F O R E M O S T, E S S E N T I A L [ᴛᴀᴋᴀꜱᴜɢɪ. ꜱ x ʏᴏᴜ]

I

A fool believes everything. Those words. Like those cartridge tape playing in the recorders. Rolling and running without knowing the end of the film.

Because in the end, you were the one who betrayed me.

| name |

I want a cup of cappuccino smoothie with a bunch of whipping cream and grape vitago melt on it....

Or maybe yakulko.

Easy to digest.

Kinda make a shameless plug promo here.

Oh, well. What do you expect from a person who totally dedicating herself like almost 14 hours (just a few hour or maybe less than it was supposed only for rest) having a minuscule war with the neverending injury and wounded people coming to the clinic like those groin digging the flower bud because of that small cross sword between anti foreigners faction, citizen and amanto.

I dare say. It was total, jumble, and shambles. A total mess up.

Gahh, give me and my family and the other staffs a break can't they? Not like these people don't have a life other than treating their injuries.

These people should consider their injured feelings too.

And mine too.

I don't really want to be involved in this.

Not until the two persons who genuinely I care the most literally were one- I mean two of them.

It's not like I was committed to give them a right to do what they want to.

That was their choice. And I have no right to say anything about it. But, for the tiny little least, they should consider the concern and emotion given by their closest relatives.

And significant other.

I stretched my arms up, breaking some joint point in my nerves. Standing at the back door of my only folk's clinic in the town, cleaning up the mess before I tied up the two black huge plastic bags ahead of me.

Yup. I am volunteering myself to clean up and close the clinic at the end of the day. I don't know what's going on with my not so sane brain right now. Emotionally damaged, I guess. Still yet to approve those two, entangled with those reckless swordsmen.

What's going on in my old lovely sweet folks' brain? Full of melodramatic opera. Just let them be themselves. We had much shit things happen in the clinic today.

Wrapping the garbage, I dragged it to the outside clinic. The night has fallen deeper. The dark sky that usually twinkled with the million of stars winking at me was gone, as if it was swiped away by the amanto. Damn these space pirate aliens, they wrecked my only beautiful dazzling stargaze.

Heaving a long sigh, I strolled out from the back alley of the clinic, coming closer to the garbage usual place....

..... and an extraordinary size of garbage greeted me instead of the usual white, clear, or black plastics of rubbish. This garbage was out of the question.

What is this feeling?

A dejavu?

Another spirit evil gonna wrecked my life and said I was his long lost soulmate-

Okay, forget it. That weed author must have zero idea to write a new plotline right now. Let's ignore it.

Back to the present.

Di.... Did he d.... d....

Putting my not-so-brave act, I grabbed a long stick close by, poking onto the 'extraordinary garbage'. Maybe it's really a mannequin....

What a soft type of mannequin... maybe an elastic type?

I approached it closer, aiming to poke it onto its face.... and it made a faint, whisper groan sound, startled me out of blue.

What a strange midget mannequin, almost freak shit out of me-

Don't say.... Is it a human???​

That's odd. One of the sticks I held, I pushed the man's body, and it's still in good shape. Well, it's not that thin. I can say it was a short, thick one stick- but still...

Eh? Wait a sec. I know these clothes. I know his dark purple hair well. I know too well his usual kimono, butterfly motifs patterning his clothes. I know too well the usual small curve shape in the middle of the tiny white bottle. Because of the dark surroundings and lack of light, thanks to the light coming from my clinic, I saw a glimpse of the short corpse- I mean, the dwarf's body- ah whatever!

Not to mention. A bottle of yakulko.

Yes, it's him.

The well-known person as a Kihenta- Kiheitai Commander as well.

My question is. Why did he lay like a dwarf corpse in the garbage? Pretend like he's imitated like one, in that city of blue smurf-

Okay, I'm not gonna say certain words that are certainly related to that. I feel bad somehow even though he is-

"o..o...oii... you dead yet?"

My words were halted by a long mini grumbling brass band from his lower body, or specifically, his stomach growled.

Is this guy serious?

I'm deadpan. Obviously, he is still alive. And his rumbling stomach speaks otherwise.

"Is this your new alternative scheme to make me forgive you? Imitating like one of.... Patrick Star?"

No commento. Still imitating one.

Irked my half, not so pure soul, more than I should. So, what? I should forgive him after what he has done to me? Okay, I know it's not a big deal that I was worried dead and sulking over, but still....

Heaving a long sigh, I crouched down clear to the midget zombie laying on his stomach, face still on the ground. I folded my arm, putting it on my knees. No matter how long I was mad at him, my sweet little heart couldn't stand to ignore my concern for this alife smurf mannequin.

"Is curry with omelete feed your intestine much? Or seaweed?"

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