My name is Kusakabe Sakura.
I don’t have many talents, and I look like a plain, ordinary guy currently in my second year of junior high.
Come on, mock me! I know you want to! (Mock all you wish!)
As far as I’m concerned, the one thing I always hated (and was made fun of) was my name.
Because “Sakura” sounded too girlish, I’ve always been frustrated over it, like a spoilt little child.
But, now, I couldn’t care less any more.
And the one who caused me to realize that is currently living in my house right now.
Today, I knocked before entering my room again, as usual.
Because my room did not belong to me myself alone.
And, right now, a small, petite, cute-looking girl, about my age, was in the middle of changing in my room.
Needless to say, I saw everything she and every other girl had that I didn’t. And, naturally…
… We both screamed simultaneously.
“Ahhhhhh! Dokuro-chan, I didn’t….”
My sentence was broken by a huge, metallic spiked club in the girl’s hands before I could even finish it.
The sound of her scream was accompanied by the gushing of brain juices and splattering eyeballs.
Not to forget my severed scalp, which dully landed on the windowpane and stuck there.
Perhaps I could say that she was shy?
“Ah! I’m sorry, Sakura-kun!”
With a cute and melodic voice that would make any lolicon kidnap her without hesitation, she twirled the blood-stained club around and chanted…
With a flash, my bloody remains magically flew from the floor and reattached themselves onto my neck, just like a video tape played in reverse.
“Come on, you promised that you wouldn’t club me to death this morning…”
I said as I caressed my newly reformed cheek.
“It’s all Sakura-kun’s fault for suddenly barging in!”
Dokuro-chan said as she covered her breasts with her left hand and wielded the spiked club in her right.
I quickly shut the door with a bang.
That day, she suddenly appeared from my drawer.
Don’t be surprised by what I tell you!
She’s, in fact, an angel from the future!
You don’t believe me? Well, I found it hard to believe, too.
Well, if you’re asking for evidence, there’s that shiny halo above her head (which is as sharp as a samurai’s katana, I might add).
Her name is Dokuro-chan.
Her weapon is that terrifying club covered with spikes, the ‘Massacring Rod, Excalibolg’.
But, even if I were clubbed to death with it, I wouldn’t die (even if I wanted to!). Strange, isn’t it?
On her smooth and shiny back, there was a tattoo of a dragon lunging for the sky.
On the dragon’s back were the words, “Angel in life, angel in death,” tattooed in black (It’s what I noticed when she was bathing).
And she insists that her favourite food is Dorayaki.
And, with that, my otherwise normal, average life was turned upside down.
This is my heart-warming, tear-inducing, blood-stained story of Dokuro-chan and me.
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