The Bully Code: The Mountain Oni Festival (Patreon)

Another long piece for The Bully Code. It has some lewdness but it’s mostly them having cute or ecchi interactions. As off-key, would-be secondary characters in an anime, they needed to have an episode where they go to a summer festival/wear kimonos. No idea why. It’s just part of the tropes. Also a chance to bring Ayami’s student/bodyguard back in as their insider on girl gang subculture.

I definitely felt like putting them into unusual pairs in this one. They sort of developed default duos in a way I wasn’t planning; Kumatake is dating Ayami, Setsuna and Ichiru are the weirdly tall ones while Setsu shows her the ropes, and Azuka and Chihiro happen to both be huge video game dorks on the side. I wanted to shuffle them up here to see the rarer interactions; Ichiru keeping Azuka on a short leash while putting up with her bullshit, Ayami being a sucker for Setsuna’s theatrics while being way smarter than her, and Chihiro asking the penetrating questions that make Kumatake think and have to actually respond. Really good character stuff. Look forward to “Bullies In Kimonos” somewhere down the line on the art polls, because they were fun to design.

Hanari Sato always managed to maintain complicated relationships with others. Her father had high expectations of her kendo training, but she did just enough to satisfy him before going off to shop and flirt with boys. She had her boyfriend, of course, who was a long-distance fling she’d had and used to cheat on constantly. She had her small circle of friends, fellow ganguro who built their superficial bonds on gossip, selfies and fashion. She had a dreaded reputation in the bustling underbelly of the teenage gang community as a loose cannon, allied to no faction in particular while remaining dangerous enough with her bamboo sword to dispatch an entire gang on her own. Except for The Nightmare Girls, of course…

That was where everything had changed. Almost everything, anyway. The glittery and tanned lone wolf had taken a shot at Kutakori High out of boredom, nearly taking out half the gang when they teamed up to dispatch her. Out of curiosity and desperation, she’d wanted to try her luck on their wild card Ayami. Nobody knew much about how powerful she was beyond clearly being a badass just to mingle with the Nightmare Girls and come out unscathed. Hanari had barely raised her weapon before a sickening feeling of dread filled her to the core, telling her what an awful idea that was.

After some deliberation, she went back to them with her head held low. Nobody else in the entire city had made her work for a win before, but Ayami had somehow beaten her without a single blow. The Ganguro Gorilla vowed to leave the Nightmare Girls alone and begged to be taught how to be a real force of nature like she was.

Hanari still hadn’t pieced together that Kumatake had been right behind her when all this happened. The girl who famously and regularly dented metal and lifted hundreds of pounds without breaking a sweat getting truly angry had given off such a threatening aura that it was enough to make Hanari sick to her stomach without even seeing her. Even if she knew, the kendo ganguro likely wouldn’t have regretted it anyway.

“So how’s things with your boyfriend?” Ayami asked as she sipped on smoothie. She walked through the shopping district with Ayami just behind her, a number of shopping bags in her student/bodyguard/social media expert’s fists. Hanari popped some of her gum between her glossy lips and shrugged, bobbing her barely contained bra and her long streak of green hair. Her bold and colorful attire turned heads like she always wanted it to, somewhere between a fashion model and a chameleon that had exploded. The kendo stick she rested on her shoulders was just another accessory she insisted on. Ayami had needed to pick up some socks, and with Kumatake busy with a family event her girlfriend insisted that she went with somebody.

“He’s like, good and all,” Hanari noted. “Thanks for askin’, sensei.”

“And he knows everything now, right?”

“Oh totally!” the flashy bimbo blurted, her eyes lighting up happily. “He was super excited, actually. Turns out he’s into this thing called cucking, so I send him selfies and texts about it all the time and he’s just like ‘eggplant sweatdrop sweatdrop, y’know?”

Ayami smiled proudly at her unexpected pupil. “Nope. But I guess that’s good. And your friends and family?”

“Totally cool! I talked to my dad like you said. About like, how I’m more than just a shinai and proper kendo posture. I’m a card-carryin’’ badass who’s got like, needs and emotions. He looked super serious for a bit then he got all emotional with me. Which was like, ew, but also kinda nice. And I told my friends that we should be all mondo talking more about like, feelings or whatever. They were super onboard with it. I thought Tomo was going to choke from how much eyeliner was running down her face being all ‘OMG, I’ve been hopin’ you’d to say something that!”

Ayami smiled and nodded. “Good! Isn’t that better? Don’t you feel like you’re a lot freer and more comfortable around people?”

Hanari’s eyes lit up and nodded. “FML, yaaa! I didn’t know I was being so cold with people and that, like, putting up these walls was really just constricting me as a person. Like just cuz I wear all this makeup and sexy clothes doesn’t mean I’m trying to hide behind it.”

Ayami offered Hanari her smoothie and she quieted down long enough to take a sip.

“I guess you could put it like that. Though you’re definitely not hiding when you dress like that…”

Just ahead, a balding businessman spoked hurriedly on his phone. He was too caught up in his call to notice Ayami until it was too late, walking right towards her… until a flash of motion cut in front of him. Having his feet leave the ground caught his attention as he looked up to find Hanari with her shinai stabbed just past his cheek, poked through his suit’s collar and holding him up in the air.

