Mind games: Pekora's playing chess, Nene's playing checkers, Koyori's paying the price

Описание: hololive's Nene Momosuzu, Pekora Usada, and Koyori Hakui play Minecraft.

Orignal streams:    • ☆☆☆☆☆まったりマイクラ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆【Minecraft】  
   • 【Minecraft】債務者の多いホロ鯖で大富豪になった！ぺこ！【ホロライブ/兎田ぺこら】  
   • 【Minecraft】ダイヤ1500個失ったけど今日は慈善事業をします（ガチ）ぺこ！...  
   • 【Minecraft】1時間でダイヤをかき集めて債務者を脱出しろ！！！【博衣こより/...  

‪@MomosuzuNene‬
‪@usadapekora‬ ‪@HakuiKoyori‬






“I told you we should’ve taken that left turn at Albuquerque!” Usada was gripping the driving wheel of the box truck in the same way a free climber would cling to a sheer rock face. Marble-sized beads of sweat ran down her face and not because of the blistering heat of the desert. The box of the vehicle was packed to the brim with illegal Savannah Mayonnaise, the brainchild of one Dr. Hakui—a scientist and inventor of dubious origin. She was currently sitting in the passenger seat scribbling something down into a notebook. “What’re you writing!?” shrieked Usada.

Dr. Hakui looked up. “Oh, I was just trying to figure out where this ‘7’ goes.”

“You’re doing sudoku? Right now? At a time like this?”

The doctor tapped the side of her head with her pencil. “Gotta keep the ol’ noggin sharp.”

“Some noggin, you pencil-headed mutt! We’re buzzard food because of your ‘well-thought-out’ plans.” Usada pinched the bridge of her nose. “How could I have been so stupid? Mayonnaise? Really?” She looked at herself in the side mirror. “You used to be the biggest thing on YouTube.” She gazed ahead to where the black road faded into a haze of blue sky and blood-red sand.

The doctor mouthed the word ‘weirdo’ and was about to resume her sudoku when something on the shoulder of the road up ahead caught her eye. “Looks like someone needs a ride.”

Usada refocused her eyes on the road. On the right shoulder was a young woman with pinkish-blonde hair, doing a jig while hiking up her dress and sticking out her thumb. “Not a chance.”

“But she looks fun,” whined the doctor. “Please?”

“No.”

The doctor threw herself back into her seat, crossed her arms and pouted. “Meanie.”

They drove in silence as the hitchhiker went whooshing by and was left choking on dust and exhaust fumes. A moment later, the doctor stirred, leaned forward in her seat and peered into the side mirror. “Hm.”

Usada sighed. “What?”

“Remember that hitchhiker?”

“You mean the one from 5 seconds ago?”

“Yeah.”

Usada pretended to think for a moment. “Yes I remember her, you tool.”

“Well, she’s running after the truck.”

“So? We’re pushing 70.”

“I know,” said the doctor. “That’s why I’m surprised.”

Usada looked over at her. “Surprised about what?”

“She’s gaining.”

Usada blinked as though she had been addressed in an unfamiliar language. She looked past the doctor and into the passenger side mirror. Reflected above the black ‘Objects in mirror are closer than they appear’ text was something peach-coloured, angry, and fast.

Usada began to scream. She stomped on the accelerator. The box truck barked and backfired and began to squeal like a harried boar. “What’s she doing? What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know! I lost sight of her!”

The two of them sat pale and sweating, listening to the pounding of their hearts which could be heard even over the roar of the engine. There was a thud on the roof of the truck.

“Screw this!” shrieked the doctor. “Go Go Koyori jet pack!” She kicked open the passenger door and threw herself out of the speeding truck. In the mirror, Usada watched as she bounced along the shoulder of the road like a flamingo-coloured tumbleweed. Then she exploded.

Before Usada had time to process what had just happened, a pale hand punched through the roof of the cab, grabbed her by the ears, and yanked her up through the sheet metal like a carrot from the dirt. Warped by the film of tears that veiled her vision, and more immediate than the scorching desert air that filled her lungs, were a pair of eyes greener and glossier than a viper's scales.

A bubblegum voice, strangely lucid above the roaring rush of wind, reached Usada's poor stretched ears. “Do you like Tamagotchi?”

“Wh… What?”

The hitchhiker shook Usada like a rattle and asked her with greater urgency, “Do you like Tamagotchi!?”

“No!” cried Usada. “Tamagotchi are for kids!”

“Oh.”

Seeing the look on the hitchhiker’s face, Usada felt like she had accidentally stepped on a puppy. “I mean, adults can play with them too.”

The hitchhiker sniffled. “You really think so?”

“Sure.”

“Will you be my Tamagotchi friend?”

“If you spare my life, I will be your actual Tamagotchi.”

The hitchhiker wiped away her tears with her other hand and smiled. “Deal.”

Before Usada could comprehend what she had just agreed to, she was thrown into a backpack, and found herself sitting across from an old twin-tailed pirate.

“You too, huh?” said the pirate.



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