The clouds dissipate, and only then do the people below realize that they had never been clouds, by the ashen offal generated by so many bioelectrical creatures in the sky. The atmosphere is a seething, crackling mass of solid Entropi. They bump into one another, passing through and generating wide arcs of lightning, seeming like the whole racial
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"Ryuuji..." It wasn't Fubuki's voice, but for once he wasn't going to argue over someone calling him by his name. Because only one person other than his husband could do that, and there she was...
"Mom!" Not caring what anyone watching might think, he hugged her as hard as he could, a thousand questions coming to mind, and only one making it out. "Why didn't you tell me ( ... )
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