“Watch where you’re going, ya chunky old bitch,” she warned with a grim glare, pursing her pouty lips and narrowing her shadowed eyes. Ayami just smiled patiently behind her, more than used to witnessing harassment and violence around her. The man nodded sheepishly before she flicked her shinai, dropping him like a piece of onion off a skewer.

“I guess you and your boss been good?” Hanari went on casually as they kept walking.

“Oh, Kuma? She’s a sweetheart, really. You just have to know what she wants to say rather than what she’s saying.”

“You’re so deep, sensei,” Hanari praised. “So are you two going to the festival this year?” Ayami tilted her head in clear confusion as she kept drinking her smoothie.

“The Mountain Oni festival? I guess there’s the usual summer festival, but all the gangs usually go to the later version.”

Ayami blinked like an especially compelled goldfish. Hinari sighed and shifted her shinai under her arm to pull her phone out of her cleavage. Most of The Nightmare Girls didn’t bother much with social media, and they definitely hadn’t registered with the news group concerning local gang activities and events. She made a few taps before turning it back towards Ayami.

“Thanks for the pix, bae,” Ayami read aloud. “Taking two guys at once just for me…”

“Not the texts! The news!” Hanari blurted, blushing beneath her tan. Ayami turned her attention towards the post with a photo of several black tents being set up by various thugs and delinquents.

“It’s called the Mountain Oni Festival, or The Devil’s Bazaar. The local normies celebrate their usual summer whatever with the city’s festival. Three days later the gangs set up their own festival in the nearby hills.”

“Ohhh,” Ayami nodded. “But why do it later instead of just going to the city festival?”

“Cuz ours is cooler,” Hanari shrugged. “And so the guys have time to steal the tents from the public festival.”

“Ah,” Ayami nodded. She had transferred to town less than a year ago, so she wasn’t used to some of the local traditions.

“It hasn’t been around for long, but far as I know, the Nightmare Girls never went. They barely show up to any of the gang cultural events.”

“Aw, really? That sounds kinda fun …” she mused. “I wonder why.”

“Couldn’t say. But your crew tends to do what they want, schedules be damned.”

“That’s a shame. I can’t remember the last time I wore a yukata…”

---

“You strapped in back there?” Kumatake asked over her shoulder. She wore a red and yellow yukata, the old, festive robe looking more like a dangerous inferno on the blonde gang leader. It hung loose and low around her shoulders, synched tightly at the waist to keep her breasts from falling out. Her leather jacket looked out of place (at least on anyone else) resting across her shoulders.

“Ready,” Ayami said as she locked her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. She sat sideways on Kumatake’s motorbike, since straddling would be hard to do with her own yukata on. Her seasonal kimono was much more traditional, wrapped tightly around her and with a flowery pink pattern. She’d even tied her matching hair back into a cute little bun. She had hardly needed to bring up the idea to Kumatake before she quickly agreed.

They rode into the high hills neighboring the city, the sun already well into setting as they left their streets. They wove between cars and pedestrians as needed to keep up their speed before they entered the woods near the hiking trails. Kumatake pulled her bike into the collection of various scooters, motorcycles, cars, and mopeds. All of them had the same telltale signs of a rough life, whether in battle damage, sleek looks or intimidatingly placed decals.

“Definitely the place,” Kumatake noted as Chihiro came running towards them from somewhere near the tree line. The chubby girl wore a broad green kimono, brand new by the look of it. She hadn’t gotten out much before joining the gang, after all.

“There you are, boss! Ayami. I thought I’d leave early to arrive punctually on time and secure the perimeter.”

“It’s a party for thugs. It’s only going to get so secure,” Kumatake assured her. “Anybody else here?”

A long arm reached out to wave in her line of sight as Ichiru stepped out of the shadows. The huge, white-haired girl had managed to blend in with the trees with her black robe and dull gray sash.

“Hey, Ichiru! Glad you could make it!” Ayami chimed.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Kumatake pointed out simply.

<Thank you,> she signed out with a flash of a smile. Kuma just nodded back as a familiar squabbling made its way up the hill.

“Oh good! We’re all here,” Ayami noted brightly. Setsuna and Azuka scaled the hill just as they predicted, poking and taunting each other as usual. Azuka’s squat figure was overstuffed into her purple kimono, to the point where she visibly wore shorts and bound her breasts beneath it. She had opted for a facemask showing a night sky with bursting fireworks.

Setsuna’s was a more taut and colorful kimono, with her sleeves a bit loose and a subtle shift from red to purple flowing back and forth along the fabric. They both wore the usual long socks with their sandals as their clopping steps were drowned out by their general bickering.

“Hey, girls! Love the outfits,” Ayami called cheerily.

“Why thank you!” Setsuna preened, clearly expecting that kind of reaction. “Me and granny made this one ourselves. We’d been wanting to collab on a project for a while now anyway, so this was the perfect excuse!”

“Thanks,” Azuka grunted. “I hadn’t worn mine in a few years, so it doesn’t quite fit the bill anymore. And by bill I mean boobs.”

“Couldn’t you just buy a new one?” Chihiro asked.

