I have to say it's kind of surreal reading what you already watched about a year ago. Season two unfortunately never. A dub on the other hand, yeah, that's a thing now, I'll leave the declaration of its quality up to you.

adollarinmypocket: I don't think length should be a determinant when it comes to quality, but thanks for that.

NecoDeletumProditionis: Over-exaggerated details inserted for the purpose of making the main character look...as if she's had better days.

Guest: Wish granted.

NecoDeletumProditionis (2): Summer has made me quite busy doing nothing, it can't be helped.

Please review! A review every chapter is another kick in my shin to tell me to get off my ass and continue writing to satisfy the people waiting endless weeks for an update. Basically, a review lets me know that the story hasn't died because there's still at least one caring person who reads it. Thanks in advance for your courtesy.

Word Count: 1360 words.

Lament .15: Because I'm Not Popular, I'll Feel Self-Conscious

One of the most important aspects to note about fashion is that it intentionally reflects an image to other people. This image is composed of a series of judgments cobbled and glued together to form a general assumption on what that person may be like.

It is otherwise commonly known as stereotyping.

Not that any of that matters to a crone like Tomoko Kuroki, whose entire existence arguably revolves around trapping one of those personalities and assuming it like a mask to the point of sheer popularity. Not once has it worked yet, but the girl likes to fruitlessly believe that she's getting closer and closer to that lofty goal with each passing day.

Speaking of, she's lying on her bed, shirt slightly bunched up so that she can lazily pick at her flabby abdomen with her dull fingernails. For her, it's just another typical, uneventful day in her life of typical, uneventful unpopularity.

While she has free time and absolutely nothing to do with it, Tomoko thinks about a variety of things. She's watched all the new episodes of all her new by-the-numbers anime this season, all of the manga she's following are still on lengthy hiatuses, and she hasn't bothered purchasing a new game in months because they're all beginning to blend into each other.

Just like the days of the week.

"Ungh.." Tomoko scratches her stomach, lets out a yawn, and points out a striking realization.

"It feels like I've done this before."

Getting marginally more comfortable, she folds her arms behind her back and crosses her bare legs, her view stuck on the ceiling.

It does definitely feel like the days are bleeding in with each other more and more often, what with the lack of things to do slowly growing more and more titanic. To put it in perspective, her calendar, her computer and her mother are all telling her that the current day is Friday, even though Tomoko swears it was Tuesday not even a few hours ago, a misguided conception whose contribution can only be the fault of none other than sleep deprivation.

Everyday feels like every other day, and every other day feels like everyday in-between. In the blink of a wink, high school may be over, she could be all grown up, and hell could freeze over.

"Feels like deja vu."

An aggravating kind of deja vu.

"Unnngh... I need to become popular soon."

Quite obviously the understatement of the century.

"But I dunno what to do to get people to notice me,"

It's unfortunate that all of her mundane attempts at shooting for the glory hole have all so far ended in abrupt failure.

"Maybe I need to try a different approach."

An obvious deduction, this conclusion soon brings her to the focal point in her conquest of becoming the most popular of them all, appearance. As nauseating as that may sound.

"C-Could... Could that be it? Is that why people don't notice me?"

It makes sense from a standard point of view. In order to be noticed, there has to be something that can be noticed. And things of that nature tend to be things that are good to look at.

Feeling pretty self-aware about her past, present, and potential future as a complete nobody, Tomoko scrambles to get her ass off the bed and to the nearest mirror.

"I look pretty good," in her opinion, anyway. Although her opinion tends to be greatly skewered towards herself, that's something that can't be ignored within any context.

A rather bland, average girl with a below-average height who just screams of average. Average everything. She isn't the most disgusting thing that's ever walked the earth, but it would be a lie to call her a beauty.

Average.

Not to mention that she doesn't have any breasts either. Her chest is as flat as her bosom.

For the record, it is deja vu, she's been down this road before, in fact it was actually one of her initial attempts to gain popularity in the first place. Of course, after so many schemes, plans, and downright delusional attempts to become famous (or to be specific, infamous), everything turns into a screeching blur that blends in with each other so badly that none of it is recognizable.

As of such, it's quite difficult to discern what actually happens from something that she thinks happened but in reality, didn't.

As they say though, it never hurts to give things a second try. Reflecting back on those dismal times, the pigtails, the forehead, the mallard lips which weren't suitable even for real mallards, it's quite easy to see where things went wrong, and how to improve on those shortcomings.

"I should probably start small.. maybe work my way up, I-I shouldn't have jumped headfirst into it like I knew what I was doing, s-shit like that is why that I looked so ridiculous to begin with, that...and I trusted the internet for guidance. Never again."

And so, she does start out small. In order to fulfill her daily quota of doing something stupid everyday, she retrieves two items of significant presence from her closet.

Two caps that look virtually identical to anyone with half a mind. Tomoko swears they're different though, and to someone who thinks they know the basis of modern day fashion, they probably are.

Unfortunately, people who either don't know about that kind of stuff or don't even bother to care about such things are left in the bitter dark, Tomoki Kuroki is one of these people.

"Which one of these hats looks better?"

Which is exactly why the mojyo goes to him first thing for fashion advice, that, and she's too nervous to go to anyone else. As for her mother, she's...outdated,to put it in her words.

"They both look the same."

"Oh, h-hey! That's the first time you didn't open a conversation with 'Uh duh, get out of my room!'""

"It'll be the last if you keep it up."

Their typical banter is another thing that seems to be blending as the days go by, she opens the door without knocking, rudely walks in, plops her ass down on the carpet, gets comfortable as all holy hell, and starts pestering him about the most meaningless shit. As if she honestly assumes a barely notable hat upgrade is legitimately going to get her a companion for life.

Crazier stuff has happened, but that's aside from the point.

Tomoko tries proving herself by showing him the hats, "They don't look the same though, this one's a shade lighter than the other. Which one better reflects my 'style'?"

By this point Tomoki doesn't even bother giving his sister a glance, her antics are nothing more than a label of entertainment to fuel his nonchalant desire for normality, she's long since passed the phase of being the pity puppet, "Style is made, not copied. Just so you know."

He's not surprised when his cheek gets bombarded by a full-on cap assault, "B-Bah! You're no fun! O-Or help! I'll figure this out on my own!"

Angered and quite butt flustered, Tomoko exits with the caps in tow, swearing full-form over-exaggerated vengeance for his uncaring demeanor in the form of quiet mumbles and whispers.

With her gone remarkably easily, Tomoki uses the remaining amount of time to reflect on what just happened and how he chose to deal with it, ultimately, he finds an answer of his own.

"I pay her as much respect as she pays me."

Back in her room and in front of the mirror, Tomoko switches relentlessly from hat to hat, trying to emulate the kind of style that'll shoot her from zero to hero. Of course, repeating the same two identical styles over and over again isn't going to get anyone anywhere.

In the end however, she does come up with a style of her own, and it's a style that comes from a result of a striking revelation that pierces through her body, upon seeing her pursed lips in the mirror.

She immediately discards the two identical hats.

"I need a duck hat. A duck hat with lips."