Katawa Shoujo Forums

... did not need that picture... ">_>

Still, this has me snickering :3 keep it coming ^_^

Oh god. This took way too long, and i'm not exactly happy with the way it turned out (SKILL GAAAAAAAAAAAP). Still, the road trip is starting to get underway, and the insanity begins.

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Chapter 3
“Bleeeeuuuuuuuuaaaaauuugh.”

Oh god, my head. Blearily I open my eyes. I raise my head and wince, feeling the lump at the back of my head that formed when I fell off the bed. And then-
Oh crap, I can’t remember. The manly party continued. It got bigger, more people came. But I don’t remember anything that actually happened. I start to panic. Was there something in the booze? Or the pizza? This is bad, it’s very bad. I look around to see where I am.

…

This is really, really fucking bad. I check my pockets; the only thing I have on my person is my wallet, a receipt for 70 packs of bubblegum, and a Polaroid of me, Kenji, and a rooster on some fishing barge; all three of us piss drunk. I turn to Kenji besides me. He’s completely naked save for his glasses and his scarf wrapped around his legs like a mawashi. Somehow, he seems to have acquired a dragon tattoo on his chest. I shake him roughly to wake him. He rolls over unceremoniously.

“Kenji, wake the fuck up, right fucking now.” The desperation and panic is starting to take a hold of me.

“Bwauuuuugh,” He opens an eye angrily, at least I think so, I can’t tell behind those glasses, “Wah dooh eww wahnt?”

“Kenji, bad things have happened. Several bad things, in fact.”

“Huh?” He sits up, “Where are we.”

“In a McDonalds parking lot.”

“Huh, that’s not so bad.”

“In a dumpster.”

He looks down, “Oh yeah. It wasn’t the feminists was it?

“No, Kenji. It wasn’t the feminists.”

“Alright, I trust you, bro. Want to go get breakfast?”

This is par for the course for him, I suppose. Oh well, I can’t deny that I’m hungry. I hop out of the dumpster and help Kenji out; his thinly protected man-junk gets uncomfortably close to my face as I’m doing so. He doesn’t seem perturbed by his state of undress in the least though. I’m not sure he’s even aware he’s practically naked.

As we walk up to the McDonalds, something starts to feel very off. This climate is very unusual, the architecture is strange, and the people giving me and Kenji weird looks, which is not very unusual in and of itself, are all very foreign looking; they all resemble Lilly. Blonde, blue eyes. And the posters in McDonalds are in a foreign language.

“Kenji?”

“Hmm? Yeah, bro?”

“I don’t think we’re in Yamaku anymore.”

“Huh, what?” He squints through his thick glasses, surveying the area, “No, I think you’re wrong. This looks like Yamaku to me.”

That reassurance is not very reassuring. Not in the slightest.

“No, Kenji, we’re definitely not in Yamaku anymore. In fact, I think we may be,” I peer closer at the language on the signs; there’s a lot of accents and “v”s and “w”s, “I think we’re somewhere in Europe.”

“Whaaaaaat? No way.” I wonder if Kenji is experiencing the same emotions I feel whenever he rants about the Feminist Conspiracy. We stride in to the McDonalds. We hear the mechanical hum of the doors as they slide open, and we step into a new world. The cold blast of air conditioning hits us like a punch in the face, I have no idea how Kenji isn’t cold. As soon as we enter the store, all the noise and activity stops as everyone turns to regard the strange new arrivals.

Kenji seems blissfully unaware of the awkward situation and strides up to the confused looking cashier and demands an item that isn’t on the menu in a language that the poor man doesn’t understand.

“Fløgen?” the confused cashier asks. At least, that’s what it sounds like to me.

“I said: a venti pepperoni 6 piece. God, this place has terrible service.”

“Würden dus ver tooten phlefem.”

I really can’t observe this scene any more. Call my heartless, but I go to find the washroom to freshen up and leave the hapless man to Kenji’s whims. The washrooms here are much cleaner than the McDonalds washrooms back in Japan. I splash some water on my face and survey my face in the mirror. I look haggard and pale, and my hair is unruly, but apart from that I seem fine. I’m very surprised that all this shock hasn’t put any strain on my heart. I’m still more shocked by how I ended up here to begin with, though.

