able to camouflage that side, too. I’m more afraid of the possibility that the agent’s one of our own … someone on the payroll. I can stomach spies, but if there’s an actual turncoat that got bought out, that’s …’

She doesn’t finish her words.

For some reason or other, that prospect really didn’t appeal to her, especially compared with the other possibility.

‘There’s also the chance that there isn’t a’—you wince as you hear a loud grunt, comparable to a bear’s growl, accompanies what you can only equate to a dog’s joyous howl—‘an agent around, right? You said it yourself; the assumption’s based on probability … and considering what the political climate’s like’—another loud grunt, followed by a very masculine voice pleading for more, hits your ears—‘I don’t think that they’ll risk the talks between Haszad’s Senate and the Congregation … it’d be rushing too much too quickly. They might lose it all.’

‘The likelihood’s there,’ she concedes, nodding, ‘and it’s not something that I haven’t put aside, but considering how aggressive Haszad’s been lately, I wouldn’t put it past them to let their chips ride. I can probably lock in a time-frame to narrow possible suspects, but like I said, if they’re using a hired number instead of a plant, then the only thing I’ll be hitting are dead ends.’

You sigh. Why couldn’t things be simple?

‘So they’re in Yokosuka,’ you start patiently, trying to mentally jot down your assessment, ‘and that means they’re here for Admiralty operations. It’d be hard for them to get near an actual Admiralty operation … the only things that we conduct together are security details for the town and relief and reconstruction efforts. If they’re here to spy, they’re making things too complicated for themselves.’

‘That might be a little bit Haszad’s pride working there,’ she imparts, smiling wryly. ‘Addiction to complexity over direct execution.’

You tilt your head slightly.

‘I guess.’

For your answer, you’re afforded a howl of very masculine pleasure from your neighbors.

‘Is there anything that they’d be here for … specifically?’

>‘A lot.’ (Divulge)
>‘Nothing they can’t just walk in and ask the help desk.’ (Deny)
>‘Good night, Sergeant.’ (End it)
>Write-In

>>3034805
>>‘Nothing they can’t just walk in and ask the help desk.’ (Deny)

>>3034805
>>‘Nothing they can’t just walk in and ask the help desk.’ (Deny)

>>3034805
>>‘Nothing they can’t just walk in and ask the help desk.’ (Deny)

File: Sergeant.jpg (133 KB, 550x469)

133 KB JPG

You didn’t have to tell her more than what you absolutely had to. The things that you’d been up to the last several weeks would probably have anyone else hanging on the noose … and while you trusted her on the premise of being mutual professionals when it came to your job, it wasn’t in you to just blurt out things like tactical espionage into an off-the-grid compound or the fact that the Admiral was waging some secret war of his own against the suits that made up The Court of Admirals. So many threads to tug on, so many eyes and ears on you. Even with her clarifying her stance, there are things that you can’t say, professional courtesy or no.

You know when to shut up.

‘Nothing that they can’t just walk in and take off the help desk or turn a radio on to catch,’ you quip, rubbing the back of your neck. ‘Admiralty really doesn’t have a lot of secrets when it comes to its operating integrity. The KanMusu get in, clean up and get out. Save for the MagiTek production lines and the like, there’s a pretty open policy between the Admiralty and the general public … despite appearances. The Admiralty’s got a toy line and a media subsidiary … if there’s anything actually vital or political, it would’ve been used by now.’

You almost grimace at the thought.

It was such a sweet lie to tell, really.

Seemingly satisfied, the Sergeant nods.

She gets to her feet, donning her jacket again.

‘All right.’

Conversation over.

>INITIATE EVENING SCENES
>SKIP TO NEXT DAY

>>3034935
>>INITIATE EVENING SCENES

>>3034935
>>INITIATE EVENING SCENES

>>3034935
>>INITIATE EVENING SCENES

Sorry, was at prayers.

>>3034935
>INITIATE EVENING SCENES
shennanigans, please

Session in half an hour, prompt will be up in an hour.

