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The claustrophobic walls and floor of this narrow space jumped and bobbed with every bump, the seats jolting upwards as well, in a way that would be, and was, very hard on the rears of any sitting down. Sitting in the back of this truck was not a pleasant ride as it lugged and shook through the streets of Tokyo. Though, with the delicate curtains, hardwood detailing, and gentle lighting provided by the lanterns suspended from the curtain rods, there were worse places to be held captive.

This was where two members of the illustrious Imperial Combat Revue's Flower Division suffered with each bounce. The Flower Division captain, Seijuro Kamiyama, being transported as a prisoner by Mr. I of the World Luxury Operatic Federation, or WLOF, under suspicion of being a spy for the demons. It was a pretty imprudent arrest, given that he wasn't the first member of the Grand Imperial Theater to be accused of this exact treasonous act. Kamiyama wasn't stupid, he could smell something fishy with WLOF's actions.

And if he were to expose President G's corruption, he wouldn't have to do it alone. Of course, he could count on his team to stand by him, but more directly, he wasn't the only one in the back of the truck. Sitting by his side was the youngest member of the Flower Division in her usual yellow-and-purple maid dress, the ninja, Azami Mochizuki. She had previously been the one under suspicion of espionage, so being caught tailing WLOF agents was more than enough to have her fingered as an accomplice.

Though, she seemed down. Azami always had a stern face, those first meeting her could call her sour by expression alone, but Kamiyama knew this was quite a mark more glum than usual. Of course, she had reason to be upset. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you got arrested, Captain." With her hands bound behind her back, all she could do was hang her head in shame.

"Okay, the only one left is that masked renegade," said either the truck driver or the person in the passenger seat, muffled by the wall between the two groups. "We'll use the two in the back as bait. That'll lure him out." They referred to Azami's ninja master, Yattansai, who wore a mask when he came to Ginza to check on his pupil. Kamiyama and Azami's meetings with him was Mr. I's primary evidence pointing to them as spies, because being a demon was the only reason someone would wear a mask.

Kamiyama smiled. "It's all part of the plan." Azami's eyes widened, and she turned her head to look at her captain with wonder in her eyes. "If we stay put, they'll take us right to Yattansai. We got him tangled up in this, so we have to help him out, right?"

"Y-yeah!" Smiling, Azami looked back down at her lap. "I'm...impressed. I made a terrible mistake, getting caught, but you still built a plan around it." All of a sudden, her mood dropped again, and she shook her head with a forlorn expression. "And then there's me... A failure of a ninja." She shuffled in her seat, rubbing her legs together and wiggling her butt.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

Azami's heart dropped into her stomach. Had she been found out? Immediately, she deflected the question. "Village Rule #81: No prying into a maiden's private matters!"

"Um...okay then. I was just wondering why you were so down." Normally, Azami took such delight in being a ninja, seeing her beat herself up was concerning. As her captain, it was Kamiyama's duty to check up on her.

Oh, that's what he had meant. Azami stayed quiet. She had always been so proud of her ninja training, the Mochizuki legacy her skills embodied, but she had felt unsure in them as of late. Her master was just so much more skilled than she was, the Imperial Combat Revue was only just rising out of being Tokyo's laughing stock thanks to Kamiyama and Anastasia's efforts, and she was still making such amateur mistakes like "getting caught by WLOF goons".

But she had her other reason to feel nervous and uncomfortable, one that she could only alleviate by inching her legs closer together. Not that this helped an incredible amount, but it subdued her whining bladder for the time being. A bladder that had only made its burden known as she arrived in Ginza Odori, on her way to the Rooftop Amusement Park to meet with her master.

At the time, it was something she simply overlooked. She was a ninja, she went on long reconnaissance missions, she knew the importance of being able to hold urine and could do so well. This would be a quick meeting with her master, and she would be back at the theater soon. But then Captain Kamiyama followed her, that led to a conversation between him and Yattansai, extending Azami's stay longer than she had anticipated. By the time she and Kamiyama left, Azami was already deeply uncomfortable, now having to make a conscious effort to keep him in the dark about this little problem.

In fact, it had been this desire to relieve herself that had prompted Azami to split from her captain, saying she had "errands to run". In truth, it was an excuse to run back to the theater ahead with her superior ninja speed, use the bathroom, and meet back up with him, none the wiser. Even weighed down by an, erm, "need", she still zipped back to the theater in usual time. And was promptly captured by Mr. I.

Looking at it objectively, not that much time had passed. But that time had allowed her bladder to fill quite well, not helped by Azami being a bit on the small side for her age. By the time she was thrown into the back of the truck, where she didn't have to move, she was keeping her legs pressed together through intermittent squeezes, feeling the webbing of her fishnet bodysuit press and indent against the skin of her thighs with each squeeze. At least her dress, extending down to her knees, did its job in hiding these small thrusts from view.

Because, what was she supposed to do? Clue her captain in on what was ailing her? The dependable ninja of the Flower Division, Azami Mochizuki, having to come clean and say she was worried because she had to go pee? What kind of ninja would do that? What kind of real ninja would possibly be held up by a dilemma as minor as this? "I'm hopeless... Maybe I'll never be a real ninja. I'm not as strong as my master, I can't use ninjutsu like him, I'm just weak. I'm just a fake ninja."

"What's wrong with that?" Hearing something so foolish, but so earnest, from her captain certainly caught Azami's attention. When she looked up, there was Kamiyama, looking down at her with a gentle smile. "You don't have to be a real ninja. You're still great at what you do. Who cares if you're ‘real' or ‘fake'?"

"Thanks. I know you're trying to help. But, I...I don't want to be a fake. I want to be a real ninja, like my master." Kamiyama wanted to be supportive, but it was hard to take his words to heart when he had proven to know so little about ninjas. At the very least, Azami felt there was merit in becoming a real ninja: it meant she was capable, and meant that all her training had merit. If she became a real ninja, her parents would surely be proud of her, when they came back from their important mission.