“Oh sure. But then my boobs wouldn’t be hanging out,” Azuka reminded her, cupping and jiggling her rack for her own amusement.

Hanari had given them clear enough directions to get them the rest of the way to the Oni Festival. They went to the unmarked path that cut through the thicker part of the woods and followed it until they could smell the smoke and food. They followed the tags with the kanji for oni on them and soon found themselves crossing through the forest and into the clearing on the other side.

For an unofficial and technically illegal gathering, it was an impressive display. Most of the tents had been colored black to appear less conspicuous, despite the festive music, smoking grills and barking vendors at their stands. It was packed with the usual Japanese festival traditions, though many of them had their own thuggish twists. There were still masks and takoyaki and fish scooping games, but a scarred man had “slightly used evidence” for sale. Everyone carried a tough air about them, even if they were enjoying a candy apple or laughing with friends. It wasn’t even just the local high schooler gangs; graduated delinquents and even a number of adult bikers and yakuza-looking types were there for the festivities.

“Oh my gosh! They have press-on tattoos!” Setsuna gushed. “And real tattoos! And KNIVES~!!! Kuma Kuma Kuma they’re selling kniiives~!”

“Look at that one!” Azuka butted in, pointing at another booth. “I’ve never seen so many facemasks in one spot! ‘Identity protected or money back.”

“Then it says ‘If you can catch me,” Chihiro added with a discerning frown.

<Muscles muscles muscles musclesmusclesmusclesmuscles,> Ichiru signed rapidly, silently staring and drooling at the larger thugs her age that wandered by.

“Well let’s at least get inside first,” Ayami giggled, beaming herself. That alone was enough for even Kumatake to crack a smirk. They stepped up to a small archway where a large, tattooed bald man waited with his sleeveless arms folded.

“Who goes dere?” he grunted. “You ain’t a cop, is ya?”

“Ooh! I know this one!” Setsuna chimed as she stepped up. “Wercome to de Salty Spitoon, y’all. How tough are ya?”

“What?” the man grunted in what seemed to be his only tone. “Kid, get lost. We don’t…” His eyes darted over the gang of girls.

“OH! Ah, fuck. It’s you kids. Welcome to the party, Kutakori reps.”

“Hey, I don’t represent anything! Not even myself!” Azuka protested. “Personal code!”

“You actually know us?” Chihiro asked.

“Oh hell yea. Ain’t a badass in town that don’t know The Nightmare Girls. Ever since you busted up that yakuza meetin’. And that was before you took on a hundred other gang members on your own.”

Kumatake nodded quietly. “So can we…?”

“Oh yea, yea! Glad to have ya! Rules are just don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’, and don’t steal if ya can’t get away with it. And here. Have a pamphlet. ‘sgot a map and everythin’.”

Ayami took it as they stepped into the celebration of everything delinquent. “Wow, this is surprisingly well organized for a gang meeting. This should be fun!”

Kumatake nodded and smirked. Ichiru tapped her on the shoulder and held up her phone for the translator to kick in.

<Boss? When exactly did you take on the yakuza?>

Kumatake shrugged. “I’unno. Little shits were probably just in our way once.”

“Nevermind that!” Ayami chimed excitedly. “Let’s split up and meet back at the Infinity Scars’ yakisoba stand! Setsu-cham you’re with me.”

“Wait, why?” Kumatake asked, furrowing her brow as her girlfriend tugged on the tanned thug’s sleeve.

“In case I wanna surprise you with a present. Let’s go!”

---

The girls were quickly caught up in the festivities. For having so many crooks and bruisers around, nobody seemed to be starting any trouble. They were having too much fun and for every giant, scar-faced guy, there was another one around the corner who could beat his ass. So no one seemed quite confident enough to stir things up outside of the designated fighting pit.

<So what did you wanna do?> Ichiru signed to Azuka.

“I wanna fight!” she barked, smacking a fist into her palm. “Whenever I get this excited, I just gotta clock something! I’m gettin’ such a fight boner just seein’ this many punchable faces…”

<It’s a festival, genius. People go here to have fun,> Ichiru told her, turning left around one of the booths. At close to twice Azuka’s height, she could see more than she could through the crowd. She made her turn pointedly to steer Azuka away from the steel cage where people were beating the piss out of each other and betting on it.

“But it’s been like two days since I kicked somebody’s ass!” Azuka griped. She held her hand up towards Ichiru. “Look! My knuckles are even startin’ to heal!”

<You know that’s a good thing, right? Healing?>

“Did I hear someone mention sore knuckles?” a haughty woman’s voice piped up from one of the stalls. A woman a few years their senior in a white coat sat in front of an open tent where she had a rack of various bottles and ointments. Some appeared hand-labeled while others had extremely formal medical jargon, as if stolen fresh off an ambulance. The woman herself had dark blue hair that was bundled up into a beehive haircut and a large chest sticking out between her open coat. A jewel-tipped stud was pierced into her nose.

“Yea. Who’s askin’?” Azuka huffed. Ichiru pointed at the woman’s large bosom, particularly the nametag:

Miss Tatabe; Apprentice Street Doctor.

