"O God in Heaven! Host of Hosts! Know this: Through your own tyrannical fault it was that I, Kuroneko, cast myself into the darkened depths of mortal depravity! In defiance of your divine sovereignty I preside over this Black Mass, and with my authority as an angel fallen I consecrate this sustenance forever unholy, to be provision for acts antithetical to all that is Good. Amen."
"Geez, Kuroneko. Can we eat now?"
"Yes. You may."
As she began her meal, Kirino and Saori glanced at each other for a brief moment. The former was annoyed at the speech's length; the latter was aghast at its content. Saori had heard some rumors about her getting into some weirder stuff lately, so she wasn't wholly surprised when Kuroneko wanted to pray before the meal... but this was taking things a bit too far, wasn't it?
Saori wanted to broach the topic, but the poor girl was already immersed in hogging down her plate of gyuudon. Her fat arms greedily shoveled meat and rice into her maw as she made grotesque scoffing noises. Instead of a pair of chopsticks, she used a silver fork (she mentioned before the meal how she found chopsticks to be "woefully inefficient concerning greater quantities"), which her plumpened fingers gripped with a skillful gusto.
Her face... would honestly be unrecognizable if she weren't wearing her characteristic hairband. Her stuffed, bloated cheeks drooped into jowls, and her chin sunk into a series of extra necks. The way all that adipose flesh undulated and jostled as she swallowed and chewed... it was fascinating, in a way. Saori would have been afraid to stare, but Kuroneko's eyes were fixated with an obvious intensity on the very act of eating. She betrayed none of her former self-consciousness; it was as if her entire being was absorbed in this terminally-directed progression. She had become, in quite literal terms from a biological perspective, an eating machine.
But where would it end? Saori saw this destructive impulse painfully present in Kuroneko. It was always there, in that awkward little girl, but now... undeniable. She had to say something.
"...You know, Kiririn-shi, I—"
"What?" Her immense face wobbled as she looked up.
"—I couldn't help but notice—"
"She's trying to say," Kirino interrupted, her own mouth full with half-chewed meat, "That you got fucking fat since the last time we saw you. And that's saying something. You must have gained, what, a hundred pounds? You look over three hundred, easy."
"Kirino!" They had gone over this! Saori had coached Kirino to, under no circumstances, bring up the subject of Kuroneko's weight, no matter how she looked. She knew this pattern all too well.
"...Three hundred twenty-four, to be exact." Kuroneko replied with a smug grin.
"You two haven't grown hard of hearing, I would hope. Care for me to repeat it? It's a number I had found myself rather fond of, seeing it in the scale this morning."
"Kiririn-shi! You must know that's far overweight for a girl of your stature! You should really see a doctor for—"
"A doctor? More like a personal trainer!"
"Ohohoho!" Kuroneko's laugh had grown a much heavier timbre, along with the lowered pitch of her speaking voice. "I have no need for those mortal institutions in which physicians and dietitians reside. But, Kirino, you shouldn't be so quick to extend your finger at others when you are so clearly in need of the latter."
"Wh-what!?" Kirino wasn't exactly sure if she was calling her fat, but it sure sounded like it from the way she said it. "You're really one to talk about that, you stupid pig!" Kirino wasn't fat, really! It's just that... well, since she had been dropped from the track team, she found it hard to keep track of her eating habits and... she might be a bit chubby, but nowhere near Kuroneko's size!
"Hadn't I just explained that, you bovine dullard?"
"C-calm down, both of you!" Even Saori, who was well-used to playing the mediator, found this situation difficult.
"Oh, I do apologize. Had I not phrased it simply enough for your mind? Perhaps all of that fat is constricting the bloodflow to your brain?"
"I don't even need to deal with you right now. I can't believe I even agreed to this stupid meet-up again. Later, bitch." Spitting out the last syllable (and some bits of gyuudon), Kirino picked up her meal and walked away. Her pace was brisk, as fast as her feet could move, but she was clearly not as nimble as she used to be, and neither of the two remaining members could help noticing that her shorts seemed especially tight.
"...I suppose that was inevitable." Saori sighed.
"But I was serious about what I said. It's not healthy... you know that, right?"
"Health..." Kuroneko's tongue rolled over the word. "And why need I be concerned with such a mortal phenomenon? I know you're sharper than that simpleton; you must have comprehended my earlier import. You don't want to accept it."
