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... I found myself cutting morning classes, walking down West Main Street. What you call a mental health day, or “playing hooky,” if you want to be a jerk about it. “What the hell was I doing all that time before coming back to Japan?” My self-directed mutterings were more or less heartfelt, but they were probably mostly meaningless. Whether I was in ER3, Kyoto, or Wet Crow’s Feather Island, it had changed me little, just as leaving a five-year blank had hardly changed Kunagisa. “Hmm, more nonsense? ...

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