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Her deadly weapons, otherwise known as stationery, still gleamed.
There he stood, a male high school senior, bragging in earnest about beating a grade school girl, having fought her in earnest and dispatched her with an earnest hip throw. That high schooler would be me. I, Koyomi Araragi, was the kind of character who bullied a grade school girl and burst into laughter… I was managing to creep myself out.
There he sat, a high school boy acting like a dispassionate nihilist, having just knocked out an elementary school girl by punching her twice in a human’s vital spot, along the median line. Hold on, that was me too.
There he was, a high school boy who was losing it in the face of an elementary school girl, who was threatening to harass her by force, who I’d like to believe wasn’t me. It was me, though…
“Whoever this Mister Araragi you’re talking about is, he sounds like one hell of a pedophile. Not someone I’d want to count as a friend.”