Azami steeled her heart with a deep breath. If she wanted to be a real ninja, to make her master proud, she had to be strong. This not only meant she had to be able, as both a person and a fighter, and not panic even as she remained prisoner without a plan, but more relevant to these current circumstances, she needed to maintain a hold over her urine. This was something she had learned long ago: "panicking is death in this line of work", and it was just as true in the context of her secondary concern.

Still, that was easier said than done. As she stood now, it was just a warm mass by her stomach, sloshing around as much as it could. It was at that weird middle-ground where it wasn't painful, she didn't feel like she was in any immediate danger of wetting herself, but she was still very full and her bladder very heavy. She was looking for a bathroom, and were she to find one now, she'd hurry on in. If no one were looking, naturally.

However, just because she wasn't on the verge of losing it all, didn't mean she wasn't being constantly teased with the possibility. She wore a fishnet bodysuit beneath her clothes, one that extended from her neck to her feet. For convenience, Azami wore her underwear above the bodysuit; if it were below, she'd have to take off the whole thing any time she needed to pee. The mesh of the suit was not composed of thick strings, mobility was imperative, but they were still present enough that her panties were stretched out and resting atop the added garment, a tangible gap between them and her "parts".

Because of this, her urethra had no cloth pressed directly against it. This had been how she dressed for a long time, yet it seemed there was some natural instinct that would never be quelled. Letting that lower region breathe free a little gave the mental impression that she had nothing covering her bottoms, and if she had nothing covering them, she must have pulled everything off to use the toilet, sending her bladder a signal that all would be well soon. She had learned not to use the communal bath when she needed to pee.

All this meant that her aching bladder took over more and more of her mental faculties. Part of her ninja training was the ability to induce tunnel-vision at will, to see nothing but her target, no matter her own physical state or surroundings. It was an invaluable skill when it came to long pursuits and stakeouts, but no matter the practice, Azami had her limits, and nothing could change that. And right now, once she was already thinking about it, she just couldn't get her mind off the need to pee. All she could picture in her mind's eye was a glass, filled with golden water, being swirled around by an unseen hand, small ripples of the water lapping over the cup's edge and dripping down the outside.

"Mmgh..." A powerful voice, one that rung out a succinct "just give in", echoed through the truck, heard only to Azami. She shifted her bottom in her seat and lightly squealed, and that was just about the extent of what she could do without being obvious. She couldn't even covertly hold her crotch enough to do anything, not with her sleeves the way they were. In order to conceal more weapons on her person, the sleeves of her dress went far past her wrists and completely covered her hands, so pressing them against her lap meant multiple layers of fabric weakening the impact. Though she could mildly knock her knees together, for the most part, she had to just bear with it, hold out with nothing more than mental fortitude.

Yet, no matter his own challenges, Captain Kamiyama stayed strong. He could keep smiling, lead with conviction, and never give up no matter the harsh circumstances that faced him. Granted, Azami had to assume that Kamiyama wasn't dealing with the exact same predicament she experienced, but he was still a prisoner in just the same way as her. Yet, he had faith that all would be well. Azami needed some of that positivity if she wanted to stay strong. "Hey, Captain, how do you do what you do? It's just that, sometimes it's hard to see what keeps you going. You brought the Imperial Theater back to its former glory, you led us to defeat the Shanghai Combat Revue, you take these impossible tasks and turn them around like they're not even a worry. Where does that confidence come from?"

Kamiyama shook his head. "I'm not that confident, though. I feel as if I grapple with my own doubts at every turn. But I can't let it show, as your captain, so I put on a brave face."

"Really?" Truthfully, for the time she had known him, Azami had trusted her captain. Yet, he admitted that he had been winging it. "But what if something went wrong?"

"Well, that's always a possibility, but I've got a safety net."

Azami tilted her head, quizzically. "A safety net?"

"Yeah. I've got all of you. I can aim for the sky because I know you girls can do it." Looking down at the ninja, Kamiyama smiled. "You're my real strength, Azami."

Blushing, Azami's heart skipped a beat, and her words failed her. She was doubting herself, and Kamiyama says he trusts her wholeheartedly. She had always found the members of the Imperial Combat Revue to be friendly, but this may have been the nicest thing any of them had said to her.

Just that was enough to renew the fire of Azami's soul, a fire indicated by her stern, resolute face. If her captain trusted her implicitly, she had to be a ninja worthy of that trust, one that was tough and dependable. Of course, that meant that she couldn't be weakened by her bladder's needs. Her bladder's very strong, very loud needs. And even if it were something that bothered her, she just had to put on a brave face and deal with it.

She would soon be tested on her composure, when the truck came to a sudden, jarring halt. For once, Azami's honed reflexes failed her, and the force of the abrupt stop sent her tumbling sideways into Kamiyama; she would have landed head-first into his lap had he not quickly leaned forward and blocked her with his side. "Woah, careful there. Wasn't expecting you to get knocked around like that, Azami."

Azami had a perfectly logical reason for being off her game, just one that she wasn't about to divulge. And that reason was flaring up something hard in her tummy thanks to the jolt, her bladder going into overdrive with its demand. Now, it made an active effort to force out its warm fluid contents, pulsing and quivering under the weight of its own desperation. If she were alone, she would have little choice but to grab her crotch and physically resist.

But she couldn't, not with her captain watching her. And she soon felt the repercussions for her sense of shame, as a shot of fiery heat surged through her lower parts and sprayed out for a fraction of a second. That was more than enough of a leak to quite dramatically soak into her panties, and while the separation between the underwear and her girlhood kept her from feeling the dampness as a constant reminder, she couldn't simply escape the consequences of her little lapse in control, when small drips clung to her person in the aftermath, in addition to the lingering sensation of the fluids that had shot through her urethra mere seconds prior.

It wasn't that Azami wasn't prepared for the possibility that she would spring a leak; it was a natural outcome from continuing to hold a very full bladder, an outcome that she had experienced herself many a time when ninja training went on a little too long. Because of this past, she knew that a sprinkle like this one was an indicator, a warning that she only had so much time before the floodgates burst open. How long, she couldn't say, but the clock was ticking. All she could do to slow the inevitable was concentrate, as vague a mission as that was.

