You know how, in kindergartens or daycares, there are always those kids who sit in a corner and play on their own?

Yeah, those wallflowery kids who, even though they're so easy to miss, but, um, for some reason... they still keep popping up out of the corner of your eye.

... The kids you start to feel bad for if you go too long without chatting them up.

You know, clothes a size too big for their bodies, hair all mussed up, and ragged plushies dirty with handprints from being carried around for too long.

They're who she reminds me of.

Ah. right. Miss Faust did tell us not to feel too much sympathy for Abnormalities...

Anyways... Unlike the time we encountered her in the Mirror Dungeons, she's surrounded by Peccatula that have assumed the appearance of the Middle gang.

I'm not gonna lie, their presence bothers me... but they're staying still even as the kid comes toward us, asking us to play together...

Well, we should be able to get through this again, right? We just need to let her win a game of rock-paper-scissors like we do in the Mirror Dungeons.

She never hurt us as long as she "won," if you know what I mean.

I think I can handle this on my own. I mean, I just need to let her win, right? Can't be too hard.

Uh... Guys...? She wants to play tag this time.

That's new, isn't it? Playing something that's not rock-paper-scissors.

Maybe she picked it because everyone can join in?

Hmmmm. I hope it'll be the same as before—play the game she wants, let her win, and move on without anything happening.

→ Ah, young Sinclair? Pray tell, what be this game of "Playing Tag?"

→ It's, uh... Okay, so the point of the game is that you need to run away from whoever gets tagged as "it." Once you get tagged by "it," you become the next "it."

→ Thou sayest that 'tis a game in which one must flee from "it"?! Hmmm... Yet I fail to see the method in this madness; prithee, wilt thou elaborate why the game is "Playing Tag," when in truth, it appeareth to be a game in which one avoideth the eponymous "tag"? Verily, I say that its name must be amended to "Evading Tag!"

→ Oh bollocks, not those purple sods again... I ain't looking forward to their "Ooh, we're so loyal, we're gonna avenge the family" shite the moment we give one of 'em a well-deserved wallop.

→ The stuffed doll nullifies any attacks targeting the Abnormality's Core. While the risk is certainly non-negligible, the most reasonable course of action is to prioritize the suppression of the stuffed doll or the Peccatula.

Phew...

That... was the <i>worst</i> game of tag I've ever played.

There's the Middle Peccatula screaming about Vengeance and grudges like they're the real deal, charging us nonstop and barely giving us room to breathe...

And as the game went on, more and more enemies got marked as "it," the stuffed toy crushed Yi Sang into a puddle of red pulp...

And when Don Quixote Corroded and snared everyone with those thorns...

Ugh. I don't even want to think about it.

... Anyways, the whole fight so far hasn't just been a long game of tag.

The kid keeps challenging us to play rock-paper-scissors even as we try to survive against the Peccatula.

Miss Outis or Ishmael would usually be the ones to step up when things got hectic...

Ah, looks like Miss Rodya's handling it this time.

I guess she and I are the only ones who still have enough fingers to play "paper..."

But since I'm in charge of the observation log... that leaves just her.

Still, I think we're in luck. Miss Rodya's always been excellent in these games—

Huh?

Wh— Hey, wait...!

(The paper is crusted brown with layers of dried blood, and the bottom part has been snipped off with what appears to have been a giant pair of scissors. It is impossible to read the rest of this entry.)

→ Miss Rodya... Did you <i>really</i> have to win that...?

→ Oh c'mon~ I still bagged that win, didn't I? Listen, the point is—

→ Previous encounters with the Abnormality suggest that the method of dealing with the entity in question could be categorized as "negligibly easy."

→ Oi, Lass... You had <i>one</i> job—show her your open palm. How'd you manage to muck that up?

→ Oh, uh... O-of course I knew that! But ya gotta understand, guys. When I've already got the game face on, I just can't help but reach for the winning hand, y'know? Call it muscle memory~

→ And for your reward, you got chopped right down the middle just as you were celebrating that "win."

→ Perhaps I should've stepped up, even if it meant that I'd have had to make the difficult request to the Executive Manager to rewind me.

When I was a kid, there was this boy in the neighborhood I used to play with pretty often.

Even though I was pretty small among my peers, I was bigger than him.

He was way younger than I am, you see.

So... Whenever we played games together, I'd always end up winning. Soccer... racing... you name it.

But there was that strange pang in my heart as I watched him drag his feet back home. I won, but... it didn't feel like I did.

Something told me that it wasn't that he was sad because playtime was over, but because he didn't get to have fun.

Might've just been me, though.

Forget about being good at the games; I don't think he even knew the rules of the games we played.

Like, the ball would bounce off him in dodgeball, but he'd pretend not to notice and expect me to do the same. And whenever we played board games, he'd quietly move his piece an extra square, thinking I wasn't watching.

Anyway, because he kept insisting that he didn't get hit, or hadn't broken any rules, all the angry excuses... I felt like I had to really teach him a lesson. I mean, I was around that age too, you know, kids being kids.

Gotta admit it's a bit... embarrassing to talk about it now.

Then there was this one day where I got so sick of his schtick that I decided to just let him have his way.

I didn't call a foul even though I saw him sneakily score a goal with his hands in a soccer match, and even let him take the win on some of those games.

That day might've been the most fun I'd ever had. The rules didn't make any sense, the results of the game were all over the place, but still.

Maybe that's why this kid gives up her stuffed toy in exchange for letting her win rock-paper-scissors.

After all, the point of playing isn't winning, but having fun, right?

→ A sentiment detached from the battle at hand, but I, too, would like to share a youthful recollection of my fellows. Not a single toy did we have, yet even by a game so simple as chasing one another's shadow did we forget the worldly woes and frolic. By the time even twilight shrank and the sky tinted dark blue, victors and losers were altogether forgotten, only memories of joyful hours lingering.

→ Hehe, I remember little Xichun pouting and throwing a fit whenever we didn't go along with her.

→ Oh, hey, that reminds me—remember that cute teddy bear we fought last time? The one that gave us that biiiiig hug after we played with it? Gosh, sinking into all that soft, cushiony fluff felt sooo nice... Too bad this one doesn't have that, huh~?

→ Honestly, guys, I'm starting to think this whole "playing along" thing's wearing me out more than fighting her head-on... At least as someone who's giving the directions.

→ Heh. Like I said: S.C.A.N. the kids. That's the way.

→ She says "Soothing, Coaxing, and Nurturing the kids" is the way...