>>3036962
aight

File: Kitchen Counter.jpg (141 KB, 1000x665)

141 KB JPG

It takes you much too long for your liking to actually find your way back. The lights weren’t quite fully up to snuff as you’d previously, so finding a well-lit route back to your barracks without the assistance of a buggy was a bit of a chore. Plus, with the MPs (from both sides) clashing over jurisdiction and your inability to actually cover the given task of straightening said issue out, a gaping hole had been left in regards to the town’s security. Really, it doesn’t take much to see the stack of complaints that awaited you once the weekend was up … and you’d barely dug into your designated scope of duties.

Then there was the issue of Haszad’s attempts at espionage.

You’d have to cover that too.

Not to mention a certain Shaman that was still wondering around town unchecked … wherever he was.

‘I’m back,’ you mutter, stepping through the door. The girls were probably having a—

The thud of a thick plastic bowl hitting the old wooden floor reaches your ears. You look up, patting your feet and taking off your shoes before taking quick strides towards the common area … to find a pair of KanMusu that you didn’t think would be behind the kitchen counter, covered with a mess of ingredients. The both of them stare back at you … half embarrassed, half surprised. One holding an eggbeater … and the other donning a pair of what you can only assume to be very, very burnt over mitts.

‘I can explain!’ they both chime in.

You raise a hand … and scan the bowl on the floor.

‘Look …’

CHOOSE TWO:
>Musashi
>Iowa
>Shigure
>Nachi
>Houshou

>>3037067
>Musashi
>Nachi

>>3037067
>Houshou
>Nachi

A little bit of a delay. Scones. Sorry. Be back as son as I can.

>>3037083
>>3037093
Flipping a coin between Musashi and Houshou.

File: MOU DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT.jpg (117 KB, 568x624)

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You pause, looking from Nachi’s apprehensive form … then to Houshou’s apologetic one. The both of them look a mess; in fact, you wonder if there is a bathtub filled with brown sugar and flour that they’d decided to take a quick dip in before making a tornado aftermath out of the kitchenette. To be fair to them, though … it was at least cleaner than some kitchens than you worked in prior. The damage was at least contained to the counter and some of the floor, with the flour, sugar and the—to your surprise—vanilla extract evoking memories of a morning clean-up just begging to be over and done with. A part of you is already halfway into a lecture … until it’s overtaken by the curiosity to the why two KanMusu would be covered in cooking materials in the middle of the night.

Besides, you could always scold them later.

‘What’re the both of you, uh … doing?’

The eggbeater slips out of Houshou’s hands, clattering noisily onto the floor.

‘It was Houshou’s idea,’ Nachi cries out.

Houshou swears.

‘Oh, you backstabbing—’

‘Houshou?’

‘I, um … we—’

‘You,’ Nachi insists pointedly.

‘No, we,’ Houshou growls, picking a clump of mix out of her hair, ‘wanted to … make something to celebrate your promotion.’

‘It’s only provisional,’ you counter lightly, jabbing a finger in their direction.

‘It’s assurance for us that you’re not entirely incompet—’

Houshou jabs her partner-in-crime with a swift elbow, prompting a throaty whine from the Heavy Cruiser. Nachi straightens herself out as best as she can manage as you wait for the rest of explanation, snide remarks aside. The both of them share a look … a sort of telepathic exchange of mutual limits and understandings, before turning their attentions back to you. Courteous—and experienced—enough to know when to cut in and when to wait, you cross your arms and look from one KanMusu to another, patiently waiting for them to give you a method behind the madness of the disorder the kitchen area finds itself now embroiled in. To your surprise, it’s Nachi who steps forward, cheeks pink, mouth opening and closing … and given further encouragement by Houshou’s light shove to her right elbow.

‘We thought that it’d be nice to … commemorate your promotion,’ Nachi sounds, trying her best to lace a professional tone into her voice. It only succeeds in doing the exact opposite. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I think you’re up to my personal standard or anything, but it’s nice that you, um … I thought it’d be a good gesture to, um, er … wait, WE! I mean our, I mean …’

Nachi covers her red face with two hands, dropping into a crouch and letting out a cry.

