>>10377
>Name and/or nickname:
"Ujuju, it seems the winds and tides have not carried to your ears the story and tales of the great Maximun the Brave, the Alpha and Omega of worlds within worlds that play with the reality and perception of frivolous human minds...."

"Chemelier Verdun Takahara. That was my grandfather's name, the surname is from my parents. My cousins call me Chim"

>Exact age:
"That obsession with irrelevant details will only end up making your stories and worlds fall into an ouroboros of implosive canonicity, but since you ask, 17 years, 8 months, 21 days, 5 hours, and 3 minutes at the moment of filling out this form"

>School grade:
"Of your year, miss feminine, the last where the great legends of roleplaying dwell."

>Gender or Sex:
"A male of great stature and master of fiction like myself does not need to clarify details like those"

>Birthday:
"I was born during the solstice of the brightest summer, from there my mortal body inherited its elevated power for fictional manipulation and creation. June 21st"

>Nationality:
https://youtu.be/HbDRvWFRiBw▾"Sniff NOOOO, I AM A DIRTY HAFU WITH LATIN BLOOD, THAT STAIN WILL NEVER LEAVE MY LIFE, I AM VERY SORRY TO ALL THE KAMI'S, I FAILED GREAT HIROHITO, WAHHHH"

>Roleplaying experience:
"Pfff, are you incapable of detecting the aura of a veteran roleplayer just by looking at me? I've been doing this since I started faking my age on the internet"

>Favorite setting:
"I am a simple man, nothing warms my heart more than a good classic medieval high fantasy with a good comedic dose. Although a Steampunk story is not bad from time to time either"

>Dice type:
"The enormous possibilities offered by the D100"

>Character archetype:
"The Paladin always at the front, the one who attacks and protects, the defender of his own and what is just"

>Current relationship status:
"I'm lonelier than a stray dog with a broken leg"

>Fetish or vice:
"Can you blame a man for thinking a woman wearing a skirt made of used condoms is sexy? I'm only human"

>Favorite dinosaur:
https://youtu.be/KY5ArW3Ncfo▾"I couldn't blame a femoid for not knowing this specimen of Pervatsaurus, just another proof of the crudeness in the natural world that we humans are capable of handling"

>Ideal historical era:
"Old London in the 1900s, do you have any idea of the role-playing inspiration that could be drawn?, Jack the Ripper, Spring-heeled Jack, the cursed wolves, Arthur Conan Doyle, I'm drooling just thinking about it...ehhh~"

>Food for roleplaying:
"I'm a decent pig, not a hog, I always bring at least a soda and a good pack of chips, chips aren't the same if you don't accompany them with Doritos"

>Greatest absurd fear:
"Mannequins with facial features, they give off bad vibes"

>Rarest thing you've eaten out of sheer laziness to cook:
"Reheated bread with cheese and a piece of banana"

>Your favorite Pokémon:
"Infernape, nothing beats its inspiration from the great monkey king Sun Wukong"

>Your definitive anime opening:
https://youtu.be/Oq9RWFVQaBs▾"Obviously we're talking about the opening of the Sato brothers' masterpiece, HighSchoolOfTheDead, the song of the same name for its stellar animated adaptation, the single sung by Kisida Kyodan & THE Akebosi Rockets, although I'm not referring to the original from 2010, but to the version sung in 2021, you can really see the evolution of the band and singer, it's uufff magnificent"

>Your favorite conspiracy theory:
"The Yankee government has always wanted to hide the existence of the race of red-haired giants and their underground cave systems that connect to the hollow earth"

>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
"I'd open an OnlyFans, I'm a pig but not stupid"

>Your most destructive unpopular opinion:
"Ryukishi07 is overrated"

>If you were a piece of furniture, what would you be and why?:
"I'd be the recliner my uncle left me after he was shot in Tijuana, it's very comfortable and holds up to 150 kilos"

>Rating of your current mental health from 1 to 10:
"5.55555555, because in life, the middle ground is necessary, you need a little insanity to be healthy and not be too healthy because otherwise you'd be a dirty Normie"

>Name and/or nickname:
My name is Ri Sōteki. I've been called Li, Lee, Yi, or Asakura, I don't mind.

>Exact age:
17 years, 6 months, 14 days. My mother said I was born on a rainy night but I don't know the exact time.

>School grade:
Second year.

>Gender or Sex:
Male.

>Birthday:
01/01.

>Nationality:
My mother came from Korea but I was born in Japan. I'm afraid I don't have an accent, as far as I know.

>Roleplaying experience:
I participated in an Anima campaign that lasted two full turns, other than that I've only occasionally read manuals.

>Favorite setting:
Science fiction and horror interest me, as long as they involve investigation.

>Dice type:
6-sided dice.

>Character style:
I'm not a fan of conflict, but if it's unavoidable I'd prefer to support my colleagues from the shadows or the back ranks.

>Current relationship status:
I want to die. I confused it with emotional state and I don't have a correction pen so I can only cross it out, sorry. Single.

>Fetish or vice:
I wouldn't call it a vice or fetish, but I've felt a particular attraction to the traditional clothing of priestesses. I'd say it's a cultural interest.

>Favorite dinosaur:
Nanotyrannus. It resembles a Tyrannosaurus, with the difference of being smaller and more aggressive. It was the true king of the dinosaurs, a short king.

>Ideal historical era:
Some era close to the industrial revolution, I'd like to experience the inventions of those times.

>Food for roleplaying:
If tea isn't an appropriate drink we could share the candy my mother buys, I don't have a very sweet palate.

>Biggest absurd fear:
Oppenheimer's speech scared me when I was younger. Those kinds of recordings still make me uncomfortable, if that counts as absurd.

>Rarest thing you've eaten out of sheer laziness to cook:
I once found a blooming potato and felt curious enough to try its petals, I was rewarded in the same way as the cat, although I don't know how many deaths I experienced that day.

>Your favorite Pokémon:
The Bagon evolutionary line. The story of the monster who wished his whole life he could fly and only got his wings after 50 levels of training is inspiring. Dragons are majestic beasts.

>Your definitive anime opening:
I don't see myself running with or without a slice of bread in my mouth, but I imagine walking calmly to school listening to the opening of Serial Experiments Lain would be the most ideal way to start the day.

>Your favorite conspiracy theory:
I like the theory that we are all brains in a vat full of nutrients and that everything we perceive is the product of electrical signals we receive from the machine we are connected to. It's a more plausible interpretation of the matrix.

>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
I would experiment with my body as much as possible. If I only have one day to understand the phenomenon, I have to take advantage of it and investigate thoroughly. Carpe Diem.

>Your most destructive unpopular opinion:
Any scientist or professional in any field has the right to abandon their work for any personal or professional reason, regardless of how it affects the advancement of humanity or whatever they are working on. Those responsible for the progress from which the world benefits are people too, and if they value their own lives as individuals, they have the right to reclaim them even if it affects the rest of the world that wants to force them to work to squeeze the last drop of profit from their efforts.

>If you were a piece of furniture, what would you be and why?:
I would be a mirror, if it counts as furniture. Although I don't like looking at myself in the mirror, the reflective properties of surfaces interest me. If a mirror doesn't count as furniture... I would be a piece of furniture with a mirror attached.

>Rating of your current mental health from 1 to 10:
3.

>>10379
>>10378
>>10376
>>10377
>>10376
>>10377
>>10378
>>10379
Hehehehe poor unsuspecting souls who fall into the fearsome trap of the marvelous and unequaled ROLEPLAYING CLUB!!!! One more and I'll send turns

>>10375
What a delicious head
>Name and/or nickname
Jhon Miller "JM".
>Exact age
Calm down, calm down, you're asking for minutes, seriously? Well, 16 years and 7 months, ask chatgpt for the rest.
>School grade
First year.
>Gender or sex
Are you offering me sex?
>Birthday
January second.
>Nationality
You said you didn't care.
>Role-playing experience
Do you mean trendy role-playing games like Undertale? They're called RPGs, not role-playing, but yes, months ago.
>Favorite setting
Most people like dark and disturbing RPGs, and I do too, although I don't know many haven't tried them.
>Dice type:
I've seen coins in Fear and Hunger, but dice? I don't know, a six-sided die, maybe?
>Character style:
The simple ones where you just equip armor and give them a weapon and that's it, I get enormously lazy thinking about magic strategies.
>Current relationship status:
I asked a beautiful girl out, she told me her parents punished her and she can't, and several have told me the same thing, is something wrong with the world or is it just me and my terrible luck?
>Fetish or vice:
Do you want me to get canceled?
>Favorite dinosaur:
Don't mess with my beloved velociraptors!
>Ideal historical era:
The nostalgia of the 80s, I've read too many comments about that era, and yes, very nostalgic.
>Food for role-playing
I don't usually eat while playing, but I could bring pizza or fries, if my mom lets me.
>Greatest absurd fear:
Those disgusting little ladybugs, I have a fit every time I see them, I don't want to imagine them on my back while they tickle me and inject me with poison or something, I'm being sincere right now.
>Rarest thing you've eaten out of sheer laziness to cook:
I don't really know how to cook either. A can of expired tuna, it was either eat that or starve to death for running away from home one night as punishment.
>Your favorite Pokémon:
Everyone likes Pikachu.
>Your definitive anime opening:
The Evangelion opening, it always shows up in my YouTube recommendations, I should watch the anime.
>Your favorite conspiracy theory:
Everyone has something against Jews, but they forget that we are all being controlled by vaccines!
>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
Does it need to be written?
>Your most destructive unpopular opinion:
For some reason everyone has a trauma with personal development and blah blah blah, that doesn't help at all, I started believing that since I saw a video related to loquendo with 200 views by pure chance a while ago.
>If you were a piece of furniture, what would you be and why?:
A chair, feeling the butts of beautiful women on me, ufff.
>Rating from 1 to 10 for your current mental health:
Three? It's just that depression wants to get me again.

>Name and/or nickname:
Crazy Underwear will be, I have no problem being called that.

>Exact age:
27. Yes, you heard right, 27 years old.

>School grade:
None, I don't attend this school. I'm just here as part of my routine of educating young minds.

>Gender or Sex:
Everyone is free to find that out whenever they want.

>Birthday:
October 4, 1995

>Nationality:
My last fake passport says I'm from Lithuania

>Roleplaying experience:
Every day I play the role of a new person, is that enough?

>Favorite setting:
Urban context, with or without powers. Nothing beats the possibilities offered by the concrete jungle.

>Dice type:
In real life, the king of dice will always be a d6

>Character style:
The mysterious and presumptuous idiot

>Current relationship status:
I am married to my fantasies

>Fetish or vice:
Well, do you know a series called Fate Kaleid Prisma Illya? I know what you're thinking, and no, it's not what you think. It's much worse!
I have never seen an episode of said series and... doing so would be impossible given what I'm about to tell you, but... There is a certain character, her name is Miyu Edelfelt. Well, the thing is this, every time I see an image of Miyu I can't help but think about eating her. No, I don't mean in a sexual sense. I mean eating her in the most literal sense of the word! No other character has ever caused me a sensation like this, but Miyu...
How to put it... Her flesh looks so soft, like veal, the kind that melts in your mouth at the first bite. That's what you'd think at first, but a closer look would make you notice that there's a certain firmness that isn't apparent at first glance. Yes, it's not a meat that turns into mush when you put it in your mouth. No, no, it has just the right firmness to maintain its shape for the right amount of time for you to enjoy it.
The taste... I can only imagine, but a good part of taste comes mainly from our sense of smell. Usually, one wouldn't eat something that smells bad. With Miyu, that's not the case, that pale, white, and pristine skin makes it more than clear that she's a clean girl. No matter the context in which you bite her, she will always smell good...
Besides that, she's also relatively athletic. Why does that matter? Well, the other important part of meat's flavor comes from sweat. Thanks to it, salt levels in the meat can increase naturally. As a Japanese person, she sweats very little, leaving her flavor at a perfect level to taste as is or spice to taste.
I could continue my explanation, but if I did I'd end up dehydrated from salivating so much.

>Favorite dinosaur:
Therizinosaurids, those claws of theirs look great

>Ideal historical era:
The present

>Food for roleplaying:
If you have money I can buy you alcohol

>Greatest absurd fear:
Hmm... Teeth, they make me uncomfortable when they're too prominent. Especially if they're non-human teeth on something non-human.

>Rarest thing you've eaten out of sheer laziness to cook:
HA! Cooking, and you call yourself lazy? If you knew what laziness was, you'd know the pleasure of frozen, raw chicken nuggets.

>Your favorite Pokémon:
Heracross, I guess.

>Your ultimate anime opening:
Chaos! Chaos! I wanna chaos!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J249s8irHlc▾
>Your favorite conspiracy theory:
All good conspiracy theories were proven real since your, you know what, event.

>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
Get scared, look at my body, and see if anyone else experienced the same thing

>Your most destructive unpopular opinion:
Companies should belong to themselves. All this selling out to shareholders is idiocy that causes them to end up self-destructing to please idiots who don't even understand what the company does.

>If you were a piece of furniture, which would you be and why?:
I don't have a particular preference for any.

>Rating of your current mental health from 1 to 10:
Between 6 and 2 depending on the day.

>>10382
>>10381
What a tremendous field of turnips the Roleplaying Club will be, we need female strength, damn it!!! Or they'll end up doing sword fights and not Dungeons & Dragons... I'll start responding shortly kek

>>10375
>Name and/or nickname:
Tremble, heroes and villains, because I, Bibi, have arrived to control this dark and terrible world, in the name of my father, the dark general of the 7 worlds.

>Exact age
16 years, 9 months, 29 days.

>School grade:
I'm in 2nd grade, my parents say I'm so smart they moved me up a year.

>Gender or Sex:
Jujuju, does this dark general have to show her great attributes? WELL NO, it will remain a secret.

>Birthday
02/29, Incredible right?

>Nationality:
I come from the distant lands of planet 55, but commoners like you call it "Kyoto"

>Role-playing experience:
I have no experience at all, in fact, I got here by feeling a great, incredible amount of mana here.

>Favorite setting
Cyberpunk Magic, after all, I come from a multiversal magical empire.

>Dice type:
I only know the 20-sided one, I'm a larper.

>Character style:
No, I prefer to see people smile with my incredible magic, after all, I have the power of magic within me.

>Current relationship status:
My father has promised me to someone from dimension 455A, but I haven't met them yet fufufu, do you think I'm a chad for already being with someone in the future?

>Fetish or vice:
JUJUJU, obviously I like to dominate and crush my enemies with total dominance, they are all my pets in the game of life, after all, this planet belongs to me.

>Favorite dinosaur
The carnotaurus obviously.

>Ideal historical era:
You are tremendously based Kinoko, I would like to go to Macedonia, surely they would worship me there fufufu.

>Food for role-playing
Pepperoni pizza, the classic, the ideal, the others disgust me, especially if they have meat or mushrooms, you put them on and I'll kill you with a knife.

>Biggest absurd fear:
That everyone starts laughing at me after I do something I really appreciate or like... Wait, did you say absurd? I'm afraid of chinchillas, I hate them, they are my natural enemy.

>Rarest thing you've eaten out of sheer laziness to cook:
Powdered milk...

>Your favorite Pokémon:
Ditto hehehe.

>Your definitive anime opening:
Listen to it yourself https://youtu.be/l5S0JhqULAU?si=Ew1iI6zGAd2b_e2E▾
>Your favorite conspiracy theory:
The English never left the United States and control the world, it's obviously like that, since we put the English in power.

>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
I could do... You know... That...

>Your most destructive unpopular opinion:
Sacrificing yourself for others is very cool.

>If you were a piece of furniture, which one would you be and why?:
I would like to be one of those old people's chairs that recline, because I liked to rock in them.

>Rating of your current mental health from 1 to 10:
3.1415926

>>10384
Sadly realistic!!!!

>>10378
>The golden, dusty light of the setting sun filtered through the tall windows of the second-year classroom. It was the end of the school day at Kamome High School, a building that, despite its attempts at modernization, always smelled of old chalk, hallway disinfectant, and the thousands of students who had passed through it. The hum of the final bell of the day still echoed faintly in the air, like a collective sigh of relief.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuMfyndwARQ▾
>Professor Sato, a man with slumped shoulders who seemed to have been born in his worn gray suit, closed his attendance book with a sharp snap. It was the sound everyone had been waiting for.

Teacher Sato: That's all for today. Don't forget to review the Meiji Era for next week's exam. You are dismissed.

>He mumbled, without much conviction, as he quickly gathered his things and left through the door, disappearing like a ghost into the already noisy hallway.

>Instantly, the classroom came alive. The uncomfortable silence of the class was replaced by the clatter of chairs scraping against the linoleum, the zipping of backpacks, and a symphony of teenage voices discussing afternoon plans, video games, school romances, and pending assignments. Groups of friends formed around desks, some laughing, others complaining about history class.

>Chemelier Verdun Takahara was sitting in his usual spot, a quiet corner where his imposing figure didn't draw too much attention. The sun streaming through the window hit his face, but he didn't seem bothered. His thick fingers idly toyed with a keychain hanging from his backpack. Perhaps he was mentally reviewing character sheets for the new campaign, or simply enjoying the brief peace before his next destination. There was no rush.... Suddenly, a forceful sound interrupted the noisy atmosphere of the classroom and cut short whatever Chemelier Verdun Takahara was doing at that precise moment. A SLAM of two palms landing on the surface of his desk.
>SLAM!

>The first thing he saw was a huge smile, so wide it seemed to stretch the face of the person in front of him. Then, the blinding glare of the sun bouncing off the round, exaggeratedly thick lenses, almost like bottle bottoms.

>Kinoko Ichinose. The very president of the "Absolute Role-Playing Club..." (the list of adjectives was always long and pompous, but everyone knew her simply as President Kinoko). She had dark green hair, a bit messy and with a suspicious shine that screamed "second day without washing my hair," framing an energetic and always smiling face. She wore her uniform somewhat carelessly; her blouse was half undone and her pants looked like they urgently needed ironing. Furthermore, she carried a fanny pack, bum bag, pouch, waist bag, or whatever the hell you call it in your country, where she kept a thousand and one things that were of real use to her. But what drew the most attention wasn't her attire, but her presence. She was a force of nature.

Kinoko: Takahara-dono!

>Her voice was strangely high-pitched and full of energy, a contrast to the general murmur of the classroom. Her gaze shone intensely through the lenses, almost as if she could see beyond reality.

Kinoko: At last, the bell of freedom has rung! Are you prepared, oh, noble warrior of the dice, for your first official session with the new recruits of the Absolute Role-Playing Club for Metaverse Transcendence, Fantastic Escapism, and the Preservation of the Sacred Art of Unlimited Multiversal Simulation?

>She leaned even further over Takahara's desk, her face inches from his, an invasion of his personal space that Kinoko didn't seem to mind. You could smell the caffeine from the energy drink can she had probably just finished, mixed with the scent of dust and a lack of bathing that was accentuated by the afternoon heat. A smell that, for a role-player accustomed to conventions or marathon sessions in enclosed spaces, was almost familiar, a kind of fragrance of "geek authenticity."
Kinoko: It fills me with infinite joy to see a veteran of your caliber has joined our noble crusade. Your vast experience in the realms of imagination and hyperrealistic simulations will be a beacon of light amidst the darkness of the newcomers. I'm almost tempted to immediately appoint you my Vice President of Multiversal Affairs! Of course, that's only if some cute girl or fresh first-year cutie shows up whom we can manipulate—I mean, guide!—with our rolery wisdom. If not, well, you'll just stay as my right hand, my faithful advisor in this glorious vice.

>She straightened up slightly, letting out a quick, nervous laugh.

Kinoko: And speaking of first-years... oh, how I wish I'd recruited more! I just love freshmen. They're so fresh, so pure, so... malleable. Not that there's any particular reason, of course not! But well, since we're their senpais, we always have some silly excuse we can use to make them believe us. That it's for their character development, that it's to help them feel the true essence of roleplaying, that it's some initiation test... anything! Let's be honest, Takahara-dono, we could grope their tits and tell them it's to calibrate the damage of an imaginary arrow, and they'd probably believe us! It's a vice, a wonderful obsession, muahahahaha!

>Kinoko let out an exaggerated, loud cackle, a shrill sound that cut through the classroom conversation like an axe. This wasn't a subtle or restrained laugh; it was an explosion of uninhibited, eccentric joy.

>Instantly, the noise in the classroom halted for a second. Takahara's classmates turned toward the scene. Their reactions varied, but none were kind. Some looked at her with pure discomfort, as if witnessing a mental traffic accident. Others made faces of disgust, quickly looking away to avoid having to witness the president's lack of hygiene. A few stared at her with absolute contempt, whispering cruel remarks under their breath. "It's that crazy woman," "I wonder when she'll finally graduate," "Hasn't anyone told her she stinks?"—their voices, though low, were clearly audible.
>Kinoko, however, seemed completely immune to the stares. She didn't even blink at the awkward silence she had caused. Her attention was entirely fixed on Takahara, a smug smile still on her face.

Kinoko: Well then, Takahara-dono, time waits for no one, and my patience is as short as a gyaru's skirt on a summer day... I like that line—HA! I'm heading ahead to the abandoned classroom behind the gym to get things ready. I have to make sure the welcome is epic enough for the new recruits to feel the true power of our club! I don't want people seeing us walking together, you know? My reputation's already bad enough without folks thinking we're a thing. Can you imagine? I'd never date a fatty—would ruin my image as an attractive yet antisocial freak! Anyway, see you there! Don't be late!

>With a swift motion, Kinoko slapped Takahara hard on the back, a blow that made him lurch forward in his seat. Then, she turned around and left the classroom, walking slowly but firmly toward the door, her backpack—covered in patches of forgotten anime and RPG dice—swaying rhythmically with each step, vanishing into the hallway as quickly as she had appeared.

>Takahara remained alone at his desk, the sensation of Kinoko's slap still lingering on his back. The classroom filled with noise again, but now the whispers were directed at him, and he could clearly hear them:

—You saw who Takahara was talking to, right?
—Yeah, the crazy president of the roleplay club... Gross.
—They say she smells like cats and video games all day.
—Poor Takahara, he's weird enough already without hanging out with her.
—Bet she recruited him to buy her food. Did you see how big he is?

>The whispers weren't kind, nor subtle. They were cruel and direct, loaded with the merciless judgment of teenagers who didn't understand what it meant to be different. But Takahara was used to it, so it was time to pack your things and leave. The abandoned roleplay club room awaited, and the real adventure was about to begin.

>>10379
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuMfyndwARQ▾
>The metallic screech of the Kamome High School bell echoed through the hallways, marking the long-awaited end of the school day. In the second-year classroom, the atmosphere shifted instantly; the monotonous murmur of the substitute teacher was replaced by the dragging of chairs, the crackle of backpacks zipping shut, and the bustle of dozens of teenagers eager to savor the freedom of the afternoon. Some students bolted as if the building were on fire; others gathered in circles, laughing, planning trips to arcades, or gossiping about the week's latest rumors.

>To an outside observer, it was a peaceful, routine afternoon, the start of a calm transition into leisure. However, that illusion of peace shattered in a millisecond when a booming, hoarse voice, thick with primitive malice, tore through the classroom air, instantly silencing the laughter of the students still lingering in the room.

Gonda: Hey, pee-face! Where the hell do you think you're going, piece of trash?!

>The shout came from the back door of the classroom. The speaker was a specimen that seemed to have jumped straight out of a pamphlet on extreme juvenile delinquency. His name was Ryūji Gonda, a massive bully with messy brown hair that crowned his skull like a dry bush. Gonda's face was decorated with the marks of his own stupidity: poorly healed scars crossing his eyebrow and bandages, remnants of street fights he clearly hadn't won due to his intellect. With heavy steps that made the floor vibrate, Gonda pushed his way through the empty desks, pointing directly at Ri Sōteki with an index finger that looked like a poorly cooked sausage.