When I return, I immediately regret leaving Kenji alone, even for such a short amount of time. He has managed to perch himself upon the counter and has knocked over several tills. He’s removed his scarf and has somehow come in possession of a spatula and is waving them around, red faced and angry, spittle flying from his mouth as he spouts unintelligible angry sounds that may be language. With the removal of his scarf, his junk is swaying hypnotically from side to side, deterring any would be assailants. I should probably go calm him down, but I don’t really want to get close to his man parts.

Finally, steeling my self, and hoping to god Kenji doesn’t do the same, I approach him and talk him down. I guess he finally figured out we weren’t in Yamaku, and the realization broke him. I send him off to the washroom to re-tie his scarf and have him return the spatula to the manager. I stammer out an apology and hope that my intent manages to cross the language barrier. Thankfully, it does, and he gives me a reassuring smile. I wonder if I should ask him where we are.
“Vere are ve?” I try to take on an accent and ask the question in English to come across better, but realize I probably just came across as a racist douche. Thankfully, the manager seems like the understanding sort.

“Bergen, Norway.”

“Japanese? English?” I ask, hoping we can speak a common language.

He shakes his head; “Nah.” He ponders on something for a moment, then calls out to someone, a name that sounds shockingly familiar; “Emi!”

No way. It’s got to be a different Emi.

Then, that familiar twin-tailed head pops into view; “Dah?” She sees me and freezes. The reaction on both our faces are mirror images of each other. Pure, incredulous shock.

Why is Emi in Norway?

And more importantly, why the fuck is Emi Ibarazaki working in a goddamn McDonalds?!

We both stand there for several moments, paralysed by the shock, with the manager standing there looking confused between us. Finally, Kenji returns, partly clothed once more, to break the silence.

“Hey man what’s going o…motherfucker!” He jumps back at the sight of Emi. Suddenly, he flies into yet another rage, “SHIT MAN! I KNEW IT! IT WAS THE FUCKING FEMINISTS! I KNEW WE SHOULDN’T HAVE LET WOMEN INTO OUR MANLY PARTY! GODDAMN IT!” Kenji starts to finger his scarf again, as he is apt to do when he is nervous; however, the new location of this scarf makes this gesture quite inappropriate.

“Kenji, stop that.” I whisper to him. I don’t know why. At this point, trying not to attract attention to ourselves is rather futile.

Our conversation seems to have gotten Emi’s brain functioning again, “H-Hisao, what the hell are you doing here?”

“In Norway? Yeah, I was hoping you could answer that question too.”

Emi gives me a little snarl, “No, in a fast food joint. You know this stuff isn’t in your diet.”

Kenji snickers, “Neither was bacon.” I shoot a glare at him, and then return my attention towards the indignant Emi, “I think we have bigger problems to worry about than whether bacon is kosher by the mysterious and arcane laws of the Emi Diet. For one, WE’RE IN FUCKING NORWAY!”

Emi winces a bit from the sudden tonal shift in my voice, and momentarily there’s a little twinge in my chest area. Then that twinge becomes a skip. And suddenly I’m doubled over in the ground as all of it hits. The shock from everything; Hanako breaking up with me, the manly party, the missing days (weeks, months, years?), waking up in Norway, being humiliated in a Norwegian McDonalds, seeing Emi in aforementioned Norwegian McDonalds. It’s just all too much to take.

Everything goes black and all I hear is Emi and Kenji screaming.

***

I wake up in the same dumpster in the same parking lot of the same McDonalds.

In the same Norway.

“Goddamnit, you fuckers. You didn’t take me to a hospital?” I complain to what I assume is either Emi, or Kenji.

“doot, doot, doot, doot.”*

“Wah?” I open my eyes, to find myself staring a rooster in the face.

“God-fucking-damn it. What fucking now?”

Emi’s head pops into my line of sight, “We couldn’t get you to a hospital. You’re too heavy, and no one wanted to call an ambulance for you. Besides, you have no medical information here, getting out of the hospital would be hell.”

“Well, did you have to put me back in the dumpster?” I stare at the rooster that’s perched itself on my chest, “And did you have to put this goddamn rooster on me?”