Houshou runs interference.

A shame. Nachi was honestly too adorable.

‘We thought it’d be nice to show you our appreciation for your hard work,’ she declares, grimacing. ‘We tried to make …’

She looks around, grimacing.

‘Cookies.’

>'Abject failure.' (Annoyance)
>'You guys didn't have to. I'm on a diet, anyway.' (Appreciative, reject gesture)
>'Is Nachi okay? Nachi, you okay?' (Worried)
>'So how much of our stores did you guys go through?' (Curious, tentative)
>'Just clean up, all right? I'm going to bed.'
>Write-In

I read through the whole thing and I wonder why the Hell did I write Tsundere Nachi as a thing when I blatantly do not like the cliche.

>>3037405
>>3037415

>>3037415
>"Hmm... Baking is always tricky. Shall we go over how to do it right?"

>>3037424
sure why not
also anyone else having problems with the Captcha slowly?

>>3037424
this

>>3037431
*loading slowly

>>3037424

+1

File: Accurate3.jpg (55 KB, 500x333)

55 KB JPG

‘Yeah, the oven’s not exactly reliable enough to bring it back to a consistent texture,’ you explain, nodding at the object in question. Nachi looks up from her prone position, not at all resembling the grown woman that she, for all intents and purposes, was built to be. You find it a little endearing, actually, if you were being honest. You don’t say it though; as much of a rapport that the both of you had built (a shower tryst being the culmination of the effort), testing your luck was never a thing to do with a woman.

Human or KanMusu.

‘I can make cookies,’ Houshou retorts, a little defensive. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t made them before, it’s just … without taste and just tabulations, it’s a little hard to go just where you want when the deviation from ideal conditions is … over the mark.’

You cast a gaze to the mess.

You want to throw your own retort that deviations didn’t usually result in a kitchen looking like a warzone … but the last several weeks had given you enough of a stop-go on Houshou’s buttons. There were grey areas, still; many of them, in fact, but judging by the mannerism and the annoyed tone that she carried with her insistence … this was—this is—decidedly not one of them. If nothing else, it’s enough for you to take an emotional step back before an unwanted escalation occurred … and recent history aside, Houshou’s stability was something—is something—you wanted to maintain.

‘I can relate,’ you agree, if only half-heartedly. ‘It must be like stumbling through the dark.’

‘A little bit like you trying to manage hundreds of years of battle experience without having any of your own,’ Houshou quips, her expression regretful, if only slightly. ‘We … thought that we’d have some time on our hands; you always come back late on the weekend, but with almost all of the others out on duty, I—I mean we—tried to do the best we could.’

‘Three hours and fifteen minutes,’ Nachi grumbles, picking a clump from a strand of hair. ‘This is what we got.’

‘I told you to ease up with the eggbeating and the mixing!’ Houshou cries out, exasperated. She turns to the taller Nachi, who at least has the courtesy to turn her cheeks red again. ‘There’s a pace to these things, after all.’

‘You couldn’t make up your mind either,’ Nachi grumbles pointedly. ‘Tablespoon and teaspoon ring a bell?’

Houshou squeaks, turning her head down.

‘It’s … an imprecise science,’ Houshou mumbles.

Nachi sighs right by her side.

‘So … you pretty much went through the stock of raw materials playing trial and error?’ you muse, smirking as you cross your arms. Turning from one to the other, there is a slight patriarchal itch that you feel looking at the both of them … and find it quickly quashed by reminders of your own incompetence.

They’d stuck with you this far. Why couldn’t you do the same?