She was so focused on concentration, she missed the sounds of the truck's cabin doors opening and slamming shut, and the footsteps of the driver and passenger getting more distant. Kamiyama heard it, though, and he sprung to action. "Mr. I and his men are gone... Okay, let's go help Yattansai!"

It was that declaration that broke the ninja's trance, and brought her close to another spurt. This time, she maintained control, if only just. She wanted nothing more than to attend to nature's call, but her skills were needed here. "But how?"

Looking around the truck, Kamiyama jumped to his feet, not an easy task with his hands still tied behind his back. Then it became apparent that he had jumped the gun, because he started looking around for something to use, without a goal in mind. "There's got to be a way out somehow..." Looking at the attached seats, the barred windows, the sealed door between the bed and the cabin, he ostensibly considered every option available to him. And then proceeded to shoulder-tackle the back door like that was the best course of action. The truck shook with each blow, but the door was never going to budge.

Kamiyama was a dedicated man, so he kept at it. It took Azami getting up and stopping him with her hand for him to give up. "Don't hurt yourself, Captain."

"Gah... But if we don't hurry, Yattansai will be in danger, when we..." It was only then that he noticed how Azami had stopped him: with her hand. When they were captured, their hands were bound behind their backs, yet Azami had her drooping sleeves naturally at her side. "Wait... How did you get free?"

"I'm a ninja," Azami boasted, waving her hands around freely to make a point. "Slipping out of bindings is easy." The rope cuffs were uncomfortable and chafed her wrists, Azami unshackled herself very early on. The only reason she kept her hands behind her back was an exercise in self-control; keeping her hands as far away from her crotch as she could, it was easier to resist the constant urge to hold herself openly, as well as ensuring it wouldn't happen inadvertently.

Now that she could no longer use the shackles as an excuse, she needed something else to occupy her hands, and she filled that void by untying her captain. It was an act of common courtesy that could have been done sooner, but regardless, Kamiyama was thankful. "Whew... Glad to be out of those."

"No problem. Do you want me to open the door for us?"

"Y-you can do that?!" Kamiyama was expecting Azami to pull out some super-secret ninja tools from some concealed pocket in her dress and pick the lock on the back door.

Not to say she couldn't, but Azami went the easier route: jumping to a hatch on the ceiling and slipping through before Kamiyama's eyes could even follow her up. If he had learned one thing as her captain, it was that her ninja training must have taught her to avoid doors, because she always entered and exited a room by way of the ceiling.

There were advantages to being on the truck's roof, where she could bask in the bright sun and fresh air. But there was also the reality that her jump, one over three times her short height, was a real jostle on her body. More specifically, her bladder was not at all happy at the sudden gravitational force pushing the high volume right against the escape route pipe that remained woefully closed. Cue another surge of pain that she really just had to slam her legs together to weather. "Nngh... Mmph! Mmph!"

Not helping was where the truck had parked: Mikasa Memorial Park, a frequently-visited destination for the general public that still hadn't installed public restrooms. Were she to do something about her little problem here, that would entail... "No, I can't. Now is a really bad time." Not that she was strictly opposed to urinating outdoors, but this was neither the time nor place.

She didn't want to give up already, but Azami had to think ahead. The way her bladder stretched and whined, she had to consider: what would she do, should the very real possibility that she wet herself come to pass. Though there were a few stage performances that ended in surprisingly close calls for the little ninja, she hadn't actually peed her pants in a very long time. Reconnaissance missions frequently had her watching her targets from the shadows of rooftops, alleys, and thickets of brush, all places she could relieve herself in secrecy should she need to. Or, rather, when she would inevitably need to.

But what if she wet herself now? What if everyone in the Flower Division saw her wearing a wet dress? She couldn't see any of them mocking her for it, that was a comforting thought, she could just imagine Sakura and Claris consoling her with hugs and gentle pats, while Hatsuho said something like "happens to everyone at least once". But, to Azami, that was almost worse. If they told her all was okay, smiling while taking special considerations "for her sake", then she wasn't an equal.

And how would Kamiyama react? How would he lead a ninja who had an accident? He probably wouldn't put her on the next Combat Revue World Games team. He'd make a concerted effort to watch out for her during the next demon raid. He'd get uncomfortable every time he looked at her, thinking back to that moment. The association was clear: she wet herself, she'd be lesser in the eyes of her comrades. She wouldn't be a true member of the Imperial Combat Revue, and she wouldn't be a true ninja.

But thinking about it wasn't getting her anywhere. And letting thoughts dampen her mood only brought the dampening of her underwear ever closer. Azami shook her head, hoping to dislodge any downer ideas. Her energy was instead better spent jumping down around the back, turning the latches, and swinging the door open. Only after straightening herself out so she looked unassuming and unconcerned.

Even with all that, she had been so quick, Kamiyama was still staring at the ceiling hatch, and the daylight streaming into the storeroom was needed to spin him around and get his attention. "Wow, that fast? You really do have ninja skills," he praised, jumping out of the truck onto the pavement. Azami blushed and smiled a little at the compliment. "Okay, let's get going. We have to go help Yattansai."

He would have run off then and there, were it not for Azami reaching out and tugging on the rolled-up sleeve of his white dress shirt like a nervous child. "Wait... There's one thing I want to ask you." She shuffled her feet, for reasons beyond mere timidity. "Do you think I'll ever be a true master, Captain?" She wanted to just be confident, really, but it wasn't easy under this kind of stress.

Gently, Kamiyama knelt down before Azami, looking her deep in the eyes and smiling. "You're already a master. At least, you are to me." Azami's cheeks went pink, her pupils began to shake and avoid eye contact, but Kamiyama kept talking. "I've seen what you're capable of. No matter what anyone else thinks, I have faith in you." Getting back to the mission, he got back up and went back to searching the park.

But that declaration of faith was all Azami needed to hear. "Yes, I'm a ninja," she whispered to herself. "Even if nobody else believes in ninjas, I am one. And a true ninja doesn't pee herself. So, it's not going to happen. I just need to be-"

An ear-splitting bang rang through the air, sending Kamiyama into a jump of surprise, doubling the speed at which he whipped his head around in frantic looking. "Was that a gunshot?!"