“Thank you so much for noticing!” the busty, blue-haired college girl beamed merrily. “I don’t get to wear it very often. What with it being illegal and all. My mom runs a place down one of the alleys in Baijin Street.”

“Didn’t ask. So what’s this about me punchin’ things?” Azuka demanded.

“Oh, just that I carry an ointment for that kind of thing. I’m still in training, but I specialize in dermatology with some chiropractic on the side.”

“Less words, nerd!”

<She fixes skin and backaches.>

“What? Like massages?”

“It’s oversimplifying, but that’s a part of it,” Tatabe admitted. “It's a non-pharmaceutical tre… yes. I massage and adjust muscles and bones. You wanna try a sample?”

Ichiru glanced down at Azuka. Way down. The seven-foot tall girl was tired of bending over constantly to talk to people, and it didn’t take much to see the busty shortstack’s back and shoulders went through hell with a rack like hers.”

Ichiru held up her phone and signed <We’ll take two.>

“She says hand over those massages, bozo! Or else!” Azuka added.

<I did not.> Ichiru frowned, shoving Azuka’s shoulder towards the tent. The older girl set up a sign outside and shut the flap behind them. There were a pair of massage tables set in the middle of the stand, as well as what looked like a well-used dentist chair off in one corner for more vague purposes.

“Alright. So what needs work?” Tatabe asked, cracking her knuckles.

<Back,> Ichiru signed, holding her phone up with her signing hand to translate. <There’s a whole lot of it.>

“Gimme a little bit of everything,” Azuka decided. “I dropkicked like five people last week. It was fun for a while then it got achy.”

“Sounds like a Nightmare Girl alright. But you got it. Lars? Help the purple one.”

“Lars?” Azuka looked up as a husky blonde man with some stubble stepped up to her table with a grim expression.

“You vant robe on?” he asked in some unsteady Japanese.

“Oh shit! We can do this topless!?” Azuka asked excitedly. “This fair rules.”

She swiftly relieved her binding bandages of their duties and shrugged off her kimono, plopping back onto her chest so that her breasts swelled out on either side.

“But the mask stays on. Non-negotiable.”

“Yes. Okay,” he answered stiffly. He cracked his knuckles noisily as Ichiru eyed him warily from the other table.

“Don’t worry,” Tatabe preemptively answered. “He used to break backs as a bouncer until he ended up getting the crick out of my dad’s shoulder. Mom hired ‘em on the spot.” She started to rub down the goth’s back, her long legs left hanging off the back of the table.

“Pay is better. More rewarding,” Ivan said as he started massaging Azuka. She was soon sighing from his strong hands kneading her muscles.

“Oof. Yea, right around the tit-holder muscles,” the pompadour punk groaned. Her eyes fluttered as Ivan’s large hands kneaded her back, pushing through her bit of chub to get at her muscles. The pressure made her breasts squash out from beneath her, bobbing in and out and rubbing her nipples over the leather of the table. She bit her lip behind her mask as some blush spread out from behind it, giving off a long and low moan.

Ichiru started to sign again but her chiropractor just adjusted her arm to get at her shoulders. “Those kinds of noises are normal. Especially somebody with back problems. And with tits like those, imagine she has a lot of them,” Tatabe dismissed.

“Ohhh fuck yes, daddy!” Azuka raved as Ivan’s thumbs dug into the flesh at the side of her breasts and moved down to her lower back, cracking it just above her thick ass.

The punky street doctor trainee shrugged. “Okay, that’s actually a bit much. She might just be a freak.”

Ichiru nodded in blatant agreement and shut her eyes. The massage drowned out any vibration she might have felt from their voices. If it meant ignoring Azuka’s sex noises, this was one of the scarce times she appreciated being def.

“Ooh. Lower,” Azuka urged. Ivan moved his broad hands to her similarly wide buttocks. She squirmed in his grasp, grinding her hips back into his firm grip. “Mmmm. Still lower…”

“Ah. Ivan understands.”

The brute of a man lifted her hips with ease and yanked her damp panties down around her ankles. He positioned her on her knees as he stuffed two fingers into her wet and waiting pussy, pumping firmly while remaining totally stone-faced.

“Yeaaaa that’s the stuff,” Azuka moaned, her chin resting on her breasts as they swelled up in front of her. A touch of drool ran out from beneath her mask before she licked her lips rather than risk getting it wet. At least Ivan had taken off her underwear first rather than risk soaking those.

The brutish massage expert kept fingering her with his thick and powerful fingers, clearly just what Azuka wanted. Her eyes rolled back as her pussy gave off wet sucking sounds with each thrust, easily lubricating his filling digits on their way in. Her cream ran down her pale and chubby thighs as her ass jiggled in front of him. A hand clapped down onto her cheek to hold it steady, but the resounding spanking motion made her squeal with glee. She shivered wildly on the spot, squirting a huge mess of cum over his hand.

“Is better?” Ivan asked stoically, giving her clit another parting stroke before toweling off his hands. He gave her thighs a few quick, gauging rubs before patting her ass proudly.

“Is waaay better. Ivan, you’re some kinda finger genius,” Azuka moaned witlessly. She rolled over to sit back up, naked besides her mask. Ivan nodded as he offered her a towel to clean herself up.