>Before the air could return to the lungs of those present, Gonda's huge, calloused hand clamped violently around Ri Sōteki's shirt collar. With no effort at all, using only the brute strength of his right arm, the giant lifted the boy off the ground as if he were an old ragdoll, forcing him to hang suspended in the air with his feet dangling just centimeters above the tiles.

>Accompanying the colossus, slipping through the shadows with the silent grace of a venomous snake, appeared his boss. This guy was the perfect antithesis of brute force: a thin guy with slumped shoulders but an extremely intimidating presence. His name was Shūji Hanaya. His dark hair was styled upward in a pompadour, highlighting a streak of dyed neon blonde right in the center. He had amber eyes, slanted and mocking, adorned with a long gold earring dangling from his left ear. The most striking thing about his appearance, besides his unhinged smile that seemed to stretch from ear to ear, was the kanji tattoo carved in black ink on the back of his left hand. Hanaya interlaced his fingers just beneath his chin, watching the scene with sadistic delight, visibly enjoying the tension and vulnerability of his prey.
>Gonda brought his clenched fist, the size of a teacup, to within a few millimeters of Ri's nose. As he spoke, saliva splattered from his mouth with no regard for hygiene, filling the air with a foul stench of cheap fast food.

Gonda: Just look at you... you still have that damn zombie face from three days without sleep. What's wrong, shorty? Are your legs shaking? You're so scrawny I'm afraid I'll break you before I even have real fun. You disgust me, seriously. One gust of wind and you'd fly off to the lost-and-found.

>Hanaya let out a stifled, high-pitched giggle, devoid of any trace of human empathy. He took a step forward, balancing on his heels, and waved one of his tattooed hands through the air, mimicking the flight of a mosquito.

Hanaya: Come on, Gonda, don't be so rough with our dear potential client. We need to have manners for business, don't you think? Let's see... I suppose you've had enough time to think about the wonderful offer we proposed to you yesterday. You know, the incredible opportunity to 'help us' distribute our special product around the school. There are too many depressed idiots in this prison who would do anything for a quick escape ticket, and you have the perfect face of someone who goes unnoticed.

>The skinny bully leaned in even closer, invading Ri's personal space with mathematical coldness.

Hanaya: We want an answer by first thing tomorrow morning. And let me clarify the situation so you don't use that serious little head of yours to draw the wrong conclusions. You only have two paths. The first: you refuse, and you officially become Gonda's personal punching bag for the next few months; he's a simple guy, gets bored quickly, so he'll have to get creative with you. The second: you decide not to cooperate but also don't want us to break your teeth, which makes you our private bank. You'll have to bring us a fixed sum of yen every day as a 'circulation tax' for the mere privilege of continuing to breathe Kamome's air. If you're even one yen short one day... well, we'll consider that you've decided to rescind your right to life. Was I clear enough, or do you need Gonda to translate it for you in punches?

>Hanaya let out a machiavellian laugh that echoed off the walls of the empty classroom. The silent panic in the air was almost palpable, an asphyxiating atmosphere where time seemed to have frozen for Ri Sōteki. However, fate had prepared a highly unexpected interruption.
>The dry, rhythmic sound of high heels striking the hallway floor announced an imminent arrival. The classroom door swung wide open with a firm slam. At the threshold appeared a young woman of imposing stature, her pale blue eyes gleaming with a mix of annoyance and absolute authority. Her hair, a striking bright pink, hung straight down her back and shoulders, framing a face with fine but severe features. She wore a dark brown formal office suit, perfectly tailored, highlighting her imposing presence. She was the second-year homeroom teacher of Ri's class, a foreign woman from Uruguay named Natalia Cannobio.

Natalia: Well, what do my eyes see... Did this classroom turn into a wrestling gym and nobody told me? Let the kid go right now before I use these notes to rewrite both your faces.

>Professor Natalia's voice carried a particular accent, a blend of a subtly adapted Rioplatense cadence into Japanese, yet loaded with an ironclad firmness that allowed no argument. She crossed her arms beneath her bust, narrowing her eyes toward the delinquents.

>Gonda blinked, intimidated by the teacher's cold gaze, and his grip slackened immediately. He roughly released Ri's shirt, letting the boy regain his footing abruptly. Hanaya, for his part, wiped half his sadistic smile away, shoving his hands into his pants pockets with feigned innocence, though his yellow eyes flashed with frustration.

Hanaya: Professor Natalia... what a surprise to see you here at this hour. We were just... having a friendly chat about our classmate's academic future. You know how we care about student welfare.

Natalia: Yeah, right. And I'm the Queen of England, my love. Don't lie to my face, Hanaya, I know perfectly well the kind of 'welfare' you two handle. Get out of here. Both of you. If I see you two near this classroom harassing your classmates again, I swear by my homeland that the suspension you'll get will make your parents wish they never had you. Move it!

>Gonda growled through his teeth, rubbing the back of his neck, while Hanaya turned around with a sigh of annoyance. Before crossing the door, the boy with the blonde streak paused for a moment, turning his head slightly to fix Ri with a final look loaded with dark promises. With a quick gesture of his tattooed hand, he mimed cutting his own throat, a silent reminder that the deadline expired the next day. Immediately after, both bullies disappeared down the hallway, grudgingly.

>Professor Natalia sighed deeply, tilting her head as she watched the delinquents walk away. Once silence returned to the classroom, she slowly walked toward Ri. Without warning, she raised the gradebook she was holding and gave the boy a sharp, light tap on the crown of his head. It wasn't a blow meant to hurt, but firm enough to wake him up.
Natalia: Come on, Sōteki... Care to explain why you let people treat you like a floor rag? Where did your pride go? You just stand there like a pole waiting to get beaten to a pulp. Honestly, I support education by beating in cases like this; sometimes a good right hook in time teaches more than a hundred textbooks, I'm telling you from personal experience.

>The teacher leaned against one of the front desks, sighing again with an expression of accumulated exhaustion. Her blue eyes seemed to lose some of their professional severity, revealing a more personal side.

Natalia: I know firsthand what it's like to be a foreigner in this blessed country. Ever since they decided to apply that damn self-isolation because of that divine war a few years back, Japan has become unbearable for gaijins and hafus. They look at us like we have the plague, or worse, like we're invaders about to drop a bomb on Hiroshima... Again. But the solution isn't to bow your head and let idiots like Gonda walk all over you. You gotta toughen your skin, kid.

>She crossed her arms once more, drawing a small, crooked smile that combined genuine warmth with a rather acidic sense of humor.

Natalia: Anyway... take care of yourself, okay? I'll be keeping a close eye on you to make sure you don't get into bad trouble or end up doing shady business with those two brain-deads. I know deep down you're a good kid. Although, of course, judging by your current grades... let's just say the future doesn't look like you'll be the next Nobel Prize winner. But hey, if you try a little bit, at least I hope you'll become a decent salaryman, the kind who falls asleep on the train after working fifteen hours straight. That would be a resounding success by my teaching standards, don't you think?"

>The teacher let out a small mocking laugh at her own cruel joke. Then, her face regained a more relaxed tone and she gestured with her head toward the classroom exit.

Natalia: Go on, pack your stuff and get out of here to your club already. By the way... I heard somewhere that you finally joined a school club. Although, let me tell you, I don't understand how you let yourself be dragged into that martyrdom of the roleplay club. Are you insane? Be very careful with that girl, Kinoko Ichinose. She's completely nuts, living in another dimension. I'm giving you a woman's advice: if you're the most effeminate guy or have the softest features in the group, never leave her alone with you under any circumstances. That crazy woman is capable of using you as her personal doll and dressing you in maid or schoolgirl outfits before you can even spell the word 'dignity'."

>The afternoon was falling quickly, and the mysterious abandoned classroom behind the gymnasium, home to Ichinose's most deranged fantasies, awaited him.

>>10381
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuMfyndwARQ▾
>The shrill and relentless sound of the Kamome High School bell echoed through the hallways, officially marking the end of another torturous school day. For the first-year students, that sound was not just a physical release from the classroom drowsiness, but a psychological frontier. The teacher of the day packed his notes with the same apathy he had used to lecture, turned around, and crossed the door threshold without looking back, leaving the group plunged into an instant chaos of opening backpacks, dragging chairs, and the explosion of cross-talk. In the air floated a very particular mix of hormones, exhaustion, and that strange discomfort of belonging to the lowest rung of the school hierarchy. The first-graders still carried the stigma of being the "newbies," the novices who looked at the hallways with a mix of awe and shyness, desperately trying to fit into a social jungle they had not yet fully mastered. While some shot out in noisy groups toward the lockers, others regrouped inside the classroom, forming small islands of complicity and whispering about what they would do with the rest of their free afternoon.

>Jhon Miller observed everything from his seat, experiencing that dense and heavy end-of-class atmosphere. Suddenly, the heaviness of the air was broken when a familiar silhouette crossed the classroom entrance with a firm step and overwhelming confidence. It was Takeshi Smirnov, Jhon's best friend, the only and unconditional companion who had never left him hanging since the hazy days of middle school. Takeshi exuded a rough but extremely magnetic masculinity; he was a tall boy with a defined jaw and a challenging gaze, wearing a black cap turned backward that had become his personal trademark. His presence radiated the confidence of someone who knows they own the place, but that afternoon he was not coming alone. Clinging to his side, almost merging with his body, advanced his girlfriend, a girl named Mei. She possessed a mane of such deep dark blue it seemed to absorb the classroom light, adorned with a smile overflowing with almost angelic kindness. However, what truly froze the gazes and dominated the visual space was her exuberant anatomy. Mei displayed truly colossal front attributes, two enormous and imposing masses that defied the seams of the high school white uniform and that, without exaggeration, possessed a volume superior to Miller's own head.
>The girl walked clinging tightly to Takeshi's arm, seeking a physical contact so intimate and desperate that it betrayed a complex deeply rooted in her personal history. Mei never mentioned her father's surname; she only introduced herself as "Mei L." The reason was an open secret: that surname revealed a foreign origin, from England, linked to an absent father whom she detested with all her might. That obvious emotional lack, those "daddy issues" the size of a cathedral, pushed her to seek constant refuge and validation in Takeshi's manly chest, staying glued to him as if she feared the world would swallow her if she let go for even a second.

>Takeshi Smirnov stopped in front of Jhon's desk, letting out a raspy laugh while shaking his head in annoyance.

Takeshi: Holy shit, JM! Chemistry class was absolute complete garbage. I swear by the most sacred thing that not even if I shit, or even if I were to be reborn, I'm going to learn that damn periodic table. What the fuck do I need to know the molecular weight of strontium for if the only thing I plan to synthesize in my life is cold beer on weekends?

Mei: Oh, Takeshi, you're so stupid!

>The blue-haired girl let out a melodious giggle, narrowing her eyes with tenderness as her gigantic breasts bounced slightly against the boy's arm due to the spasm of laughter. Immediately after, she subtly rose onto her tiptoes to plant a loud and affectionate kiss on his cheek. Takeshi, however, was so utterly used to receiving those constant displays of affection and adoration that he didn't even flinch; he continued staring fixedly at Jhon, adjusting his cap with one hand while adopting a much more serious and confidential tone of voice.

Takeshi: Listen well, brother. I heard you're thinking about joining that bullshit role-playing club. Don't go to that shit, I'm telling you seriously and for your own good. Haven't you heard the rumors floating around about the president, that one Kinoko Ichinose? The nasty tongues in the second-floor hallways say that girl is fucking crazy. Last month they found her locked inside an abandoned locker at seven at night, completely in the dark, hugging a Kamasutra, screaming that the janitor was a cave troll who wanted to steal her power gems. She's completely nuts, JM, she's a dangerous freak who's going to give you the creeps.

Mei: It's totally true, Jhon-kun... A friend who's on the discipline committee told me that girl smells weird, like rancid fried food and confinement, and that sometimes she starts whispering dirty things to the dice when she thinks no one is watching. How disgusting, she's a hopeless weirdo.
Takeshi: See? We're confirming it for you. Forget those freaks and come with us instead. Today's plan is fucking awesome: we're heading straight to the cinema to see that Backrooms movie they just released, and after we're gonna stuff ourselves with food at the Chinese buffet on the corner until they have to carry us out.

>Jhon didn't even have time to process the invitation. At that exact moment, Mei leaned in towards Takeshi's ear, breaking the distance to whisper something in his low voice. Miller couldn't hear a single word of what the blue-haired girl was saying to his friend, but his field of vision was inevitably hijacked by the proximity of her attributes. Due to Mei's ragged breathing and murmurs, those two immense and colossal masses trembled subtly but rhythmically, rising and falling with a hypnotic heaviness that revealed the young woman's absolute lack of shame.

>Takeshi Smirnov's eyes popped wide open upon hearing the whisper, and a smile loaded with absolute and malicious perversion formed on his lips. Without the slightest hint of shame or chivalry, Takeshi lowered his right hand with speed and planted his entire palm on his girlfriend's ass, giving her a firm, shameless, and possessive squeeze. Mei, far from being offended or pulling away, let out a small, stifled moan that echoed softly in the classroom, arching her back as her gigantic breasts shook violently again upon contact. Takeshi let out a dirty laugh and looked at Jhon with complicity loaded with mockery.

Takeshi: You know what, Miller? Thinking about it... better cancel the cinema thing. Forget what I told you. Go to your little idiots' club or just head straight home to jerk off properly, because the two of us are going to the
>Mei's farewell had been delivered in a falsely sweet little voice, but as she turned to follow Takeshi, she made sure to cast a fleeting, disdainful glance at Jhon—a gesture loaded with a thinly veiled disgust that Miller picked up on perfectly. The moment they crossed the threshold into the lounge, the girl began muttering complaints, criticizing Jhon's presence or attitude, but Takeshi didn't let her finish. The boy grabbed her firmly by the nape, slammed her against the hallway wall, and shut her up with a deep, wet French kiss, all while his hands climbed back up to massage and squeeze with shameless audacity the enormous tits of the blue-haired girl, visible to anyone passing by. That public display wasn't just a show of affection; it was an obscene exhibition, a subtle and cruel way of rubbing in Jhon's face that they were a real couple and that he, in contrast, had absolutely no one in this entire world.

>The scene inside the classroom only made things worse for the blonde. It seemed as if the entire universe had conspired that afternoon to rub his absolute, pathetic singlehood in his face. The first-year classroom had turned into a hormonal battlefield where surviving couples were busy making out or whispering to each other with that cloying, sickly-sweet sentimentality typical of high school sweethearts. In one corner, two guys were hugging while sharing a single earphone; near the window, a pair of girls giggled quietly while one drew the other's lips with excessive closeness.

>Even if Jhon shifted his gaze toward the darkest corner in the back, the dose of reality was crushing. There she was—the girl who had rejected him so brutally just a week ago. Back then, she had given him the pathetic excuse that her parents were extremely strict, that they'd scold her if she got distracted, and that she had absolutely no permission to have a boyfriend or go out with guys because of her grades. Yet, there she was now, backed up against the cleaning locker next to a skinny second-year guy. They weren't making out, but the way she stared at him fixedly, with dilated pupils, accelerated breathing, and a devotion almost carnal, made it clear she wanted to suck him right there, regardless of the place or the witnesses. The lie was exposed in the most painful way possible.

>Jhon Miller, feeling the dead weight of his utter lack of luck with women. The murmur of wet kisses, the conspiratorial giggles, and the brushing of foreign uniforms filled the space. Only two very clear paths remained before him: walk with his head down toward the abandoned classroom behind the gym to surrender his dignity to the hyperactive and dangerous Kinoko Ichinose in her Absolute Role-Playing Club, or return to the solitude of his room to stare at the ceiling and confirm that, in real life, his destiny was to be a spectator to everyone else's happiness.

>>10382
>The shrill echo of Kamome High School's bell reverberated through the concrete hallways, marking the end of yet another monotonous school day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuMfyndwARQ▾
>Amid this youthful chaos strode the 27-year-old teacher whom the entire faculty, with a mix of pity and silent disdain, simply referred to as "the fat guy." The accumulated heat from the classroom and the weight of his own body made every step toward the staff room feel like penance. Students passed by his side instinctively sidestepping him, as if he were an inanimate obstacle on the map of their daily routine.

>As he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the staff room, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The outside noise was buried beneath a thick silence, broken only by the dripping of the coffee machine and the rustling of exam papers that a few lingering teachers lazily corrected. The air in here smelled of cheap coffee, old paper, and the subtle bitterness of administrative fatigue. Most desks were empty, but at the back, near the windows overlooking the backyard, two peculiar figures could be seen engaged in a hushed conversation.

>The first was Katsuro Tanaka, a man barely reaching 1.59 meters tall. With messy hair, thick-rimmed glasses accentuating his perpetually wide eyes, and a grayish suit that looked two sizes too big, Tanaka nervously clutched his blue tie while gesturing frantically. Beside him, standing in almost comical contrast, loomed Sia Baya, an imposing teacher originally from the Central African Republic. Sia was exceptionally tall, with exotic beauty and extremely generous physical attributes. Her short, platinum-white hair and thin-rimmed round glasses radiated a blend of elegance and military severity—a comprehensible armor for someone who had fled the horrors of war in her homeland.

>Noticing the fat teacher's entrance, Tanaka halted his speech mid-sentence and raised a bony hand, waving it through the air with somewhat forced enthusiasm, beckoning him closer. A stupid, complacent smile spread across his face—the kind he often wore to hide his eternal cowardice.

Tanaka: Ah, colleague! Come in, come in, don't just stand there like an old piece of furniture.

Sia: Good afternoon.

Tanaka: We were discussing Professor Baya's absolutely revolutionary theory. She claims, with all the scientific reason in the world, that the only real way to combat our great nation's demographic collapse is by pouring stimulating hormones directly into the school's drinking water system. Imagine it! Japan's birth rate will be saved thanks to Kamome High School! It's a flawless, perfect plan!
Sia: Anyway. How was your class today, Professor? I hope your students showed more interest in your subject than you do in your personal hygiene.

>Teacher Baya delivered those words with such icy, pristine politeness that it was impossible to tell whether it was a cruel mockery or a genuine expression of social concern.

Sia: Will you tell him yourself, Tanaka-san, or must I proceed with the direct disciplinary warning protocol?

Tanaka: Oh! Uh... well, I... of course! Yes, naturally, I'll handle delivering the message with the proper... pedagogical delicacy. Heh, heh...

>The little teacher scratched the back of his neck with obvious discomfort, letting out a nervous chuckle as his bulging eyes darted from side to side, avoiding direct eye contact with the fat professor. He adjusted his glasses with a trembling finger and began spinning slowly in place, searching for words that wouldn't sound offensive.

Tanaka: You see... my esteemed and... robust colleague. In academic life, just as in the physical laws governing our universe, there are certain molecular proximity limits that must be respected to prevent particle collisions. What I'm trying to say is that... educators of our caliber, especially those who possess a certain... let's say, advanced maturity and respectable body volume, must maintain a prudent, almost astronomical distance from the younger celestial bodies among our students. Specifically those students whose physical characteristics... have not yet completed their standard biological development cycle—

Sia: Enough, Tanaka. Your rambling is as useless as your history lessons.

>The African teacher stepped forward, crossing her imposing arms over her ample chest. Her shadow seemed to completely engulf the frightened Tanaka, and her stern gaze locked directly onto the fat professor's pupils with the force of a military verdict.

Sia: I'll be direct because I don't have time to dress up depravity. You've been formally reported for inappropriate behavior three times this week. I don't care what twisted fantasies cloud your mind or what kind of sick fetishes you indulge in the privacy of your home, but you must stop immediately. Second-year student Sazayama swears she saw you in the locker rooms nibbling on her freshly worn gym uniform. Yes, you heard correctly: nibbling on sweaty clothes.
Tanaka: Certainly unhygienic behavior, not to mention morally questionable!

Sia: Silence, Tanaka. The point is that the faculty board and I have already buried that report under a mountain of paperwork so it never reaches the principal's ears or the ministry's. We're not doing this out of sympathy for you, but because this institution depends on government funding and we can't afford a sex-related scandal. We've already had enough trouble covering up last month's third-year student suicide to keep Kamome's reputation clean—let alone have the press now digging into the unchecked lust of a twenty-seven-year-old teacher who looks fifty. I'm asking you in the most formal way possible: restrain yourself.

>Before the tension in the corner of the room could dissolve, the heavy entrance door burst open with a sharp crash that made the metal lockers vibrate. The air in the room instantly grew dense.

>Through the doorway stepped a colossal silhouette that blocked out the light from the hallway. It was Genzuro Kuragane, principal of Kamome High School. A man nearing two meters tall, with absurdly developed musculature that made the seams of his dark gray formal suit look ready to burst with every movement of his shoulders. His face, carved with deep, grotesque scars from past battles—evoking more the image of a yakuza boss than an educator—wore a permanent sneer. With slow, heavy steps that made the wooden floorboards tremble beneath his Italian shoes, the principal advanced into the room, casting a gigantic shadow that engulfed the three teachers.

Kuragane: "Would someone care to explain what kind of henhouse you're running here? I can hear your squawking from my office. I hope you're not wasting the institution's time with pointless conspiracies."

>Tanaka, upon seeing Kuragane's imposing figure, immediately shrank his shoulders, lowering his head in obvious terror as his knees began to visibly tremble. Sia, in contrast, maintained her composure with enviable coldness, adjusting her glasses with a slow, deliberate motion of her hand.

Sia: Not at all, Director Kuragane. I was merely explaining to this teacher here the proper methodology for reprimanding students suspected of spying in the girls' changing rooms. A simple exchange of internal disciplinary techniques.
Kuragane let out a harsh, gruff snort, completely ignoring the African teacher's explanation. His eyes, cold and piercing behind his thin reading glasses, locked directly onto the sloppy, obese figure of the fat teacher. He approached the coffee machine table with deliberate slowness, pouring himself a cup of black coffee without breaking eye contact with his subordinate. The clinking of the spoon against porcelain echoed like a death knell in the silent room.

Kuragane: I see. Though I seriously doubt our... 'distinguished' colleague here is the most suitable person to teach morality or discipline. Just look at yourself. You're pathetic. It's a miracle the buttons on your shirt are still holding under the tremendous pressure of your own personal sloth. Sometimes I wonder how the education system allows individuals with such a complete lack of self-respect to be in charge of shaping the minds of the future. You're the living embodiment of failure, a loser who can't even maintain the basic dignity of an adult.

>>10385
>The monotonous and unbearable screech of chalk against the green blackboard of Kamome High School finally pronounced the sentence of liberation for the souls trapped in the second-year classroom. The wall clock, which seemed to advance at the speed of a snail with rheumatism, struck three in the afternoon. An electronic and shrill buzz cut through the hallways: the end-of-class bell.

>The classroom instantly turned into a boiling cauldron of murmurs, muffled laughter, and the dragging of heavy wooden desks against the worn linoleum floor. Some students, eager to savor the freedom of the Osaka twilight, threw their notebooks into their backpacks with a nearly poetic disorder, while loudly planning their visits to arcade halls or mandatory stops for a bowl of ramen. Others, calmer, gathered in the corners to gossip about mock exams or the latest absurd social media trend.

>Right next to Bibi's desk was the corner of her only and faithful confidante in that inhospitable school ecosystem. A small silhouette, noticeably shorter than the girl in the witch hat, remained seated with a posture that screamed accumulated exhaustion. It was a girl of undeniable aristocratic refinement. Her hair, a deep royal blue falling in two perfectly groomed pigtails, was adorned with subtle strands of a much lighter blue that framed a pale face and reddish eyes that dripped with profound apathy for the outside world.