Azami didn't jump, her training had suppressed those reactions, but that didn't mean the sudden noise didn't affect her. Quite the contrary. The shock of something so quick and loud, from a source so dangerous, finally split the first cracks in her wall. Like a single drop of rain seeping through an inadequate roof and plunging to the floor of a dead silent room, the ninja was acutely aware of the warm urine now dribbling into her panties, short as the trickle was. She was spared the terrible sensation of wet fabric constantly pressed against her private parts, but the tepid liquid stuck directly to those delicate folds was no better.

It wasn't so much the physical awareness that scared Azami, but the implications it brought with it. "I...I leaked..." It was bad form for a ninja to pee herself, for so many reasons. For how long one may be required to stand still, it would just be uncomfortable to sit in wet clothes. The stench of urine could both mask one's own senses and draw the attention of trackers, as could a hypothetical trail of drips in the aftermath. And Azami had broken that rule. And she'd be breaking it even more before too long. Panic was beginning to overtake her, she was now visibly worried. "He knows. He has to notice by now." In actuality, Azami was as stone-faced as ever, her eyes were just a bit wide, already an underplayed reaction to hearing a gunshot.

Kamiyama wasn't even looking at her, when there were more pressing matters. "Let's go, Azami!" With no hesitation or show of fear, the captain ran off towards the source of the shot.

And Azami had to follow, matching speed. "O-on it!" Ordinarily, matching Kamiyama's running speed would be a casual stroll for her, it was just a little straining to do so at the moment. "Focus on something else, focus on something else." She could look around the empty park on this beautiful sunny day all she wanted, but she just couldn't take that tranquility into herself, not with everything she was already fighting to keep inside herself. If anything, her inner turmoil was better represented by the one thing disturbing that peace: Mr. I and four of his black-suited, sunglass-wearing goons, pointing guns at a lone old man. "Master!"

With guns in the equation, she couldn't just jump in out of nowhere and startle everyone, and Kamiyama knew this as well. As such, the two members of the Combat Revue ducked behind one of the many stone flower troughs outlining the circle of grass in the center of the park. It was an easier task for Azami, being a foot-and-a-half shorter than her captain, yet even still, both would be spotted in an instant, were anyone looking. For the moment, Kamiyama made the best of their partial concealment to observe from a distance. "Yattansai..."

"He's okay. Master will be fine." Azami knew Yattansai to be a ninja master, bullets wouldn't be able to hit him, she had faith. The one she needed to be worried about was herself. In order to hide to her best, she needed to squat, a position that severely and painfully accentuated her need to pee. Even though she could clearly see nothing but concrete beneath her feet, the shine of a white porcelain toilet still appeared right where she wanted it, a mirage fueled by need.

If only Kamiyama weren't there. While even her training couldn't completely teach her the skill of "silent peeing", she could mask the sound well enough to keep hidden, at least for the moment. It wasn't very likely that someone would notice the massive puddle that would extend past the planter before she finished up, so she could still get the drop on them. But with Kamiyama so close... Well, that close, she'd probably pee on his leg if she just released without moving too much, but regardless, he'd have to be deaf not to notice. And, knowing Kamiyama, he'd freak out loudly, and they'd be caught in a second. "Captain, I think I should mov-"

"Damn... Stay here, Azami. I'll go help Yattansai!" With determination in his eyes, Kamiyama vaulted over the flower pot, jumping headfirst into danger.

"Wait, Captain!" She reached her hand out, but Azami couldn't stop him from doing something stupid. Yes, her wish had been granted, in that she had some privacy, but that problem was now replaced by an even bigger one: the reason she felt able to relieve herself at the moment was because she trusted her master would handle himself. But Kamiyama, against four men with guns... Now she needed to be prepared to jump in at any moment, so no panties down yet.

Though, actually, maybe she didn't need to be on such high alert. Right out the gate, Kamiyama slid into a crouch and performed a sweeping kick on one of the minions, knocking him off his feet and effectively putting him out of commission with a loud thud. Then, before the second guy could readjust his aim, he was taken down with a swift punch to the gut, followed immediately with the third goon subdued thanks to a roundhouse kick to the face. And then the final was bested with a jumping kick to throw off his aim, and a chop to the back of the neck.

Watching from a distance, Azami was in awe. "Captain, you're amazing." Even if a ninja master could do it better, it was still an impressive feat. She found herself blushing as she watching it all unfold. "He really is an amazing captain." Her heart fluttered, and she felt calm. Even with Mr. I still active, she felt confident that they would be fine.

"Ah!" In fact, maybe she had gotten too relaxed, when her bladder shared in the relaxation. As soon as she let her guard down, her carelessness was penalized with another warm spurt in her undergarments, enough to be worrying. Uncharacteristic for her, she panicked, and her emotions got the better of her. Namely, the emotional desire of not wanting to pee herself. In a flash of animal instinct, Azami reached down and quickly pulled her dress up, hands shooting like a bullet to push up her sleeves and slide her thumbs around her underwear to yank them down.

Of course, she was looking down as she prepared, meaning Azami could see the extent of the damage she had done already. Her white panties, adorned with a smattering of pink sakura petals in its design, had some moderate staining. Could be worse, but it was still a concerning amount of urine seeped into her clothes. She couldn't see it, but the ninja worried what the inner lining of her dress looked like now.

Well, if her clothes were dry, they wouldn't be for long, as she was surprised by a sudden, loud outburst from Mr. I. "Fine! No more games, you lying demon! WLOF's out for your blood now!" He didn't have a gun, but he sounded serious. And with the power WLOF held, it was a threat to fear. Maybe not now, but when the Grand Imperial Theater still hung on a thread, they couldn't afford to be making enemies like this.

To Azami, the answer was clear: not let Mr. I become their enemy. Without even weighing the options, she yanked her panties back up, wiggled them into place, and let her dress drop, readying herself to jump in. As she raised her head, however, she saw that she was not the only one who thought this was the time for action, as out of nowhere, a horse of WLOF minions in black suits rushed into the park, surrounding Kamiyama and Yattansai. Now, Kamiyama couldn't repeat his expert takedowns, and Azami wouldn't be able to efficiently take down her target. As such, she stayed put for now. She wouldn't move unless she could win.