Kenji’s head is the next to appear, “Yeah, man.”

I push myself upright, ignoring the slight ache in my chest.

“So, Emi. Can you give us some answers? How long have we been gone? I mean, you managed to get a job for Christ’s sake. In Norway. Yes, also, why are we in Norway?” I decide it was about time I ask the important questions.

Emi places a finger on her mouth and purses her lips, she’s thinking an awful lot for such simple questions.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure how long we’ve been out myself. I just remember there was this huge party on your floor, and then I passed out. Next thing you know, I woke up here about 3 days ago, and for some reason I can speak perfect Norwegian. So I got a job here and I was taking care of your rooster. I was hoping someone else ended up here as well, so I could find a way back home.”

Ugh, that raised more questions than it answered, but for some reason the first one that pops into my head is; “My rooster?”

She nods exuberantly, “Yep. I call him Hunter.”

Kenji interjects here, “How do you know he’s Hisao’s rooster? Are you using some sort of feminist mind-reading technique.”

“Kenji, she’s not a feminist.” Man, I dimly remember Kenji telling me even he doesn’t believe in this feminist crap. Nah, that’s probably some weird booze memory.

“How can you prove that Hisao? Maybe this is all one gigantic feminist plot. She could’ve set this all up. That rooster could be some sort of time-travelling death-bot.”

Ugh, I have a headache of such massive fucking proportions, you wouldn’t even believe. Thankfully, Emi steps in on my behalf; “It is your rooster, see.” She holds up the photo showing Kenji, Hunter, and I on the barge.

“Yeah, see Kenji, it is ou-wait, did you go through my pockets while I was having a heart attack?! What the hell, Emi!”

She has the good grace to look embarrassed, at least. That’s all she seems to be good at. That, and running.

“See, Hisao? You can’t trust these feminists as far as you can throw them.”

“I could throw Emi pretty far actually, she’s really light. Granted I’d probably die afterwards, but that’s beside the point,” Suddenly, an idea hits me. Why not counter Kenji’s insane troll logic with some insane troll logic of my own?

“Kenji, what’s the symbol of feminism? What’s the visual cue that separates men from women?”

He looks slightly confused as to why I would ask such a simple question, “Breasts. Duh.”

“Exactly,” I gesture towards Emi’s very modest chest; her already small bust is hidden behind the baggy McDonalds uniform, making her seem even more flat than she already is, “And Emi has the exact same amount of boobage as a dude. Ergo, she is a dude. Quid pro quo.”

“HEY! I’M RIGHT HERE!” Emi looks like she’s about to beat me into a pulp.

I ignore her, without managing to convince Kenji that we can work with Emi, there’s no way we’ll ever be able to get back to Yamaku. He considers my words long and deep, before relenting, “Shit, dude.”

“Yep.” I’m glad I’ve finally beaten Kenji at his own game. I feel a tiny hint of perverse pleasure at screwing someone’s mind so utterly and completely. Shit, is this what it feels like to be Kenji?

“Anyway, so I’ll agree to co-operate with the legless one for a while. But where do we go now?” Kenji asks.

For a moment, Emi looks like she’s about to respond to the insult, but then remembers something else, “OH! I know!” She picks up Hunter, who gives an indignant “BWOCK!”, and flips him upside down. There’s a piece of paper wrapped around his leg. I pull it off and read it. It’s an address. Emi’s grinning like a dog that’s just pleased her master. It’s rather adorable, despite making her look quite simple.

I wave the little slip of paper feebly, “I guess we go here, then. Maybe we can find a way to get home from there.”

Everyone nods their assent, not like we have any other option anyway. I pick up Hunter and get out of the dumpster, Kenji straightens his glasses, tightens his scarf, and checks his dragon tattoo, Emi makes sure her prosthetics are on securely, and we head off. A guy with a heart defect, a naked conspiracy theorist, a legless girl, and a goddamn rooster.

In Norway.
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You really did it. You wrote a fic that can keep up with Kosher's for sheer absurdity.
Can't wait to see how it continues.

I just remember there was this huge party on your floor, and then I passed out. Next thing you know, I woke up here about 3 days ago, and for some reason I can speak perfect Norwegian.

