(Author’s note: I reflect on all this nonsense on the next page. Back to the story!)
When last we left our intrepid group of blasphemers, all of whom will clearly be alive by the conclusion of this tale, Akio had sacrificed by Wataru by swallowing his heart and absorbing the powers of the Sister Princess through means that are too complex for me to relay through writing. When the process was complete, Akio proclaimed his godhood, and lightning flashed in the background, as if the sky itself agreed with him. I apologize for reusing a line I used to end the previous chapter, but I could not think of any other way to describe what happened.
“Everything is going just as planned,” Akio sneered.
When we last left off in our dire tale, Akio had turned the tables on the Sisters by talking Wataru into leaving Promised Island, and thus turning his back on his beloved Sisters. I suppose that’s within the margin of error of whatever monstrous ritual Akio is performing. The Sisters also had another shock to the system when Akio revealed he had resurrected Kaho — that most detestable of the Sisters — and turned her against the brood. How Akio developed these nefarious powers is beyond me, but he had them and used them.
“Kaho, you’re back!” Hinako said. “Help us get Bro Bro back!”
“I am not the Kaho you once knew,” Kaho said. Her voice sounded faintly metallic; her eyes were tinged with emptiness.
“That’s not true!” Hinako said, running toward Kaho. “You’re still my sister!”
Last time we left Akio, there was something coming out of his closet, but frankly, I find that dull, so we’ll skip that nonsense for now until it is more convenient for me.
Breakfast the next morning was not fun. The Sisters hardly ate anything; they spent the entire meal exchanging nervous glances with each other. Wataru was, of course, oblivious to the general vibe of the room and shoveled food down his gaping maw as usual. Akio, on the other hand, was well aware of the sense of unease his presence inspired in the Sisters. He gingerly ate his food with a smug grin on his face, glancing every so often at one of the Sisters and delighting in the reaction. I would admire this young man’s behavior if I didn’t find him to be such a distasteful individual.
“No problem,” Sakuya said. Wataru walked toward the window and looked outside; while his mind was elsewhere, Sakuya leaned over to Karen. “Has he been spotted yet?”
“Ah ha ha!” The Beautiful Mysterious Thief Clover shouted from up on high. “You’ll never catch me!”
Wataru stared up at Clover — who was obviously Yotsuba; I’m baffled as to why she went through the charade — with a confused look on his face. Who is this girl? he thought. That disguise is unbelievable! Of course she barely went through the trouble of disguising herself, but when has being presented with the obvious ever stopped Wataru from being confused? He truly is a fool’s fool, but that is neither here nor there, I suppose.
The wheels had begun spinning in the plan to resurrect the Sister Princess, but not all were happy about this.
Rinrin had slowly but surely amassed a small fortune from the money she borrowed from Wataru every so often. With that money, she set into motion a plan of her own — a plan she believed would allow her to usurp the power of the Sister Princess.
Now that this abomination is out of the way, we can begin the next chapter of our sordid tale.
Wataru eventually recovered from his impromptu surgery and was back to his normal scrawny frame in no time. When he was up to going out and around, he found that it was close to Christmas time — possibly. Stores seem to put their Christmas dressings out earlier by the year, so relying upon decorations to figure out when the Christmas season is upon us is a poor decision at best. Alas, it was Christmas, and yet not at the same time: The citizens of Promised Island celebrated Christmas in January rather than the customary December. A strange choice of holiday, perhaps, but it did not bother them.
He had ingested five pizzas already, and Shirayuki had six more waiting in line. Wataru could feel his stomach bulging outward. He loosened his belt another notch as he ripped off a slice from the pizza sitting in front of him and wolfed it down.
There’s so much food here, Wataru thought to himself. Is Shirayuki trying to kill me?
Why was he green? Because he was a ghost. Wataru was a ghost.
Wataru was confused, although this had little to do with his newfound existence as a ghost, and more to do with his horrendously low IQ. He looked at his hands. They were transparent. And green. He floated along, lost in thought, until he found that he floated through a wall.
Skip to 4:30 in the video to witness the one moment of joy Sister Princess has given me.
Watching Sister Princess (almost) every week has been . . . an experience. Judging from the idiotic premise, lousy production values and mind-numbingly dull writing, I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that I grow angrier as I watch each episode, like an Incredible Hulk who is set off by awful anime. But after 17 episodes of Sister Princess, I would say that watching it brings me no emotion at all — anger, joy, sorrow, and so on, they all leave me during the course of a normal episode of Sister Princess.
It is quite possibly the most lifeless, bloodless piece of media I’ve ever consumed. I can’t bring myself to be angry at all these fetishized dolls throwing themselves at some bland turd of a lead character, because everything is crafted with such banality. At least Shuffle! has the guts to go all out with its idiocy. Sister Princess plays like it was created by a group of people who are afraid of being judged for their stupid fetish that nobody gives a shit about. They want to go all-out incest orgy, but they just can’t, because there’s no conviction — only fear. And so every episode has characters searching for teddy bears or shopping for light bulbs.
So when I watch Sister Princess, it is the truest form of emotional masochism, because I feel nothing inside for those 23 minutes. My eyes see images unfolding onscreen, but nothing registers in my brain. That awful slow-talking loli says something that is supposed to be cute, but it is too faint to reach my heart. Even the immense pain I felt when that evil dojikko cheerleader fuckface spilled some shrill nonsense from her hateful mouth is nothing but a dull throb now. I am but an empty shell of a man for 23 minutes a week.
What I’m trying to say is Sister Princess is turning me into a serial killer.