"Nnph..." Of course, even sitting motionless, poor Azami was still fighting a losing battle. She could hear the waves of water crashing against the cliff walls that elevated Mikasa Memorial Park as the tide rose, just as the scene unfolded in her bladder. The memory of her coming so close to answering nature's call in this very spot was now haunting her, torturing her with the idea that she could resume at any time. But that opportunity had passed; with a conflict this volatile, she might need to step in at any second.

Things were starting to look dire for the little ninja. She wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of a need to pee growing into something urgent, but she was proud of the fact that she hadn't wet herself in a very long time. Yet, as her desperation mounted higher, she began to fear that this dry streak would come to an end. Her cheeks puffed, her eyes watered, and every muscle she had began twitching and shivering as she kept her hands pressed against the crotch of her dress. Maybe it was just sweat, but she felt a dampness on her palms at the time.

Even as she fought against herself, Azami knew that her time dry was short. Well, she already wasn't "dry", but she was in a much better state than she would be if she wet herself, a fate fast approaching. "...this is bad." Holding it much longer could have any number of consequences, but she had lost her window to pee here. If she wanted relief, she'd need to get out of here, quietly. But with things the way they were regarding everyone besides her, leaving them behind was far from wise. But if she had some reason to escape, some justification for doing so, some excuse...

"Don't worry about us, Azami, just run! Remember Village Rule #108!"

Azami wasn't surprised that her master knew she was watching; he could sense her ninja presence. What surprised her was his request, the invocation of the Village Rules she lived her life by. "Village Rules #108... Survival is paramount, even if it means abandoning your allies..." There it was, told outright to get somewhere safe, somewhere she could comfortably pee. True, if she stayed, her clothes wouldn't survive, that was for sure.

But, as she poked her head out from behind the planter to watch, it became apparent that survival, in the more traditional definition, was the worry for her captain. More than a half-dozen flunkies, all pointing guns, with Kamiyama unable to do anything but stand there and wait. It wasn't looking pretty, that was for sure.

Azami didn't have to think. Using her ninja skills to their fullest, she leapt high into the air, flicking just the right muscles in her arm to dislodge the kunai hidden up her extended sleeves, sliding them one by one into her grip to throw down at the attackers. Each and every single one hit their mark, striking the barrels of each pistol, knocking them out of the hands of their wielders. With every one of them in shock and disbelief, none recovered their arms, allowing Azami to land between the two parties with a smooth crouch. Again, being so low to the ground tempted the ninja.

Her entrance was met with surprise, from both sides, though none were as vocal as Kamiyama. "Azami, why?!"

"I'm not going to abandon you and my master to die. Not for anything." And that wasn't a hypothetical "anything", she knew exactly what she was giving up. "That's not a rule I can follow!"

"Shoot her! Shoot the little brat!" The men in black had since picked up their guns, and Mr. I was ordering them to make use of them. Whether they all agreed with his views, or they simply feared his authority, Mikasa Memorial Park was soon a cacophony of ear-splitting bullets and muzzle flashes. And, with a metal kunai in each hand, Azami responded by intercepting each bullet with her blades, halting their flight with a shower of sparks and a satisfying clang. The bullets flew at the speed of sound, yet Azami flawlessly jumped and reached for each projectile, not a single slug got past her. Kamiyama watched in awe, and Yattansai nodded with pride.

Of course, the whole time, even as she performed perfectly, Azami was struggling. Not the bullet blocking, any self-respecting ninja could do that, but keeping tabs on her bloated bladder. Each jolt and each hop swayed the urine she continued to hold, crashing the heavy liquid mass against each inner wall with all its weight. It was quiet, but she squealed several times during the process, a lump in her throat climbing higher as she got closer and closer to a flood. But now, she had to resist that urge at all costs. No ninja master could wet themselves in front of friend and foe alike.

She caught a break when, perhaps having emptied their clips, the fire ceased. Perhaps they were just all too intimidated by the scornful stare Azami maintained throughout, knowing nothing of the emotion that hid behind it. Regardless, the lackeys all lowered their guns, some backing off with their hands trembling. And, secretly, she was happy for the reprieve. It came at just the right time, when a surge of burning pain exploded from her belly, shouting loud for the back row to hear, signaling something disastrous if she exerted herself any further. This lull gave her the chance to force her bladder into submission, for now.

None the wiser as to what his pupil was enduring, Yattansai chuckled as he stepped up next to the young ninja. "Heh heh... Good for you, Azami. Well now, ready to send these clowns packing?"

"Y-yes." But the fight wasn't over yet, and she couldn't rest easy. Hopefully, this finishing move wouldn't take too much from her. With perfect synchronization, master and student began extending their fingers and shifting their hands at a rapid pace, chanting an ancient spell. "Rin! Pyo! To! Sha! Kai! Jin! Retsu! Zai! Zen! Mochizuki ninjutsu! Spirit summon!"

As soon as their incantation was complete, a puff of smoke exploded in front of the ninjas, several times taller than any of them, forming a total wall between both sides. Kamiyama was already surprised at their recitation, and subsequently floored by the cloud's appearance, when nobody threw a smoke bomb or anything. So, he was absolutely flabbergasted when the wind blew the fumes away, and standing in their place was a massive toad and snake, each as tall as the captain himself in their crouched stances. "W-where did they come from?!"

"Don't worry, my master summoned it," Azami assured, looking back at Kamiyama. She tried to smile, but quickly realized she wasn't in much of a happy mood, and instead maintained her usual frown.

Kamiyama wasn't paying attention to her, still in awe regarding the toad. "Hold on a second! You mean he actually is a ninja?!"

Azami raised one of her thick eyebrows in confusion. "Of course he is. We've discussed it."

"And the truth comes out, demon scum," Mr. I shouted, as if he held an advantage, while waving on his subordinates. "Unload on them! Blast all the anti-demon rounds we've got! Fire!"

"Heh heh." Cracking a smirk and putting on a red eye mask, Yattansai flicked his wrists like he were shooing away an insect, commanding the toad to swat and the snake to whip the WLOF men with gale force winds. If there weren't incredible precision behind the move, he could have easily thrown them over the edge and killed them, but it incapacitated them regardless. In one fell swoop, only Mr. I stood, the scales having visibly shifted. Of course, he never stood a chance against two ninjas. "How ‘bout you? You still in this?"