As a language teacher, I am deeply curious as to how this occurred.

THE MONEY I COULD MAKE.

Goldilurks wrote:

I just remember there was this huge party on your floor, and then I passed out. Next thing you know, I woke up here about 3 days ago, and for some reason I can speak perfect Norwegian.

As a language teacher, I am deeply curious as to how this occurred.

THE MONEY I COULD MAKE.

It's a plot point. It shall be explained later.

AAAAAAWWWesome!!!
The crack... is too high to endure!
Keep the stuff up!

hot damn! that was entertaining and gripping! how the heck are you going to make sense of all this!? It will be epic!

Worthington wrote:Emi makes sure her prosthetics are on securely, and we head off.

Did Emi just leave work before finishing her shift?

and..correct me if I'm wrong but my imagination portrays Kenji as wearing his scarf as underwear. like how some natives in the Philippines do? we call it "bahag."
:edit: The natives don't wear it as underwear they wear it as their major clothing. if you get what I mean..

bintoy wrote:hot damn! that was entertaining and gripping! how the heck are you going to make sense of all this!? It will be epic!

Worthington wrote:Emi makes sure her prosthetics are on securely, and we head off.

Did Emi just leave work before finishing her shift?

and..correct me if I'm wrong but my imagination portrays Kenji as wearing his scarf as underwear. like how some natives in the Philippines do? we call it "bahag."
:edit: The natives don't wear it as underwear they wear it as their major clothing. if you get what I mean..

The mawashi is the garb of sumo wrestlers, if ya know what I mean.
And Emi gives no fucks, and leaves with a rooster.

googled mawashi.

if Emi secured a job easily in that McDonald's joint, manager must've needed her badly.. Emi has bad work ethics...

Oh Lawds, what's going on in this chapter? I actually have no idea myself. Judge for yourself.

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Chapter 4

“Kenji, we really need to get you some clothes bro.”

I really can’t take it anymore. I live in constant fear of something just…flopping out of the tenuous hold that his scarf has on his man junk. The idea that the only thing separating me from Kenji’s men at arms is a thin layer of folded cotton is disconcerting to say the least.

“Hisao, we really do have more important things than Kenji’s clothing right now,” Emi interjects, “Besides, we don’t have any money.”

“Bitch, I thought you worked at McDonalds,” Kenji’s taken to puffing out his chest to show off his dragon tattoo when confronting someone, trying to intimidate them, I suppose. It just makes him look like he has asthma.

“Bitch, they pay you peanuts there. Mama’s gotta eat.”

“Anyway, moving on,” I suppose since I can’t convince Kenji to get clothes, I’ll ask something relevant, “Do you actually know where we’re going Emi?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! It’s right next to the place where I got new running prosthetics. The apartment I’m using is also a couple blocks down that same road.”

Kenji frowns, “If you barely get paid, how can you afford an apartment?”

Suddenly Emi’s bright expression turns into an icy glare, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kenji leans towards me and whispers, “Feminist mind powers.” The whispering was somewhat moot since Emi is walking in between us. She punches Kenji in the dick.

Eventually, we manage to arrive at the address without killing each other. It’s a rather squat, grey concrete building, that leads into a bunch of storage garages. I have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if something very bad is going to happen. Like I don’t want to find what we’ve stored away in the garage.

Or maybe I just need to take a shit.

“Is this it?” Kenji asks. I double check the address tied to Hunter. He growls at me threateningly.

“Yeah, this is the place.”

We all stand in place, looking at the building, none of us wanting to make the first move.

“D’you think we’ll be able to get home from here?” Emi asks quietly.

“I dunno, Emi,” this odd mixture of apprehension and anticipation spreads throughout me, “I really don’t know.”

The silence falls over us again. Even Kenji is subdued. Slowly I realize Emi is sobbing a bit.

“I want to go home, Hisao.”

I stand awkwardly by, not exactly sure how to comfort her. My recent dealings with women have left me a bit shaken. To my surprise, it’s actually Kenji who manages to do the noble thing.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Whatever we find in there can’t be worse than the rest of the crazy shit that’s happened to us.”
She actually hugs him, and he manages to not freak out and comfort her. It’s at this point I am completely convinced my world has been replaced by some kind of inverted facsimile of it, and that the universe is playing some grand cosmic irony with me.