>Her name was Hotaru, though in school records her surname appeared simply with a solitary and enigmatic letter: L. Hotaru L. A secret known to all that the young woman preferred to bury seven feet deep; that foreign surname belonged to her father, an English noble of golden birth and obscene wealth who had left her behind as the fruit of an illegitimate relationship. For Hotaru, being a "bastard" in the twenty-first century was not a title of nobility, but a mark of contempt she preferred to hide to have absolutely nothing to do with the man who was never there.

>At that moment, Hotaru held a small cardboard pear juice container in her hands, sipping through the plastic straw with a dull noise that revealed the drink was in its last drops. After a prolonged and dense silence, where only the annoying vacuum of the carton being sucked could be heard, the blue-haired girl lowered the container, sighed with a weariness that seemed to take years off her life, and fixed her reddish gaze on the girl dressed like a medieval fantasy witch.
Hotaru: I can't believe it. Honestly... I'm still trying to process how it's physically possible that you dragged me into this. A role-playing club? Seriously? I feel my IQ drop three points every second I think about that chick. Kinoko Ichinose is completely unhinged. The other day I saw her running around the backyard screaming that she'd detected a space-time anomaly near the gym lockers. The student council's gossip mill says she's a first-class pervert, and well, the wildest rumors claim she's a lesbian... although, honestly, I think she's pansexual. And no, I don't mean that in the sense that she'd be capable of proposing marriage to a damn meronpan.

>The blue-haired girl shifted her gaze toward the classroom ceiling.

Hotaru: But I guess there's no turning back now. If I don't go with you to that damn club, you'll be all alone in this hellhole called Kamome High. And I'm not letting you become social lunch for these idiots. Someone has to be the voice of reason, or at least the one with a supply of painkillers when we get migraines from listening to that hyperactive president's screaming.

>However, the fragile bubble of tranquility between the two friends didn't last long before exploding in the most crude and unpleasant way possible. Just a few meters from their desks, right near the exit door, stood two of the most popular and loud girls in the class, belonging to the boisterous gyaru subculture of the high school. Their shrill, piercing laughter cut through the air like dull knives.

>The first of them, Reika, was a girl with brown hair tied up in a flashy high bun. Beside her, Chiyo, a gyaru with notably tanned skin and platinum blonde hair in two short pigtails, winked at the front camera of her phone while flashing a peace sign with her fingers adorned with kilometer-long pink nails. They were live-streaming to their TikTok account and had absolutely no intention of being discreet. In fact, the smartphone camera lens was shamelessly pointed directly at Bibi and Hotaru's desk.

Reika: Oh no, guys, look at this! Kamome's fauna is super exotic today! We've got the village witch ready to cast an eternal virginity spell with her ridiculous little hat. Like, does she really think she's at an anime convention? It's so childish, it gives me death-by-cringe.

Chiyo: Wait, wait, Reika, don't forget the mini-pet she has next to her! The bitch! Look at her, guys, she's so flat she looks like a Showa-era ironing board. Are you sure she eats anything besides that rancid pear juice? She looks like she's got bad bulimia, all malnourished and ugly. She smells like dampness from here... I bet her foreign dad abandoned her in this country because he was ashamed to have such a deformed and head-deformed daughter! Did you know she cuts her arms because no one loves her?!

>The destructive comments and the laughter from their live-stream chat seemed to feed the egos of the two gyarus, who continued mocking without any mercy.
>Hotaru, hearing the poisonous words that struck directly at her deepest insecurities, froze completely. Her reddish eyes flew wide open, losing the little brightness they had left. A wave of humiliation dyed her cheeks a pale red, not of anger, but of pure shame and pain. Desperately trying to act as if she hadn't heard the cruel mockery from social media, the small blue-haired girl clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white.

>As she tried to hastily adjust her backpack to flee the situation, the abrupt movement caused the loose sleeves of her white jacket to slide back slightly, revealing for a fraction of a second the skin of her wrists. There, on the pale epidermis, were drawn multiple horizontal marks, reddish lines and poorly healed scars that betrayed a silent and private torment. Realizing her slip-up, Hotaru yanked the sleeves of her uniform with desperate speed, covering the cut marks while a drop of cold sweat ran down her temple.

Hotaru: Let's go... please, Bibi. We should head to the club room now. It makes no sense to stay here, serving as free entertainment for the circus of those two idiots...

>The voice of the blue-haired girl, usually sarcastic and cutting, broke noticeably as she spoke the last words. Her shoulders trembled slightly and her eyes grew moist, forcing herself to blink rapidly to hold back the tears that threatened to overflow down her cheeks. The weight of her socio-emotional problems, a burden Bibi knew all too well due to the closeness they had built, seemed to crush her at that very moment under the mocking gaze of the digital spectators. Hotaru grabbed her belongings chaotically, clutching her bag as if it were a protective shield, waiting for her friend to finish getting ready to run away from that calvary.

>It was at that moment of maximum tension when an elegant and authoritative shadow physically interposed itself between the two vulnerable students and the mocking gyarus.

>Miss Natalia Cannobio, the teacher of Uruguayan origin, stood in the middle of the classroom with her arms crossed over her impeccable dark brown suit, which contrasted with her long, straight hair of a striking pastel pink tone. Her light blue eyes, usually serious but understanding, sparkled with a mix of professional annoyance and absolute determination.

Natalia: Alright, girls. It seems the class schedule has already ended, which means the time to use the facilities for your ridiculous internet shows has also expired. If you don't turn off that phone right this second and clear out of the classroom, I swear on my grandmother that I will spend half of my salary this month to hire a bot farm from Eastern Europe to massively report your TikTok accounts for systematic harassment until they take them down forever.
>The gyarus paled in unison. The threat of losing their profiles was equivalent to a social death sentence. Without uttering a single word of rebuttal, Reika tucked the phone into her pocket with trembling hands while Chiyo let out a suppressed squeal of indignation. Both grabbed their designer backpacks and hurried out of the classroom, their heels clicking rapidly down the outer hallway until their presence vanished completely.

>Professor Natalia sighed deeply but quickly recomposed her professional posture and turned toward the two girls remaining in the classroom. Her gaze softened as she observed Hotaru's state of nervousness.

Natalia: Well... you can go now, girls. Do it very carefully, please. The truth is, this school is falling apart more and more when it comes to respect and empathy, but... what can we do? It's the only institution in all of Osaka that allows gaijins to work and study decently without putting so many bureaucratic hurdles in our way. I just ask you to endure one more year, okay?

>The teacher offered a nostalgic and somewhat tired smile, arranging the last corrected exams into her leather briefcase before giving them one last look of sincere support.

Natalia: Anyway, don't let people like that ruin your afternoon. Remember that if you ever have a really serious problem or need to talk to someone who isn't a stiff teacher, you can come find me in the teachers' room with total confidence. My door is always open to you. Have a good afternoon.

>The teacher gave a slight bow of her head before turning around and continuing to organize her desk, signaling that they were free to leave and that the path to the club room was finally cleared of bullying.

>Hotaru, for her part, immediately adopted a defensive and distant attitude. She crossed her arms, averted her gaze toward the classroom window, and began humming an inaudible melody, shamelessly feigning madness as if Teacher Natalia's words had not been directed at her in the slightest. Her immense difficulty in opening up to others forced her to don that mask of cold indifference, protecting herself from the outside world in the only way she knew how.

>The hallway leading to the abandoned classroom behind Kamome High School's gymnasium awaited them. A path covered in dry leaves, with the afternoon sun tinting the walls an almost mystical orange, where the Absolute Roleplay Club for Metaverse Transcendence waited to give them an escape route from all their realities.

Kamome Preparatory School: "Your home away from home, your refuge for education."

>>10387
>Takahara

>There he was, a behemoth of remarkable size for the Japanese standard, but we weren't talking about some average 15-year-old high school student from a 90s anime or manga. Instead of being a tower of muscles the size of a bear, Takahara was a tower of fat, a huge cylinder of dense adipose tissue more akin to a Gigantopithecus, almost a perfect sphere thanks to his stellar 1.80m height despite his somewhat hunched posture, all thanks to his foreign genes that in some alternate reality would have made him a wrestler who could have given Rey Mysterio a run for his money. Instead, he was a 135kg wall who knew all the Pokémon by heart.
>After class ended, he took a moment to take off his glasses and clean them with his limited edition Tokyo Mew Mew handkerchief, which he had won at an auction after spending his entire summer job savings from last year.
>He remained adjacent yet nonchalant to the school commotion around him, keeping to his own internal temple of imagination and fiction.
>After finishing cleaning his glasses, he went through his backpack, checking if he should add a new pin or a new keychain to his already vast collection of pure quality moe series adorning his school uniform, until the sudden appearance of a certain XX-chromosome individual.
>The shake of his desk, which was also partially buried in his wide belly, caused the vibrational wave to spread across his belly like ripples in a calm pond after throwing a rock to disturb said peace.

First of all, good afternoon, miss.

>He was already aware of Ichinose's reputation despite having come to this school relatively recently; however, he had kept feeling the waters and gathering info until he could deliver the verdict. Indeed, this foid was one of his own. That's why he signed up for the club.

Asking a man if he's ready is like asking a dog if he's going to poop in the garden or a Lich if he's going to make a phylactery before dying.

>He stood up, the small chair for his wide and greasy posterior getting stuck between the two hills adorning the exit of his digestive system, forcing him to shake it off to make it fall.
In other words, yes, I'm ready, Kinono-san, or Ms. President, as you prefer.

>They invade her personal space, which finally triggers her greasy fat-guy attitude from spending too much time grinding gachas; he started sweating like a pig, could even say he was sweating lard given how fat he was, his smell of chips and fries clashing with Kinono's caffeine stench, creating a swirl of geeky odor that threatened to collapse in on itself and fracture this fragile, normie-ridden reality.

I see, hehe.

>He did the anime move of making his glasses shine; since he went nearsighted from too much computer time, he'd always been happy to use them for these kinds of gestures.

If that's the case, I'd be more than happy to be a direct collaborator in steering this little ship we call 'Club'; we can't let the newbies pick up bad habits. And I see you speak my language... hehe, even if I'm an unconditional 2D lover, I have no qualms about observing some 3D GL action up close if you get my drift, Kinoko-san. Maybe we could tell them they need to, um, act out a scene on their own to see the true connection and intimacy of their characters.

>As we said, they were on the same frequency of autistic roleplay.

>Takahara was actively ignorant of the obvious oppressive and judgmental aura of the others toward his new dice partner; he was a victim too, but it didn't matter—he was cringe, yet free from the moral chains of normies who can't enjoy life without multiple masks of irony layered on top.

He took the comment without offense, my friend; you're not really my type either, so keep going, we'll meet at the agreed-upon gathering spot.

>The blow to his back also rippled through his soft fat, making him shake himself to adjust while he put on his backpack and tightened the straps.

>All these normies feared his elevated power level and didn't even dare to confront him directly; what illusions, sheep without will.

Today will be a fantabulous day, yum.

>He walked toward the indicated abandoned classroom, his enormous mass accompanying him with every step through this institution.

>>10386 >>10375
>Name and/or nickname:
Uh... "Rolero" is fine.
>Exact age:
15 years, 7 months, and 26 days approximately... I didn't count the minutes, are they necessary for the form?
>School grade:
First year.
>Gender or Sex:
Combat Helicopter.
>Birthday:
November 19, 2010, not my sign.
>Nationality:
Russian-Japanese very cliché. My family is of Russian origin. My grandparents arrived in Japan during the 80s and since then the whole family has lived here.
>Roleplay experience:
I've only roleplayed on anonymous internet forums (lying about my age), the kind that are text-only. I really have almost no, or directly zero, experience with real and normal roleplay. I've never played a tabletop campaign.
>Favorite setting:
I like roles set in the Victorian Era, "Current" but psychological/horror, or some dark fantasy, though currently that's very burned out. But in general I like roles, all settings (except those based on existing things, like anime and that)... Oh, and I also like those Empress and noble roles, though I've never roleplayed any.
>Dice type:
My favorite die is the 1d9, I always carry one with me. 1d9 = 6
>Character style:
I like making characters that are totally contrary to what is expected in the plot's power level. Or directly characters that are too simple, without spark. Like for example, if everyone makes an all-powerful hero with a thousand victories, I make a peasant with a shovel. It's a good way to narratively justify my bad dice rolls, and it's fun.
>Current relationship status:
I didn't understand this part, how do I feel? Normal. "Civil status"? Single. If the question was something else, sorry.
>Fetish or vice:
"Fetish"? I like kisses and those cheesy things... I don't know if that counts as a fetish. . "Vice"? I like creating roleplay systems, worlds, and those things, but I never use them, it's just for the love of the game.
>Favorite dinosaur:
The Dilophosaurus... or the Suchomimus? I'm more of a Carboniferous type.
>Ideal historical era:
Late Paleolithic or Chalcolithic.
>Food for roleplaying:
Homemade sandwiches or sweet buns.
>Biggest absurd fear:
When I was little I was terrified of a toy cake, which was like an animatronic. Currently I don't know, maybe answering a rhetorical question as if it were literal and no one correcting me for several months.
>The weirdest thing you've eaten just out of pure laziness to cook:
Cold white rice with soy sauce and tuna, straight from the pot.
>Your favorite Pokémon:
Forretress.
>Your definitive anime opening:
I don't usually listen to any anime openings; I skip them directly.
>Your favorite conspiracy theory:
The CIA invents exaggerated conspiracies to create a smokescreen, so that the gentiles ignore the real ones.
>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
I'd go to the forest.
>If you were a piece of furniture, which one would you be and why?:
A metal filing cabinet. It protects important information, takes up little space, and normally no one notices it until they need something.
>Rate your current mental health from 1 to 10:
I need clarification before answering. Does 10 mean "very good mental health" or "very severe mental health problems"? The scale completely changes the result.

>Your most destructive unpopular opinion:
Most people think a technology is better when it requires less human effort. When a computer understands the user, when an operating system adapts to their habits, when an AI anticipates what they want before they ask, when an interface eliminates any friction between person and machine.

Well, I think that's huge stupidity.

The modern obsession with making technology easier, personalized, and accessible is destroying what made technology an expression of humanity. The difficulty, the discipline, and the direct connection between the creator's mind and the work created. Thanks to the normalization of technology in the market, made for the cattle of the masses, it has generated a confusion between comfort and perfection. An operating system full of layers, assistants, automatic configurations, and abstractions seems more advanced than a simple one. An AI with billions of "if" parameters seems more impressive than a small program written with transparent logic. But complexity isn't always intelligence. It's just accumulated slop, fat in the arteries, like endless lines of "if" in programming, when they only hinder like tangled wiring. Often, complexity is simply an accumulation of layers created to hide a lack of understanding.
"An idiot admires complexity, a genius admires simplicity."

The true masterpiece is not the one that does everything for you. It is the one that reveals a fundamental truth through the minimum possible number of elements. The purest technology is not the one that removes the human from the process. It is the one that forces the human to be present. That is why something seemingly limited can be infinitely deeper than something seemingly powerful. A small chess program (Atari 2600 Chess) can have more soul than a modern AI capable of writing novels, creating images, and answering any question. Not because it is technically superior, but because behind that small creation there is a human mind facing the world directly. Every decision, every line, every limitation represents the creator's intent.

The machine does not try to replace the human. It is an extension of the human soul.

Modern technology, on the other hand, is increasingly focused on separating us from creation. We no longer want to understand the tools, we just want to consume results. We no longer want to build, we just want to select options. We no longer want to master a machine, we just want the machine to know us. And when a technology begins to know you better than you know the technology, something is lost. Personalization seems like freedom, but often it is a more sophisticated form of imprisonment. A system that adapts completely to you stops challenging you. An environment that never contradicts you stops teaching you. A machine designed to avoid any frustration ends up avoiding any growth as well.

Humanity always advanced by facing the difficult. The musician who masters an instrument does not do so because the instrument adapts to them. The artist does not improve because the painting completes their ideas automatically. The programmer does not learn because a tool removes all their problems. Difficulty is the space where transformation occurs. Eliminating all difficulty is eliminating the path. That is why I consider the current direction of technology, especially with increasingly intuitive interfaces and intelligent systems that try to anticipate every need, to be a kind of decay disguised as progress.
The internet also represents this contradiction. It seems to have connected the world, yet at the same time created a humanity permanently distracted, dependent on systems that decide what we see, what we think, and what we desire. Infinite information does not necessarily produce wisdom. Sometimes it only produces infinite noise. Technology should be a tool to elevate human consciousness, not a way to anesthetize it. That is why there is a huge difference between a machine created as a reflection of the human mind and a machine generated to replace the human mind. The first is art, the second is dependency.

The highest technology should not be that where the human disappears behind layers of automation, but rather that where extreme simplicity reveals the infinite complexity of the one who created it. A simple computer, a clear architecture, a pure language, a small but perfectly understood program. Because when everything is simplified for us, we stop asking how the world works. And a humanity that stops asking how the world works ends up losing the capacity to create a new one. That is why the true pinnacle of technology is not building machines that think for us. It is building tools so pure that they allow our own mind, our creativity, and our essence to express themselves without intermediaries.

And thus the way to express a connection between the mind, creation, and something superior to us. True technology does not separate us from the divine; when it is born from simplicity, intention, and deep understanding, it can become a mirror where the soul recognizes the creator.
.....
..
Sorry, I wrote too much.

>>10394
>The metallic screech of the Kamome High School bell echoed through the hallways with a dull vibration that seemed to shake the dust accumulated in the corners of the first-year classroom. It was a dry sound, devoid of any joy, marking the end of another day of academic torture. Without losing a single second, the teacher in charge of the last session stacked his folders with mechanical movements, shoved his chalk into his pocket with an apathy bordering on the pathological, and crossed the threshold of the back door without deigning to look back even once, as if the mere act of breathing the same air as his students took years off his life. Immediately, the classroom turned into a small chaotic ecosystem. The murmur of conversations began to rise; some students stretched lazily over their desks, others stuffed their notebooks in a hurry while planning to go to the karaoke at the station or debating which convenience store had the best steamed buns this season. It was the natural flow of youth, a river of laughter, shared secrets, and mundane plans.

>However, amidst that ordinary bustle, there existed an absolute void. In a secluded corner, near the windows overlooking the inner hallway, the silver-haired girl. For the rest of the class, she simply did not exist. It was not a matter of shyness or active exclusion; it was something much deeper and terrifying: total invisibility. Students passed by her side as if walking through fog. In fact, a group of girls between the desks talking noisily about a TV show; one of them, stepping back to laugh at a joke, planted her heavy shoe directly on the foot of the young woman with white hair. The girl didn't even look down, didn't apologize, and didn't realize she had made contact with a human being. She continued on her way as if she had stepped on a slightly loose tile. In this school ecosystem, the silver-haired student occupied no rung; she was neither prey nor predator, but an invisible anomaly that the rest of the world ignored so as not to break the illusion of their own reality.

>The air in the classroom, thick with the afternoon heat, began to transform. A nauseating and damp smell, a repulsive mixture of stagnant water, cheap disinfectant, and dirty slang that hadn't been rinsed for weeks, began to seep in through the open window overlooking the hallway. The source of that stench did not take long to materialize. Turning his gaze slightly toward the glass, one could see a wide and deformed silhouette. It was the high school janitor, a man whose name was Katsuro Mura. Katsuro was not a tall man, but his immense and flabby body gave him an overwhelming presence that seemed to occupy the entire space of the window frame. His head, almost completely bald except for a few greasy strands of dark hair that sprouted in a disordered way on the crown, shone under the fluorescent light. His face was a nightmare of disproportionate features: sagging cheeks covered in cold sweat and a semi-open mouth revealing a neglected and yellowish dentition, from which a constant thread of saliva dripped, moistening the corners of his lips.
>At that moment, he held in his chubby hands with blackened nails a copy of the novel "Diary of a Mad Old Man" by Jun'ichiro Tanizaki. Unlike the rest of the school, the janitor's eyes did not ignore the presence of the silver-haired girl. On the contrary, his dilated pupils were fixed on her with a sickening intensity. The man lowered the book, revealing his wet, trembling smile, and stuck his head out through the window frame, invading the classroom space with his fetid breath.

Katsuro: Good afternoon, pretty-chan... What a blessing to find you here all alone. You know, I've been watching you from the outside courtyard... and let me tell you, you look especially beautiful today. Your hair shines like silver under this afternoon sun, and that scent... oh yes, it has a wonderful aroma, like fresh flowers just cut. It's a shame that no one in this filthy classroom has the eyes to appreciate a pure jewel like you.

>The janitor's voice was a pasty, sibilant whisper that provoked an inevitable sensation of revulsion in the pit of the stomach. The fat man leaned in even more, pressing his enormous belly against the window sill, almost squeezing into the classroom in an attempt to shorten the physical distance.

Katsuro: I know everything about you, my little flower. I know that no one in this classroom speaks to you, I know that in this school they treat you like a ghost... And I would dare to say that things aren't much different in your own home, right? No one listens to you, no one takes care of you, no one notices if you laugh or cry. But I do. I see your worth. That's why I've come to make you a very serious proposal, an invitation to save you from this misery. I've saved a lot of money over the years of my service in this damned place... Let's escape together. Let's get far away from here. I would love for you to be my wife, my most intimate confidante... and my little obedient slave. In return, I will give you a wonderful life. We will travel all over the world, I will buy you beautiful dresses, and I will give you all the attention those fools have denied you.

>Katsuro's tone, which had pretended to be a romantic and desperate invitation, suddenly took on a gloomy and icy shade.
Katsuro: Although, of course... you can always say no. But let me warn you, my sweet girl. The principal of this high school is my childhood friend. I've covered up an untold number of unpleasant scandals involving students and committee funds... and in return, he always covers up mine. If you decide to reject my generous offer and cause a scene, no one will believe you. Moreover, think carefully... you are invisible here. If one day you decide not to come home, if you suddenly disappear off the map... no one would miss you, no one would ask difficult questions. You could end up in a mass grave, or perhaps... perhaps you could spend the rest of your days in the ventilation system of my own basement, serving as my private toy without the outside world ever suspecting your whereabouts. So, what do you say?

>The aura emanating from Katsuro was dense, suffocating, and charged with a nightmare-like malevolence that seemed to freeze the air around the girl's desk. However, before the janitor could stretch one of his sweaty hands into the classroom, a thick, grayish cloud of cigarette smoke was blown forcefully directly onto his face. Katsuro began to cough violently, waving his arms in the air to disperse the nicotine fog as his lecherous expression transformed into a grimace of deep anger. When he lifted his gaze with furrowed brows, he found himself facing the silhouette of a teacher who had approached without making the slightest sound.

>It was Hidetoshi Ishii. Ishii wore an impeccable dark suit that contrasted with his lanky yet imposing posture. His straight black hair was partially tied up in a small, neat bun at the back of his head, with a few strands falling over his forehead. His blue eyes, dull and devoid of any trace of warmth, watched the scene with absolute indifference. He held a lit cigarette between his thin fingers, from which rose a constant thread of smoke.

Katsuro: Cough, cough! Damn it! You know perfectly well that smoking inside school facilities is strictly prohibited, Hidetoshi-sensei! I could report you to the board right now!

>Ishii took another slow drag from his cigarette, looking at the janitor with the same gaze one uses to examine a bothersome insect before crushing it.