>>3037616
>'So ... how far did you guys get?' (Curious)
>'Well, clean up time, I guess.' (Greasy elbows)
>'This is unbecoming of the both of you. (Chastise)
>'So, uh, it's just you two?'
>'Right, thanks, but you're on clean-up duty. Good night.' (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3037619
>>'Well, clean up time, I guess.' (Greasy elbows)

>>3037619
>>'Well, clean up time, I guess.' (Greasy elbows)

>>3037619
'Well, clean up time, I guess.

File: Home.jpg (86 KB, 400x468)

86 KB JPG

You appreciate the gesture, you really do. It wasn’t everyday that someone cared enough to do something nice for you, and on any other day with a back-breaking series of tasks petering off your shoulders, you’d gladly pull your sleeves up to help them finish the job. Tonight, however … it was easier to put that you weren’t up to the task of wolfing down or preparing those cookies that Houshou and Nachi had in mind. It was already late, after all … and there would be eyes and fangs on you if you so much as strayed from the course that you’d put your appetite on. No one had said anything of course, but if a belt buckle needed an extra inch … well, if was something that you didn’t want from yourself, either. You kind of liked feeling a little lighter.

So you pull your sleeves up and pick up the smaller bowl, depositing it into the larger one.

Clean-up time.

‘I think we’ll be able to get this all done before the clock strikes,’ you state, now picking up the forks and knives. They’d really done a number on the organization of the utensils; you wonder what they needed three forks for. ‘We should have a dustpan at the bottom of the pantry …’

Houshou’s the first one to move. However, it’s towards you.

Even from here, you can feel the apologies building up. Not that you needed to, but Houshou’s expression didn’t need anything more than a glance to tell that she was remorseful for you having to clean her and Nachi’s mess up.

‘Wait, you don’t have to—’

‘It’s all right,’ you cut her off, throwing a reassuring smile her way as you deposit what you believe to be pounded cocoa powder (more than likely from the ration packs) into the bowl, before dipping your pinkie in and pulling out a taste for yourself. Yup, definitely cocoa powder. ‘Really, it is.’

Nachi takes tentative steps towards you, looking like a child that had just been told off.

‘We thought that you’d like to … at least finish up, together.’

Her tone almost has you changing your mind.

‘It’s not that I, uh, don’t want to, but,’ you pause, raising your hands in a placating gesture … that did nothing to change Nachi’s hurt look. ‘I really appreciate that the both of you did all this for me, I really do … even with all this, I’m kinda touched that you’d …’

You trail off, rubbing the back of your neck.

You were blabbering again.

‘It’s just really late,’ you sigh, ‘and … I kinda already ate. If I knew that the both of you were putting this together for me, I would’ve rushed home as fast as I could.’

Nachi giggles.

‘What?’

‘Home,’ she muses. ‘You said Home’

>Brush it off
>Affirm the statement
>Silently clean up
>Write-In

So sorry guys, it was raining and I had to go and make sure my cousins didn't screw up the generator.

>>3037786
>>Affirm the statement

no electricity due to rain?

>>3037786
>Affirm the statement
Yes, home... I suppose that's what it is for us now, isn't it?

File: Okaeri.png (322 KB, 575x787)

322 KB PNG

You frown.

‘Something wrong with that?’

The both of them offer you, brief, amused glances, Houshou raising a hand to her lips to suppress a giggle while Nachi’s lip twitches slightly as she crosses her arms and clutches her elbows. You look from one KanMusu to the other, wondering why they looked so. You hadn’t said anything odd. This was home. This was where you came back to after a hard day’s work, surrounded by those that loved you beyond any you’d experienced.

What else could it be?

Nonsense, really.

‘Nope,’ Nachi giggles, throwing Houshou a knowing look.

Houshou glances back mischievously.

‘Not at all.’

END DAY 60

>>3037786
>Affirm the statement
Done my good deed for the decade

No session, but I will be uploading a new prompt in an hour.