After a while Emi stops crying and composes herself. Kenji seems to realize what he did and desperately tries to throw up his “manly” façade again.

“I suppose we should go in now?” I ask. Hunter crows his assent.

Emi sniffles, “Yeah. Lessgo.”

Just as we make to enter the building, an elderly woman hops out the door and begins waving and yelling excitedly. She points to Kenji, and then slams the door in our faces.

“Err, what’d she say?” I ask Emi.

“She says she’s not letting him,” she gestures towards Kenji, “In without clothes. There are apparently children in there, or something.”

“Well, shit. What do we do now?” We have to find a way to get Kenji clothed and we have no money. I feel like this is one of those logic puzzles with the flashlight and the battery and the boat.

“I’ll run down to my apartment and see if I have any money. I needed to go get my stuff anyway.” And with that she’s off again, running away like she always does.

Back home.

…Shit, I made myself sad.

***
Sitting on the curb, shooting the breeze with a friend and a rooster. Life could almost be normal. If it weren’t for the rooster. Or if my friend weren’t insane. Or if our situation wasn’t, either. Not wanting to sit idly by with no conversation, I decide to ask Kenji about his behaviour earlier;

“Dude, what was up with that?”

He inclines his head slightly my way, even though I’m pretty sure he can’t see me through the haze that is his vision, “Up with what?”

“That thing with Emi. You didn’t freak out. You acted like a rational human being.”

“Oh, yeah, well y’know man. Feminist mind powers, and such. Tears, it’s their secret weapon,” Kenji doesn’t even sound convinced by his own logic. He sounds faraway and distant, too apathetic to spout nonsense. It leaves me deeply unnerved.

The next half hour, and the sun, pass in silence apart from the occasional clucking from Hunter. Then, a familiar rhythmic click-clack sound approaches.

“Emi’s back,” Kenji remarks.

“Yeah.”

She greets us red-faced and flush. She’s changed out of her McDonalds uniform and donned a plain white t-shirt and khakis, and exchanged her regular prosthetics for her running blades. She’s brought a duffel bag along with her.

“I only have 12 kroner,” She looks down, disappointed.

“That’s not enough for clothes for Kenji is it?”

She shakes her head.

“How are we going to make the rest of the money?” I’m assuming that the stores will be closing fairly soon.

“Emi could always whore herself out,” Kenji adds. I give him a dour look, and Emi raises me one dick punch.

“Hurf, okay, no prostitution,” Kenji groans from down on the ground. Suddenly, a devilish grin appears on Emi’s face;

“What about you two? You could whore yourselves out.”

“Hell no. I’ve been punched in the dick TWICE today. I am in no fit condition for prostitution,” Kenji states as he gets up from off the sidewalk, dusting himself off. Emi and Kenji both turn to look at me.

“You fuckers.”

***

My walk is stiff and bowlegged as I return, as if I had been sitting down cross-legged for way too long.

Or as if I had just been fucked in the ass by some old dude.

“You fucking fuckers,” I tell Kenji and Emi as I return to the building. They’ve decked themselves out in new duds with the money they got from the deal. Emi seems to have decided to dress like a pimp. Kenji is looking a bit more normal, wearing a white button up shirt and some jeans. He’s left the first 3 buttons undone to show the head of his dragon tattoo. They even bought Hunter a collar.

Emi grins, “No Hisao. If I’m not mistaken, the fucker is you.”

“I hate you all.”

Emi does that adorable pout and puppy dog eyes combination she’s so good at, but her garb seems to offset it a bit, “Oh Hisao, you’re just saying that. When the soreness fades, you’ll be less cranky. It’s always painful the first time.”

At this point my emotions were so extreme that they were just caricatures of themselves, and thus only representable via emoticon: >:<

“Guys can we get this over with, already?” Kenji is starting to look uncomfortable, for some reason. Hunter crows his assent, seemingly tired of being ignored.

“Alright, Kenji. Let’s do this,” I have an inexplicable urge to scream my name, but I suppress it. I open the door to the grey building leading to the storage area. Encouragingly, no crazy old lady jumps out to yell at us this time. Instead, when I enter, I see a rather attractive cheery young brunette sitting behind a desk. She smiles brightly at me as I enter;

“Oh, hello. How may I help you?” She says, in plain old English.

