"You see," Kikkuri said, caressing the feather, "time doesn't heal all wounds. But a timeless tickle? That wound never closes. That's my Eternal Kosukuri Fantasy. No begging. No escape. Just the soft, unending torment of the nerves."
He gestured to walls lined with shimmering bubbles. Inside each bubble floated a single, squirming person—a king, a thief, a baker—each trapped in a perpetual, helpless fit of ghostly laughter. Their eyes were wet. Their mouths were stretched wide. They were not laughing; they were screaming silently. eternal kosukuri fantasy
She grabbed the spectral fingers—and squeezed. They popped like soap bubbles. Then she lunged, seized the Chrono-Feather, and snapped it over her knee. "You see," Kikkuri said, caressing the feather, "time
"No!" Kikkuri shrieked. "Laughter is my tool! It can't—" " Kikkuri said