File: Morning Bed.jpg (32 KB, 500x500)

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You crack your eyes open and let out a great big yawn. It wasn’t quite daybreak yet, but it was, for all intents and purposes—and by the clock hanging on the wall—morning. You crick your neck and rub your cheeks, feeling oddly … fresh. It’d been some time since you had a good night’s sleep that was … notable in on itself, but going to bed with a full belly and a quiet house—quiet barracks—seemed to be a formula that wasn’t above repetition in the name of assurance. You roll your shoulders and close your magic eye, already feeling its effects, minute as they are. Iowa and the non-Patrol Division members were still around, judging by the rotating prisms of ever-changing hue. Not that you didn’t appreciate the occasional colorful winds that you saw in the presence of KanMusu, of course, but the fact that a migraine kept coming over you with a gusto akin to Shigure on her mad rush … you just believed that it wasn’t something that you just made light of.

Stretching your arms overhead, you realize that it was, for all intents and purposes, still the weekend.

Funny; it’d honestly felt like months since yesterday.

In any case, that still meant you had a—

Hard knocks on the door. You turn your head to the source of the sound.

‘Who is it?’ you call out.

No answer.

More banging comes. Louder.

>Ignore it
>Answer it
>Write-In

>>3039122
>Answer it

>>3039122
>>Answer it

>>3039122
>Answer it

File: Black Magic Woman.jpg (165 KB, 850x1200)

165 KB JPG

Eh, one more prompt won't do any harm.

Incoming.

>>3039152
>>3039156
>>3039160

No session, though. So go and do what you wanna do.

File: GET UP SUCKA IT'S GYM TIME.jpg (13 KB, 384x216)

13 KB JPG

You let out a sigh.

So much for a bright start to the morning.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ you grumble, scratching your buttocks as you head to the door, mood ruined with that insistent knocking. Whatever was behind that door better be life or death or it was going to—

‘Good morning to you, my lazy friend, did you for a moment, think that a jog would be a the end?’

No. This was most definitely death.

The Trainer stands in your doorway, shoulders broad and nostrils flaring with the fury of a thousand storms behind his eyes. While your height difference wasn’t that—sure it isn’t—wide a chasm, the stiffness and definition of his form seemed multiplied sixfold as he loomed over your person, a light rumble echoing from his throat … or what you believed to be his throat, anyway. You dare not to look away. You highly doubt you’d survive the aftermath.

‘Look at your ass, getting all soft and flabby,’ he continues, disgust and disapproval intertwined in his tone. ‘You think this is a game, son? You must be daffy!

You try to eke out a protest, but find a faceful of palm cutting you off.

‘Son, I don’t want to hear it, it’s just been too long! We gotta get you back up to speed, gotta dance to the song!’

He balls a fist around the fabric of your tank top … and prompts you back to reality with the gesture.

‘Wa-wait a minute! Who let you i—’

And as the truth makes itself known, betrayal carves its mark upon you.

‘Morning!’

How could she? It was a weekend!

>Musashi
>Iowa
>Nachi
>Houshou
>Shigure

>>3039408
>>Shigure

>>3039408
>>Shigure

>>3039408
>Iowa

>>3039408
>Nachi

>>3039456
>>3039472
At this rate she will be a consistent feature of your mornings.

If you guys are around in a few hours. I might run. A bit more free than I expected to be.

>>3040050
sure stranger

File: SORRY SORRY SORRY.jpg (66 KB, 407x506)

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Running in an hour-ish

>>3039408
>>Shigure

File: Shigu.jpg (386 KB, 800x1053)

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Shigure’s drawn out greeting is met with your disapproving stare. One that she, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to give a single hoot about. A loud yawn and a raised hand; that’s all you get from the most volatile KanMusu under your command. She was clad in a cotton track combo, the thick material that made the top redundant with her super-regulatory abilities in regards to body heat. In fact, the whole ensemble looked like it was made more for a teenage boy some age brackets up than it was the petite young woman.

‘Shigure, did you let him in?’

Shigure gives a sleepy nod.

‘Why?’

She pauses for a moment, tapping her chin.

‘He knocked.’

