A/N: Prepare to be confused. I basically wrote this for my own amusement, but I might be inclined to continue if enough people think it’s worth the effort.

Chosen

Chapter 1

Because Entrances Should be Grand

A winged thing of beauty flitted gracefully about the planter of various colorful flowers that shall remain ambiguous. After dancing in the warm summer breeze for a few more moments it finally perched delicately upon one of the colorful petals, its fragile wings opening and closing as it innocently observed the flower it had perched on. In the briefest of moments – because sometimes a moment is just too damn long – the graceful insect known to most as a butterfly became nothing more than a pile of squishy, twitching bug guts.

“Take that you bastard!” Emiko cried triumphantly, setting fire to the planter for good measure and shutting the window. She laughed an evil, malicious laugh which wasn’t a very easy thing for the heroine of a story to accomplish and promptly skittered into the kitchen. Why skitter? Well, why the hell not?

Her brief skittering session was interrupted when a large white box with text in it suddenly appeared next to her. The words inside read: “My name is Emiko Kuze.”

“What the…?” She muttered, waving her hand back and forth in front of the box before deciding to poke it. Her hand passed through it easily.

“I was born September 13 and I just recently turned sixteen.”

“Hey, quit that!” Emiko shouted at the box. “What if there are stalkers out there reading this! Don’t give out my info!”

“Hobbies: Arson and Killing Butterflies. Pet Peeves: Water and Butterflies.” Emiko promptly tackled the box, passing straight through it and performing the world’s most spectacular face plant.

“Knock it off you stupid box!” She groaned up at it from the floor.

“As you can see, I’m quite paranoid and a little on the stupid side.” Fed up, Emiko took out her handy-dandy lighter and promptly did away with evil box. Unfortunately, the rest of the page also caught on fire and most of the scenery was burned away. The SC glowered down at her character, quickly redrawing Emiko’s kitchen though it was slightly more two dimensional than it had been before.

“Miyuki-chan! There’s stalker boxes materializing in the kitchen!”

Miyuki made her grand entrance, despite the fact that both characters still lacked a proper description. As part of her grand entrance, a suspicious looking butterfly fluttered its sneaky way into the panel. It was promptly impaled by a spoon-turned-projectile and quickly found itself pinned to the wall. That would learn the evil thing to flutter sneakily. As grand entrances would have it, the spoon had been flung by none other than Miyuki Himura, who promptly retrieved the spoon and began scraping off the bug guts.

Another box appeared next to Miyuki stating, “That’s my roommate and butterfly dispatching partner, Miyuki Himura.”

“You’re not my roommate,” Miyuki scowled at the box which promptly changed its text.

“She turned 16 on March 20, which makes her about six months older than me. Bitch.” The text changed again. “She likes spoons. A LOT. She won’t let me keep any forks in the house.”

Sighing heavily, Miyuki turned towards Emiko. “Emi-chan, you’re having an interior monologue again aren’t you?” A look of realization suddenly crossed her face and she scowled. “What do you mean, ‘Bitch’!?”

“Damn it, Miyuki-chan quit cursing!” Emiko scolded her roommate, retrieving the handy-dandy lighter from her pocket. “And I am not! I already told you, they’re stalker boxes! We have to burn our house down again.” A few clicks later, a small flame flickered on the lighter and Emiko looked far too happy about it.

“Can’t we just sell our house this time?”

Emiko looked thoughtful for a moment, fooling no one. “No,” she declared, dropping the lighter onto the highly fireproof tiling of the kitchen floor. Even though the fire should have gone out on its short journey to the floor and kitchen tiles are extremely difficult to ignite, reality went disregarded. Fire spread throughout the small house as though everything had been doused in gasoline, managing to leave only a small, perfect circle around the two inhabitants.

“In hindsight, we probably should have left the house before we set it on fire.” Emiko mused, a creepy smile plastering itself on her face. She promptly wiped off the excess plaster before it had a chance to dry. “Well seeing as how this is probably our final moments of life, any inspiring thoughts you’d like to share Miyuki?”

“My only regret is dying without being properly described. That, and the fact that’ll I have to die with you.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet Miyu-chan.”

Whilst Miyuki was distracted by her sudden befuddlement caused by Emiko’s rather profound sense of stupidity, the SC silently protested that the story was a manga and therefore the characters required no description…That is, until she realized it was not truly a manga, but merely a story within the manga genre that for all intents and purposes was a regular story cleverly disguised as a Japanese comic. Therefore, the SC managed to find it within the frozen potato that represented her heart to describe her seemingly (FORESHADOWING!) doomed characters. The fire surrounding them was even kind enough to put off consuming them for the time being.

Emiko was a dark haired individual with blue eyes-

“Dark haired? I guess you could be a little vaguer,” Emiko whined.