Ishii: It's also prohibited to harass students and beat fat bastards until they're unconscious in the hallway, Mura. And believe me, I care exactly the same amount about breaking both rules this evening. So shut your mouth if you don't want me to put out this cigarette on your disgusting bald head.
>Katsuro clicked his tongue in obvious frustration, stepping back out of the window, though his fists clenched with suppressed rage.

Ishii: Besides, I came looking for you for a specific reason. Someone in the third-floor men's bathroom had a severe diarrhea attack an hour ago... and they seemed quite artistic about it, using their own waste to paint shit crosses all over the walls. I suggest you go show off your brush skills right now. Move it.

>The janitor let out a huff of indignation, shot a sideways glance at the silver-haired girl with a silent promise of vengeance carved into his bulging eyes, then turned on his heel, dragging his heavy steps down the hallway while leaving behind a trail of complaints and the lingering smell of dampness.

>The teacher remained standing by the doorframe, taking one last drag from his cigarette before letting the ash fall to the classroom floor. At no point did he look directly at the silver-haired student; he kept his eyes fixed on the empty window, as if speaking to the wall or the very air of the room.

Ishii: You should head home now. Or wherever you go after class. I was able to contain that human waste this time because I happened to cross his path, but I won't be here to save your neck next time. I'm serious. Principal Kuragane has always covered for the worst scum of this high school, so keep your eyes wide open. If you can't get friends to watch your back, at least go to a store and buy a sharp cutter or some pepper spray to defend yourself. And please... do me a favor and don't think about suicide. I'm not saying this for your well-being; I care very little about your personal life. It's just that I hate with my whole soul the bureaucratic paperwork. Last week, a teacher jumped off the roof due to systematic harassment by a group of third-year students, and I had to spend three full days dealing with reports, the police, and the damn bureaucracy of her death. It was a hell of a headache. So, if things get tough, it's much simpler to kill whoever tries to hurt you before you decide to kill yourself. Have a good afternoon.

>Without adding a single more word, Ishii turned and walked away with a firm, silent stride, letting the remaining smoke from his cigarette slowly dissipate into the air of the now-empty classroom.

>The invitation from the eccentric Kinoko Ichinose still stood. It was time to make a decision: stay in the cold invisibility of the ordinary classrooms, or cross the courtyard toward the abandoned room behind the gym to claim a place in the only corner of the school where the rules of boring reality no longer held any power.

>>10395
>>10391
I forgot the bell, very important for these prologue turns!!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuMfyndwARQ▾
>>10393
The next turn will be general, so I'll send it when the majority has answered their prologues, dear fat roleplayer.

>>10375
-I see this poster, it doesn't cost anything to fill out the form to see if there's a spot-
>Name and/or nickname:
Rena, my parents call me Daughter, but if I have to invent a name, let it be Witch of the whole
>Exact age:
14 years, 3 months, 5 days, 10 hours and 30 minutes, I don't count the seconds because they'll pass one time I finish writing this
>School grade:
technically second year
>Gender or Sex
I'm a girl
>Birthday:
December 25
>Nationality:
My mother is Japanese and my father is a Latino YouTuber who travels a lot, for security I can't say his nationality and who he is, but currently I have Japanese nationality if that matters
>Roleplay experience:
0 experience, I suffer from autism and after moving I was left without friends, classes started and I need to socialize on my psychiatrist's recommendation or I could suffer a depressive attack again
>Favorite setting:
a mix of everything, like in Adventure Time
>Dice type:
is it okay if I say blue?
>Current relationship status:
curious to know if filling out this form will be worth it or not
>Fetish or vice:
eating sweets count?
>Favorite dinosaur:
do fictional ones count? Does a dragon count as a dinosaur?
>Ideal historical era:
first rule of time travel, no time travel, although the second rule is that the first rule doesn't matter, so living adventures like Dr. Who not in any era wouldn't be bad
>Food to roleplay:
I can bring Latin sweets
>Most absurd fear:
I guess it would be being useless in life and that leading me to suicide, or waking up in Mexico
>The strangest thing you've eaten just out of laziness to cook:
a milanesa sandwich with dulce de leche, it tasted good
>Favorite Pokémon:
Celebi, Lucario and Cinderace, I would have named Charizard as my favorite dinosaur, because dragon isn't, that's why I asked before
>Definitive anime opening:
Watashi ga Motenai no wa Dou Kangaetemo Omaera ga Warui
>Favorite conspiracy theory:
none, everything is possible
>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?:
after checking my penis I would take photos to keep them saved in case I magically turn back into myself, if not, I would get nervous, or in that case, nervous, because if it were a paranormal and rare event, but I would try to calm down and accept that now that would be my life and that I suffered an unconsented transformation, would that make me part of the trans community? I already have autism, I wouldn't like to be marginalized more socially
>Most destructive unpopular opinion:
I can't think of anything, if I say something like that it would be in the moment
>If you were a piece of furniture, which one would you be and why?:
a fan, to cool off, although I would have to move, I guess an air conditioner would be better, but do they count as furniture? Does a window count as furniture?
>Rating from 1 to 10 on your current mental health:
according to my psychiatrist I am fit for society and capable of keeping myself well, although if I have depression and autism, I guess that takes points off, if 10 is perfect, I give -3 for autism, and since depression is something stronger I give a -5, that leaves me with 2, I don't reach the 1 of perfection you seek, but I hope it counts
>"If you don't want to write all that... Just fill out the basics... Je..."
I already filled it all out, I hope I get in, if not, possibly in a few months I'll cause a shooting if I don't get friends, and I'll remember their faces for refusing to have social interaction, so they would be the first....it's a joke -says with no visible expression on her face-

>>10397
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuMfyndwARQ▾
>The shrill, piercing ring of the bell echoed through every corner of Kamome High School, announcing with its usual listlessness the end of the school day. For the vast majority of students, that sound meant freedom, the start of an afternoon of video games, chats in the cafeteria, or the return to the warmth of their homes. However, for Rena, the world had shrunk to a claustrophobic, damp, and deeply unpleasant space. The setting of her current calvary was not a classroom bathed in the sunset's light, but the third-floor boys' bathroom, a place that seemed to have been abandoned by the cleaning service for decades. To worsen the already nauseating atmosphere, some extremely idle student with a severe digestive problem had decided to imprint their "art" on the wall tiles, drawing crude crosses with fecal matter that emitted an unbearable stench. But that grotesque detail was the least of Rena's problems at that precise moment.

>The cold, yellowish porcelain of a toilet was the only thing Rena could see up close, feeling how her face was submerged again and again in the stagnant water. Fortunately, the water did not contain fresh urine, but the grime accumulated at the bottom of the drain and the smell of cheap disinfectant mixed with ammonia were enough to make anyone gag. At the same time, a series of dry, constant impacts resonated on the sides of her body. A group of girls, dressed in school uniforms but with an attitude that reeked of juvenile delinquency, were kicking her with considerable force. They weren't looking to break her ribs or leave marks that would require immediate hospitalization; their goal was much more petty and refined: they wanted to inflict the maximum physical pain and the deepest humiliation possible. These delinquents had meticulously planned the attack, taking advantage of the precise moment when the duty teacher left in a hurry to relieve his bladder. In that vacuum of authority, they dragged Rena to this forgotten corner of the building, where they had already been having fun at her expense for quite some time, amidst laughter, spit, and derogatory comments.

>The leader of the group, a girl with a sadistic gaze who was firmly holding Rena's hair to control her movements, began to shake her violently, visibly frustrated by her victim's lack of reaction.

Delinquent 1: Hey! Are you not listening to me, you piece of idiot?! React for once! I hate that stupid expressionless face you make, it looks like you're dead inside! Cry! Beg! I want you to get on your knees and beg me to stop, you retarded bitch!
>The other delinquents surrounding the scene couldn't stop laughing, taking turns hurling hurtful insults while continuing to kick Rena's thighs and abdomen with sadistic glee. The reason for so much hatred was absurdly simple and cruel.

>Just as a new round of insults was about to begin, the screech of the metal bathroom door interrupted the violent atmosphere. A gigantic silhouette was silhouetted against the hallway light, casting a colossal shadow that covered almost the entire filthy floor. Looking up, the delinquents encountered an imposing sight: it was a girl of monstrous stature, easily reaching two meters tall. She wore extremely baggy clothes that, far from hiding her physique, gave her a rough, stocky appearance reminiscent of an elite American football player. Her shoulders were incredibly wide, and she wore a sports cap pulled down to her eyebrows that accentuated her masculine look. However, upon closer inspection of her face under the visor, some delicate and feminine features could be seen, accompanied by an involuntary blush that betrayed deep shame. Her name was Katsumi Rokuhara, a second-year student who shared hallways with them and was impossible to ignore in any classroom because her size rivaled that of an industrial refrigerator.

>The leader of the delinquents, annoyed by the interruption and trying to maintain her dominant posture despite the abyssal size difference, momentarily let go of Rena's hair and stepped forward, crossing her arms with a defiant expression.

Delinquent 1: "What the fuck do you want here?! Don't you know how to knock, freak?!"

>Katsumi visibly flinched at the shout. Despite her body worthy of a war deity, her attitude was that of a scared puppy. She timidly pressed her index fingers together, moving them nervously from side to side while slightly tilting her hips and fixing her gaze on the damp floor, completely avoiding eye contact with the aggressors.

Katsumi: "I-I... I'm sorry for interrupting. I just... came to talk to Rena..."

>The delinquents looked at each other, bewildered by the extreme shyness of such a giant. With a mix of amusement and contempt, they completely let go of Rena, allowing her body to rest momentarily against the cold bathroom floor, and proceeded to surround Katsumi like hungry hyenas.

Delinquent 2: "Well, well. So the class giant came to play the hero? Are you going to try to rescue your autistic little friend?"
Katsumi: N-No! Not at all! Please, don't misunderstand me! S-If you want, you can just continue with your business... honestly, I have no intention of interfering. It's just... well, classes are already over for today. And... we're both in the same club. I just wanted to go with her to the club room... because I'm so incredibly embarrassed to go alone...

>Katsumi's voice trembled with a mix of fear, extreme shyness, and immense social pressure. It was almost a comedic scene: an imposing human wall two meters tall shaking in terror before three delinquents who barely reached her chest. The gang leader let out a disdainful snort and spat loudly onto the bathroom tiles. After a few seconds of tense silence, where only the heavy breathing of those present and the constant dripping of a broken pipe could be heard, the delinquent glanced at her wristwatch with obvious urgency.

Delinquent 1: You got lucky this time, freak. The boss wants to see us at the park right after school and we're already running late for the meeting. But don't worry, this isn't over.

>Before leaving, the leader shot one last look of disgust at Rena and, as a cowardly farewell gesture, delivered a hard kick to her side that echoed through the damp bathroom space. The delinquents walked past Katsumi, shoving her slightly with their shoulders as they exited, though the giant barely moved a millimeter due to her massive body. The bathroom was finally plunged into a sepulchral silence, interrupted only by the distant murmurs of students leaving the school building.

>Katsumi remained completely motionless for several seconds, paralyzed by residual fear, until she finally made sure the delinquents had completely left. With slow, clumsy steps, she approached the toilet where Rena lay, crouching down slightly to be at her level, though she still looked gigantic even in that position.

Katsumi: A-Are you okay, Rena? I'm so sorry... I truly regret not doing anything to help you, but I'm terrified of people who scream... Hey, would you like to go to the roleplay club together? It's just... I'm really too ashamed to show up there alone. Besides... I'm absolutely terrified of President Kinoko...

>Katsumi paused briefly, looking around warily, as if fearing that the club president herself might materialize out of thin air through the bathroom pipes.

Katsumi: It's just... there's a terrible rumor going around in my class about her. They say that last year, during the school festival, she ran out of budget for the club and decided to sell homemade love potions that were actually water mixed with horse growth hormones she stole from the equestrian club. And when the teachers caught her, she tried to convince them that it was all part of a live role-playing game where she was playing a corrupt level-twenty alchemist... She's absolutely insane! Oh, and to top it all off, I only joined this club because... well...
>The giantess sighed bitterly, letting her shoulders slump into a posture of total defeat as an expression of profound sadness crossed her face.

Katsumi: They kicked me out of the baseball club... I had problems with their president... He tried to vio... L-Like whatever....

>Before Katsumi could continue pitying her own fate, the heavy bathroom door burst open with a metallic crash that echoed throughout the place. A man in a wrinkled janitor's uniform and an expression of pure madness on his face made his triumphant entrance. He held a worn-out mop in one hand and a bucket of soapy water in the other. Upon observing the state of the bathroom, the water marks on the floor, and the grotesque crosses of fecal matter painted on the walls, his eyes opened so wide they seemed ready to pop out of their sockets, revealing red, pulsating veins of pure fury. His face looked like that of a serial killer ripped from a low-budget horror movie.

Janitor: What kind of satanic monstrosities have you been doing here?! Which of you two demon spawn is responsible for this artistic desecration?! Get out of my sight right now if you don't want me to force you to clean every single one of these damn crosses with the tip of your tongue! Get out of my bathroom!

>The janitor's scream was so powerful that the bathroom windows seemed to vibrate. Katsumi jumped in fright, letting out a high-pitched shriek that contrasted ridiculously with her imposing physique. Without a second thought, seized by absolute panic at the janitor's deranged gaze, she desperately looked at Rena.

Katsumi: A-Ah! Rena, please, get up quickly and let's get out of here before he murders us! I'll wait for you in the hallway!

>Without waiting for an answer and demonstrating cowardice proportional to her gigantic size, Katsumi turned around and ran out of the bathroom in a hurry, leaving behind the echo of her heavy, hurried footsteps and completely abandoning Rena to her fate on the floor. Now, the silence of the bathroom was once again interrupted only by the janitor's heavy breathing, who continued to glare at the scene with his psychotic eyes, waiting for the last obstacle in his precious bathroom to leave once and for all so he could begin his cleaning nightmare. The Absolute Roleplay Club for Metaverse Transcendence, Fantastic Escapism, and Preservation of the Sacred Art of Limitless Multiversal Simulation was waiting somewhere behind the gym, and the afternoon had barely begun for Rena.

>Name and/or nickname
Seika, Ijuuin Seika. No nicknames, try to pronounce my name correctly. You can call me 'Seika-sama' if it makes you feel better.

>Exact age
17 years, 5 months. I won't bother with days and minutes.

>School year
Last year.

>Gender or Sex
Female, yes.

>Birthday
February 14th.

>Nationality
Japanese. My family has been here for generations, in case the question had a hidden meaning.

>Roleplaying experience
None official.

A long time ago I read a couple of manuals for two roleplaying systems. The first had a node tree, point distribution, and variable costs for each skill. I read it enough to understand that certain affinities had a higher entry curve than others, but better long-term return. And that most new players tended to ignore that path because the early spells weren't visually impressive. That kind of thing.

The second was completely narrative. Extensive lore, many classes, built on dimensional events that are poorly understood. I read some subclasses before deciding which character to make, which was excessive in retrospect, because its GM clearly didn't know the repercussions of all of them and didn't care beyond making fantasies he had in his head come true to supposedly form a good story that wasn't even entirely linear. So I don't know if it counts as real experience, I guess it depends on how you define experience.

>Favorite setting
Elite academy with interpersonal drama.

Roleplaying games that try to simulate romance, specifically. Not for the stories themselves, which vary greatly in quality, but for the relationship-building mechanics as a system. The way emotional intimacy is standardized into numerical variables and branching paths is a more sophisticated narrative design exercise than most admit. For tabletop RPGs I'd prefer something with more real consequences, but the question was favorite.

>Dice type
The d20. It's the standard, right?

>Character archetype
The leader. I prefer something with authority that doesn't depend on being at the forefront.

>Current relationship status
Single. Unattached. Whatever applies. No further comments.

>Fetish or vice
I practice something known as self-esteem. If that's what you're asking.

>Favorite dinosaur
Yoshi. He's super cute, green, and takes you everywhere without complaining. Or that purple one who sings with kids, Barnaby.

>Ideal historical period
Versailles under Louis XIV.

>Food for roleplaying
Almond latte. Decaffeinated, vanilla, exact temperature. Non-negotiable. The last time someone ate french fries near me in an enclosed space, it took me three days to get the smell out of my hair. I don't plan on repeating it without legal assistance.
>Absurd greatest fear
Someone reading my search history...

>Rarest thing you've eaten out of pure laziness to cook
A hard-boiled egg.

It was late, no one was home, I opened the fridge and made the most regrettable decision of my burgeoning youth. I searched online if it could be microwaved because boiling water seemed like an unnecessarily long process. The results said yes with certain precautions. I ignored the precautions. After forty seconds the egg exploded with a violence I did not expect from something so small, tiny, and insignificant. The microwave door was splattered on the inside in a way I can only describe as artistic... I spent the next twenty-five minutes cleaning every surface with paper towels while the smell expanded to such a degree that it affected my common sense and morality. I tried again correctly. Water, pot, twelve minutes of waiting standing in front of the stove watching the water boil because I could lose control of the situation again. When it was finally ready I ate it directly standing up, without salt, without a plate, at eleven forty at night, staring at the wall. It wasn't by choice, I didn't have enough emotional energy to dirty a plate after all of that. I don't talk about this normally.

>Your favorite Pokémon
Pikachu, obviously.

>Your definitive anime opening
A Little Pain. Olivia Lufkin, from Trapnest

>Your favorite conspiracy theory
Obviously the 5G one, which is one hundred percent real and verified. My holistic masseuse confirmed it for me after aligning my chakras a couple of days ago. There is a secret government organization that uses those antennas to emit low-frequency vibrations that destroy natural collagen and generate fluid retention.

>What would you do if you woke up as the opposite sex for a day?
Immediate panic. Hyperventilation, tunnel vision, foaming at the mouth as I process what is happening. After 20 minutes, I would recover because I am professional. And after realizing that my self-care routine was ruined, fear, despair, and desolation. Foam again. At some point around noon, emotionally stabilized or not, I would try to flirt just to see if it works differently from this side. For research.

>Your most destructive unpopular opinion
Everyone always agrees with me, so all my opinions are popular.

>If you were a piece of furniture, what would you be and why?
A chair.

A nice chair.

>Rating from 1 to 10 your current mental health
10. My therapist says my superiority complex isn't a problem if I'm actually superior to others. Ohohoho!

>>10389
>JM

>The worst part of betrayal is that it always comes from a friend, one of those countless phrases Jhon saw in TikTok and YouTube Shorts videos, which, by the way, were his daily bread... lasting all day long.
>If you had to compare it, it was like showing a starving African child, whose eyes would shine like suns harassing the delicacy, a chocolate cake decorated with a couple of strawberries, whose sizes would be so colossal as to be considered real strawberries, all just to have them extinguished upon noticing how that delicacy is eaten right in their face, leaving the scraps scattered on the floor, adorned with the saliva of the one who deluded the poor soul.

("Fuck.")

>The window of his vision was more than closed, while, on the other hand, his forehead was roughly caressing the desk. His hands seemed like a reflection of the couples, together and kissing each other, a coincidence Jhon was unaware of.

("And all because of that damn form.")

>Any conclusion reached in less than a minute and without much reasoning is valid. Whether it's Mei's fault. Whether it's Takeshi's fault. Whether it's the school's fault itself. Everyone was guilty in his wretched life.

"Tch"

>The obscene act of his hands stopped, the couple separated so one of them could make a trip to hold a third, somewhat different member, one long, firm, and hard. The gossipy eyes lit up to watch it with suspicion, while the other hand, as usual, started touching this familiar one, beginning from a button on the side.
>123123123, home screen, apps, Clash Royale.

("Fuck.")

>From so much stress, Jhon no longer knew if it was his misery or if it was purely his fault that his phone data ran out.
>Throwing his gear onto the desk, the blonde reduced himself to just looking at the ceiling.

("Fuck them, they don't know, but at least I don't waste my life on women, instead I know about underrated games.")

>Declared the young man known for being a girl-needy. He stood up, took back his phone, and then, with hands in his pockets and his fake smile on his face pointing to the ground, he headed home.
>He crossed the hallways while, to forget everything, he wondered if his favorite YouTuber uploaded a video, or if the Discord server about RPGs had regained activity.

("...so a sister, huh?")

>After his last thought, Jhon Miller realized that, even if he was betrayed, he was given the useful data of the other girl, and on top of that, Mei's older sister. If she's in that roleplay club, RPGs according to the blonde, it means he can, for the first time, use his knowledge of the pure algorithm of his two main video platforms to then, somehow, conquer her.
>Touching his jaw, he even thinks if it's not necessary to make preparations, vaguely remembering something about sex in that form.

"Heh, Jhon Miller doesn't give up, things seem to be changing..."

>With his goal defined, it was just a matter of time until he reached the classroom behind the gym.
>In the end, filling out the form out of boredom bore fruit, though not in the best way. If not for the sister, the blonde would never have been interested in showing up at the club.

("Wait, do they even have computers there?")

>If it's a roleplay club, RPGs, they shouldn't see not one, but too many machines as if it were the computer lab, or maybe they'd just play on emulators from the phone.
>The more he questioned, the more complicated the idea became that an RPG game club even really existed, especially because of Kinoko Ichinose's fame.
>Nevertheless, Jhon couldn't cancel his plans halfway, it wasn't worth it.

>>10391
>Bibi

>Bibi was just eating some doritos and drinking a bit of peach juice, obviously her favorite that ran out so fast that she sighed heavily, to see her dear friend doubting her decisions.

“Hotaru, Hotaru, isn’t that exactly what we need in our lives? Action, adventure, the desire to live our incredible days that we have left in the academy, maybe even we can go to another planet that spatial-temporal anomaly.”

>She stands up and runs her hand over Hotaru’s shoulders in a confident hug and a big smile.

“We’ll have a good time, believe me, magic is the best thing that exists in this world.”

>She pulls out a deck of cards, always carries one with her to do tricks.

“Pick-“

>She quickly turns around upon hearing what those gyarus are saying, staying serious about what they say about herself simply lowering her eyes a bit and putting the cards away, but the moment they talk about Hotaru she jumps up with a massive angry face.

“What are you saying zo-“

>She was about to put her hand in her coat pocket, but hears her friend, which makes her stop momentarily, but seeing her friend on the verge of crying reignited the flame, she was about to do something stupid, but the foreigner stops her.

>She swallows, and lowers her gaze, stopping being so tense and then nodding.

“Yeah… Professor…”

>She grabs her hat and puts it on Hotaru’s head, if she wanted to cry a little she could use it to cover her face, after that she started fixing her things in her backpack.

“Hotaru-chan, for me you

>>10399
>The shrill echo of Kamome High's bell reverberated through the concrete hallways like a long-awaited scream of liberation, abruptly marking the end of another monotonous class day on this sweltering afternoon. Immediately, the dense, heavy summer air filled with the chaotic bustle of hundreds of students, who, in a rush of laughter, stowed their notebooks, dragged metal chairs, and prepared to abandon the main building. The hallways, which until moments ago had looked deserted and silent, turned into a true human anthill where students from all grades converged in a tide of dark uniforms, raucous laughter, and floating murmurs.

>Amidst all this congestion, as if the universe itself had decided to place a divine spotlight on you, you stood out in a way almost insulting to the rest of mortals. Ijuuin Seika was walking. It was no secret that your very presence altered the pulse of the place. As you passed, gazes immediately diverted toward you, split between pure adoration and absolute disdain. For many first-year students, you were an unreachable deity, a magazine beauty who seemed not to belong to this earthly plane of exams and mundane homework. However, in the corners of the lockers and under the stairs, the poison of envy soon began to ooze out in the form of venomous whispers. You could hear with perfect clarity how some girls from your own grade twisted their faces as you passed, covering their mouths while spreading petty rumors about your supposed arrogance.

