/jp/ - Otaku Culture

Up they rose, the rabbit after the elite maiden. The hateful ground of the Demonic-Realm sank beneath them; and the academy alumni who caught a glimpse of them when they were high above the treetops took it for a vision of the gods—Sora, perhaps, with A-chan after her.
At first there was a terror in the joy. The wide vacancy of the air dazed them—a glance downward made their brains reel. But when a great wind filled their wings, and Pekorus felt herself sustained, like a phoenix in the hollow of a wave, like a vTuber uplifted by her mother, she forgot everything in the world but joy. She forgot Candy Kingdom and the other islands that she had passed over: she saw but vaguely that winged thing in the distance before her that was her friend Mikolus. She longed for one draught of flight to quench the thirst of her captivity: she stretched out her arms to the sky and made towards the highest heavens.

Alas for her! Warmer and warmer grew the air. Those arms, that had seemed to uphold her, relaxed. Her wings wavered, drooped. She fluttered her young hands vainly—she was falling—and in that terror she remembered. The heat of the sun had melted the wax from her
wings; the feathers were falling, one by one, like 3D debut viewers when the singing began; and there was none to help.
She fell like a leaf tossed down the wind, down, down, with one FAQ that overtook Mikolus far away. When she returned, and sought high and low for the poor rabbit, she saw nothing but the bird-like feathers afloat on the water, and she knew that Pekorus was drowned.

The nearest island she named Pekoland, in memory of the rabbit; but she, in heavy grief, went to the temple of Cover in Tokyo, and there hung up her wings as an offering. Never again did she attempt to fly.

Up they rose, the rabbit after the elite maiden. The hateful ground of the Demonic-Realm sank beneath them; and the academy alumni who caught a glimpse of them when they were high above the treetops took it for a vision of the gods—Sora, perhaps, with A-chan after her.
At first there was a terror in the joy. The wide vacancy of the air dazed them—a glance downward made their brains reel. But when a great wind filled their wings, and Pekorus felt herself sustained, like a phoenix in the hollow of a wave, like a vTuber uplifted by her mother, she forgot everything in the world but joy. She forgot Candy Kingdom and the other islands that she had passed over: she saw but vaguely that winged thing in the distance before her that was her friend Mikolus. She longed for one draught of flight to quench the thirst of her captivity: she stretched out her arms to the sky and made towards the highest heavens.

Alas for her! Warmer and warmer grew the air. Those arms, that had seemed to uphold her, relaxed. Her wings wavered, drooped. She fluttered her young hands vainly—she was falling—and in that terror she remembered. The heat of the sun had melted the wax from her
wings; the feathers were falling, one by one, like 3D debut viewers when the singing began; and there was none to help.
She fell like a leaf tossed down the wind, down, down, with one FAQ that overtook Mikolus far away. When she returned, and sought high and low for the poor rabbit, she saw nothing but the bird-like feathers afloat on the water, and she knew that Pekorus was drowned.

The nearest island she named Pekoland, in memory of the rabbit; but she, in heavy grief, went to the temple of Cover in Tokyo, and there hung up her wings as an offering. Never again did she
attempt to fly.