Even if he wasn't happy about this outcome, Mr. I knew when he was beaten. Of course, he didn't concede gracefully, nor did he take back any of the serious accusations, he just ran away, leaving his dazed subordinates to fend for themselves. It would be a problem if Yattansai, Azami, or Kamiyama were actually demon sympathizers, as he claimed.

Though, even if she wanted to chase him down, Azami wasn't in much of a state to do so. It was great that they had won, but she had used up a majority of her strength in the process. Now, just about every drop she had left was being diverted to hold every drop she had left. And, judging by the state of her panties that she prayed no one would ever see, even that was a losing battle.

Now her mind had to shift gears, from "how can I hold it" to "where can I release it". The park still didn't have a restroom, but with just the three of them, her chances of hobbling somewhere private were much better. If she truly needed to, and she did, she could urinate outdoors here. But in a park this small, with two men she was close to, immediately following a tense confrontation, she couldn't just run off without a word. Actually, unless they were specifically instructed not to look in one particular direction, there was nowhere private enough to truly conceal just what Azami would be doing, should either look that way.

She wanted nothing more than to keep her captain in the dark regarding this particular maidenly urgency, but if she wanted to take care of it cleanly, something had to give. "C-Captain, Master, c-could I ask that you-"

"Azami." With just one word, her name, Yattansai commanded her attention. "Regardless of your reasons for doing so, your actions got consequences. You know that, right?"

"Y-yes, I'm aware." Granted, the consequences she had in mind were most likely quite different from what her master referred to.

"Give her a break," Kamiyama implored, stepping between Yattansai and Azami. "Azami's the one who saved us!"

"I know what I've d-done, and I'm ready to pay the p-price..." Under her dress, Azami knocked her knees together, quivering and shaking in her platform sandals. "But first, c-could I-"

"Then, Azami, as head of the Mochizuki school of ninjutsu, my sentence is as follows." He kept his back turned, building dread in the young ninja as to his judgment. Though, at some point, she became more frustrated at how much time he was taking. Thankfully, just as she was thinking that, he spun around and dramatically ripped off his mask. "I pronounce you a true master!"

To say that caught Azami off-guard would be an understatement. It would have been a great surprise, if it didn't result in yet another spurt. "Huh?"

"Folks like us live our lives in the shadows, but we can't let those same shadows consume us. You broke the rules to protect what's important to you. And if you ask me, that's worth bein' proud of. So, from now on, forget the rules. Listen to your heart instead. You hear me, Azami?"

Azami heard him. She heard every single, solitary, weighty word, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She was grateful for her master's proud words, and she was honored, truly, but now really wasn't the best time. Her right foot tapped the ground impatiently a dozen times a second, the grass she was currently standing on thankfully absorbing the sound. She could let becoming a ninja master sink in later, right now, she just needed to pee something crazy.

But now even that had been made more difficult. All of a sudden, she was a ninja master, a title that carried with it many responsibilities and expectations, and she was totally unprepared for that. Her literal first action as a master couldn't be to run off with her hands buried in her crotch, begging to not be looked at, on her way to urinate in public.

Still, would it be better if her first act as a master was to thoroughly soak her dress? Surely no one in their right mind would accept her as a master if that happened. So, while it might be momentarily embarrassing, and she'd have to carry it for a long time, still better to do something about it now. "P-please, could I j-just-"

"Kamiyama!" From above suddenly boomed the voice of the Imperial Combat Revue commander, Sumire Kanzaki, from their airship, the Skywhale, a zeppelin that had somehow snuck up on them as it hovered in the sky. "We've got an emergency!" Azami couldn't disagree. "You need to rescue Amamiya and the others at once!"

Azami could only watch in dread as a rope dropped from the gondola of the Skywhale, beckoning them to climb aboard. She couldn't dawdle, not when Sakura and the others were in trouble, but going up there would spell the end of dry clothes for her. It wasn't that the Skywhale didn't have bathrooms, because it did, just ones out of reach for her. As a proud member of the Flower Division, she'd be climbing aboard and preparing to deploy without a second to rest. And, once she was locked into combat... She just didn't have the time.

But her friends didn't have time, either. They could all be in real danger; if she took her time jumping into action, she'd be putting their lives at risk, and that was something a true master couldn't abide. "We have to hurry, Captain." Her mind made up, Azami waddled over to the rope and grabbed tightly. Notably, she locked herself in place with crossed feet hugging the cable, keeping her legs slammed closely together, the thick braiding rubbing against, pressing tightly into, her crotch.

Further back, Kamiyama prepared to follow and lead his troupe into battle, until Yattansai stopped him by grabbing his upper arm. "Kamiyama, looks to me like some of Azami's walls are finally comin' down. You take care of her, you hear?"

"...r-right!" Kamiyama really had little clue what he was talking about, but he had sworn to protect the Flower Division under his command, so he couldn't disagree with the old man's request. So, to make good on his promise, he ran to the dangling wire and held on tight, as the two were reeled up into the Skywhale.

From high above the park, Azami looked down in distress, watching all that grass that she could have watered grow further and further away. Eventually, she had to close her eyes and shake the thoughts out of her head. "A true ninja has to fight until the very end."

---------------

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go tear some screams out of your friends' throats! Think you'll get there in time for their last goodbyes? I love a good race against the clock!" It wasn't long after the two boarded the Skywhale that they were deployed into the dark orb enveloping what used to be Ueno Park, on a mission to rescue their comrades from the greater demon, Oboro.

And Azami was still just bursting to go. There just wasn't a second to breathe that she could make good use of, and in light of the circumstances, she couldn't very well ask. So, here she was, sitting in the cockpit of her Mugen-class spiricle striker mecha, right leg firmly crossed down over the left, repeatedly angling inwards to apply more pressure to her groin. Her hands had to be occupied piloting the machine, so she just had to hope that was enough and bear with the pain, leaning forward and gritting her teeth, tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes.