>You were, without a doubt, the mandatory topic of conversation throughout the high school, a polarizing figure who awakened both savage passions and silent resentments in every corner of the institute. But, despite all that white noise of whispers and indiscreet glances, there was a very specific sound you managed to isolate from the general bustle, a disturbing constant that had been accompanying you throughout your journey down that hallway which now seemed endless. It was the rhythmic and constant dragging of school shoes, thin and erratic steps that always remained at the same distance from you, clumsily mimicking among the crowd. You knew perfectly well to whom they belonged. You didn't need to turn around to recognize that scrawny silhouette sliding like a hungry shadow behind your back. Slowly, the human tide began to disperse toward the main exit, the hallways emptied with the speed of water draining through a sewer, and all that could be heard was the buzzing of cicadas in the trees outside.
>Only two people remained in that hallway: you and him. As you turned, your eyes met the lanky figure of Minato Nguyen, a third-year classmate. Minato wasn't ugly at all, but the alarming lack of muscle mass on his slumped shoulders and an evident neglect of personal hygiene ruined any potential. You felt a chill run down your spine remembering that this guy was the same disturbed kid who, during kindergarten years, enjoyed torturing small insects and lizards in the backyard without a shred of remorse. Puberty had only channeled that sickening, absolute obsession exclusively toward you. Minato lived and breathed to watch you; you knew he rummaged through your trash looking for any object you'd touched, kept folders full of blurry photos taken from street corners, and spent hours staring at you unblinkingly in the classroom, like a predator analyzing its prey. At that moment, Minato let out a deep, loud breath, a trembling gasp betraying a mix of contained excitement and psychotic nervousness, while an oddly calm, warmthless smile formed on his thin lips. He took a step toward you, closing the safety distance in a way that made you feel intense physical discomfort, fixing his dilated pupils on your face with an eerie intensity.

Minato: Seika... we're finally alone. The noise of everyone else is so annoying, you know? It interferes with the sound of your footsteps. I was thinking today is a perfect day for us. They opened a Carl's Jr. nearby, just a few blocks from high school. You should come with me. We can sit at the corner table where no one bothers us, and talk for hours. I want to watch how you eat, I want to see how your lips touch the bread and how you chew every bite. I've been planning this for so long, Seika. I've memorized the way you breathe when you're tired, and I know you'd love being with me in a closed place where the air smells only of the two of us.

>Minato took another step forward, extending a pale, trembling hand with long fingers toward your face, seeking to brush a lock of your blonde hair with a devotion bordering on the mystical. Before his fingers touched even a millimeter of your skin, a white-gloved hand appeared out of nowhere, gripping Minato's wrist with a firm, violent hold that stopped him dead in his tracks. Looking up, you found yourself face-to-face with the imposing, impeccable presence of Tadashi Yamato, a first-year student and prominent member of the high school's discipline committee. His face, with hard features and a furrowed brow, radiated an indignation that pretended to be heroic justice, but you knew too well the reality behind that facade. The Kamome discipline committee was nothing more than a nest of hypocrites with delusions of grandeur, a student version of The Seven from The Boys—corrupt types who cared nothing for the rules and only acted when the victim was a beautiful girl they wanted to impress or when they could exercise their sadism under the cover of their positions. Tadashi, despite his short stature, stepped between you and the stalker with his chest puffed out in pride, looking at Minato with absolute contempt while trying to subdue him through physical force.
Tadashi: Let go of student Ijuuin right now, scum! Your presence in this hallway violates the student conduct code, and your behavior qualifies as direct harassment. I won't allow you to keep bothering a lady in my presence.

>Tadashi applied more pressure to Minato's wrist, trying to force his arm back to make him kneel, expecting the thin third-year to yield immediately to his authority and basic self-defense training. However, Minato's reaction was completely different from what was expected. Instead of complaining or struggling in panic, the harasser let out a long, slow sigh, a cold exhalation that froze the hallway's atmosphere. His face showed not the slightest sign of pain or surprise; in fact, his calm smile widened in a creepy way, and his dark eyes locked onto the committee boy with absolute indifference, empty of any trace of humanity, immediately evoking the chilling, calculating presence of a pure sociopath like Anton Chigurh.

Minato: What a predictable nuisance...

>With inhuman speed that completely defied his skeletal and lanky appearance, Minato used Tadashi's own pushing force to execute a fluid, acrobatic move. Leaping cleanly forward, he passed his left leg over Tadashi's shoulder, trapping his neck in a fraction of a second while dropping his own weight onto the hallway floor. The move was so precise and sudden that it dragged the committee member straight onto the tiles. Before Tadashi could understand what was happening, Minato had already locked in a perfect submission hold on the ground, crossing his legs around the first-year's outstretched arm in impeccable jiu-jitsu, applying a brutal lever on his elbow joint. Tadashi was completely immobilized under Minato's body, his face pressed against the cold floor and his arm trapped in a hyperextended angle that threatened to tear his ligaments at any moment.
>The committee boy began to struggle desperately, his cheeks flushed red from exertion and humiliation, trying to free his limb with clumsy movements, but the physical strength Minato applied from his position was immense, far superior to what his slender build suggested. The hallway silence filled with Tadashi's muffled cries of pain, his teeth gritted with all his might, desperately trying not to let out a single scream of agony that would completely ruin what remained of his military pride before you. Minato, maintaining an unperturbed seriousness on his pale face, increased the pressure of the armlock with sadistic slowness, enjoying every millimeter of tension in his opponent's tendons, never taking his eyes off you for a single second. With terrifying calmness, the harasser shifted his attention from his victim for an instant to gift you a small, sweet smile that contrasted grotesquely with the violence of the act he was perpetrating.

Minato: Don't worry about this nuisance, my sweet Seika-chan. The committee's lapdogs are always so noisy and pretentious. You can leave peacefully if you wish; I'll take care of cleaning up this mess. I'll speak personally with the president of their committee to ensure none of these idiots interfere again in our beautiful and inevitable path toward true love. After all, my father is a very influential businessman who funds half the projects of this high school; the discipline committee knows perfectly well it doesn't suit them to bite the hand that feeds them. Go where you must, my golden queen. I'll be looking for you very soon, and the next time we meet, I'll ensure you finally feel my warmth... all my warmth over you.

>After uttering those words with a sickeningly sweet and chilling tone that made it clear he knew every one of your movements, Minato turned his gaze away from you and refocused on poor Tadashi. The situation was critical, and time was working against you. Returning home immediately was an absolute fantasy you couldn't afford; this maniac knew perfectly where you lived, the layout of your room, and even the exact hours you usually fell asleep, so returning alone to your home would mean handing yourself over directly to his territory. Before you lay only two possible paths for this moment: you could try to intervene actively to help the committee boy before Minato permanently broke his arm, risking unleashing the harasser's physical fury upon yourself, or you could turn around and run straight toward the abandoned classroom behind the gymnasium, the mysterious sanctuary of the Absolute Role Club where the eccentric Kinoko Ichinose awaited you with her wild fantasies of escapism and multiversal simulation as your only possible refuge against this real-life nightmare.

OSAKA PREFECTURAL POLICE DEPARTMENT

Criminal Investigation Division – Kamome District Police Station

CRIMINAL CASE FILE NO.:** Osaka-2026-0984-IY

STATUS: CLOSED (By order of the Superior Headquarters)

---

I. VICTIM (DECEASED) DATA

Full Name: Inoue Yui (井上 結衣)
Age: 36 years old
Date of Birth: March 14, xxxx
Origin: Niigata Prefecture (Registered in Nagaoka City)
Current Residence: Kamome District, Osaka
Occupation: Japanese Literature Teacher – Kamome High School
Date of Death: May 12, xxx
Place of Death: Backyard of Kamome High School (area adjacent to the rooftop emergency exit)

---

II. DESCRIPTION OF EVENTS

On May 12, xxxx, at 06:15 hours, the janitor of Kamome High School reported finding the lifeless body of a woman on the pavement of the school's backyard. Upon arrival, Osaka Police units confirmed the body belonged to Teacher Inoue Yui.

The apparent cause of death was severe craniocerebral trauma and multiple internal injuries incompatible with life, caused by a free fall from an approximate height of 18 meters (rooftop of the main building, corresponding to the 3rd floor). On the edge of the rooftop, the victim's shoes were found perfectly arranged, a classic indicator of suicide in local police protocol.

---

III. INITIAL INVESTIGATION LINES (CLASSIFIED INFORMATION)

During the first 72 hours, investigators gathered testimonies from teachers, students, and digital records that revealed an extremely hostile reality surrounding the victim.

#### A. Systematic and Cruel Harassment by Third Parties (3rd Year High School Gang)

A group of four third-year students linked to local youth gangs (delinquents/thugs) was identified. The documented harassment in the victim's personal diaries and recovered mobile phone chats included:

-Extortion and blackmail: Students demanded exam approval under threat of physical assault outside the school grounds.
-Psychological torture and public humiliation: They violently sabotaged her classes (throwing dirty water at her, scratching her belongings with degrading insults, and destroying her teaching materials).
-Ruthless digital harassment: Creation of anonymous forums on social media where edited photos of the teacher were circulated, accompanied by hate messages, incitement to suicide, and explicit threats of physical and sexual violence if she reported them.

>Investigator's Note: The level of harassment was daily, relentless, and designed to destroy the victim's psyche. Teacher Inoue lived in a state of constant hypervigilance, panic, and emotional helplessness.
#### B. Link with the School Principal

External surveillance records and testimonies from neighbors near the campus indicated that Professor Inoue was repeatedly seen leaving the principal's office late at night in the company of the principal XXXXXXXXXXX.

- When informally questioned by colleagues weeks before her death, Inoue flatly denied any relationship with the principal. However, witnesses described her responses as laden with evident fear, bodily tremors, and weeping.
- There is suspicion of a coercive relationship or abuse of power, where the victim was forced to remain silent about student harassment in exchange for keeping her job, or under direct threats from the principal not to damage the high school's reputation.

---

IV. POST-EVENTS AND FAMILY DISPOSITION

On May 15, xxxx, the victim's parents traveled from Niigata Prefecture to claim the body.

After a closed-door meeting lasting over three hours between the immediate family, the principal XXXXXXXXXXX, and the legal representative of the school board, the family's attitude changed drastically:

- Family Decision: They signed a formal statement withdrawing any demand for criminal or civil investigation against Kamome High School or any of its students.
- Transfer: Inoue Yui's body was immediately transported to her hometown in Niigata for burial in the family cemetery, canceling any funeral ceremony in Osaka.

---

V. FINAL RESOLUTION AND CLOSURE ORDER

(Drafted in accordance with the directives of the Osaka Metropolitan Police Department)

Despite evidence of severe harassment and possible institutional coercion, an order to suspend proceedings was received from high-ranking department officials, citing the "preservation of social order and student peace," to avoid a scandal affecting local school boards.

Therefore, the case is officially declared CLOSED under the following terms:

>OFFICIAL REPORT CONCLUSION
The deceased, Inoue Yui, had an undiagnosed clinical history of severe depression and chronic emotional instability. The death is formally classified as suicide by self-inflicted precipitous action due to a state of shock and mental collapse strictly personal. No evidence or sufficient proof is found of third-party involvement in triggering the suicidal decision. Responsibility of the school board, teaching staff, and students of Kamome High School is ruled out.

Signature of the Officer in Charge: Inspector Hayashi T.

Official Seal: Osaka Prefectural Police (大阪府警察)

>>10395
>After countless endless hours of studying, the bell finally rang, announcing that the students could finally escape this hell called High School. Accompanied by the ringing of the bell, the roar of the hallway and the awakening of the classrooms. Steps, chats, chatter, laughter, desks being dragged, sneakers slipping, and hurried conversations gave life to these last minutes of class. For some older ones, it could be a nostalgic sound, but for others younger, it was the breath of air that gave hope every day, for which they constantly looked at the clock waiting for that hand to finish its full rotation.

>Amidst all that noise, laughter, and shoves, in a corner still sitting at my desk, was me. My face was fixed entirely on my desk, which was completely clean, except for a simple eraser, which I observed intently. While everyone hurried to leave or chat, I was thinking deeply.... What was I thinking? Thinking of nothing, literally. My blank face absorbed in my thoughts of nothing made me completely forget my surroundings, to the same extent that my surroundings completely ignore me, to the point that they step on my foot, and don't notice my presence, although I also don't notice that they crushed my little foot.

>Then a faint smile appeared on my pale face, it was almost imperceptible, maybe I wasn't thinking of nothing, maybe when I saw the eraser on my desk I imagined that it was a world like the Pikmin game for the GameCube, and the eraser was Captain Olimar, and I watched him doing his things like in the video game... or maybe not, and it was just nothing. It didn't matter because seen from the outside, it simply looked like a girl with a lost face, observing the desk, thinking of nothing. Then something made me snap out of my trance, making me look to the sides, and gather my things to prepare to leave for... home? Maybe, or I might detour to some other place.

-But then, when I was about to stand up from my desk, I saw the janitor who had stuck his head through the window frame of the hallway. I raised an eyebrow and observed him. What did this man want? Generally I cleaned my desk and such things so as not to give extra work to the cleaning staff, so I don't think I did anything wrong for now, or my mind tells me so. When I was about to turn to leave, this man spoke to me.

I said simply, while lowering my gaze slightly to look him in the eyes. I was tall, although the man was still bigger than me in proportions. After all, I was a teenager and he was an adult man.

<"I have been observing you..."

>I raised an eyebrow and asked.
"Why?"

>Not in an accusatory tone, it was simple autistic curiosity.

<... and let me tell you that today you look especially beautiful.
"...."

"Thanks....?"

"..."

>I observed his book

"Are you reading Tanizaki?"

>With that, I stayed silent for a while thinking of nothing while looking up, I had seen that book somewhere, I think I had read it, it was, interesting, but while thinking, I ended up ignoring almost everything the janitor was telling me.

<It's a pity that no one in this dirty classroom...
"....?"

>I looked to the sides, looking at the classroom.
"The classroom isn't that dirty."

"You do a good job, don't be so hard on yourself"

>Yes, I took everything literally, and didn't understand much what the janitor wanted to tell me. Then, when I was about to turn to finally go home, Mr. Katsuro continued speaking.

<I know everything about you
"Is that so?"

<I know that no one in this classroom speaks to you
"It's not that they have much to say, truth be told"

<they treat you as if you were a ghost
"Ghosts are cool, but they don't exist"
<Nobody notices if she laughs.
"I hardly ever laugh."

>It wasn't like I was defending myself or anything; it's just that the descriptions he gave weren't accurate, so I didn't understand them and interrupted his monologue to reply. Honestly, I didn't understand much of what he was trying to tell me.

"eh"

"Sir, are you sure you're observing me?"

"Because it doesn't seem like it."

"Could he be talking about himself?"

>I say that straight out, with no malicious intent, but with genuine innocence, using that moment to glance at my 2-yen Casio watch and prepare to leave.

"It's getting late-.... ..?"

>Then I fall silent and listen to his proposal seriously. I blink a bit and look to the side while listening attentively to his words. I stay there for several seconds thinking, trying to understand his words, and then respond with a cold face and simple words, without anger or drama.

<"Let's esca-"
"I don't want to do it."

<I'd love for you to be my wife.
"I don't know you well enough."

>With that, I listen to his entire monologue attentively. My face shifts from vacant, to vacant to serious, to serious to.... Disappointed? It took a while, but in the end, I roughly understood his intentions, though I really don't understand how anyone could come to those conclusions. I just let out a sigh and reply to him.

"What... disappointing."

>I appreciate exceptions; I like things that break clichés. Not because I want to be original, but because patterns that are too predictable seem boring.... Unfortunately, this time I was disappointed too.

"It's statistically disappointing....."

>I say with a tired tone.

"...What a pity."

"At first I thought he was just someone trying to talk to me."

"Now he's a man threatening students. There are many people like that."

>My mistake was expecting something different.

"For a few seconds I thought someone had decided to talk to me for the first time today."

>I stay thinking.

"It was a pleasant hypothesis."

"...."

"It turned out to be incorrect."

>Now I look at him with pity. I thought maybe he was a kind person. It turned out to be exactly the stereotype I hoped to avoid. So I just turn around and walk away from the window.

"If... it's a terrible pity" kek

>I tell myself,

":..."

>Then, just as I was planning to leave and the janitor was trying to enter to hack me and probably rape me, a cloud of smoke hits the man's face. Tobacco smoke. It was the smoke from one of the teachers, Ishii, who stops him and they start a passive-aggressive "conversation." Did I do something wrong? No idea, so I just slowly walk away to a more appropriate distance while playing with my sleeves.

>In the end, the janitor leaves, glaring at me... I think I did something wrong, though I don't understand what. And with that, the teacher starts talking to me. I listen attentively to his words. He gives me some recommendations, which... maybe I don't need right now, since I already have something in my backpack, but they are appreciated, and he mentions the suicide. Why would I do that? The logic of suicide doesn't fit in my mind, so I just raise an eyebrow in confusion. And he tells me that a teacher committed suicide last time, which explained the lack of something, though I didn't know what.

"I understand."

"Thanks for everything."

>With that... I'm left alone in this classroom. I take a deep breath, enjoying the silence a bit, before leaving the place on foot. My shoes make a sound in the hallway as I head toward the high school courtyard, and after walking for a while through the gym, I manage to reach that abandoned classroom.

"I think I've never been to this part of the school before."

>Without thinking twice, I approach and enter with some caution, which lasts only 2 seconds, after which I stop worrying about hiding my entry.

"Why does my foot hurt?"

>>10403
Was this all along a mystery roleplay disguised the whole time?

<doki doki waku waku mune ga takanaru watashi no kokoro mushibamu no a-na-ta

>The music from the so-called "Fatso's" headphones blares so loudly down the hallway that wearing them is pointless. If anyone brave enough dared to look in his direction, they'd notice the headphone cord dangling behind his fat ass.
>Pretending not to be aware of this fact, the fatso strutted freely through the school. Acting like some kind of celebrity, he greeted every teacher, staff member, or student he encountered with a wink and a "bang," while swaying his hips to the music, causing his bulging belly to jiggle and bounce.

<Ah, buddy! Come on in, don't just stand there like an old piece of furniture.

Tanaka, you know damn well my name is Jack. Try using it once in a while, okay?

>Turning off his music player, the fatso entered the teachers' lounge. He greeted his colleagues with a raised hand and sat down near them. "Jack" was only today's name—each day he arrives with a different one, even going through the trouble of forging his passport to match.
>Everything else about him remains unknown. Sometimes he claims to be 27, other times 60. One day he's Guatemalan, the next Korean. Even his gender remains a mystery—or at least, that's what he thinks—since seeing him in makeup and a dress pretending to be a woman isn't exactly rare.
>Due to his erratic and ever-changing nature, the rest of his "colleagues" have ended up referring to him solely as "fatso," since that's the only thing that never changes.

<injecting stimulant hormones directly into the school's drinking water supply

Didn't we do that last semester? No, wait... those hormones were meant to make the students' breasts grow bigger.
...Something must've gone really wrong with that, otherwise I can't explain how that Mei L girl's tits got so huge.

<I hope your students showed more interest in your subject than you do in your personal hygiene.

Sia... I can assure you the students pay far more attention in my class than in yours. After all, your appearance is far more... suitable for "distractions."

>With a sly grin, the fatso turned his gaze toward Sia, then devoured her with his eyes. This kind of visual harassment is something the teacher has long grown accustomed to—not just from the fatso, but also from her students.
>As for his own class, the opposite happens. Students go out of their way to avoid eye contact with the fatso, preferring to bury their heads in their books just to ignore him. The sooner class ends, the sooner they'll be rid of him—and that's something every single student knows all too well.
<Second-year student Sazayama swears she saw him nibbling on her freshly worn gym uniform in the locker room.

Only her? Then it's nothing serious.

>Hand on chin, he nodded repeatedly at Professor Tanaka's rambling. He wasn't listening to a word, but pretended to pay attention just to feign interest.
>His eyes widened in surprise upon hearing the accusations, but he quickly relaxed and leaned back in his seat. He'd bitten and sniffed far more clothing than that. If only one student reported anything, then there was nothing to worry about.

<we can't afford a sexual scandal

Sexual scandal... Hah, hah! Those things only matter when it's a young girl, right? In that case, you won't mind if I continue my daily routine of sniffing the soccer club members' shoes, will you?

>Leaning even farther back in his seat, the fat man tilted his gaze upward and placed his hands behind his head.
>The sexual harassment offenses he'd committed numbered in the hundreds and weren't limited to women alone. Men, students, teachers, women—even the janitor was among his victims. True to his "I'll go after anything" ideology, the fat man always made sure to demonstrate that "anything" meant EVERYTHING.

<I'm asking you in the most formal way possible: restrain yourself

Although... don't you think that's a bit sexist? Just giving a woman a dirty look and you're accused of being a rapist, but nobody bats an eye if a man gets spanked. Aah... what an unfair world we live in...
Tell me, Teacher Sia—wouldn't you like to live in a world where you aren't judged for chasing after boys who haven't even grown pubic hair yet? What about you, Professor Tanaka? Surely you'd love to have Class 2-A's classroom freely available for more of your "meetings," wouldn't you?

>He crossed his legs, folded his arms, and looked at Sia again. Being exposed didn't bother him. He knew this institution well enough to understand that everyone here was just as sick as he was—the only difference being that he admitted it. If the police ever investigated the fat man, they'd realize he was merely one of many problems within this school. Covering up his actions and pretending nothing happened was best for everyone.
>Yet the fat man thought differently. In his mind, the world would be a better place if everyone spoke openly and honestly about their vices and fetishes. Attempting to convince his colleagues of this for the fourteenth time this week, the fat man began talking about the very scandals they themselves were covering up.
<Can one know what kind of chicken coop you are setting up here?

Director Kurogane, welcome, would you like to receive that massage this time? I've brought a special lotion that I'm sure you'll love.

>Far from provoking fear, Director Kurogane's imposing figure evoked a completely different feeling within the fat man's mind.
>Getting up from his seat, he hurried to search his bag for a coconut-scented lotion, which he opened and brought close to Director Kurogane's face for him to smell. It's not the first, nor the last time he intends to give him a massage, although of course... The massage was just an excuse to get what he really wants and has been denied so far.

<I wonder how it's possible that the education system allows individuals with such a lack of self-esteem to be in charge of shaping the minds of the future.

Of course, director, the "education system" ;)

>He winked at the director's words. The truth is, the fat man is not a teacher, at least not a certified one. The story of how he ended up working here dates back two years.
>On a full moon night, he decided to sneak into the school to masturbate with all the wind instruments from the music club. Instead of fleeing immediately after finishing his crime, the fat man spent the night sleeping there and left as if nothing had happened the next morning. As he was walking down the hallway, another teacher mistakenly assumed he was the replacement for the Japanese literature teacher. change this if you want, maybe I'm getting too deep into the lore Not wanting to contradict him, the fat man went along with it and took over the class.
>To everyone's surprise, it turns out he was moderately good at teaching, so they ended up putting the entire class in his charge. Whether any of his colleagues know this story, or if it's another one of the many scandals they cover up, he doesn't care. He prefers to play dumb whenever the topic of how he's still working here comes up.

<You are the living portrait of failure, a loser who cannot even maintain basic adult dignity.

