[ There's dirt in her hair, clinging to her clothes, streaked across her face- dirt even covering the flying squirrel laying on her head. Kneeling beside a tombstone and a suspicious hole, Suou would nearly be stock-still if it wasn't for her coughing. But the sound eventually subsides into silence, hanging there for a few minutes, until Suou
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... I'm glad you didn't try to go home, Konata.
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