…Emiko was a black-haired individual with blue eyes-

“They’re cerulean. Blue is just ugly. And why don’t I have a gender?”

Emiko was a black-haired woman with cerulean eyes-

“Can’t you be a little more creative than that?”

…The fire suddenly surged towards Emiko, the immense heat burning her skin-

“I was only making a suggestion!” Emiko squeaked. Miyuki sighed heavily in the background, still lacking a description despite the fact that it was she who requested it in the first place. The reader was suddenly informed that she had short brown hair, brown eyes, was exactly one inch shorter than Emiko and wore a non-descript dress type thing with the picture of a spoon on it. The SC would also like to inform the reader that Emiko is also wearing clothes and apologizes for disappointing her male readers.

Its kindness wearing out, the fire slowly began to creep closer to the trapped female duo and almost creating enough suspense to change the story’s genre. Emiko threw her arms around Miyuki dramatically, effectively disgruntling her poor friend, and hugged her. “I love you Miyu-chan!” She wailed.

“Eww…” Fortunately, a hole in the space-time-dimension-kitchen continuum conveniently opened beneath their feet, conveniently saving the two main characters from certain death and conveniently sparing the SC from having to come up with new main characters. The journey through the space-time-dimension-kitchen continuum was a fascinating, detail ridden journey so complex that to describe it would cause anyone’s brain to immediately begin hemorrhaging. The details were thus spared, but know that it was fascinating and detail ridden.

A filler page suddenly appeared.

Emiko whipped out a giant yellow megaphone, effectively dismembering a nearby cameo character. “Character roll call!” She cried out, the dynamics of her declaration taking up the entire page. Another filler page was speedily added to accommodate.

“Miyuki!”

“WHAT!?” Miyuki shouted, staring intently through a magnifying glass to inspect a spoon for impurities. This, unfortunately, was one of the rare occurrences in which Miyuki would actually get to showcase her odd quirk.

“SC! Where you at?” Emiko shouted.

“I’m writing this damn story!”

“SAKAKI! Wait, who the hell is that?”

“I’m not in the story yet!”

“Well…screw you then!” Emiko decided. “EMIKO!” She called out, earning a series of sweat drops from the other characters. “Emiko! Hello! Where are you, Wench!?”

Sakaki in all his stoic glamour stepped forward, “You’re Emiko.”

“WHAT!?” She shrieked, apparently offended. “Say that to my face, punk!”

“…I just did.”

“That’s it!” Emiko dived and tackled the poor character whom she did not know for reasons that no one understood. That was the risk one took with having any sort of affiliation with the slightly delusional girl. The story, thus, continued.

Emiko and Miyuki woke up – which was quite impressive considering they hadn’t actually gone to sleep – in a place that was not their home, or a kitchen, and fortuitously not on fire. After taking a few moments to ponder the word ‘fortuitously’ Emiko climbed to her feet. Later noted as an important plot point, she soon discovered that her lighter had made the fascinating and detail ridden journey through the space-time-dimension-kitchen continuum and happily pocketed the item for later use. Miyuki checked her own pocket to reassure herself that her emergency spoon had not been lost to prevent herself from going into spoon withdrawal.

“Did we fall into a plot hole?” She asked, brushing the infamous ‘invisible dirt’ off her dress.

“Don’t be silly, Miyu-chan. Everybody knows that all plot holes lead to Hell.”

“Michigan?”

An uncharacteristically serious expression crossed Emiko’s face. “That was uncalled for,” she stated sternly.

“No, I mean there’s a town there that’s called-“

“I’m disappointed in you and ashamed to call you my friend.”

“…Why am I friends with you?” Miyuki already knew she was only friends with Emiko because her strange spoon fetish and butterfly hatred had scared off all of her other prospective friends and in spite of Emiko’s minor quirks and slight mental deficiencies she was a pretty good friend….Actually, she was a terrible friend but Miyuki didn’t have many options.

“Oh, that’s alright Miyu-chan I forgive you. No need to apologize.” Miyuki briefly wondered if Emiko was being sarcastic before quickly remembering that Emiko lacked the capacity for sarcasm.

Suddenly, because things are more exciting when they’re sudden, a previously unnoticed man stepped forward from the apparent shadows caused by the phenomenon that is nighttime. His white, shoulder-length hair shimmered spectacularly in the moon’s rays and his bangs draped perfectly over his emerald eyes. He, much like his fellow characters, also wore non-descript clothes (many apologies to the SC’s female readers) that, of course, greatly accented his looks as well as his thinly muscled arms. The moment the two girls laid eyes on him the same exact thought ran simultaneously through their heads.

“He looks like a girl.”

Emiko and Miyuki both stared at the man now known as Sakaki in befuddlement since it was the funnest word to use at the moment. “Wait a damn minute.” One damn minute later: “His description was WAY better than mine! He was on the filler page, too! Could he possibly be,” Emiko pondered, “the stoic, kick-ass protagonist?”