“More rewarding. And cleans up easier than blood,” Ivan said. A brittle crack came from the other table as Ichiru sighed out a long breath. Tatame was on her back, a knee against her lower back as she massaged above it.

“Jeez, you girls are lucky I didn’t charge you by the meter,” the chiropractor laughed as she finally reached the bottom of the towering goth. She climbed off at last to let Ichiru lay flat down again. “But I think we’re both done here.”

Ichiru’s head bobbed gently, eyes still closed and seeming to be nodding along to some imagined tune.

“Right, the def thing. How do you uh…?” Tatame asked awkwardly.

“Oh she can feel your words through your fighting spirit. Long as you mean them enough,” Azuka answered as she tied her robe back on. “YO, ICHI! GET YOUR GIANT ASS UP!”

Ichiru frowned before bothering to open one eye.

<I heard,> she signed out as she held her translator app back up. <I’m def, not numb. I was making sure you had time to pants on.>

She got up and stretched, smiling in surprise at how limber she felt.

“Well we don’t have business cards cuz we don’t want to get tracked,” the dyed doctor in training reminded them. “But we got an office on the corner of Subara and Watabe Street. Come by my mom’s place if you ever need a bullet taken out of ya, no questions asked.”

“I don’t get shot,” Azuka scoffed as she adjusted her robe. “Getting shot’s for slowpokes.”

---

Setsuna and Ayami explored the festival together, snacking as they went. Setsuna noisily munched on some smoked squid on a stick while Ayami had a candied apple, both staring at the many spectacles the various gangs had put together.

The Witches Three had set up a fortune-telling tent, with the occasional superstitious thug stopping by. The Flashfires had been put in charge of the fireworks show, with part of it going off early over the trees as they panicked about what to do about it. The Princesses of Punk, the combination girl gang and rock band, had a stage set up and were still tuning up their instruments.

“Ooh, Kuma loves their music,” Ayami pointed out. “She’ll be excited to hear that they’re performing.”

Setsuna nodded as she chewed on the skewer her squid had been stuck on. “Yea… but I gotta ask. Why didn’t you wanna walk around with her? Is it really the present thing, or is this some kinda coot?”

“Coot?”

“Yea. It’s fancy French talk for when you make a power play to take over the gang.”

“…Setsuna, do you mean it’s a coup?”

“Yea. That one.”

“Still no,” Ayami said warily. “I just don’t want her getting too reliant on me. You know how she can be with people, and I want to make sure she gets some time without me… y’know. Smothering her.”

“Ha! Smothering,” Setsuna snorted with her laugh. “Believe me, I’ve seen smothering in a relationship. I’ve DONE smothering in a relationship, in more ways than one. Don’t worry about the boss. She barely talks to anybody outside the gang to begin with, so you’re not smotherin’ her.”

“Yea, but maybe she should once in a while. She’d probably have more fun if she could, I dunno… order us burgers without terrifying the cashier?”

“Why’d she wanna do that?” Setsuna asked, picking her teeth with the wooden spike. She raised an eyebrow at a booth and pointed over.

“Hey,” she said, nudging Ayami. “Anything you wanted over there?”

Ayami peered at the booth where several dartboards with darts buried into the surface. A rather random assortment of prizes were littered about the inside.

“Ummm… the headphones might be nice. Or that little stuffed boar! Kuma-chan was telling me how she liked pigs as a kid, and boars are just grown-up pigs, right?”

“Yea, obviously.” Setsuna snorted knowingly. “Now watch this.”

She stepped up to the booth and slapped a palm on the counter. “Yo! How’s this work!?”

“No cash,” the scarred man with an eyepatch warned outright. It was clear the battle damage was from much more than just running a dart stand. “You bet something of yours for a shot with the darts. You miss, I keep what you offered. One bullseye wins it back. If you can get three bullseyes, you pick out anything you want.”

“Strip darts, huh? Well that’s easy enough. I happen to be pretty good at throwing things,” Setsuna noted proudly. She set her used skewer on the counter. “One shot please!”

The man glanced at it with his good eye. “We don’t accept garbage either.”

“Fine, fine.” Setsuna sighed. She took her squid stick back and tugged at the sash of her yukata, setting it on the counter. Her robe loosened around her but held tightly enough to generally stay in place. It still got a few curious looks from passerby, some slowing or stopping enough to watch the stripping scrawny thug.

The scarred vendor set a steel dart on the counter. “There ya go. Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck when I’m this good,” Setsuna boasted. She squinted one eye and aimed for a moment before throwing it, missing the bullseye by a couple inches too low.

“Ah, shame,” the booth’s owner assured almost as soon as it hit. “Try again?”

Setsuna frowned at her results for a moment. “Definitely. That must have been the wind.”

“Gonna need you to up the ante then.”

Ayami looked in surprise at Setsuna as she stepped out of her sandals and set them on the counter.

“How about these?” the tan punk demanded.

“That’ll do. Here’s your next shot.”

Setsuna steadied herself a moment and then threw again, this time ending up even farther to the right. The eyepatch man grinned and flashed a gold tooth.

“Too bad. Up for another?” he asked knowingly. Setsuna pursed her lips, the dull old gears in her head slowly turning.