“Oh, yeah. I think we have a storage area here, I think. This one.” I hand her the slip of paper that was tied to Hunter’s leg. She glances it over;

“Oh, you guys. I was wondering when you were coming back. You’ve been hanging outside the office for an awfully long time, too.”

I rub my arm sheepishly, “Uh, yeah. This lady said we couldn’t come in till we found my friend,” I jerk my thumb back in Kenji’s direction, “some clothes.

She chuckles softly, “Oh. Don’t mind Gammy, she’s a bit kookoo. You probably could’ve come in; no one would’ve stopped you. I mean, it’s a free country, so long as he’s not fully naked you friend can wear whatever he wants.”

…

MOTHERFUCKER!

My rage is a writhing, gnashing beast that I barely constrain, simply as courtesy to this nice lady who’s been so friendly with me. I shoot a look towards Kenji and Emi that would implode testicles and wither ovaries.

I will rape your souls. I shall devour your very essence and then shit it out. I tell them this through my gaze. Judging from the way Emi blanches, she realizes this. Kenji is slightly more oblivious, probably due to his eyesight, but he can feel it. I know he can.

The girl taps me on the arm, “Err, if you’d care to follow me, I’ll show you to your unit.”

We file behind her, and follow her through another door opposite to the one we came in through. We enter a large area full of several storage units. We stroll past several until we come to a stop in front of the one that appears to be ours. It’s rather non-descript and generic. It looks exactly the same as all the others. But I can feel it. There’s something behind those doors. Something that will change our lives again.

The girl pushes a key into my hand, “Alright guys. If you need me, I’ll be back in the main building,” and with that, she strides off.

Once more, an apprehensive silence falls upon us. Eventually, I muster up the resolve and unlock the door, and lift it up. The screech that the door makes as it slides up raises all our nerves even higher than they were before.

Inside, there is a van.

A single solitary van.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Just a van.

“Heh, hehehe,” I can’t help it. All this unresolved tension has to go somewhere. I suppose it’s going to come out as hysterical laughter. For a while Emi and Kenji look at me really strangely, but soon they’re laughing as well.

“WAHAHA!”

The laughter stops as suddenly as it began.

“What the fuck was that?!” I’m starting to panic. Am I hearing things?

“Hicchan, you know you shouldn’t swear.”

“Shit, man. It sounds like that troll from the student council,” Kenji looks just as panicked as I am.

“Mr Kenji Setou, that is not a nice thing to say,” the back doors of the van open and Shizune and Misha step out, still in their school uniforms, looking as normal as ever. Shizune still has her determined look on her face and Misha is grinning like an idiot. “I’m afraid we’ll have to report that to the teacher.”

Fuck me; can my life get any weirder?
==================================================================================================================================
Oh goodness, oh lawdy lawds, what's going to happen here?
Truth be told, even I don't know. I'm really going by the seat of my pants here.

Kenji frowns, “If you barely get paid, how can you afford an apartment?”

Suddenly Emi’s bright expression turns into an icy glare, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She's whoring herself out, isnt she?

“Emi could always whore herself out,” Kenji adds. I give him a dour look, and Emi raises me one dick punch.

Huh. Guess not. How did she get the money? Ooh, I bet she's been smuggling in drugs like in that one Kosherbacon fic.

Does Kosher know you've been raiding his stash?

From Chapter 3, "I really can’t observe this scene any more. Call my heartless,".

I enjoyed it. Thanks.

Worthington wrote: “I only have 12 dollars,” She looks down, disappointed.

Dollars in Norway. Seriously?

pedrosorio wrote:

Worthington wrote: “I only have 12 dollars,” She looks down, disappointed.

Dollars in Norway. Seriously?

Do you know what Norwegian money's called...no...well, maybe Emi didn't know either.

Stories awesome by the way. Little bit of knowledge for you lot by the way, they use the Norwegian Krone, the plural form is Kroner. There are about 5 kroners in one U.S. Dollar.

There are no kroner in dollars since this is the currency of a republic.
Ba-dum tsh.