"I say it's better not to take anything seriously. You miss far too much that way, wouldn't you say?"

As was her wont, Mitsuya Araragi had apparently appeared from nowhere, leaning over the kneeling Utazawa to peer at the poster; her hair was just about long enough to brush his back. (Her uniform skirt was even longer, the crazy quilt of silk scraps that brought it nearly to her ankles no doubt being enough to give a more serious tyrant a heart attack.)

She turned to Takeo, beaming, her hands folded behind her back. "But by the look of this poster, it seems you don't need me to tell you that, Akihito-sama."