And it was a lot of pain to endure. It would be bad by anyone's standards, but when it was in the bladder of the small Azami Mochizuki, it was unbearable. Any sane person would have wet themselves long before now, but this ninja was still holding on. After all, if she had held out this long, surely it was just a matter of outlasting her boiling need until all this was over, she could bolt back to the theater, where she could squat and spray in the women's room.

She very much doubted that happening. As it stood now, poor little Azami was filled to the brim with steaming hot pee, burning a hole through her very core as it bulged through the gaps in her fishnet bodysuit, forming an immediately apparent lump that stretched the fabric of her white-and-yellow combat dress, a dress she worried would be made even more yellow before this fight was over, soaking into the white stockings new to this outfit.

And her pilot attire, which she was forced to be changed into to better harness her spirit power to pilot the Mugen, had one other difference from her usual clothing that made a difference now: to compensate for the much shorter skirt on this dress, she wore a pair of tight black compression shorts beneath to cover everything that would need covering. But, they were so tight, they pressed her wet panties closer to herself, forcing her to experience the lukewarm dampness emanating from her undergarments closer than ever before. It was inescapable, not just because of proximity, but quantity. She had leaked so much, all in the name of keeping the rest in her distended, bloated bladder, that the white fabric would need a thorough washing to regain its correct color.

"Ah!" And there went another, dripping down her leg when her underwear had no further ability for retention. Her cheeks bloomed red, glistening with sweat, as she separated her legs for a brief split-second to clamp them together again with a lock. Her lower body trembled, she squeezed her private parts shut, wringing some of the fluids out of her panties into her shorts, anything that could keep her peehole closed. It was the only barrier left against the boiling mass of urine threatening to rupture her insides.

She was trained, she was resolute, but Azami was still a 13-year-old girl, and there was only so far human limits could take her. She could just feel the end upon her, as the muscles in her abdomen gave out with a sudden drop. The high tension she carried seemed to dissipate as her upper body limped forward, shaking the moisture from her forehead and eyes. "I'm sorry, Captain."

"A-Azami?" Though they were in separate machines, an always-open communications channel kept the members of the Flower Division connected. But, while he heard the apology, Kamiyama had no context as to what Azami was sorry for. He began imagining the worst.

He didn't have to imagine for long, because that wasn't the end of the sounds coming through the transmission. Of course, it was nothing compared to how it sounded from the other end. Inside Azami's cockpit, echoing inside the narrow metal walls and off all the instruments, was first the hiss of a pressurized hose spraying through the centimeters of open air, splashing against her panties, and pooling against the saturated cotton faster than it could seep through. All of this was extremely loud, and given how few explanations there could be for the sound of running water in a place like this, even a not-too-bright guy like Kamiyama got the picture very quickly.

But knowing what plagued Azami was only a part of the picture, nothing could match the physical sensations that she had to bear. There was the hot liquid tracing its way down her crotch and thighs, sticking to her "flower petals", which then transformed into something just as bad as it discolored the rims of her white stockings, dyed yellow further down the more time that passed. The front of her skirt, which laid lax in her lap, did just touch the pool below, but it was a waterproof material that caught none of it.

Which meant the puddle remained undisturbed as it expanded in her seat, filling the seams in the upholstery and rising higher, sinking her butt deeper into the dirty bath. When the rear-end indentation of the seat overflowed, the excess dribbled down the lip of the front and rained onto the floor in many spread-out trickles, pooling on the metal floor. A deep golden color, reflecting the tinted lights that flashed in the cockpit. In the confines of the pilot's seat, the pungent aroma circulated in the stale air.

Azami was frozen, mortified. It would have been bad enough with just the knowledge that she had wet herself if she could have done so cleanly, but having to sit in the mess she made as it grew and devastated her lower clothes, sticking to her skin like condensation to the outside of a cold drink glass, and having her contents spilled all over the insides of this expensive piece of machinery, and having it all heard by her captain, a man she respected, it was a lot to take in.

With that in mind, it was no surprise that her mind went blank as the flood persisted. She simply hung her head, let her eyebrows fall, and puffed her cheeks ever-so-slightly. She was fully aware of the shame transpiring below her, cups of it, but she just didn't react. The light vanished from her eyes as she just died inside, the lights inside the cockpit growing dim. She couldn't fight herself without losing, what was the point of trying to fight anything else?

"Azami!" However, her depressed trance was broken by the forceful shout of Kamiyama through the radio, which was more than enough to shake her out of her funk. Her eyes widened, her head shot up in surprise, shaking the sweat off her face, and she finally saw what was happening through the eyes of her Mugen: in her mental absence, a horde of demons had surrounded the two spiricle strikers, with Kamiyama's swords unsheathed, just barely keeping the demons at bay, as he stood close and protected Azami.

"...ah!" She had forgotten: without spirit, the Mugen wouldn't function. And, so distraught about her ongoing accident, all her power had spilled out as well. While she was troubled, she had become useless, forcing Kamiyama to cover her. And he tried his best, but this quantity of demons quickly overwhelmed him.

The answer was clear. "M-my apologies. That was foolish of me, Captain." Sitting upright in her chair, Azami closed her eyes and took a deep, sharp breath in, further subjecting herself to her urine stench, but it was necessary to build up her morale. Before long, her Mugen rose back to life, overflowing with spirit just as her pants overflowed with...something else.

As the demons continued to surround, tightening their circle, it was time to release that too. "Mochizuki Secret Technique!" Manifesting a storm of ninja weapons around her Mugen, Azami sent them all flying with her special move, Peerless Shuriken. The spinning blades each found their way to a target, and in one blow, the horde was gone, a circle of explosions engulfing the evil and taking them out. To anyone seeing it for the first time, it would be jaw-dropping.

Granted, it would have been better if it wasn't all underscored by the sound of trickling water. In a physical sense, it couldn't get any worse for Azami, the pee was out and all over her already. But on the mental, the emotional, front, it was just...depressing, bringing shame to herself like this. Even as she found the strength to fight, she still winced and grimaced with every small shift of her backside, feeling it squelch and swish in the water.

