The locals had this whacked-out belief about a “Hodare-sama” situation, basically, they’d offer up a bride-to-be like some twisted potluck dish. But here’s the kicker: they’d use this mystical “tamawat” water, and let’s just say the stuff worked better than a triple-shot espresso. The poor girl would be buzzing harder than a bee on meth, unable to stop the big O from hitting her like a freight train. After that mind-melting experience, she was stuck tighter than gum on a sidewalk, unable to peel herself away from the village.
Junka and Aya, two girls hiding in the shadows, got busted by the village weirdos. These creeps corralled them faster than cowboys at a rodeo, dragging them into some random house. Junka, tougher than two-dollar steak, decided to play superhero. She stripped down faster than a streaker at a ballgame, throwing herself on the grenade to save Aya’s bacon.
These villagers were cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, resurrecting their nasty tradition like it was no biggie. But the million-dollar question hanging in the air thicker than fog in San Francisco was: what’s the real deal with this podunk town?