“Yyyyes. I need to win it all back.”

“Do you need me to lend you something?” Ayami pried, but Setsuna was already shrugging off her robe to bare some tan shoulders. The guys who had stopped to watch suddenly cheered and whistled as she stuck her wooden skewer into her mouth and slowly stripped out of her attire, leaving her in just her bra and panties. She was on the boney side, especially compared to the rest of her gang, but her underwear was a lacey, deep blue set that fit her snugly. A pair of scissors and an unopened switchblade were both tucked into the waistband of her panties on one side.

Setsuna tossed her kimono onto the counter with a final flourish. “Now are you going to keep staring or let me win already?”

“Sure, sure! Here ya…”

He started to hand her the next dart when Setsuna’s lips pursed. She snatched her skewer from her squid from her lips and flung it over her shoulder like a speeding bullet, striking a random wooden mask straight through its eye hole without even looking. It sank several inches into the wood of the booth. The eyepatch man froze midway through handing over the dart.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Setsuna warned him, her crooked smile crossing her face. She brushed one of her hair drills behind her shoulder with a confident flourish. She even shifted her footing to pose with a hand on her hip, clearly eating up her audience’s attention.

“When I aim for a target, whether it’s an enemy, an art project, or boys, I never miss. I just thought it would be more dramatic if I missed a few times and let everyone witness my bared beauty.”

Ayami had seen her miss on occasion, but she had also seen her throw a pencil hard enough to pierce into a wall at school. The idea of her missing on purpose just to get naked sounded much more likely than her actually botching it.

“You see, your darts pull off in another direction. I’d say you added a couple milligrams of weight to random sides of it to prevent genuine accuracy. Easy enough for an amateur to miss out on. But it’s all a matter of physics when you know that,” Setsuna lectured, rolling the dart over in her fingers. “Or as my boss would say, you could change the rotation of the moon with the right leverage.”

The booth vendor sighed and slumped a little. “Alright alright! I get it. Ya figured me out. Would you just throw it already?”

Setsuna twirled the dart until she held it by the needle, holding it like a knife-thrower at a circus before whipping it forward. It spun through the air and landed perfectly in the bullseye. The audience muttered in surprise as she cracked her knuckles.

“Now gimme another.”

Two more darts later, they were all three crammed into the single bullseye. There were some rowdy cheers from the gathered boys as Setsuna casually took back her clothes, sliding on her sandals before bothering to unfold her robe to redress. Ayami just beamed and clapped rapidly beside her.

“Now let’s see. I could always use a replica katana…” Setsuna mused as she looked over his prizes.

“Yea. Let’s say it’s a replica…”

“But I’ll take the boar toy. Because a Nightmare Girl always puts the gang first and Scissor Blade Naraki won’t disappoint her comrade or her boss!” she proclaimed with a dramatic and half-naked sweep of her hand. Ayami reached over the countertop and plucked it up, hugging it to her chest. It was plenty soft and made a tiny squeal noise when she hugged it tight enough.

“Really?” the stand owner asked. “Cuz we were just smuggling cash inside that one. I think we got all of it out already…”

“Well you did say anything,” Setsuna mused. She rested a hand on her assorted blades ponderously. Her twisted grin returned to her face. “I could always ask for that gold tooth of yours…”

“Y’know what? Enjoy!” he quickly backpedaled. Setsuna smirked and confidently strode away, met with more whistles before dejected groans as she started to dress herself again.

“Thanks so much, Setsuna!” Ayami squeezed her friend around her skinny middle, briefly getting wrapped up in the kimono with her. “I couldn’t have landed those shots, let alone look super cool doing it.”

“Well, you know me~,” Setsuna beamed with her ego suitably stroked for the day. “Beauty, brains, and uh… uhhhh…” She furrowed her brow in effort. “Another B word. More brains I guess.”

“Yea,” Ayami nodded proudly. “That’s us. Just a whole bunch of B-words.”

---

Chiyo and Kumatake were exploring their own end of the fair. They walked past the Bara Bushido gang putting on some sort of play; something about a famously beautiful queen despite it being a gang of all muscley dudes. There was some playful heckling, but one of the actors was clearly not above kicking a dude in the head if he got a little too mouthy. The Toxic Sisters were selling masks and sweetened mochi, but were quick to flinch when the Nightmare Girls walked by and humbly offered them free samples. The same was with the Frozen Hells running their snow cone stand, all of which Chiyo was glad to partake in and order seconds. Kumatake treated herself as well, but at a much lazier pace.

“So do you think she’s mad at me?” Kumatake asked in her usual blunt and casually gruff tone.

“What!?” Chiyo asked in sudden shock. “No! Ayami adores you!”

“Yea, usually. But she’s not hangin’ off me like she usually is. Isn’t that bad?”

Chiyo hesitated as she adjusted her glasses beneath her bangs. She wasn’t the relationship expert, but from what she’d heard from Setsuna’s claims, the others weren’t either. At least she was grounded in reality and logic.

“Well, no. You have to be apart sometimes, right? You live in different places and have different classes… sometimes,” she corrected, knowing how little the gang cared about actual class schedules.