You grumble under your breath … and immediately get vertigo as you find yourself hoisted like a stripped feather onto the shoulder of the hillside of a man, your accomplishments and rank rendered redundant in the space of two minutes by a dark-skinned titan who looked like he could clear out a building with a set of bandaged fists. You want to protest, to cry out for help … but as the humiliation of your current predicament dawned, point by point, the only thing that you come to a conclusion on is the preservation of the last crumbs of masculinity that you had left.

You honestly feel like a damsel in distress.

There are no two ways about it.

You’re mortified beyond mortification, hanging from the Trainer’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

‘Hey little missy, I could use another pair 'a eyes,’ he starts, swinging and facing the dark-haired KanMusu, ‘just to make sure this fool doesn’t try to kick up dust and fly.’

>Deny Shigure’s presence
>Resign yourself to Shigure tagging along

>>3040699
>>Resign yourself to Shigure tagging along

>>3040699
>>Resign yourself to Shigure tagging along

>>3040699
>>Resign yourself to Shigure tagging along

File: Curiosity.jpg (33 KB, 231x258)

33 KB JPG

The sun is high.

The birds are chirping. The beach is home to a bunch of burly soldiers cleaning up their mess from the night before and the streets are bustling in a healthy mix of civilian and assisting servicemen. You even get the occasional smile (and the odd thumbs up) from the soldiers working their shifts trudging on the sand, the morning light beating on you with all the temptation of promise that it can muster.

So it’s really, really just too bad that you felt that a mountain had parked itself on on your ankles, wrists and shoulders.

Or what might as well be, anyway.

‘Come on, ya fatty, no time to dawdle!’

You raise your annoyed eye to see the Trainer with his arms crossed, his nose wrinkled in disdain.

‘I’ve seen ducks move faster, and they waddle!’

‘Do I look like I can carry a car on my back?’

As your body gets—

‘Not. Now.’

The man shakes his head again, approaching your prone form. You’re not sure how many kilograms had parked themselves on your wrists, but it was more than enough to keep you from raising a gesture that you really wanted to prop up. You felt like one of those punching bag disciples in martial arts films; the kind that got humiliated and kicked down stairs to the tune of a cackling sadist of a Master. The straps of weight connected to your shoulders must weigh a combined Samidare’s worth of mass, alone. That’s not even going into the fact that there was sand in your socks.

This was Hell.

And it was only about two hours in.

‘You can give up and prove your doubters right.’

You look up.

‘But the measure of a man’s when there’s no way out but to fight, fight, fight.’

Shigure, still silent, peeks out from behind the mass of man … as you try to lift a sinking foot in an attempt to resume your jog. She hadn’t said a word since the both of you left the barracks … and even tagging along, she’d been less than preferred company. It wasn’t like her to be so quiet; while she wasn’t exactly the chatty sort, you thought that you’d at least have some form of conversation to distract you from the fact that you were pretty much hauling a truck down a stretch of hot sand after some equally-brutal pre-training conditioning prep.

Crouching and staring at you like you were some curiosity to behold wasn’t something that you’d flag as endearing, even with those big blue eyes of hers.

‘Tired?’

Really?

The first word that she utters since your arduous drag of an exercise session … and she states the obvious.

>Write-In

>>3040868
>"of course i am but i brought this on myself for not going to the gym more often"
This happens to my friend when he stops exercising for like a month. He says it's like a wall keeps popping back up if you slack off

>>3040885
supporting

Probably obvious by now, but there's a blackout in the other house and it's the one with the modem and router. Gonna be playing MHW in the time being.

>>3040885
+1

Wasn't planning on running today, but if you guys want, I can try to at least finish up your morning. Votes for those that want a continuation and those that don't want a run today.

>>3042818
sure lets just finish up our morning

Running in an hour, then, if there are enough people that want to.

>>3042971
aight

Not a lot of people. No session, I suppose.

>>3043231
yea looks like the others are busy
working burgers are working
and others are studying

This session is closed. A new one will be starting up in about 45 minutes to an hour.

>>3045327
aight

>>3045327
sounds good