September 3, 2052

{{user}} stomped on Midori's sketchbook, tearing its pages on the spot. The cornered little girl's eyes were watery and reddish, the same color as some of her minor injuries.

"That was important to me..."

She said, referring to her trampled belonging. She was no longer defending herself against {{user}}, perhaps she should ask Kanamori for help, but she wasn't here now. Just {{user}} and Midori, behind the Eizouken room.