nat****
What the fuck is going on in Kichijoji?!
oka****
Nobody’s paying attention after the Inokashira Park incident, but the Kichijoji Urban Legends series is getting really nuts
kis****
I’m bored already. It’s just a lame copycat trying to cash in on the fame. I get that there’s this occult boom going on right now, but still... I hope the cops catch this guy soon.
sho****
I heard that there was human flesh inside that didn’t belong to the girl, right? So does that mean there was more than one murder victim?
gou****
>>http://www.forestorage.co.jp/452axhhueayfenb49465/
Trigger Warning: GURO
ter****
You’re shitting me. Where the hell did they get this photo?
yui****
I’m turning vegetarian.
kis****
It’s a pretty good photoshop. Too real to be CG.
miv****
They still haven’t caught the guy who did it? There’s even witnesses. The Musashino cops are useless, lol
oji****
The cops have been useless in general lately. Maybe they just don’t care?
for****
They do their best at issuing parking tickets. They’ve got quotas to meet.
sha****
Speaking of car stuff, the taxies in front of the station are dicks. If you want to go a short distance, they just slam the door on you. How the hell am I supposed to get home when there’s no bus?
ril****
Walk, idiot. That place is always jammed because so many people park in the street.
soe****
Sometimes I see cars with no drivers in them. They just leave the engine running while they go to the bathroom or something?
kur****
Maybe they’re ghosts.
hwl****
I heard there’s someone in Kichijoji who casts curses. Maybe they did it?
bob****
They only do Western stuff. The Kotoribako is a Japanese thing.
quo****
I thought it was Chinese?
man****
Let’s go to the sea brother. You love the sea.
ara****
Nah, it’s a Japanese curse.
On the mainland they do their ethnic cleansing by killing the men. Killing the women so your enemies can’t breed is a Japanese idea.
zas****
It may be Western, but it’s a Japanese girl running it lol
After seeing that box and hearing Myu-Pom’s awful scream, I found myself hoping that every one of these commenters died. But as administrator of Kirikiri Basara, there were probably a bunch of people on the internet who thought the same about me.
“It ain’t easy being a NEET God...”
Neither the article nor the comments said anything about the boy I’d seen at Enmeiji. That strange, pale-white, almost inhuman boy...
He had to be the killer.
The cops were probably looking for him as hard as they could, but there was no news of him being caught. I hoped somebody caught him soon...
He’d kept saying that as a minor he wouldn’t be arrested, but there was no way that was true. There were laws for minors that would punish him. There had to be. If that happened, would Myu-Pom cheer up?
I shook my head and drove thoughts of Enmeiji out of my mind. There was nothing I could do about it. For now, I would focus on writing the article on the 256 incident. If I shared information with everyone, maybe I’d get a hint from somewhere unexpected. It was a bad idea to underestimate the information-gathering capabilities of an affiliate blogger.
“But you know, every aggregator’s talking about the 256 incident right now.”
I had to laugh when I saw that even the game and anime sites were talking about it. What the hell did this have to do with games and anime?
But in terms of page views, they were monsters. They could spread things far faster than I could. Information was something that was only good when it was fresh. After a while, it stopped being fresh, and thus, it stopped being valuable.
And while the 256 Incident might’ve been the top story right now, with a bunch of articles all saying the same thing, readers would be dispersed over several sites. It was already what they called a “red ocean.” If I wanted to stand out amid that chaos, I needed something seriously sensational.
The thing with the 256 incident, though, was that the only information available was the updates with the victims’ names. The TV was doing the usual crap where they interviewed each victim’s family and talked about how sad everyone was.
“So maybe I need to do a live commentary...? It’s gonna be one step below doxxing myself, so it does seem a bit dangerous...”
Or could I maybe “interview” Sarai or Toko? Sarai was the son of Dr. Hashigami, and Toko was an editor at Mumuu. Either one could get me some serious page views.
“They’d probably get mad at me later, though...”
Myu-Pom was... out of the question. She was already in bad shape. If I did something to take advantage of her, she’d really start to hate me, and she might even sue me. My conscience wouldn’t allow that, anyway.
“If only Ryotasu were dead... She’s cute, and she’s got those melons. And she’s so stupid that I don’t think she’d sue me,” I whispered, and then felt disgusted at what an asshole I was.
This was no good. I was getting too close to the theme of “death.”
“What? What’s this about melons?” Ryotasu came up to me, sipping one of Master Izumin’s nasty, nasty drinks.
D-Don’t tell me... she’d heard what I’d said to myself? If this were a light novel, maybe she’d have some strange power that let her read the text on the page...
“I-It’s nothing.”
“What? Don’t hide things from me, Samurai Gamonosuke! Before you start eating melons, give me my frozen yogurt!” Ryotasu started to bounce up and down like a child throwing a tantrum.
“Th-The melons are swaying...”
“Po-yah? Oh, so that’s what you meant by ‘my melons’ ☆” She caught me staring and figured out exactly what I’d meant.
“N-No, that’s not it...”
“Gamotan, you’re a pervert ☆” Ryotasu grinned and pulled out the Poyaya Gun.
“W-Wait! Time out! Time out!”
“I-shi-shu!”
“Ugyaaah!” A surge of electricity raced through my body as I screamed in pain.
Ryotasu looked at me, satisfied, and said, “Gamotan, sit there and think about what a naughty boy you are.” And then she danced out of the café.
“Hey... I can’t believe she just left me here.”
Even if she was mad, that was a dick move. At the bare minimum, she could’ve tried to make me feel better after hurting me with the Poyaya Gun.
“You okay, Gamota? Want me to treat you to a delicious drink? ♪ Hehe!” Master Izumin had come back at some point. Until now, he’d been in the kitchen behind the counter.
“...Don’t worry about me.”
I wanted someone to worry about me, but that someone definitely wasn’t him. Now I didn’t even feel like writing my article.
“Hey Master Izumin, you can see me, right? You can hear me?”
“Oh, you mean what you guys were talking about? Of course I can see you, and hear you, too! ♪”
“R-Right? I’m alive, right?”
“How does a dead person drink something?”
“Right?”
“I was listening to you guys, and you were getting excited over the dumbest stuff. Listen. If you ask me, ghosts are something scary. Nothing more, and nothing less. You guys are just talking. You’re not scary at all. You don’t have any right to call yourselves ghosts, hehe! ☆”
“That’s Master Izumin for you! The thought processes of a twelve-year-old girl! But I like it anyway!”
The world was nice and simple that way. He was right. I wasn’t dead.
And so, I decided to take a walk to think more about what I’d do with Kirikiri Basara.
“And thus, the ghost went out for a walk... Master, put it on my tab! Actually, just give it to me for free! Ghosts can’t make money!”
“It must be nice to be able to be a ghost whenever it’s convenient for you, huh? ♪” Master blew me a kiss as I left.
It was creepy. If I could find something creepy, that meant I wasn’t dead.