The Violent Aesthetics of a Four-Foot-Tall Girl

Ran had come here to seek help from the research institute because she had exhausted every possible method and still could not restore her tails. High-temperature ironing, washing them with water, leaving them out in the sun, and even applying Red Flower Oil—every one of those methods had failed. The hair gel Orange Meow had found from who knew where possessed effectiveness beyond the laws of physics. The cluster of sword graves behind Ran's backside, all pointing straight at the sky, now gleamed with a cold, terrifying sheen whenever she moved around. They could slice hair with a breath and cut paper into pairs; when a gust of wind blew toward me from Yakumo Ran's tails, I could feel that they had already separated into several distinct clumps. I had no doubt that, combined with the hardness of that "hair gel," Yakumo Ran could roll through an army and charge in and out seven times. Put it this way: if the research institute raised her security rating by even one percent, they probably would not let her in with that pile of sword graves on her back.

It was really hard on this fox, having to walk all the way from the teleportation point with something so postmodern on her back. Raising an unfortunate child was truly miserable—one moment she was a perfectly fine Nine-tailed Fox, and after waking up, she had been forcibly turned into a Hedgehog!

"Orange is reflecting at home?"

I smiled as I looked at Ran's slightly embarrassed face and noticed that her ears had already drooped listlessly. They were fluffy and incredibly fun to look at.

Ran twisted her body, and the Peacock Display behind her shifted stiffly as a whole. "She got stuck to the bed. I came to find a solvent and rescue