“Yea… you saying we should move in somewhere together?” Kuma asked a bit vacantly.

“No! Not at our age!” Chiyo blurted out. The intimidating blonde just gave her a puzzled look. “I’m just saying… you love Ayami for what she is, right?”

“Yea.”

“So you don’t want her to just become you, right? You like her to be Ayami.”

“I… guess, yea.”

“Right! I think it was an ancient poet who said ‘distance makes the heart grow stronger.’ Or something like that. But you see each other plenty already, and it’s important to have experiences of your own to tell her about and share with her!”

Chiyo frowned and folded her arms together inside her sleeves. “At least that’s what I think. I am just your humble treasurer and bodyguard, ma’am.”

“You’re more than my bodyguard,” Kumatake scoffed, elbowing the blue-haired girl in her meaty side. Most would have flinched or staggered from the playful nudge, but the solid girl just jiggled a bit.

“But it’s not like I, y’know… do much,” Kumatake admitted. “Besides the gang.”

“Well… what if we changed that? Here!”

Chiyo pointed and led her boss over to a low pool of water. It ran in a circular path, more like a looping stream than a pond. Goldfish, small koi, and even a few catfish went swimming through it as a heavyset woman smoking a pipe watched over them.

“Have you ever tried goldfish scooping?” Chiyo offered.

“I’ve seen it when we’d go to fairs… but dad said it was a waste of money. What is it?”

“You’re missing out, boss! It’s tradition at fairs with my family!” She fished a few coins from her pocket and paid the booth’s attendant. The big woman motioned towards a small rack of plastic sticks with paper stuck between a hoop on the end.

“You see, you have to scoop up a fish into your bowl before the paper breaks. And with the water flowing it’s pretty tough to do.” Chiyo made a lunge with one, but the fish poked right through it before she could lift it up.

“Sounds real easy to rig,” Kumatake pointed out. The woman running the stand gave her a dirty look, but quickly regretted it as the blonde returned an even dirtier one.

“It’s not about winning,” Chiyo added. “It’s about trying. It’s fun. Two more, please.”

Chiyo focused on taking some more careful swipes. She made a little more progress, but never quite breaking the water with her catch.

“Darn. My mom was always good at these,” Chiyo admitted. “The trick is getting it right under the fish while they’re close to the top.”

“Gimme one.” Kumatake handed over a coin and took one of the nets. She looked between the little wand and the bowl in front of her. “So I just need to get the fish into the bowl, right?”

“Without touching it!” the woman felt important to emphasize to the grim-looking girl. “Just the scoop!”

“Hm.” Kumatake looked over the water, her eyes slowly trailing them like a hungry wolf. A few of the fish actually seemed to hurry away from her line of sight. Her eyes flashed as she thrust out her scoop, but it never even touched the water. It hovered a couple inches over it and rested steadily there. Finally, one of the koi seemed to crack under the pressure and jumped into her net for her, resting on the plastic edges. Kumatake dropped it neatly into her bowl.

“Whoa! How did you do that?!” Chihiro blurted in shock.

“Knew what’s good for ‘em,” Kumatake explained simply. “What about you, Chi? You want one?”

“Uh… sure. You can technically keep going until your thing breaks.”

Kumatake nodded and looked back at the water. She held out her scoop and whistled sharply. A much smaller and brightly colored goldfish leapt into it and she dropped it in with the larger one. They seemed to nudge at each other curiously before settling into their water dish.

“We, uh… have a winner, I guess!” the vendor declared. “Good on ya! Have some fish food to go with ‘em. Just don’t ask where it came from.”

“Never do,” Kumatake nodded. The vendor bagged and sealed up the fish, tying it off and passing it to her. The blonde held it up to stare blankly at them for a few seconds.

“…cute.”

“I did read that goldfish can be quite intelligent,” Chihiro offered. “And grow as large as their container allows. But I wouldn’t go getting too attached. These fair fish don’t often live very long.”

“Nah,” Kumatake corrected. “They’re badasses. I don’t catch weak fish, so they’re gonna last a while. Plus the big guy’s gonna look out for the little one.”

Chihiro smiled proudly. Kumatake’s expression didn’t change terribly, but she did keep peering curiously back at the fish. As they walked, they both peered up as a barely rhythmic drumming started. There was a sizeable area at one end of the fair with a raised wooden platform about a story off the ground. A huge taiko drum was propped up at the top with The Yama Twins, a muscular brother and sister from The Bruisers gang. They were dressed in traditional garb of a small vest and tightly wrapped fundoshis around their hips as they wailed on the drum. They mostly wielded the usual rods for the performance but would occasionally seem to get too fired up and hit the drum with a punch or a headbutt. Below them a scattered assortment of visitors were dancing along to the hasty beat. Most of them were either girl gang members or especially drunk adults.

“Right. I remember sucking at dancing,” Kumatake noted dryly. “Never got much rhythm. Unless it was headbanging…”

Chihiro nodded beside her. “Did you want to join the dance for a bit? It was always a tradition in my family too.”

“What? Why?” Kumatake asked, furrowing her brow. “They look like assholes out there.”

