Sister Princess Saturday Report! No. 16 – Assassination
The day started out so normally — and by that, I mean it started with a thick haze of tedium and emptiness.
Wataru on the steps of the house, deep in thought: He had a whole five brain cells whirring away. The subject of his thought was the upcoming school sports festival. Important tests that would determine the direction of the remainder of Wataru’s life? Not a thought spent on them. Sports festivals, however? He treated them as if they were life and death situations. Don’t ask me why. I am simply the messenger.
So it goes. Wataru was thinking hard, because, as his notes say, he is bad at sports and was afraid that he would be embarrassed during the festival. As strange as it may sound that now of all times Wataru is worried about being an embarrassment and a blight on humanity, that is indeed what worried him. But never fear, for . . . Kaho . . . hopped onto the scene to allay Wataru’s fears and annoy and terrify your beloved narrator.
“What’s the matter, Brother?” Kaho asked. She bounced up and down like a chipmunk having an epileptic seizure and probably had the intelligence to match. Wataru watched her in silence but soon became dizzy. He leaned back and held a hand against his head, but he soon recovered.
“I’m worried about the sports festival,” Wataru said. “I’m not really good at sports, so I don’t know what I’m going to do at the festival . . .”
“Don’t worry, Brother!” Kaho said, leaping into the air and falling over when she landed on the ground because she is a clumsy idiot. “I’ll cheer you on and then you’ll do extra super special great!!”
“Um, OK!” Wataru said, standing up quickly. “Yeah, I think I can do it! Thanks! That really gave me a burst of energy!”
Unknown to Wataru, however, giving him a burst of energy was not Kaho’s ultimate goal. Like the other sisters, she could suppress her murderous side for only so long. Although Kaho was utterly inept in the ways of strategizing murder, she thought up what she considered to be a foolproof plan: She had a hoop that she twirled while cheerleading, but she had Rinrin modify it so that when a special button was pushed, a series of metal blades protruded all around the hoop. Then she would launch the hoop at Wataru, either severing his head or sticking one of the blades through his skull and piercing his brain.
The Sister Princess would not be happy, but Kaho would be very happy, at least for a short while.
Many other stupid, awkward things occurred between that time and the beginning of the sports festival, but we need not concern ourselves with those inanities. I have indulged Wataru’s inexplicable desire to detail his every banal activity to an almost vulgar extent for long enough. With that in mind, the sports festival began with a dull thud. I’m sure you know the drill with this sort of festival: There are events where people run, throw balls into baskets, run three-legged races, and so on. Wataru’s school did nothing different from the norm; indeed, they stuck to the status quo to an almost offensive extent.
Predictably, Mamoru won most of the events, because she was seemingly the only person at the school with even a shred of athleticism. Wataru came in last for nearly every event. Even with his newly discovered positive attitude, Wataru could not help but bring shame upon himself by forcefully exposing his utter lack of talent. Even running five feet sent Wataru into spasms of labored breathing, which, as you might imagine, is quite the handicap during an athletic competition. At last, the sports festival reached the final competition, but it scarcely matters what that actually was, because I am not going to describe it, anyway.
There are far more important matters to discuss, after all. I can barely contain the glee with which I write these words. I am certain, Dear Reader, that what happens next will please you as it has pleased me every time I have thought about it since it first occurred.
Perhaps I will set the stage a bit: The final event was a relay race, and of course Wataru was to be the final member of the team to get the baton, because, apparently, his team wanted to lose quite badly. A gun sounded, and the race began. While everyone ran, Kaho began putting her plan into action. She twirled her hoop with practiced efficiency, but she also remembered to stumble every so often so that nobody would get suspicious that she suddenly was not such a clumsy oaf. She tried to expend as much energy as possible twirling her hoop so that she did not get edgy and cut off Wataru’s head before it was time. No, she wanted the best possible moment for that decapitation. Best to savor it as much as possible.
Whenever Kaho caught the hoop, she would lightly finger it in anticipation. The runners advanced bit-by-bit — it was almost time for Wataru to take the baton. An eager jolt ran through Kaho as the final runner pulled up to Wataru and handed off the baton. He raced off and immediately fell over due to his weak muscles and awful bone structure. His disgustingly poor cardiovascular system did not help matters, either. Wataru slowly pulled himself to his feet and continued huffing and puffing down the track. His slow movements made it easy for Kaho to time her throw. She tossed the hoop into the air, eyed Wataru carefully and waited for the hoop to fall back to her, ready to press the button and throw the bladed hoop in one smooth motion.
Just before the hoop landed in Kaho’s hand, however, a shot rang out. Kaho turned her head almost imperceptibly in the direction of the shot, but before she could turn her head completely, a bullet pierced her right temple and exited her skull out the left temple. A spray of blood gushed from her head, accompanied by chunks of bone and brain. Her death was instantaneous. The life went out of her eyes before her body was even halfway to the ground. Her lifeless flesh struck the dirt with a dull thump; blood continued to gush out of her gaping head wound.
This all happened so quickly that nobody seemed to notice. But when Wataru was halfway to the finish line, a scream rang through the air. All the teens in attendance turned their heads to look at the cause; they, too, screamed when they saw Kaho’s bloody corpse. Everyone screamed, that is, except Wataru, who was so focused on finishing the race that he continued his pathetic struggle until he shambled across the finish line, out of breath.
“I did it!” Wataru said. “Did you see that, Kaho?! I . . . did it . . .”
Nobody found out who was responsible for killing Kaho that day, nor why this person would commit such a wonderful act. The Sisters all joined together and sobbed, but they cried not for the life of Kaho, whom nobody liked. Instead, they cried because they did not believe they would be able to resurrect their beloved Sister Princess. They were raised to believe that 12 Sisters were necessary for the sacrificial ritual. Now that Kaho was gone, how would they ever bring the goddess back to life?
This is an interesting question, but alas, it is not interesting enough for me to expound upon at the moment.