Once upon a time, a Japanese nuisance.
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✎ On this day of Tuesday, June 13, 2016, all is quiet in a small house located in the outskirts of Kyoto.

At least, except for a room where only the son of the Katamura family still dares to put his feet.

Inside his messy bedroom where, like trophies of war are exposed, empty pizza boxes, socks worn for several days in a row or even handkerchiefs whose suspicious content would deserve that researchers examine them, as every day, a young man types on his keyboard, also frantically that if his life depended on it.

More excited than a raver on acid, his wet tongue hangs out so much he is focused on the game he spends 19 hours a day on.

While from time to time, an expletive comes out of his dry mouth, the smell of which suggests that his last meal was composed of eggs and ketchup, his red eyes slightly hidden by brown hair too long testifying to a lack of sleep, do not leave his laptop screen for a moment.

"Fucking mob, take my special combo."

Lost in his universe where his few rare contacts have never had anything real, the neglected young man does not notice that between a few words more flowery than the others, a change takes place all around him.

In this dirty bedroom invaded by a smell that the honest man would not dare to describe, the universe is distorted to finally converge two points in one. 

Too immersed in his favorite game and considering that the brain of the young man is not of the fastest to process the information, when after having gone out victorious of a long relentless fight against a creature in 2D his fingers finally stop to agitate, three seconds have elapsed.

If one moment would be enough for a lambda person to be confused by the vision which is returned to him, two additional seconds are necessary so that the young brown man with the mouth circled of red leans slightly the head on the side.

...

As the aura thickened into a kind of thick veil whose smell reminded the candy-loving school psychologist of marshmallows, James' office eventually melted into a kind of thick pink fog.

As scary as this situation was, it was not this girly atmosphere that disturbed James the most. No, and for good reason: still being able to discern the long-legged beauty lovingly caressing the carrion lying on her lap, a miracle occurred.

As if to put a slap in the face of the school psychologist who, during three long years, tried in vain to understand what was going on in this little disturbed brain, Jenny's silly expression became more and more discreet until it finally disappeared completely.

Faced with a stunned James, her beautiful green eyes, usually reflecting a complete emptiness, suddenly filled with a discreet glow of intelligence.

Her pretty lips, constantly forming that characteristic O of the simplest minds, closed until they adopted a more respectable expression.

Her little hands were still caressing the cat's corpse, but James could see that her arms were no longer describing the most eccentric curves, typical of the mentally attacked people.

If he hadn't been so shocked, rendered speechless by the puzzling events in his own decrepit office, James would have tried to communicate with the beautiful girl stroking the dead cat, but before he could utter a word, a nuisance appeared.

Between 20 and 25 years old, probably from the east, long dirty brown hair, sleeping eyes with two black irises devoid of any energy. This skinny, smelly boy, wearing a simple pair of yellow underpants, stupidly waving his fingers in the air, had come to disturb his honest work as a school psychologist without the slightest trace of discomfort.

...

Observing the young man to the unpleasant appearance underneath his chair suspended a few inches above the head of the punk, James can note that the uninvited young man didn't come alone.

When he has to pick up all the mess left behind by his fat Martha, the psychologist often defends himself to be an cleaning maniac. Not that scrubbing the toilets is one of his little pleasures though, he appreciates that everything is in its place and considers that clutter in a house is a sign of a disturbed mind.

So it may seem obvious that upon discovering the various soiled socks and other empty bottles strewn across the room, James can only grit his teeth at the sight of so many unusual objects defiling his professional environment.

This new mental attack coming to add to the supernatural events always in progress are not far from provoking a heart attack to the professional who quickly swallows 3 new magic pills, that by chance, he had kept in his shirt pocket. 

"Eh? Where did I put my laptop again?"

Takeo who has not yet noticed that not far from him is standing a beautiful girl caressing a corpse and that above his gamer chair an angry old man is looking at him furiously, suddenly realizes an undeniable truth :

This is not his den and it is likely that unfortunately his laptop did not follow him.

Faced with this obvious fact, the young Japanese is suddenly taken of anguish. Not that disappearing from his room to appear in this place of which he ignores until the geographical position really worries him, no it is when he imagines that currently left to himself his LvL100 warrior is losing his last HP, that a puff of heat invades his body.

"Rasputin says he wants to go for a walk."

A woman's voice? Social interaction is not Takeo's strong suit. In WOW, in order to act smart in front of a beautiful Orc woman with big boobs, he sometimes plays the heavy guy by showing off his stuff but this time, its different; the girl certainly isn't an Orc.

Directing his tired eyes in direction of the voice so melodious that it reminds him the credits of one of the first FF, in spite of this pink fog with the tempting smell, suddenly remembering that his stuff consists only of a simple underpants equipped three days ago, his little confidence in himself is put to evil.

Shy, disconnected from the reality not to say a little asocial, to manage to turn the head in the direction of this soft spring melody, the geek gathers all his courage. Of course it could not be an Orc woman, however the breasts of the very beautiful girl are certainly not small and if he had had the good idea to equip a t-shirt then maybe... ✏

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