As harsh as ever, aren't you, director? I'm sure you have other hard things stored away too! Ha, ha, ha!
But you don't have to worry. Just as you say, I am everything no one wants to be, and that is precisely why I am the best example of discipline in this school. Any student who looks at me will instantly understand why they must study if they don't want to end up like me.
>Continuing his sexual harassment of the principal, the fatso approached him from behind and felt with his greasy hands that Herculean mountain of muscle that was him, while also ogling his entire package. After a few seconds of that, he stepped back, proudly proclaiming himself human garbage, while pointing at himself.
>His disastrous and immoral lifestyle was the perfect example to show any wayward youth why they should correct their lives before it was too late. The fatso was not a figure worthy of respect within his class, nor was he someone liked by it, but everyone instinctively understood that they should strive not to be like him. Thanks to the fatso and his disgusting being, the Japanese literature class grades had improved by up to 40% compared to how they were before.

<It turns out you've joined that pathetic group of deviants they call the 'Roleplaying Club'

You already know how the rules are, every club needs a master to supervise them and since you're out of options, you've turned to me.

<Roleplay. Imagine you're an imposing hero, a respected warrior, or anything other than the sad sack of lard you see in the mirror every morning. I guess it must be comforting to live in a fantasy world when your reality is complete garbage.

No, no, no, you're mistaken. A writer who writes about topics they don't know will always be a mediocre writer. True literature arises from one's own knowledge of the subject. The world of roleplaying is no different; if I were to play a character who was the antithesis of what I am, I would run out of ideas quite soon. It's much better to try to explore one's own facets than to pretend to be something you're not.
For example... you would surely enjoy playing the role of a stoic robot from the future who must stop the rebels who dare to go against the regime.

>He shook his hand again and again to deny what the principal had said. Kurogane's ideas about what a roleplaying campaign with the fatso would be couldn't have been more wrong. He's not interested in pretending to be some kind of Gary Stu who succeeds at everything; there's no fun in that kind of thing. Explaining his point of view, the fatso tried to make the principal understand the correct way to engage with the world of roleplaying, almost as if he hoped to awaken some latent interest within him.

<You should be heading to your little gaming cubicle, professor. You're running late for your important session of childish fantasies.

You're right, see you later, au revoir.

>Gathering his things, the fatso approached the door and said goodbye to everyone with a wide smile. It was time to begin his epic roleplaying adventure.

>>10398
One day less to live, one more day in boring Kamome Preparatory School
Rena was being physically bullied for the first time in her life, well, not really, it wouldn't be the first time, even though she had learned to defend herself in the past, being caught by surprise was entirely her fault. She still had trouble learning to trust others. While she was good at detecting patterns, she still didn't quite understand how to detect human intentions. The fact that these brutes were giving her a programmed and planned beating with just the typical toilet drowning and some painful kicks to the ribs showed that they weren't very smart, and that their modus operandi was the impulse of malice to impose fear and hierarchical status.

>Delinquent 1: Hey! Aren't you listening to me, you piece of shit?! React, damn it! I hate that stupid blank face you have, you look dead inside! Cry! Beg! I want you to beg me on your knees to stop, you damn retard!
-After having her head out of the toilet, Rena coughed a little. Although her face was wet and smelled of urine, the Japanese toilet was tiny. She couldn't swallow anything, but she was gasping for air. Even so, her face showed no emotion. Her eyes stared fixedly at her aggressor, learning every detail of her face, memorizing it for later-
....

-You were about to respond, but as if by a miracle, a huge girl entered the place, capturing the attention of the brutes and making them let go of you. Although she didn't really come to help you, Katsumi helped you get the most valuable things: time and information-

>Delinquent 1: You got lucky this time, weirdo. The boss wants to see us in the park right after classes and we're already late for the meeting. But don't worry, this isn't over.
...I know -you say gruffly, then receive one last kick from the leader-

>Katsumi: A-Are you okay, Rena? I'm so sorry... I'm really sorry I didn't do anything to help you, but I'm terribly scared of people who yell... Hey, would you like us to go to the role-playing club together? Because... I'm really embarrassed to go there alone. Besides... I'm terribly afraid of President Kinoko...
-You know you're autistic, but sometimes you wonder if other people are too. Like Katsumi. Although your Asperger's is special, you know that every autistic person is different. Could her extreme shyness be a symptom? You look at her with a "do I look okay?" expression. You get up as best you can and go wash your face before answering her, so she keeps talking-
>Katsumi: It's just... there's a terrible rumor going around my class about her. They say that last year, during the school festival, her club ran out of budget and she decided to sell homemade love potions that were actually just water mixed with horse growth hormones she stole from the equestrian club. And when the teachers caught her, she tried to convince them it was all part of a live-action roleplay where she was playing a corrupt level-twenty alchemist... She's absolutely insane! Ah, and to make matters worse, the only reason I joined this club was because... well...
- so the president can enter other clubs, but has no money problems, and that incident with the horse hormones under a roleplay excuse—maybe you could use that to your advantage-

>Katsumi: I got kicked out of the baseball club... I had issues with their president... He tried to... r-rape... L-let's just drop it....
- you turn to look at Katsumi; sometimes revealing more than necessary is counterproductive, and clearly she hasn't learned that yet. You've barely even met this girl, but her intervention saved you today—you feel like you owe her one. You're about to respond when the door bursts open and the janitor storms in-

>Janitor: WHAT KIND OF SATANIC ABOMINATIONS HAVE YOU BEEN DOING IN HERE?! WHICH ONE OF YOU TWO DEMON SPAWNS IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS ARTISTIC PROFANITY?! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL MAKE YOU CLEAN EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE DAMNED CROSS MARKS WITH THE TIP OF YOUR TONGUE! GET OUT OF MY BATHROOM!
-Yeah, the shit graffiti was in bad taste, didn't even meet the standards of those modern artists, but you don't get what he's complaining about—it's his job, he gets paid to clean. You don't understand why adults whine so much. Then again, students also complain about having to do homework, but isn't this kind of thing our duty? Before you can drift deeper into your thoughts and zone out, Katsumi's voice snaps you back to reality-
>Katsumi: A-Ah! Rena, please, get up quickly and let's get out of here before he kills us! I'll wait for you in the hallway!

-You watch her run off, leaving you behind under the furious glare of the janitor. You reconsider your earlier thoughts about owing her anything. You didn't even get to ask her the names of those bullies, but you memorized their faces well enough-

I'll tell you who they were - you say coldly to the janitor, giving him a detailed description of your attackers. Shame you don't know their names. With that done, you limp toward the door, finally heading to the club. Now it's time to fully dive into learning how to roleplay—after all, it'll give you ideas for the revenge you're already plotting in your head. But one thing at a time.

......bring pepper spray tomorrow, get their names, meeting location, home addresses, plan character roles, see if President Kinoko could be useful....buy sweets first
-You had a lot on your mind, but priorities first. You hoped someone at the club had some tasty snacks. You keep walking, this time with a firm look in your eyes. You wouldn't accept a "no" for an answer—you needed sweets to think clearly.

>>10408
>>10404
>>10407
>>10401
>>10400
>>10399
>>10393
>Upon entering the club room, the first impact wasn't visual, but olfactory: a slap of air thick with the smell of old 90s manual paper, accumulated dampness, the stale sweetness of evaporated colas, and that unmistakable trace of dust that only forms when a space is claimed by the outcasts of the school system. The room was decorated with a chaos so meticulous it bordered on pathological. Handmade garlands of colored cardstock pennants hung from the ceiling beams, guarded in the center by a plastic skull with a rather cheap brown wig. On the left wall, a huge whiteboard was covered from head to toe with complex flowcharts explaining homemade combat rules, alongside a corrugated cardboard sign painted with tempera welcoming them. The metal shelves on the sides creaked under the weight of binders overflowing with crumpled character sheets, shoeboxes filled with faded lead miniatures, and oddities like a glass jar containing a rubber brain floating in murky water.

>In the center of this sanctuary of escapism stood a massive dark wood table, covered almost entirely by a fantasy topographic map drawn on kraft paper, where small plastic warriors and dragons of dubious scale stood guard. Around the map, graph notebooks, mugs with twenty-sided dice logos, and small piles of polyhedral dice waited to be claimed. Folding metal chairs were meticulously arranged for each of the new members who had just crossed the threshold, but the main chair, situated at the far end of the table and reserved for whoever was to direct the fantasy symphony, was completely empty. The president's absence was beginning to cause discomfort. As the newcomers cautiously took their seats, their gazes inevitably met those of the other new members already occupying their respective spots at the table.

>To the left was an extremely short girl with deep blue hair tied in two high pigtails, sitting next to Bibi. Right beside her, hunched over himself as if trying to mock the laws of physics to disappear, a boy with black hair clutched his bandaged arms, his face adorned with band-aids and huge, teary, exhausted eyes that begged not to be anyone's center of attention. Completely breaking the group's scale, an imposing girl with broad shoulders and formidable musculature observed everyone shyly. In the opposite corner, a boy covered in extremely strange black face paint, with deep black shadows around his eyes and lips that gave him a cadaverous or low-budget mime appearance, breathed heavily through his open mouth, keeping his gaze fixed on the void under his flat military cap. Next to him, a girl with a robust build and pink-rimmed glasses smiled with overflowing energy; she wore her brown hair in two short pigtails with heart clips. Near her, a languid and extremely thin young woman slumped in her chair; her brown hair was so messy it looked like she had survived a minor hurricane, and her narrowed eyes stared at the ceiling with an apathy so profound it made one doubt if she was still conscious or if she was a mannequin with a poorly adjusted red tie. Finally, closing the semicircle of veterans, a boy with tanned skin and snow-white hair smiled with almost angelic kindness, rubbing his chin in a gesture that tried to instill calm in the very nervous new members.
>Suddenly, the expectant silence was interrupted by a song from an old cassette player hidden behind the bookshelf.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xg91QwPT0v0▾
>Before anyone could comprehend where the noise was coming from, the door of an old metal cleaning closet at the back of the room burst open with a metallic clang. From inside, enveloped in a cloud of chalk dust and throwing handfuls of shiny confetti she carried in her pockets, Kinoko Ichinose emerged triumphantly. She wore a plastic microphone connected to a portable toy amplifier strapped to her waist. With a cat-like grin from ear to ear that threatened to split her face in two and making the peace sign with both hands covered in glue, she waited for the drum beat to intensify before planting herself in front of the table and exclaiming with all her might.

Kinoko: LIFE IS SHIT!

>Her voice echoed through the small speaker, distorting with a high-pitched squeal that forced several attendees to cover their ears. The president was unfazed; on the contrary, her eyes shone with an almost messianic intensity behind the thick lenses of her glasses as she began to pace back and forth on the table.

Kinoko: Yes, you heard me right, my dear simulation neophytes! The objective reality in which we are forced to drag our miserable existences is a landfill of reheated dung! Look around you, beyond these gray concrete walls you call a school. What does the outside world offer us? Absurd wars in every corner of the map, economic collapses designed by old men in expensive suits, a birth rate so low that soon the only ones inheriting the Earth will be delivery robots, absurd crimes, and, as if that weren't enough, psychopathic artificial intelligences that are two minutes away from deciding that humans are too stupid to keep breathing! They tell us to study, to prepare for standardized tests, to get a corporate job where we'll sell our souls for a pittance until our bodies wither away. I say, go to hell! I categorically reject their plastic modernity and their slave responsibilities!
>She paused dramatically, placing a hand on her chest and striking a pose like a tragic heroine from a 90s anime, as golden confetti still lazily floated above her dark green hair.

Kinoko: This club isn't some Sunday hobby for nerds with nothing better to do. No sir! This place is a bastion of resistance. It's the only oasis of freedom in this desert of generational mediocrity. Here, we don't care if you're an autist who can't make eye contact, if you're fat, if you're ugly, if you're deformed by genetics or bad posture, if you're a clueless gaijin, a hafu who doesn't fit in anywhere, someone of oil color marginalized by Kamome's superficial society, an incurable virgin, or the next serial killer to make the local news. To hell with the labels of the outside world! Before my dice, we are all equal. Here we have the right to happiness, the right to build imaginary empires, and the right to be the damn kings of our own madness. If the world has condemned us to die alone, repudiated, and penniless in our bank accounts, so be it! But I guarantee you that before that tragic end arrives, we will have lived a thousand memorable lives, conquered impossible dungeons, and laughed in the face of this damn system. This is my generational survival manifesto!

>With a practiced but clumsy movement, Kinoko pulled a small, worn-looking black notebook from her back pocket, a "Death Note."

Kinoko: Each and every one of my truths, my vision, and the foundations of our resistance are laid out here, in the founding document I have respectfully titled: "The Manifesto of Absolute Evasion: A Manual Against the Tyranny of Reality." It will be permanently on the club's shelf for you to purify your minds whenever you feel the weight of the modern world crushing you. Read it!

>Just as she uttered the last word, the song reached its final note. Kinoko, panting slightly from exertion and hyperactivity, switched off the portable microphone with a dry click and jumped down from the table, landing with a dull thud that sent a couple of six-sided dice skittering. Her grin of wicked satisfaction returned to her face as she adjusted her glasses.

Kinoko: Alright! It's time for us to truly get to know each other. I'd say we're a beautiful family now, but let's be honest: the institution of the traditional family is deader than a Kamome graduate's illusions. So, from today on, we'll refer to ourselves as the "Sacred Brotherhood of Multiversal Simulation." And to make introductions not a sovereign bore of "hi, I'm so-and-so and I like bread," we're going to use the scientific method of chance. Watch this!
>The president stuck her hand into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a plastic dodecahedron, spinning it on the tip of her finger with suspicious dexterity.

Kinoko: A beautiful twelve-sided die! The rules are simple: each person will stand up, say their name, their grade, and their favorite movie. Then, they'll pick three people in this room, roll this die for each of them, and carry out whatever action fate decides. No complaints, no regrets! For example, if I pick this little sprout right here...

>She quickly leaned over the table, pointing an accusing finger at the timid boy with black hair and bandages, who seemed to shrink even further under her predatory gaze. The president tossed the die into the air; it landed on the table, and she read what it showed—

Kinoko: Ah-ha! It's a twelve. Twelve clearly says... "suck his ass while jerking him off."

>>10409
<Kinoko Interaction Dice

1. Spank her bottom.

2. Give her a slap.

3. Sniff her neck closely and sigh.

4. You should challenge that person.

5. Give her a massage anywhere you decide.

6. French kiss.

7. Do a 15-second dance.

8. Ask her what color her underwear is by staring directly into her eyes.

9. Tickling attack

10. Reveal a very deep secret about yourself to the other person.

11. Spit in her face.

12. Tell the other person something positive.

---

<Kinoko Dice

For Seika: 1d12 = 2

For bonita-chan: 1d12 = 12

For Rena: 1d12 = 11

I recommend rolling your dice first before responding You can interact freely between rollers, it's time!!!

MINISTRY OF EDUCATION OF JAPAN (MEXT)

Secondary Education Supervision Office - Osaka District

FILE: MEXT-OSA-2026-KM99
ISSUER: State Board of Educational Evaluation (Governmental)

This personnel record and classified resume has been written and verified by this Ministry for the supervision of the campus:

---

HIERARCHICAL STRUCTURE AND FILES

- Director (校長 - Kouchou)
Name: Genzuro Kuragane (45 years old)
Background: Son of a political leader of the ruling party. He plagiarized his law thesis. Former active member of the Yakuza. Linked to 3 cases of homicide and 2 of rape, being declared innocent in all due to political influence.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3233542?q=hanayama_kaoru+

- Deputy Director (教頭 - Kyoutou)
Name: Teresa del Toro (37 years old)
Background: Mexican from a very wealthy family. Linked to criminal groups such as the Cartel of the Americas, Cosa Nostra and D-Company. Does not consume spicy. Married to a recently deceased Japanese deputy.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/5037927

- Parent Teacher Association (PTA)
President: Sumitomo Fumi (59 years old)
Background: Osaka noblewoman and philanthropist. He runs a foundation for victims of the FLEIJA bomb in Hiroshima and children of white slavery. Mother of 6 children (none in Kamome). Amateur actress with terrible reviews.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/11661784?q=illustrious_%28azur_lane%29+

- Academic Coordinator (教務主任 - Kyoumu-shunin)
Name: Sia Baya (30 years old)
Background: Central American refugee. Former teacher forced to fight in her country; He is suspected of killing many people. Rights activist gaijin. Seafood lover and with severe allergies to dogs and cats.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/10228974?q=semiu_grier

- Head of Grade: First Year
Name: Ryoichi Takebayashi (20 years old)
Background: Prodigy with an IQ of 162, but with a lame and apathetic attitude. Frustrated expoeta; He took the position by default. He runs the Tea Club. He hates noise, young people and socializing. He is rumored to be homosexual.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/11179037?q=sayonara_zetsubou_sensei+

- Head of Grade: Second Year
Name: Natalia Cannobio (27 years old)
Background: Uruguayan immigrant. He fled after the establishment of the unified South American empire. Graduated with honors and persecuted politician who obtained asylum in Japan. He loves cotton candy, hates wine and aspires to be the school principal.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3589010?q=kirisu_mafuyu+

- Head of Grade: Third Year
Name: Sato Kato (39 years old)
Background: Graduated from Tokyo. He fled after a scandal involving the sale of admission exams (his accomplices are serving 20 years in prison). Follower of the strict authoritarian pedagogy of Shigetane Shibata. Divorced, his two children hate him.
Photo: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/6f/9c/9f/6f9c9fa5cab66c79ba20a6ea893a6ae3.jpg

- Teacher: History
Name: Katsuro Tanaka (55 years old)
History: Married, native of Kamome. He hasn't seen his 4 daughters for 15 years. Submissive and fearful. He was the high school principal until he was demoted to impose Kuragane. He likes origami and listening to whale songs, although he fears the sea.
Photo: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f7/f8/71/f7f871dda13df3621aa502eec9fc4e6a.jpg

- Teacher: Japanese Literature
Name: "Jack" (27 years old)
History: Obese and lascivious subject, viewed with hostility. Emergency substitute for the previous teacher, who committed suicide. He is the target of attacks by the Director. Lacks stable civil identity registration; He showed up and took the job.
Photo: Not yet registered

- Teacher: Physical Education and Health
Name: Azlan Shahmeer (27 years old)
Background: Illegal Pakistani immigrant. Without pedagogical training. Linked to Islamic extremists, hired only for his physique. Very religious; He hates the customs of Japan. He sends his entire salary to Afghanistan and has a furious attitude.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/9776474?q=nekketsu_hayato

- Teacher: Mathematics
Name: Hidetoshi Ishii (23 years old)
Background: Born in Sendai. Tobacco addict with lung damage and suspected cancer. His breath reeks of cigarettes. Of calm character, he survived a suicide attempt. He had an affair with a former student. He hates the Vice Principal.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/4302709?q=hayakawa_aki+

- Teacher: Sciences
Name: Uesugi Ayahime (25 years old)
History: Extremely long hair causing trips and injuries to students. Violent character, resorts to beatings to teach. Kendo Club Advisor. Unsatisfactory marriage, sterile and rumored to be a lesbian.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/11431864?q=bort+

- Teacher: English
Name: Verity Hightower (44 years old)
Background: American, veteran of the Divine War. He looks younger than he is. Suspected of being an undercover agent. Addicted to narcotics; Has business with the Vice Principal and Dr. Wang. Respected by the student gangs.Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/7083506?q=yamato_nadeshiko_%28hyakkano%29+

- Teacher: Geography and Social Sciences
Name: Ratmir Obolensky (37 years old)
Background: Hermetic Russian who speaks in code. Married to a Japanese official; Of his 3 children, one died mysteriously, another lives in Italy and one studies in Kamome. Face the Director. He almost beat a father to death.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/6169226?q=klaus_von_reinhertz

- Teacher: Art and Music
Name: Hiiragi Kotono (26 years old)
History: Frustrated artist who takes it out on her students. Single and bitter, she attends daily therapy. Friend of Natalia, Ishii, Verity and Sia. He caused the expulsion of a student by sabotaging his grades.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/7556685?q=tashigi+

- School Nursing Doctor (保健室 - Hokenshitsu)
Name: Dr. Wang Renjiro (32 years old)
History: Sino-Japanese. He lost his license due to medical negligence. Fan of the movie "The Human Centipede." It serves only young and delicate men. Friend of the Deputy Director and connection to gangs. Passage is denied throughout the American continent.
Photo: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e2/0a/96/e20a96b78a967a3d56b32c31684115e8.jpg

- President of the Guidance and Disciplinary Committee
Name: Saigusa Norimitsu (17 years old - Student)
Background: Daughter of a banker. Popular and manipulative; He appears kind but orders students to be beaten for fun or to be abused for pleasure. Voyeuristic attitudes. Non-aggression pact with gangs. Sworn enemy and antithesis of Kinoko Ichinose. Loves classical music and French food.
Photo: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/7707370?q=takao_%28azur_lane%29+

- School Janitor (用務員 - Yoomuin)
Name: Katsuro Mura (46 years old)
Background: Childhood friend of the Director. He lives in the school warehouse and bathes twice a month. Law graduate; he took the blame for Kuragane's plagiarism in exchange for his disqualification. Accused of harassment and abuse. High salary. Leaving the country is prohibited.
Photos: https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/vsbattles/images/8/8c/Fuhrer_Ugly_Redrawn.png/revision/latest?cb=20210917025841

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CERTIFICATION OF REGISTRATION VALIDITY

===========================================================================
[OFFICIAL SEAL OF THE GENERAL DIRECTORATE OF SCHOOL CONTROL AND REGISTRATION]
MINISTRY OF EDUCATION OF JAPAN (MEXT)
===========================================================================

>It is certified that this staff of Kamome High School has been audited and registered under the direct jurisdiction of the Ministry of Education of Japan. The data contained is official and reserved.

Issued in Tokyo, Japan, on July 16, XXXX

{Signed Electronically by the General Representative}

Masahito Moriyama

Minister of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology of Japan (MEXT)

>>10409
>Takahara

Fatty I am~ Fatty I am~, a very fat roleplayer I am~~ hahaha

>Completely lacking any shame, the fat Takahara walked towards the place of his new club, singing a stupid song while shaking his dense, greasy belly that daily genocided many bowls of supreme meat and Tonkatsu
I assume that by being the first to respond, I arrived before the others
>Upon arriving behind the gym, he opened the door with exuberant energy, and greeted those already present

Good afternoon my fellow creators of vivid fiction through the algorithms of chance and dice! The paladin of the dice, Takahara, makes his presence known with pride.

>He bows barely 15 degrees because with his elevated mass, doing more would result in falling to the ground

Hmm?, And the president?

>More people came, even with company, incredible!, I had never seen so many people gather for a roleplaying game if it wasn't to make fun of it >>10408 >>10404 >>10407 >>10401 >>10400 >>10399

I can't believe it, so many people!, how wonderful to have so many companions for such a special occasion. Welcome my roleplayer friends, I hope we get along well.

>He greets those entering, with a bow and shaking hands if he can, he gets all sweaty and greasy when facing women, he stops upon seeing the fat guy

Hello Mr. Japanese Literature Professor, were you able to grade that report from last week?, I put a lot of effort into my research on the cultural differences between Eastern and Western Kobolds.

>Putting that aside, he sits in the first free seat he finds, the chair creaks under his weight if it's made of wood, cracks if it's made of plastic, and if it's metal, it dents, he didn't expect this school, especially this classroom, to have good chairs for someone XXXL like him
>He sits with his hands on the table, playing with his fingers while observing the others, waiting for the President, until she makes her triumphant entrance, and gives a speech that seems to strike Takahara directly in the soul

BRAVO, BRAVO BRAVISSIMO!

