Mitsuko raised her Colt M1911. Three times she squeezed the trigger. Deep within the grove, already twenty meters down the gentle slope and rapidly distancing, the back of Takako’s sailor fuku opened in three places, and Takako dove forward like a baseball player sliding headfirst into base. Facedown, she slid along the ground. Her skirt flapped against her well-formed legs, the left one white and the right one red in vivid contrast, as they shot up into the air then fell back to earth. Mitsuko lowered her gun and said, “Such a shame.”
Takami/Royale
THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT 
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