“I hope not,” Miyuki muttered, worried at how macho his hair looked blowing in the wind as it did. “I like being the favorite character.” Emiko ignored her obviously untrue comment. After all, she that was the main character, bestowed with the blessings of the mighty SC and she saved the world on a daily basis from the pestilence known to most as the butterfly. Why wouldn’t she be the favorite?

“No need to fear disillusioned roommate of mine!” Emiko reassured her, apparently, disillusioned friend. Emiko liked to pretend she knew what some big words meant and used them often. “I am certain SC’s favor will remain with us and if he becomes a threat we will simply have him killed.”

Miyuki continued to look troubled. “But what if he becomes a romantic interest to one or both of us?”

“Well…this story isn’t in the romance genre, so I think we’re safe.” Emiko glanced over at Sakaki who was still poised majestically in the moonlight with his hair blowing in the non-existent wind. “Are you going to do that for the entire chapter, or are you actually going to make a plot point?”

“My name…is Sakaki,” he stated dramatically.

Emiko and Miyuki stared at him blankly. “...And?”

“Yeah, that’s all I’ve got,” he replied, clearing his throat nervously.

“What? No ominous messages?” Emiko questioned suspiciously.

“Or ominous threats?” Miyuki added helpfully.

“Or ominous neutrality?”

“Or ominous character introductions?”

“Actually,” Sakaki began, skillfully ignored by the two main characters.

“Or ominous…ominousity?”

“That’s not a word.”

“Suuure it’s not.”

A white haired, red eyed woman abruptly appeared from the shadows in a similar manner to Sakaki’s appearance. Emiko’s eyebrow lifted clear off her forehead while she looked from the woman to Sakaki. “You folks do that a lot around here?”

“This is Nariko,” Sakaki gestured to the older woman. Naturally, Emiko and Miyuki immediately became hopeful that Nariko was already Sakaki’s love interest which would greatly decrease their own chances of becoming such. “She’s my sister.” The two previously jubilant girls were suddenly crestfallen (which is a friggin’ strange word) and the plotting of his demise seemed unavoidable.

An idea miraculously came to Emiko, “Hey, are you gay?” She asked Sakaki.

One very disturbed look later, he replied, “No.”

“…Could you be?”

“…What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I AM AS I WAS MADE, JACKASS!” Emiko hollered, a freak caps lock incident coincidentally occurring at the same exact time. She would have then taken the time to ponder the meaning of her existence as well as what The SC could have possibly been on when Emiko was created, but she didn’t. First of all, she lacked the capacity to ponder such a deep and enthralling topic. Secondly, it wouldn’t have been humorous or adventurous (see genre). Thirdly, she was too busy plotting poor Sakaki’s demise or conversion to homosexuality. His demise sounded much more fun (and a lot easier) but Emiko was beginning to doubt that the SC would let even her favorite character bump off another one so easily.

“Why did you have to be his sister?” Miyuki grumbled mournfully to Nariko.

“Yeah,” Emiko piped in, insistent that she be involved in all conversations, “can’t you like…divorce him or something?”

Nariko cleared her throat, looking slightly disturbed. “Uh…anyway, seeing as how my brother is a stoic loner with issues and cannot carry a proper conversation, I will give you the basic gist of the plotline.” Clearing her throat again, mighty flemmy it was that day, Nariko continued. “So basically this evil dude is all like ‘Hey I’m totally gonna take over your lands and like kill people and make dumb laws and cause suffering and stuff’ and then he totally did.”

“So then I, like, had this way cool vision cause I’m all psychic and stuff. So this voice was all like, ‘Dude, we totally have to find these two chicks from another space-time-dimension-kitchen thing so that we can totally kick this evil guy’s ass,’ and we’re all like ‘For real? Like, okay’. So we all like opened this space-time-dimension-kitchen continuum because like, the random people that fall out of it are like, chosen and stuff. So, you’re like the two chicks that are totally supposed to free us from pestilence and stuff.”

There followed three pauses, two brief moments, and a partridge in a pear tree.

“Your vision sucks.” Miyuki stated.

“…But it’s not boring, is it?” Nariko countered.

“It still sucks.”

“And,” Emiko skillfully stormed into the conversation, “it sucks!”
Miyuki stared at her roommate blankly, “I just said that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t”

“Yes, I did.”

“Miyuki-chan…sometimes I worry about your mental health,” Emiko sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Besides, even if you did say that earlier you probably stole it from me.” Miyuki promptly gave up, knowing they were only arguing to fill space anyways. “Anywho, what were we talking about again?”

“You are here because we need your aid.” Sakaki explained irritably, having not spoken for quite a few paragraphs as was the way of the stoic. “Only you two can save our world.”

Emiko snickered, “You are SOOO screwed.”