>Takahara applauds with all the strength he can, it seems his fat hands are like two stones colliding

THAT'S THE SPIRIT, THAT'S THE ATTITUDE FOR GROUPS OF FICTIONAL AND IMAGINATIVE NARRATIVE CREATION, THAT'S HOW YOU SPEAK!. (((FUCK, SHIT)))

>He stops, and coughs to clear his throat, he let out his half-Japanese and spoke in Spanish for a second

That's how you speak, there's no need to settle for the monocultural conditions and stereotypes that society imposes on us, when we can create our own!

>Lots of glazing, let's continue, Death Note

Can I borrow the manifesto when you're done?, I could scan it at home and print some copies if Kinoko-san wishes.

>After the presentation, now came more presentation but in the form of introductions, and of course, using the power of dice
>And the president is the first, showing her extensive and varied tastes with her chosen victims for the introduction round, based, Takahara drools while witnessing it all
>He also looks around

Damn, it's bad luck that there are no 15-sided dice

>If I was going to do it as a roleplayer, I was going to do it right and leave everything to chance, he took out his phone, with his wallpaper of Suu from Monster Musume, one of his first waifus and masturbations when he discovered the internet, and went to look for a trusted custom dice page and wrote down the present people before continuing

...
1-Ri
2-Jhon
3-The fat guy
4-Bibi
5-Hotaru
6-Bonita-chan
7-Rena
8-The baseball player
9-Seika
10-The suicide boy
11-The Emo
12-Fatty
13-Anorexic
14-Dark-skinned albino
15-Kinoko

1d15 = 4
1d15 = 3
1d15 = 3

>>10413
by repetition, move to the next
>Takahara

Ahem, if you'll excuse me, Madam President, I'd like to be next, now that the sacred decision of the dice for my companions is finished

>He stood up

You're probably wondering who your humble servant is, well, I won't keep you waiting, before you stands the Alpha and Omega, a paladin of memetic chance and a high-level dice roller with experience that would leave those offering you an entry-level first job with their jaws on the floor due to decades of experience in the creation and manipulation of hyperversal meta-fictional narrative in such varied fields and genres, content in just under 6 years of human calendar, truly a milestone for human minds... I am

>He cleared his throat

I am Chemelier Verdun Takahara, you can refer to me as you wish, I have no problem being among my people, if you have a preferred name, tell me without fear. Oh yes, and for my, uhuh... hehehe, targets, I believe they would be, my companion in high calories, the little one with blue hair, and Bonita-chan too, I'm not saying it, the dice dictated it

>He asks the president for the dice and makes his three rolls before possibly committing acts of sexual harassment and assault that may or may not be justified as consensual

Fatty: 1d12 = 4
Hotaru: 1d12 = 7
Bonita-chan: 1d12 = 10

>>10414
>>10413
>>10410
>Takahara

>The dice commanded, I walk towards where the fat one was

It's a pleasure to meet you, comrade, before proceeding with the dice's command, as a sign of good manners I would like to ask your name

>With that done, he stared at her intently, though one eye drifted

What color panties are you wearing now?

>Next!
>I look at Hotaru

Ohh blue-chan, those hands you have look so cute and soft, fluffy like a cloud~, do you mind if I massage them

>I hope he extended his hand before catching it and starting to run his greasy, fat sausage fingers over her hand, wrist, and forearm to 'massage' it.
>Next!
>>10404

Ohhh pretty chan, you look so sweet despite that lack of expression you show, it's a perfect example of Gap-Moe brought into this gray reality we live in

>He leaned towards her, violating her personal space, the smell of Axe leather and cookies deodorant trying to cover the smell of onion was noticeable

If you put your nose against mine, I would greatly appreciate it!

>There wasn't a shred of shame or second thoughts in his actions, truly, he was a shameless roleplayer

Seika
>>10402
—(How unpleasant...)
—(And to think I found him cute when he played with his beloved animals, or scavenged in the trash like a true little recycler. Is this what pent-up passion can turn a boy into?)
—(Don't overthink it. He'll drag you down into his madness as soon as he gets the chance. I hope he doesn't do something stupid like blink the moment I do just to maintain eye contact.")
—(It's very simple, really, queen. Just replace his lines with songs by Marco Antonio Solis, you can't go wrong, he might even start sounding romantic)

—Carl's Jr?
—Minato, your brain lacked nutrients, and development, it erroneously processed the idea that my palate would voluntarily lower itself to chew processed meat at a fast-food chain.
—(Don't touch my hair. What an atrocious insult to my status. Don't you realize that the emerging presence of those establishments near our school has driven up the obesity rate?)

—Of course, it's just as you say! It'll be in the darkness of night, after waiting for me to eat my salad with the speed of a gardener trimming grass with nail clippers. I'll be so overwhelmed that I'll accept the first thing you say without complaint, you'll ask me to close my eyes and when I open them...
—It's this... An onion ring used as a ring, a symbol of pure, raw, and edible love. You'll make me cry.

—After all, what you want is a girl who wears thousands of fashionable outfits, a superficial doll who, to earn her luxuries, opens her mouth very wide or bounces her ample backside at the right moment. I think she could reciprocate...
—It's her, my pou
—Her name is Lady Sofia Cotorra Fifa Quintanilla. She's always a huge distraction when I want to ignore the vulgar murmurs around me, you know? It's not that we're friends, at this point I don't know if what I feel for Lady is resentment, tenderness, or perhaps envy, who knows
—(Calm down, Lady, your exotic butterfly wings worth 2 million coins are irresistible, but the gentleman has tastes that your virtual curves cannot satisfy, he won't do anything to you.)

—Oh... They started fighting...
—(I don't understand. It's probably instinctual. Boys like to wrestle with each other while rubbing their bulky bodies and emitting steam. Did I react too late? It's best if I leave)
—(Walk. You're not in a hurry)
—(I will raise a white flag and wave it for all the helpless, humble, and low-income girls who would wish to be in a situation like this. For you, Sofía2007, and for you, LadyPrincesaCotorra, on the internet)

Seika
>>10409
—Perhaps I myself am a white flag... Fufu, look at yourself Seika, having such a level of vanity.
—(Pressing the door hard doesn't make it any more closed. I should let it go. It undoes my natural beauty, almost as much as walking in a hurry. I should take advantage of moments like these to restore it.)
—(Sometimes we high-value women need to make certain sacrifices focused on our health, to put in place that dangerous and natural aesthetic that was granted to us from the moment we were born... Where is that music coming from?)

—(Why are there so many people here? Not even the student council meetings have this many attendees. Could this be the infamous clandestine student council...?)
—(No)
—(Just counting faces, starting from the 3 social outcasts, a calculating and capable girl can realize the mistake of sharing too much air with socially marginalized people. Even if there are 2 or 3 pretty faces among boys and girls, the metrics don't compensate. Cut off. I'm sorry, Kinoko, maybe if you had lowered your tone a couple of notches, I could have heard you. It's not that I'm a villainess that catches the eye, I truly hope that you and your apostles can write the Bible 3 with energy blasters, space battles, and telekinetic celibate monks. But don't count on me. I'll call emergency services if you end up collapsing in less than a minute)

Although Seika's position near the door was discreet, her presence was not. She remained listening and advising, internally, the 3rd-year student on how she should continue with her project if she wanted it to be a success. The presence of dozens of distractions in the club room did not make it easy for Seika to distance herself from the group. She will always deny fixing herself up while watching or listening to hour-long video summaries that, by coincidence, last as long as her sessions. Thus, Seika kept straightening her hair with a serious face until, believing her concept of social invisibility had failed completely, she was hastily pointed out by the leader of the place.

—I haven't seen it. But from the title, it can't be very different from Angry Birds, can it? It's my choice if you want to talk about movies, a fresh and spontaneous one, like me.
—Sometimes, in this high school, you can simply come to identify with or feel like a majestic bird, fighting against rebellious, causeless sows who feel safe by cornering themselves within four walls while sharing others' eggs.
—(Why am I still here?)
—What were we talking about...? Ah, yes, the challenge. I don't have much to object to. Be prudent, Ichinose, you're young, even if you dress like an old woman.

>>10413
—Cute, heart of butter, body of grapefruit, I don't want to be the one to contradict you. But, if you're going to use apps, nothing stops me from asking my trusted AI for a random number and for it to be 3 times 7, mysteriously.
—Subset. Solved with two rolls for each choice.

1-4: Ri, Jhon, The fat one, Bibi, Hotaru
5-8: Rena, The baseball player, Seika, The suicide boy, The Emo
9-12: The Emo, Fatso, Anorexic, Dark albino, Kinoko

1-2: 1st
3-4: 2nd
5-6: 3rd
7-8: 4th
9-10: 5th
11-12: reroll

Objectives:
2d12 = 9
2d12 = 7
2d12 = 7

Action:
1d12 = 3
1d12 = 6
1d12 = 7

>>10410
>>10409
This roleplay is quality. I liked the OP intro
>I open the Club door wide, and look to both sides just moving my eyes, and then... https://youtu.be/zR0dtcqK0lk▾ There was too much humidity and some dust, it wasn't good for that at all. The bad smells didn't worry me as much, after having the janitor talking to me up close, I had more or less become immune to the stench. I make a quick movement with my head to concentrate and open my eyes to look ahead, and I see this environment.

"....."

https://youtu.be/fCfbZ47G8z8▾>As I walk slowly forward to look for a seat, my eyes scanned for details in all the decoration of the place, it was... Original. Little by little I stop because this had captured my complete attention. The boards, the decorated cups, the atmosphere made with mortal but passionate hands, there was soul, there was affection, there was spirit, there was... Passion, love in this. In the end, I just stood there with a stupid face looking at everything like that scene from The Incredibles pic, it's been so long since I've seen a place that was made with the soul of its artist, like those old websites that I never got to see, but did research and navigate like those explorers who traveled to ancient Greece, now lost, in search of forgotten temples and ancient civilizations lost in time. Those websites were chaotic, messy, full of things that didn't follow a "pattern" or "Aesthetic Theory", but they were their own, personal, and reflected the soul and creativity of their creator. Well, this lounge reflected that same feeling.

"New.... Adversaries?"

"It must be Greek"

>With that, I approach the free bench and sit on one of them, only to realize that there were more people. Yes, I was so distracted by all the decoration that I had completely forgotten that there were other people.... Quite a few people, actually. I didn't expect it, although it's not like I cared, but it's surprising that there are so many women, this world must be fictional or something. The important thing was that the center table.... Was completely empty. So, while I was rocking, very slightly, in the chair. I think there were about 15 people in the room, but I wasn't really paying attention, I was just rocking, slightly, while now my eyes weren't looking at any particular point, they were just in my mind, and the rocking became a little more... and little by little, more "intense".
the

club

leader

appears

on

the

table

her

voice

starts

resonating

through

a

small

toy

speaker

and

with

nothing

else

to

do

i

just

listen

at

first

i

don

t

really

pay

much

attention

to

her

words

but

then

i

start

paying

much

more

attention

as

the

monologue

enters

my

ears

my

eyes

keep

following

that

slightly

glittering

confetti

until

it

gets

caught

in

her

hair

and

with

that

she

announces

her

book

the

pluto

manifesto

now

available

in

all

bookstores

across

asia

japan

europe

and

america

then

she

ends

her

presentation

just

as

the

music

stops





i

start

clapping

for

her

out

of

nowhere

while

looking

into

her

eyes

and

then

plaff

i

fall

backward

onto

the

floor

because

when

i

let

go

of

the

chair

to

clap

and

keep

rocking

at

the

same

time

i

lose

my

balance

and

topple

over

with

the

chair





after

a

while

i

get

up

holding

the

back

of

my

head

from

the

impact

and

realize

they

are

now

doing

introductions

it

was

simple

name

grade

favorite

movie

of

all

time

and

then

roll

a

die

this

this

was

fun

first

i

watch

some

people

introduce

themselves

then

i

look

around

and

carefully

grab

the

die

so

as

i

shake

my

hand

to

prepare

for

the

roll

i

introduce

myself



my

name

is

shizuku

pretty

lebedeva

i

m

in

first

grade

and

my

favorite

movie

is

maybe

the

adventures

of

baron

munchausen

but

i

have

several



i

point

toward

the

guy

they

were

about

to

ass

suck

professor

k6

and

the

muscular

girl

and

without

giving

them

time

to

react

i

release

the

three

dice

from

my

hand

k7





the

dice

have

spoken



seeing

the

numbers

i

just

smile

and

approach

the

first

one

that

guy

in

bandages

and

with

a

slight

gesture

of

my

finger

i

signal

him

to

turn

around

and

whether

he

obeys

or

not

i

give

him

a

spank

on

the

ass

if

he

resists

i

throw

him

onto

my

lap

and

do

the

deed

such

weird

things

but

they

re

funny

after

spanking

the

guy

i

approach

the

class

professor

and

greet

him

with

a

wave

then

k2

dance

for

fifteen

seconds

my

face

remains

just

as

expressionless

but

my

body

moves

more

than

usual

though

quite

clumsily

trying

to

imitate

elvis

style

yank

dances

after

fifteen

seconds

i

stop

abruptly

and

make

a

bow

with

the

dance

done

i

catch

my

breath

and

now

turn

to

the

largest

girl

in

the

entire

club



i

have

to

give

you

a

massage



where

and

how

do

you

want

it



i

say

while

lifting

my

two

hands

and

opening

and

closing

them

as

my

eyes

move

up

and

down

looking

at

her

and

then

at

my

hands

>>10415
>But, before I introduce myself, the first one to introduce himself was The Alpha and Omega, a paladin of memetic chance and a high-level dice roller with experience that would leave those offering you an entry-level first job with their jaws on the floor from decades of experience in the field of hyperversal meta-fictional narrative creation and manipulation in such varied fields and genres, content in just under 6 human calendar years, truly a milestone for human minds, Chemelier Verdun Takahara.... god uff uff, I ran out of breath, and that's saying it with my mental voice.

>After almost fainting, I see Chemelier's introduction... what a curious name, and after performing his dice actions, which was to grab one girl's hands and ask the color of the other's panties, he was coming towards me, because I was the last one apparently. I notice his round figure approaching closer and closer, it was funny, but not funny-bad, but funny-good, as it reminded me of that purple cat from Sonic, I think his name was Big the Cat or something. Then, as Chemelier approaches, even closer, to me, I hear him, but quickly my face changes from apathy to one of complete confusion.

"Huh? Gap... moe?"

"I don't know that term."

"But thank you... I guess"

>Genuine words, I had no idea what that meant, but if it was something good, I guess I should be grateful. After that, he leans towards me and asks me what his dice ordered him to do... Eskimo kiss? which apparently consisted of rubbing noses or something like that.

I point to my small nose, and I stand there thinking for a few seconds in silence while looking at the corner of the classroom ceiling.

"....."

"Ah"

"Like.... like Gnomes do?"

"Sounds good"

>I lean in and press my small nose against his, then do a slight nose rub, after that, I pull away and give a very, very clumsy thumbs-up. Now that I think about it, I don't know if an Eskimo kiss is just touching noses, or also rubbing them like gnomes do... I hope I didn't mess up, it doesn't really matter anymore anyway.

"Done"

>Now that I think about it, he smells like cookies.... and onion, what a weird combination.


>>10407 awww kekie cute
https://youtu.be/ohpjvXPF0ZM▾

Seika
>>10418
(8,3): Seika 💅👑💁‍♀️
(1,8): Bibi 👧🪄
(10,2): Gorda 🤰🍗

—Oh, it's me. Luck shines upon me, radiant. Setting me a challenge will be difficult, there are very few things I cannot accomplish, simply by being me. For example, res... respecting them and their physical appearances and distinct neurodivergences.
—A self-imposed challenge, out of pure charity. I'm risking my status in this school just for a good deed. Support for new clubs is very important, I'm doing this for you, students with American tendencies.
—Boom boom
—It's not like I want to swing the scope of my popularity, based on your narrative abilities, strangely well-developed. Hohoho... Mfufu

>>10401
—(Delulu)
—(Can I trust that this little girl will write 100 compliments on my social media? Maybe, but not coherent ones. She'll talk about dinosaurs, asteroids, and things like that. And how dinosaurs had a civilization that is currently trying to revive the chicken caste, only held back by a mustachioed colonel.)
—My name is Ijuuin Seika, third year. You look like a neon cherry lollipop wrapped in those robes. What are your sweet childhood dreams and hopes? Come closer and tell me while I help you blow your nose.
—How old are you? Didn't anyone teach you how to put on makeup? Let's talk about maturity.
—(Overflowing with kindness in my first interaction with this group. Where are the cameras when you need them? It accentuates my maternal and brilliant figure)

>>10409
—Oh, I can't, how embarrassing! Do I have to tell you? Don't make me!
—Could you excuse me, my abundant companion? We aren't that close. You know, between friends, women, equal XX humans with no differences.
Seika decided not to hurt sensibilities, even if it meant punishment. The simple denial said a lot. Anyway, the result was going to be the same in any situation whether Seika spoke directly or not to this companion in loud and affectionate fatty content.

>>10410
I'm using Takahara's list and since I'm number 3, I have to replace myself with him. Leaving things like this 7-1, Whip Rena. 2-7, John Dance. 3-5, Takahara massage

>>10409

>Being one of the first to arrive, the fat man did not sit down. Instead, he decided to hide in a corner of the room for no reason other than just the fun of it. Just as his smell was camouflaged with that of the club room, so was his appearance. Hiding his face among the rest of the cheap masks and costumes that were on display. His skin certainly had the elasticity of rubber from so many rashes he had from head to toe.

<LIFE IS SHIT!

I differ, thinking like that is the same as admitting defeat. You can become an enemy of the world or try to create your own, but you should never surrender to its whims.

>Coming out of hiding to speak, the fat man accidentally knocked over two shelves full of manuals and other role-playing items. Without bothering to collect any of it, he sat down and continued to protest what Ichinose said.
>I actually quite agreed with almost everything he said, with only his first words being the only ones I can't empathize with.

<That's my erotic dice

Are you sure you don't want to keep that die? I even brought mine. If we are going to spend the entire school year together we might as well... "get to know each other in depth"

>From inside his pocket he takes out a sex dice like Ichinose's. Only in his, instead of drawings there are words like lick, suck, bite, etc. Disappointed, he puts it away again, but not before taking a good look at everyone in the room, after talking about how he wants to get to know them in depth.
>Among the entire group, the ones who can feel his gaze the most are Hotaru and the mime student, whom he is practically raping with his gaze.

<will say his name
They call me JACK..............................................................................................
https://youtu.be/EwGb434LWhc?t=22▾

>He left a long silence after saying his name. Making it seem like there was more after that, but in reality there is nothing.
>His name of the day was literal, just Jack, no last names, or anything. Not even looking at the fake passport he took out would they find any more information than that.

<your grade level

I am currently the Japanese literature teacher, as well as the teacher in charge of this club. Surely more than one of you already knows me.

>For those unfortunate enough to have had him as a teacher, you would know that "Jack" keeps changing his name and identity as much as he changes his underwear. Bad analogy, he doesn't change his underwear. He changes his identity as much as he changes his waifu every time a new anime season comes out.

<and his favorite movie

Workout Muscular Men 3. Many limit themselves to treating it as a simple source of memes, but I firmly maintain that Japanese culture would not be what it is today if it were not for Aniki, Van-sama and other great figures of Gachimuchi.

>>10413

<Hello Mr. Professor of Japanese Literature, were you able to rate that report from last week? I put a lot of effort into my research on the cultural differences of the Kobolds between the East and the West.

Ah, Master Takahara. Your report was definitely an interesting read, although I'm still somewhat against the idea of ​​dividing them into "Easterners and Westerners." As you well explained, the "eastern version" is merely a misinterpretation of the first D&D manuals where they showed them with much more "bestial" features, just as occurs with orcs. In that case, don't you think it would be more correct to refer to them as classic kobolds and modern kobolds?

>Smiling and crossing his legs, the fat man greeted his equally fat student with an upbeat and jovial tone. One of the last works he left for his class was precisely about cultural differences between East and West. Needless to say, Takahara was one of those who put the most effort into this project. However, the fat man (my fat man, not your fat man) was still not completely convinced with what Takahara wrote.

>>10419

Wait, before it starts there is something we need to prepare.>He raised his hand high as Bonita-chan approached him. Quickly reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone and played the Space Dandy song and then started dancing himself along with Bonita-chan. The movements that the teacher made were a perfect copy to the point of looking like a mirror. A very distorted one, one of those at fairs where you look fatter, thinner, or shorter than you are.
>In addition to the obvious difference in the attractiveness of their bodies, there was another that was much more noticeable. That being the expression of the teacher, who enjoyed every second of this short dance like a child. Her joy was such that she continued dancing even after Bonita-chan finished, then turning to >>10400

>>10400

Mistah Jei eM! Lets yes yuu daans!!

>With his belly shaking to the rhythm of the music, the fat man approached Jhon. He snapped his fingers and then pointed at him and spoke to him in very broken English. More than 30 seconds had passed since he was dancing and sweat was beginning to drip from his body. Still, the fat man was not going to stop until the young blonde gave the signal to relegate him in this dance contest.

>>10408

Good morning Rena. I have not received your report yet, remember that if you need private tutoring I am always available for you.

>Whether Jhon joined the dance or not, the fat man would leave him aside to approach the quiet of the room. Being behind his seat, he gave the back of her chair a hard slam with his belly. The force of the impact is enough for Rena to be thrown out of the seat and the moment she does, the fat man takes the opportunity to give her her well-deserved spanking all over her ass.
>Before Rena hit the floor or the table due to the spanking, the fat man caught Rena with one hand on her stomach and put her back to her seat in a "nice" manner. Also giving him a few light taps on the shoulders, while whispering in his ear the last thing he said.

>>10413

Now... only you remain, Mr. Takahara, I ask you to relax your muscles to make this a more enjoyable experience.

>After two of the three challenges imposed by the dice have been met, there is only one last thing left to do. Massage Takahara! Removing the massage lotion he prepared for the director from his bag, the fat man pours a good stream of it onto his hands and slowly approaches Takahara, while letting a lot of the lotion drip onto the floor.
>Without asking or asking permission, the fat man stands behind Takahara, rubs his hands one last time and brings them towards his shoulders. Raising them slowly until they reach his neck and finally his head, where they finally make contact.
>The fat man's bulging and stubby fingers manage to transmit a pleasant sensation to Takahara's skull. As if they were sponges that absorb stress upon contact. Thanks to the lotion she was wearing, her massage also has a stimulating effect. Turning the mere rubbing of your hands into a much more pleasant and comforting experience than it should. Firmly squeezing, he drew circles on Takahara's scalp, tousling it and combing it again over and over again, first slowly and then picking up the pace.
>As the final part of his massage, the fat man focused on the spiky hair that Takahara was wearing in the center of his head. Stimulating it to increase in size as he kneaded the knots formed at the base of it with controlled and calculated movements. All in order to give the greatest possible enjoyment not only for Takahara, but for everyone who was observing that bizarre spectacle.
>Once he finished, the fat man withdrew his hands, took a step back and planted a small kiss on Takahara's neck and then returned to his seat.