“That’s part of the fun. It’s letting go and doing something symbolic that doesn’t really do anything. It’s like the luxury of wasting time. The less something does, the more fun it tends to be.”

“That’s deep,” Kumatake nodded. “But I ain’t getting caught dead out there.”

“Very well, boss!” Chiyo blurted, going into another sharp bow. “I’m sorry I suggested it! I shall throw myself upon this dance in your place to atone for my mistake!”

“What? No, that’s not what I mean, dumbass.”

Chiyo was already jogging off into the dance floor, taking up an open spot and going into a surprisingly graceful dance. Her swaying gestures sent her blinding bangs and plump curves bouncing around with her. Kumatake cracked a smirk as her enforcer’s old family tradition seemed to come back to her quite quickly.

When she twirled with one of the longer thrums of the drum, she ended up stepping too far back. She unwittingly thrust her broad butt into the posing hands of another delinquent girl with colored shades despite how late in the evening it was.

“EEP! Sorry!” Chihiro yelped as she spun around. She bowed quickly over the misunderstanding, just for her ass to stick out and bump into somebody else.

“Hey! Watch it!” a mohawked redhead warned. Chiyo jumped away again, just to bump right into a teen punk trying to pick up on the traditional dance. He was interrupted by a face full of the blue-haired bully’s boobs, getting him to blush as the plump warm flesh cut off his breathing.

“Oh! Sorry! Sorry!” the flustered Chiyo rambled. She blushed beneath her glasses as she hurriedly pulled back, just for her sash to catch on the stunned (and vacantly grinning) boy’s hand. She spun as it was pulled off her like the string on a top, sending her spiraling away as her robe fell open. Her big breasts and belly popped out of her kimono as she hopped on one foot before bumping into a gruff-looking girl.

“Watch it, bitch!” the girl with an aggressive amount of makeup and facepaint on barked.

“Ah! I’m sorry!” Chiyo repeated before bowing again. This time she came down fast and close enough to headbutt the girl in the head, knocking her out cold on the spot. Her eyes rolled back and saliva flew from her mouth as she collapsed and the girl next to her glared over.

“Hey! Don’t mess with us!” she snapped, throwing a punch at Chiyo as she rose again.

“Eep! Apologies again!” she yelped as she bowed once more. It made the new girl’s fist fly right past her and clock the guy behind her. He turned to scowl at the braided newcomer and soon shouts and insults were flying from all directions. Chiyo just picked up her sash and went hurrying off back towards Kumatake, leaving a brawl to break out in place of the dance as the drummers kept pounding away.

Her boss was still smirking, even chuckling under her breath. “So how was that?” Chiyo asked as she retied her kimono. “Couldn’t get any more embarrassing than that, so if you wanted to dance, I set the bar pretty low.”

“Oh you did not do all that on purpose,” Kumatake laughed, jabbing her comrade in the arm. Chiyo smiled and winked at her, even if she couldn’t see it through her hair and glasses.

“But thanks for confirming my suspicions. This whole thing’s just for lookin’ like a dumbass and forgettin’ what’s going on outside the tents, ain’t it?”

“Technically, the actual festivals were to celebrate the comings and goings of various gods. The Mountain Oni Festival is the lesser known festival meant to keep the darker spirits of the mountain entertained so they would spare the locals. They say the red oni of…”

“If you’re gonna keep talking like that,” Kumatake interrupted as she folded her arms. “We should at least eat while you do.”

“Definitely agreed!” Chiyo chimed in. “We passed a place selling some crackers that would go great with the soba noodles…”

---

The gang met back up to swap their discoveries and treats. Azuka and Ichiru had found Hanari on the way over, bringing her along as they gathered on a spare log. They watched as another malfunctioning burst of fireworks went off and Kumatake went to the order their dishes of yakisoba.

It was a short line before she reached the front. Devil’s Noodles seemed busy, but a woman with fiery red hair and a stern expression kept at the numerous servings of noodles set out on her grill. She was one of the older women at the festival, nearing her 40s at least. She had her hair tied back, exposing an oni mask tattooed on her upper neck.

“Alright, whatya want? I ain’t got-” the woman started. She looked up at Kumatake and they both froze for a moment.

Kumatake cleared her throat. “So uh… hey, mom. Didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Yea, well…” the woman muttered, losing all the gruffness she’d just been showing. “I used to ride motorcycles with these girls back in high school. Came to the festival all the time, even after I met your dad and sold the bike to take care of you two… I just didn’t think I had to mention cuz it’s just once a year, but…”

Kumatake sniffed and itched her nose. “So we don’t tell dad about tonight?”

Her mother frowned for a moment, then nodded. She reached down behind her and fetched a six-pack of beer from her cooler, setting it on the counter for her.

“We don’t tell dad about tonight,” she confirmed.

“Hey, are you gonna take her order or what!? I’m waitin’ here!” somebody behind Kumatake barked. She didn’t look up as she slammed the back of her fist into his face and sent him flying through a gambling tent running dice games.

“Sorry about him, ma. I need seven sobas.”

“You got it. On the house, hon.” She swiftly seasoned and scooped up the bowls before setting them on a tray with the beers. “Now go have fun with your friends. And tell that girl of yours I said hey. She’s a keeper.”