"Haha, suckers!" Ango pulled off the "disguise" he'd used for his sixth trip through the food line - a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses - and opened his promotional Yumemigaoka Community Association reusable shopping bag to inspect the ill-gotten bounty within. After repeated visits to the Community Association's free snack table, Ango had amassed a large collection of seasonal cherry-blossom-viewing treats, each nestled in its own clear plastic container: plump pink sakura mochi wrapped in salted cherry tree leaves, tricolor hanami dango on wooden skewers, deep-fried pockets of inari sushi, and colorful futomaki rolls.
The best thing about cherry blossom season was that nobody paid any attention to a scruffy-looking middle-aged man camped out in a public park with several cans of convenience store beer. Around him, families held picnic parties beneath the blooming trees, and couples snuggled shyly on park benches. Ango spread his beer and free snacks on an old bath towel that he'd laid out in lieu of a blanket. The only thing missing from his cherry-blossom-viewing party were friends to share it with... but Ango had let his best friend die, so this was more than he deserved.
II. Reverie Necropolis
"...Figures I'd end up in a place like this." Ango had skipped the funeral, but he'd still found his way into a tomb. The Necropolis reminded him of the samurai graveyard he'd seen on a middle school field trip to Kamakura, with thousands of catacombs cut from the rock. The sounds of scratching and hushed voices echoed through the dimly lit caves, even though Ango had yet to encounter anyone else in the labyrinth. That, too, reminded him of middle school - pencils digging into paper, jeering whispers in the halls. Perhaps ironically, given that he'd gone on to become a writer, Ango had always hated school.
"Heeey, anybody here?" As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't want to be alone. Ango gripped his glass knives in each hand, wishing that the Dream Sphere had bestowed him with a larger and more intimidating weapon. Something like a machine gun would have been nice. Instead, he'd been given a pair of knives and an outfit that made him look like a ninja cosplayer about to perform at a children's birthday party. He looked like an anime hero, but he sure as hell didn't feel like one.
Sakaguchi Ango | Dreamer Decadence | Bungou to Alchemist
"Haha, suckers!" Ango pulled off the "disguise" he'd used for his sixth trip through the food line - a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses - and opened his promotional Yumemigaoka Community Association reusable shopping bag to inspect the ill-gotten bounty within. After repeated visits to the Community Association's free snack table, Ango had amassed a large collection of seasonal cherry-blossom-viewing treats, each nestled in its own clear plastic container: plump pink sakura mochi wrapped in salted cherry tree leaves, tricolor hanami dango on wooden skewers, deep-fried pockets of inari sushi, and colorful futomaki rolls.
The best thing about cherry blossom season was that nobody paid any attention to a scruffy-looking middle-aged man camped out in a public park with several cans of convenience store beer. Around him, families held picnic parties beneath the blooming trees, and couples snuggled shyly on park benches. Ango spread his beer and free snacks on an old bath towel that he'd laid out in lieu of a blanket. The only thing missing from his cherry-blossom-viewing party were friends to share it with... but Ango had let his best friend die, so this was more than he deserved.
II. Reverie Necropolis
"...Figures I'd end up in a place like this." Ango had skipped the funeral, but he'd still found his way into a tomb. The Necropolis reminded him of the samurai graveyard he'd seen on a middle school field trip to Kamakura, with thousands of catacombs cut from the rock. The sounds of scratching and hushed voices echoed through the dimly lit caves, even though Ango had yet to encounter anyone else in the labyrinth. That, too, reminded him of middle school - pencils digging into paper, jeering whispers in the halls. Perhaps ironically, given that he'd gone on to become a writer, Ango had always hated school.
"Heeey, anybody here?" As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't want to be alone. Ango gripped his glass knives in each hand, wishing that the Dream Sphere had bestowed him with a larger and more intimidating weapon. Something like a machine gun would have been nice. Instead, he'd been given a pair of knives and an outfit that made him look like a ninja cosplayer about to perform at a children's birthday party. He looked like an anime hero, but he sure as hell didn't feel like one.