Makoto, it’s not that heavy, calm your beautiful mantits for just two seconds, all right?
Or not. A mysteriously drenched Koujaku comes charging in a moment later like he’s got a grudge against the pool and Pochi? Pochi’s tugging relentlessly at Makoto’s foot, its little legs churning in the water as tiny crackles of electricity begin sparking from its joints. For some reason the tech shop hadn’t thought to design a completely waterproof hippo considering the species’ usual habits. Why this is so we may never know.
Backtrack to half an hour ago and we see that Pochi was never meant to leave the apartment in the first place. Koujaku was strict with that little rule, on account of the little guy’s violence towards him, which might likewise be directed towards perfect strangers.
He’d thought of having it reprogrammed, but then that would entail having to take it outside.
Evidently, Pochi had rebelled against the notion—quite suddenly, as a matter of fact—by nudging a window open and dropping itself down the gutter. It was just about small enough to slide through, and Koujaku could hear that ominous clanging as he ran downstairs to intercept his wayward CYbuddy.
It had proved faster than he’d realized, however, as it sped towards the street, slipped, and was hit by a powerful gush of water spewing out of the hydrant. From that moment on Pochi had been partially blinded, its sense receptors waterlogged as it charged ahead into who knows where—perhaps searching for its owner for help.
So thankfully for Makoto, that isn’t really a bite meant to slice his toes off. In its own special little way, Pochi’s asking for help, and losing more and more of its circuitry to water damage as we speak. Makoto’s about the same height and build as its master, after all. At this point, there’s little of itself that can tell the difference.
Koujaku himself is worried as hell when he’d seen the little guy stagger out in the streets, but don’t think he’s forgotten about you, Makoto. He sees Pochi’s latest victim flailing in the water and immediately dives in without a second thought—never mind that he barely knows how to swim. (And in any case the water would probably only come up to his chin if he stood up on the deep end.)
“Pochi!” he half-shouts, half-gurgles as he thrashes his way towards Makoto and the wayward flicker of purple at the boy’s toes. “Hold on!”
no subject
Or not. A mysteriously drenched Koujaku comes charging in a moment later like he’s got a grudge against the pool and Pochi? Pochi’s tugging relentlessly at Makoto’s foot, its little legs churning in the water as tiny crackles of electricity begin sparking from its joints. For some reason the tech shop hadn’t thought to design a completely waterproof hippo considering the species’ usual habits. Why this is so we may never know.
Backtrack to half an hour ago and we see that Pochi was never meant to leave the apartment in the first place. Koujaku was strict with that little rule, on account of the little guy’s violence towards him, which might likewise be directed towards perfect strangers.
He’d thought of having it reprogrammed, but then that would entail having to take it outside.
Evidently, Pochi had rebelled against the notion—quite suddenly, as a matter of fact—by nudging a window open and dropping itself down the gutter. It was just about small enough to slide through, and Koujaku could hear that ominous clanging as he ran downstairs to intercept his wayward CYbuddy.
It had proved faster than he’d realized, however, as it sped towards the street, slipped, and was hit by a powerful gush of water spewing out of the hydrant. From that moment on Pochi had been partially blinded, its sense receptors waterlogged as it charged ahead into who knows where—perhaps searching for its owner for help.
So thankfully for Makoto, that isn’t really a bite meant to slice his toes off. In its own special little way, Pochi’s asking for help, and losing more and more of its circuitry to water damage as we speak. Makoto’s about the same height and build as its master, after all. At this point, there’s little of itself that can tell the difference.
Koujaku himself is worried as hell when he’d seen the little guy stagger out in the streets, but don’t think he’s forgotten about you, Makoto. He sees Pochi’s latest victim flailing in the water and immediately dives in without a second thought—never mind that he barely knows how to swim. (And in any case the water would probably only come up to his chin if he stood up on the deep end.)
“Pochi!” he half-shouts, half-gurgles as he thrashes his way towards Makoto and the wayward flicker of purple at the boy’s toes. “Hold on!”
Aaand he’s under.