>>10409
Starting in the world of roleplaying
After leaving the bathroom and heading as fast as you could towards your locker to get supplies, Rena headed to the roleplaying club, she had seen it before but was still new to all of this, and the place slightly resembled her own room, so she could feel comfortable even if she was surrounded by people still strange to her

-Upon entering and observing the room carefully, music began to play, and the club president emerged from the closet. Rena just stood there watching her and listening to everything she had to say. Honestly, she shared President Kinoko's point of view, but she wouldn't know how to express herself in the same way she did, she wouldn't know what words to choose and use. In that aspect, she understood why Kinoko held this leadership position, someone who could be admired, someone to follow. These were the thoughts Rena had while witnessing the speech, but something else resonated in her mind. The President Kinoko came out of the closet, is she gay? Rena never understood that metaphor, Rena thought as she took a seat-

>Just as she uttered the last word, the song reached its final note. Kinoko, panting slightly from the effort and hyperactivity, switched off the portable microphone with a sharp click and jumped down from the table, landing with a dull thud that sent a couple of six-sided dice skittering. Her grin of wicked satisfaction returned to her face as she adjusted her glasses.
-Rena could only offer a few light claps for the performance-
>Kinoko: Aha! A twelve came up. The twelve clearly says... "suck his dick while you masturbate him'"

-Well, she already looked like a cult leader, but for her to escalate so quickly to initiating an orgy wasn't something Rena expected. She wasn't thinking about sex and never was interested in it, but if there was a club for it, she supposed she'd be willing to try, although obviously, it was all a slip-up by her president for having an erotic die for some reason... mental note, ask her later if this isn't really a cult-

>>10410
Okay, I don't really know anyone here yet, and I haven't learned most of their names
-while waiting for the president's massage, Rena stands up to introduce herself-
My name is Rena, I'll reserve my last name for personal reasons, I'm in my second year, My favorite movie... uh.... um.... -you stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, a simple question for anyone, but not for you, for an autistic person something so simple could take hours of thought- ...something about time travel like Back to the Future.

And as I said, I don't know you all, well, so I'll limit myself to Katsumi, to President Kinoko herself, and to....-Rena looks for a few seconds at what appears to be a red-haired girl, i.e., Bibi- >>10385 and to her

Dice
Katsumi: 1d12 = 9

Kinoko: 1d12 = 4

Bibi : 1d12 = 12

>>10493
-Rena felt like a wrecking ball hit her. Although the fat guy was being friendly, he ignored the beating the girl had received and how weak she was. And even though the fat guy caught her, Rena wasn't going to let it go like that-
Don't spank me again -she said while squeezing the fat guy's tit. This was a feasible tactic to defend herself from female aggressors, but seeing that this guy had bigger tits than hers, she figured squeezing them would also inflict pain- and have a good day -she said, squeezing it harder and then letting go-

>>10495
-after seeing the results of her dice rena wasted no time, she stood up, approached Katsumi, the big gorilla who ran away like a coward but at least went to look for her, the dice dictated that she had to reveal a secret, Rena thought for a few seconds and approached the giant to whisper something in her ear... I pushed those who bothered me at my previous school down the stairs - after whispering this, Rena, without giving Katsumi time to process, went to slap President Kinoko-
https://youtu.be/K3FgBR4lsZE?si=ycOe1G1N5Zy-xkTB▾SLAP!!!
-The sound of the slap echoes loudly throughout the room, Rena doesn't flinch, she waits to have met her president's expectations well, out of respect, rena bows slightly-
.....
-Now only Bibi was left, Rena looks at her thinking of something positive to say to her, so she was just honest-
I like your red hair, you would look good dressed as a witch -Rena makes the peace sign gesture, like in anime, oh should she give a thumbs up? she hopes that gesture counts as something positive, after fulfilling everything she takes her seat again and starts reading the roleplaying manifesto-

>>10495
-after seeing the results of her dice rena wasted no time, she stood up, approached Katsumi, the big gorilla who ran away like a coward but at least went to look for her, the dice dictated that she had to reveal a secret, Rena thought for a few seconds and approached the giant to whisper something in her ear... I pushed those who bothered me at my previous school down the stairs - after whispering this, Rena, without giving Katsumi time to process, went to slap President Kinoko-
https://youtu.be/K3FgBR4lsZE?si=ycOe1G1N5Zy-xkTB▾SLAP!!!
-The sound of the slap echoes loudly throughout the room, Rena doesn't flinch, she waits to have met her president's expectations well, out of respect, Rena bows slightly-
.....
-Now only Bibi was left, Rena looks at her thinking of something positive to say, so she was just honest-
I like your red hair, you'd look good dressed as a witch -Rena makes the peace sign gesture, like in anime, oh should she give a thumbs up? she hopes that gesture counts as something positive, after completing everything she returns to her seat and starts reading the roleplaying manifesto-

>>10413
>>10414
>>10415
Kinoko: Of course! I don't believe in monetizing art like that, so if you're going to make copies, don't sell them! Give them away, Takahara-dono! Just like Christ with his apostles at Pentecost—spread my word across all of Kamome!

>She raises her thumb with tremendous force, blessing him to make as many copies as he wants; she only wants people to read it. The chubby girl with glasses adjusted her skirt with obvious discomfort, her cheeks tinged a soft crimson as she fidgeted her fingers, displaying a mix of politeness and absolute nervousness at the unexpected question about her underwear.

Chubby girl: U-Uh… good afternoon, Takahara-san. I'm sorry to disappoint your… expectations about roleplay, but actually, I'm not wearing panties today. I'm wearing these dark blue athletic shorts you can see right under my skirt. Regular panties tend to ride up too much and give me a terrible wedgie when I sit for long hours playing… I hope knowing they're blue shorts made you happy and helps with the session's statistics.

>Kinoko, sitting on a nearby table with her legs crossed and an energy drink can in hand, burst out into loud laughter upon hearing the response, applauding the new recruit's honesty with uneven claps.

>Takahara's attention then shifted to Hotaru. Feeling the direct physical contact, the small student reacted instantly with a violent flinch, eyes snapping wide open. Her entire body tensed up completely, perfectly mirroring the body language of a victim cornered in a slasher film, desperately searching for an escape route with her eyes. However, upon realizing she was trapped in her own seat and that the veteran's massive frame blocked any decent exit, her shoulders slumped into silent surrender. She accepted her tragic fate. As the massage continued, a series of involuntary, silent gag reflexes shook her throat, forcing her to regulate her breathing so as not to lose composure right there. Despite her obvious suffering, her hand turned out to be the softest, smoothest, most delicate skin Takahara had ever touched—almost like fine porcelain, contrasting sharply with the crudeness of the moment.

>The moment Takahara withdrew his hand, Hotaru quickly slid sideways, seeking immediate refuge. She threw herself into the arms of her friend with the witch's hat, clutching tightly to her clothes as a visible tremor shook her entire body.

Hotaru: The fat man eats me... the fat man eats me... the fat man eats me...
>Her voice was a broken, monotonous whisper, repeating the phrase over and over with a vacant stare and clear signs of severe, newly acquired psychological trauma. The witch-hatted friend wrapped her arms around her, giving Takahara a look of absolute reproach and bewilderment. It was clear the veteran hadn't gotten off to a good start with the club's youngest member.

>>10417
>>10418
>>10481
>The president had frozen, staring at her with a gaze so sharp and piercing it seemed like a real dagger. Her face showed an expression that danced between perverted, foolish, and deeply hypnotized by the divine beauty of the golden girl. Kinoko's fascination was so immense that, completely oblivious to human dignity, she began to drool grotesquely, forming strings of saliva that dripped from the corners of her lips like a Saint Bernard on a hot summer day.

>Suddenly, a spasm of lucidity shook the president's body. Kinoko snapped out of her mystical trance, tilted her head sharply to the side, and with a wet, frankly unpleasant sound, slurped all the accumulated saliva in one go. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she fixed her hyperactive eyes on Seika and let out an exclamatory response that broke the thread of the previous conversation.

Kinoko: If I were a bird, you would undoubtedly be a cuckoo! Mind you, I said cuckoo, not cuck, damn it! And I'd be a cuckoo for the brilliant and masterful strategy of stealing others' nests so they can raise your eggs, protecting them from all the rebellious and sinful bitches crawling the halls of this concrete prison called Kamome. It's a perfect move! I dump my parental responsibilities onto other mundane birds and just enjoy life. But anyway... speaking of dirty deeds and deliciously shady things... Muahahahaha!

>She began to let out a series of nasal laughs, a sequence of short, weird, and extremely creepy snorts that echoed off the salon walls. The president's energy immediately shifted to a much more chaotic mode; the invisible dice of fate had spoken and demanded that the newcomer undergo an initiation test worthy of the club. Without warning, Kinoko advanced with quick, clumsy steps towards Seika, dropping to her knees directly in front of her, shattering any notion of personal space. With wide-open eyes, she pointed her index finger at her own face and shouted to the heavens, seeking to have all present witness the moment.
Kinoko: I formally challenge you to look at me with the utmost contempt your soul can muster and hurl at me the most humiliating, vulgar, and hedonistic insult you can think of. Do it, do it now! Ah, damn my luck! I regret so much not stopping to buy a coffee before coming in, because I swear by the first-edition manuals I would've asked you to spit into the cup so I could drink it blessed—but that’ll definitely have to wait for our next session!

>The president let out that shrill, strange laugh again, running her tongue over her dry lips with sick anticipation. Kinoko’s breathing began to grow noticeably heavy, rapid, and erratic. It was clear that the mere expectation of being treated with cruelty and arrogance by the untouchable golden girl of the high school was triggering a masochistic psychological delight she could barely contain. With her face lifted, eyes locked on the blonde’s lips, eagerly awaiting her annihilating gaze and cutting words, the president remained motionless, marking the end of her turn.

Kinoko: Of course you can do it! You're a high-born girl! You love looking down on everyone from your pedestal, don't you? Do it to me! I want to be obliterated by your princess-worthy arrogance!

>>10419
>The first target was the small black-haired boy, wrapped in bandages from head to toe. When he noticed the imposing shadow of the silver-haired girl falling over his tiny frame—barely one meter fifty-eight—he widened his eyes in fear at her sudden closeness. Sensing her intentions, he began frantically waving his hands in front of his face, clumsily stumbling backward in a futile attempt to protect himself.

Black-haired boy: No, wait, please! Anything but that! Don’t spank my little butt, I beg you! I’ll resist with all my strength, I swear!

>The boy put up all the resistance he could, but his strength was ridiculously weak. Lebedeve subdued him without the slightest physical effort, lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll and placing him face-down across her lap, mimicking the classic posture for disciplining a naughty child. The boy didn’t give in immediately; he started writhing chaotically, kicking and squirming like a worm trapped in a puddle of salt. However, the very instant the first slap landed with a sharp crack, the boy abruptly calmed down. All tension magically left his muscles, leaving him completely stiff and utterly silent across the girl’s lap.
>When lifted from Shizuku's lap, the boy quickly got to his feet, adjusting his clothes while staring at her with a genuinely surprised expression and cheeks tinged with a faint blush. His eyes showed a mix of astonishment and shyness before he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

Black-haired boy: S-Sorry... I'm really, really sorry for freaking out like that for no reason. I just got completely overwhelmed by fear. But... well, looks like I'm completely immune to getting hit by others now, thanks to my parents. It's funny—my dad always gets super violent and breaks stuff whenever his favorite baseball team loses, and my mom does exactly the same thing every time she drinks alcohol... and well, she's always drinking alcohol, all the time. But it's fine, doesn't hurt anymore.

>The black-haired boy made a perfect ninety-degree bow, keeping his head lowered as a sign of respect while patiently waiting for the tall girl with light-colored eyes to forgive him.

>Without wasting any time, Bonita-chan headed straight for the next corner of the abandoned room, where Katsumi was standing. Upon reaching her, Lebedeve stared intently and, in a calm but direct voice, explained that fate demanded she give her a mandatory massage, immediately asking which body part she preferred and under what exact method it should be performed.

>Hearing such a direct proposal, the gigantic Katsumi reacted instantly. She completely covered her face with her large, weathered hands, trying to hide how an intense red flush rapidly spread from her neck to the tips of her ears due to the overwhelming collective embarrassment she felt. It was extremely comical to see such a massive, muscular giant behaving in such an exaggeratedly timid way over a simple request. After a few seconds of silence, Katsumi slightly parted her fingers to glance at Shizuku, replying in a trembling voice that betrayed extreme nervousness.

Katsumi: A-A massage...? Goodness... If I really have to choose, then please... do it on the back of my knees, right on the tendons in the popliteal fossa... B-But I beg you to be extremely careful with me, okay? It's just... this is my first time doing something like this with someone in a room... Please treat me well!

>She spoke in such a slow, solemn tone, overflowing with innocence, that the connotation of her words inevitably brought to mind a virgin girl surrendering herself for the first time in an intimate encounter. The giant slowly lowered her hands, fixing her gaze full of anguish directly onto Bonita-chan's fingers, anticipating with both fear and excitement the physical contact.

>>10420
>>10415
>The sound of someone taking a photograph can be heard. Let's remember that Japanese law requires cell phones to make loud noises for photos! Precisely for people like Kinoko! Who takes a picture of the moment they both press their noses together in a "cute" eskimo kiss, which she will milk for all it's worth.

Kinoko: Heh... I'm posting this on eporner with the tag #ugly_bastard! Did you know that the JAV industry has ugly porn actors because they know the average consumer will feel more identified with them, unlike the American market which only uses super muscular models?! That's a good fact from their president.

>>10420
>Without losing a second, the hyperactive president quickly slid over to where the young platinum-haired woman was. With an exaggerated movement, she took Lebedeve's hand in hers and leaned down to plant a kiss directly on the back of it with her moist, warm, and slightly sticky feminine lips, trying to give her a personal welcome to the club in a way she considered extremely chivalrous and worthy of a light novel prince.

>She let out a mischievous giggle and, taking advantage of the physical contact, moved even closer to Shizuku, completely invading her personal space. She stretched her neck until her mouth was a few millimeters from the girl's ear, so close that the silver-haired student could feel the president's heavy, hot, and almost asthmatic breath hitting her skin directly. It was in this intimate and bizarre whisper that Kinoko began to unleash her lengthy compliment.

Kinoko: Hehehe! You know, my dear Lebedeve, it is extremely egocentric and insolent of you to call yourself "Pretty-chan" in my eyes... but damn it, I love that audacity! Let me tell you, you're underselling yourself, because you are a true walking work of art. Just look at that killer body you've got, those dangerous curves that would make any perverted mangaka lose their marbles! And that silver hair... oh, by the gods of the metaverse! It's as if stardust itself had fallen upon your head, a shade so mystical, geeky, and sensual that it makes me want to lick it to see if it tastes like space cotton candy. You are a goddess of simulation, welcome to my kingdom!

>>10493
>Kinoko slid across the floor, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. She stood before the teacher with a cat-like smile overflowing with energy.
Kinoko: Professor Calzoncillos Locos! My dearest, obese, glorious guardian of forbidden narrative! You have no idea what a tremendous literary orgasm it gives me to see your imposing, unkempt figure presiding over this temple of dice-fueled vice! Seriously, thank you so much for agreeing to be the official supervisor of this madhouse of lunatics!

>The president let out a shrill laugh, playfully slapping the teacher's bulging stomach with her palm, showing not a shred of respect for authority.

Kinoko: God, last year was a fucking apocalypse with Professor Obolensky in charge! That Russian guy had the temper of a rabid Siberian bear. He nearly beat a parent of one of our former members to death right there in the parking lot—just because the old puritan read our game log! We were only roleplaying a bizarre dark fantasy campaign where the tentacled creature of Chaos captured his paladin, melted her armor off with acidic saliva, and proceeded to perform a bizarre, erotic, ritualistic
Kinoko: Listen carefully, my depraved professor, I want to make a high-level business deal with you. If you help me become our official human shield and representative before the board of directors, the puritan parents' assembly, and that nest of crows known as the disciplinary committee, I guarantee you rewards of the highest value on the student black market. I can get you firsthand the used, fully sweat-soaked panties of the most muscular members of the sumo club—pure essence of testosterone and effort! And on top of that, I have on my hard drive certain indecent videos of Principal Kuragane in a sleazy motel with, and listen closely—STUDENTS! They'll be perfect for blackmailing that gorilla in a suit. What do you say?

>The president frowned, letting out a frustrated snort as she recalled her political enemies within the school.

Kinoko: All this humble servant desires is proper representation within the high school's structure to avoid last year's disasters. They banned us from the club festival and the disciplinary committee raided us three times a week! All because of that damn bitch Saigusa... The student council president has it out for me; she's got a sick obsession with me. Though, to be honest, I don't hold a grudge—actually, every time I see her, I get this wild urge to corner her against the wall, shove my hand under her blouse, and squeeze her tits hard until milk squirts out like she's a sacred cow. It would be glorious!

>She let out a silly giggle, but quickly her face darkened in a strangely possessive way. She rose onto her tiptoes, stretching her neck until she was mere millimeters from Jack's ear. The heat of her breath, faintly smelling of energy drink, struck the professor's skin as her words turned into a thick whisper, dripping with shameless perversion.

Kinoko: Have all the fun you want in this club, professor... but I warn you, you must keep your distance from the girls here. They're my personal prey, especially Seika-chan, Rena-chan, and Bonita-chan. You have no idea the filthy, degenerate, and wonderful things I plan to do to them during our nightly sessions under the sheets. I want to shatter their innocence, bind them with old console controller cables, drench them in sweat, and use them as my personal dice slaves until they forget their own names in this dirty reality...

>The president abruptly stepped back, instantly restoring her bright, hyperactive smile as if nothing had happened. She extended her right hand toward the professor, palm open, waiting for a pact.
Kinoko Ichinose: So you know, Panties-san. As the two apex predators of this territory, there's a golden rule we must respect: don't mess with each other's prey! Do we have a deal, you horny beasts?

>>10495
>>10497
>>10496
>After seeing the result of the interaction dice, she began to hop with pure euphoria. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses as a string of drool escaped the corner of her mouth, emitting strange gasps and nasal noises that denoted a disturbing excitement.

Kinoko: Yes, yes! The fate of the polyhedrons has spoken! Come on, Rena, put me in my place! Slap me with all your might, leave my cheek red! Don't worry about my glasses, break them if you have to, I have ten identical pairs saved just for when a cute girl decides to use me as a punching bag! Make me yours through the sacred pain of roleplay! Muahahaha!

>She receives the slap and instead of making a face of shock or pain like in that beautiful image, the president lets out a moan worthy of a kitten and covers her crotch as if trying to hide an erection.

>A few steps away, Katsumi contemplated the scene with a blush that devoured her cheeks. The size difference with Rena was so ridiculous that the giant barely fit in her seat; her enormous ass completely overflowed the edges of the fragile folding chair, which creaked begging for mercy. She should use two chairs, definitely. Letting out a sigh full of shyness, the amazon lowered her gaze, fiddling with her fingers before speaking in a trembling but determined tone.

Katsumi: Th-This... I'll keep your secret to the grave, Rena... you can whisper it in my ear. Although... if those delinquents from before corner me or threaten me... I don't promise anything, I'm terrible under pressure...

>Suddenly, Katsumi stood up with immense strength. Without warning, she firmly grabbed Rena by the hips and lifted her into the air as if she were a rag doll, bringing her to her face level. Gently, she brought her own ear close to Rena's lips, waiting for the coveted secret in such a compromising position.

>Meanwhile, to the side of the room, the continuous click of a camera broke the air. Kinoko was crouched down, frantically taking photos from the worst possible angles, letting out nasal moans of pure geeky perversion.

Kinoko: Oh, by the anime gods! This is identical to that underground +18 video I saw last week! Keep it up, the narrative is reaching absolute climax levels!

>Suddenly Rena lets out a secret that at first glance doesn't seem like a big deal to the giant, who looks at her like, Is that all? Although she asks a natural question, earnestly hoping to hear the affirmation from the girl with autism.

Katsumi: And... A-Are they okay?

>>10409
>>10410

>JM

>When he was somewhat animated, you could see him with his head held high, but since his suspicions took over him, his posture became hunched, his eyes narrowed more, and it was only a matter of time before he let out a yawn; thinking too much wasn't his strong suit, his maximum reasoning time was approximately one minute, at least that's what he thinks.
>Still, he didn't stop. The glint of the sun, which imbued the walls with the color of flame, bore witness to the blonde's steps that echoed in the hallway along with the rustling of dry leaves.
>Having traversed said almost eternal path, only the last wall separating Jhon from his maiden remained to be crossed.
>However, very close to opening it, a smell could be detected, one so distant and alien to what he was accustomed to, he couldn't describe it, but if he tried to communicate an idea, it would be like combining the scent of new clothes stored with a kind of stench of candy, but even so, the blonde wasn't convinced, it was indescribable.

"A-Ah..."

>His lips parted slightly, his eyes turned to stone in fractions of a second at every detail he observed.
>As he suspected, there were no computers to play RPG games, but it didn't look like a club either.

("Did I get it wrong or was it another place?")

>By the number of dice, he would judge that the abandoned classroom was used for gambling, but the only thing stopping him from believing so was the content of the blackboard and all the unconventional decorations.
>The only thing that snapped Jhon out of his trance was the lively welcome from >>10413, whose proportions would have earned the stares of all the students present, if there were cardiologists or nutritionists nearby, their eyes would be more than agonizing trying to process why said student was still alive.

"Hey crack, what's up."

>He blurted out without thinking twice, it was that or keep standing like an idiot from the shock, but because of that, he ran out of ways to escape the classroom without the fat guy misinterpreting him, getting offended, and canceling him on Twitter for being fatphobic or something of that nature.
>Trying not to show displeasure, he sits next to the one who greeted him. Back to the front, his elbows on the table and his hands covering his face.

("Where the hell have I gotten myself into?")

>Besides not having RPG games, the girl he was looking for didn't seem to be present.
>If Mei had huge pillows, her older sister must, or rather, it was mandatory that she possess those features, after all, they are family. Masses, mattresses of flesh, as wide and soft as clouds... wide, wide, wide...

("Could it be that-?!")
>An impulse drives Miller to uncover his face, turning it toward that thickly-built girl. The boy's eyes were wide, as if staring at a full moon, fixed on the four-eyes while in his mind "broad" echoed like a reverberation in a cavern.

("Nah... it can't be, there's no way it's true.")

>He shifts his gaze back to the table.

("Relax, she'll be here soon.")

>Once again, his misery strikes him on this terrible day, and worst of all, that crazy Ichinose keeps reminding him, unconsciously provoking the blonde to clench his fist in frustration.
>At first, Miller thinks it's a joke, but as he listens to each word spoken with serious intensity and emotion, his perception of Kinoko shifts slightly—he begins accepting some of her ideas, like freedom or downplaying the importance of labels. Nevertheless, the blonde couldn't afford to stay in the club if it meant losing the little, practically nonexistent, social status he had left.
>As time passed, he felt as if ice had been poured down his spine upon witnessing that so-called erotic game. The fact that the president could force anyone to participate only made it worse. The calm facade he struggled so hard to maintain was slowly cracking apart.
>After a few minutes, it was time for introductions, and still no sign of Mei's sister.

("That little voice before we parted... she must've given me hope to get me stuck in this.")

>Regardless of the blonde's logic, the world keeps turning—and so does the club.
>When >>10413's cheerful voice snaps him back to reality, he watches her presentation with close attention. Given how things work here, the blonde has no choice but to go along and use the dice in the president's proposed mechanics if he wants to survive the club.

("Hey!")

>Contemplating the power of mememagic the dice, Miller's interest begins to grow enormously. All those actions he could perform were now within reach of a single roll—kisses, spankings, massages wherever he wanted, with no complaints. He was fascinated, and as he looked around, he noticed several beauties he could indulge his desire to touch asses or grope breasts on.

>He suddenly jumps up from the table, pointing at himself with his thumb.

"Listen up, everyone! Pay attention! I'm John Miller, first year, and I've got things to share."

>He points at >>10418, >>10494, and >>10419.

"Yeah, and you better pay close attention, huh..."

>With a mischievous grin, eyes closed and face tilted sideways at an angle nearly toward the ceiling, the blonde throws the dice.

Blonde: 1d12 = 2
Bibi: 1d12 = 2
Bonita-chan: 1d12 = 2