"Know well: I am not that frail girl I once was. Broken once, but never again. You see, the manner in which I differ from most humans is that I am able to learn from my mistakes. And change." She stood. "Look at me."
Though she still stood at five foot one, her figure grounded itself, imposing. Her legs necessarily spread to accommodate her bulk, and in that black dress, her tailored and re-tailored cosplay outfit, now greatly distended around the middle, she held her belly. Her grasp was heavy, defiant, proud.
"This is how I am now. Do you see?"
She had not seen Kousaka Kyousuke in a very long time. Which was perfectly fine by her.
The longer that... horrible man avoided her sight, the better. She had deleted his number from her phone on that night, and, thankfully, he had never tried to call her since. On the rare occasions when she talked to Kirino online, the subject of Kyousuke was avoided. She suspected that Kirino felt similarly disgusted with him, due to that. Couldn't blame her, of course. Kuroneko was aware that she too held a romantic interest in that man. Which was, yes, perverted and immoral, between siblings... but still normal! Woman and man! That was how things were supposed to work.
So, for all of her abrasiveness, she knew that the two of them shared a faint bond: a hatred for the man named Kousaka Kyousuke. They both, spurned. And for what? Another man?
But as much as she despised the thought, she knew that she would see him again some day. It was evident, like some inevitable fact of the universe. A karmic law, perhaps, dictating her further humiliation.
She dreaded that day. Did not know where nor when it would happen. Her excursions to Akiba, her trips to restaurants, even her walks to school grew more infrequent as she removed herself from the world. The progress she had made in becoming more outgoing, all undone. Her body itself was irreparably ruined: fattened, gorged, beyond all belief. Through a diet of late-night take-out and instant-cook carbs, she had become so enormous, ravenous, lazy, that there was really no hope of losing the weight for good.
In recognition of that, however—of her transformation—she accepted it. Grew proud of it, even—her weight and the social estrangement it represented. The world had spurned her, so why shouldn't she spurn the world in return? The awful, filthy world that had the capacity to produce a man such as Kousaka Kyousuke. Let it all rot in its lies. She might have cursed God in her prayers and writings, but she knew the truth: that there was no God. No being could possibly reign over this disgusting world and permit its continued existence.
So it was. And she, Kuroneko, who accepted that one truth, would wallow in the world's filth. There was nothing else. Let her grow fat, disgusting, filthy, piggish. And when the denizens of the world would turn their noses and laugh at her, she knew that hidden beneath those masks were snouts of pigs, just the same.
Kurobuta, she would occasionally call herself when overlooking the evidence of her gluttony. She liked how it sounded. An affirmation of all that she was—or had become, rather. The Black Pig. Not simply fat, but obese and slovenly. A manifestation of her most crass desires, that humans are so wont to overlook. She embraced her filthiness, in open spite of the world that had produced such base creatures.
But Kousaka Kyousuke. She could never forget that man. In some way, she was thankful to him, for opening her eyes. For the most part, though, she hated him. There wasn't a day that went by without thoughts of Kyousuke. She despised him for ruining her. For humiliating her so utterly. For treating her like... something, when he saw her as nothing.
It was a hot summer day in July when she saw him again.
On one of her rare trips to Akiba. Just to pick up a figure she had pre-ordered, nothing more. She saw him, but that alone didn't surprise her. It was who he was with. He had his arm around a boy's waist. And... he was fat.
Not Kyousuke, of course; he was as thin as ever, if slightly taller, perhaps. The boy. But not simply fat, either... more like huge. Noticeably big. Upwards of two-fifty. Though she just saw the two of them from behind, she could tell that the boy had a sizeable paunch and... Kyousuke was grabbing it. Pinching his love-handles.
He was into it, clearly. They both made playful gestures, and Kuroneko's ears could even pick up traces of masculine giggles from the distance. The boy buckled his knees slightly in the way that male homosexuals do when teased.
Kuroneko was paralyzed at the sight. Her legs, already tired from her bulk, wouldn't move. Even if she wanted to approach them... she couldn't.
All she did was stand there, as their voices receded and their figures became lost in the dense crowd. She had only glimpsed them for a couple of seconds. But she couldn't help feeling like the pitiable little girl she had used to be, frail and small.
She hated it.