It was positively repulsive, enough so that it didn't even register that this might possibly feel pleasurable. After a particularly long time on stage, if she had been unable to make her stop prior to opening curtains, her rush to the restroom would conclude with a modest, muffled moan, she couldn't help it. She would classify those times as "needing to go bad" already, but they were, almost literally, drops compared to this bucket. Under better circumstances of release...no ninja silence training could possibly muffle the pleasure she'd feel from this one.

Well, regardless of the response to it, there wouldn't be anything left to respond to anymore. Before she knew it was coming, a few spread-out hissing spurts punctuated the end to her emergency. Not that it was easy to tell from inside the Mugen, with all the urine still trickling down the seat, to say nothing of the filled bowl that should have been her hard seat. If she had to sit in her soiled uniform, with every drop that passed through them still in the tank with her, it was like it never stopped. The only clue that hinted to a conclusion was the quieting of running water.

In fact, everything seemed to go entirely quiet, to the point that even this gentle trickling seemed loud. Her heart dropped having to listen to that, and something had to be done to mitigate it. "W-we need to get back to the mission."

"Yes, but...shouldn't you..." Kamiyama's voice trailed off, and he didn't finish the sentence, but where it was going was perfectly clear.

"I'll be fine. Let's rescue everyone."

"...right!" Kamiyama's Mugen charged forward, swords brandished, ready to do his duty as captain of the Flower Division.

Azami followed, a bit slower. No one could see her, so her stern face and scornful eyes broke, and she looked pretty miserable the whole time. Who wouldn't be, covered in pee with no escape any time soon. Obviously, rescuing the other members of the Flower Division was the highest priority, but the ninja wanted so badly to escape without a trace right now, jump way up out of sight in her immediate exit. But, even as the spirit power emanating from her body waned, she just had to keep going. She sighed and whimpered, but the spiricle striker kept moving, further into danger. "I will not abandon my allies."

---------------

True to her word, Azami helped find the Flower Division, they all beat Oboro, and the Dark Realm dissipated. The day was saved, they did their victory pose photo (with Azami hanging sheepishly in the back, mostly out of sight), and, with pitying stares, the rest of the girls let her be. So, with mission complete, the ninja slunk through the Grand Imperial Theater's second-floor window to avoid the daytime crowd, grabbed a change of clothes from her room, and beelined for the baths.

So, now she was clean, in a new set of ninja garbs, and locked in her room, absentmindedly throwing shuriken into the tree stump she used for target practice. Of course, every one stuck into the wood properly, but her heart just wasn't in it. This wasn't her honing her skills, this was her trying to take her mind off the horror of today.

She couldn't even have that, as someone knocked on her door. Azami thought she recognized the knock, but regardless, she wasn't going to just let someone into her ninja hideout. "Kami!"

"Yama," came the voice of the captain, finishing the password.

Azami sighed. Truthfully, she didn't want to talk to Kamiyama right now. But, he said the password, so she couldn't just keep shutting him out. Throwing the shuriken in her hand perfectly into the training stump, she slumped over to the door and turned the knob, pulling it open inwards. "Come in."

Kamiyama entered, but he didn't intrude far, keeping his distance. "Hey, Azami... I just wanted to talk about what happened earlier."

"...there's nothing to say." Blushing, Azami looked down and to the side, to the small, tranquil water garden kept in her room. Whether it was the association of water that prompted her attention there, or it was just coincidence, was unknown. "I was a failure."

"It wasn't that bad. We saved Yattansai, we rescued the girls and beat Oboro, Reiji even said it'd be no trouble to clean out the Mugen."

"The measure of a ninja is in a lot more than just the success of their missions. If you don't understand that, then I misjudged you, Captain." Azami turned her back to him, vowing not to open her mouth again.

But Kamiyama wasn't giving up. "I figured you might react like this, so I brought you something to cheer you up. But I guess you're not interested in this six-pack of Mikazuki manju..."

As soon as he pulled out the box, it was gone. Azami had snatched it from his hands, lifted the lid, and pulled out one of the squishy confections. It was only as she opened her mouth wide and moved to shove the manju in that she saw Kamiyama staring, smirking with a victorious grin. Knowing she had been had, she reluctantly put it back in the box and looked away. "Village Rule #79: Don't take snacks as a bribe."

"They're not a bribe," Kamiyama chuckled. "Just a little present."

That's all she needed to hear, and Azami began scarfing down manju. But regardless of having food in her mouth, she kept talking. "Pwehsen fah wha?"

"For reaching ninja master status, of course! You were worried about being a real ninja, so this is my way of saying that you've earned that title."

Her thin eyes slowly widened, and she gulped her sweets down. "B-but I-"

"Showed your true heart when you stepped in for us. It's moments like that, seeing how much spirit and strength you girls have, that allow me to be the captain you all expect. So, thanks." Reaching his hand out, Kamiyama pat Azami's head, rubbing her already-messy black hair into something even worse.

Looking up at her captain, smiling down at her, Azami's heart skipped a beat. How could she dwell on the shame of today with her captain so proud? It was infectious, and she couldn't help but smile along with him. Still, she stayed silent, and he continued talking. "You'll have to show me some of your ninja master tricks now."

"Yeah!" Azami's face was bright and cheerful, not at all like the downtrodden expression she wore previously. "Ninja are supposed to keep their techniques secret, but I'll make an exception for you, Seijuro!"

"Really, those moves you pulled off earlier were... Wait, ‘Seijuro'?" Kamiyama wasn't used to anybody referring to him by his first name, outside his childhood friend, Sakura.

Azami nodded. "Yeah, Seijuro. I can call you that, right?"

"Well...it'll take some getting used to."

"You don't like it?" Azami shuffled in place and swung her arms sadly.

And a sad Azami was something he just couldn't bear. "N-no, it's okay. Seijuro is fine." Azami perked up after that, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, stop pushing!" "You stop pushing!" "Don't put so much weight there!" Shouts, scuffles, and slams echoed from outside the door, and before they could question what caused it, the door burst open, and who came tumbling through but Sakura and Hatsuho, now piled on the floor. They nursed their bruises from the loud, hard fall for a second, but soon looked up to see that their cover had been blown.

They saw Azami's face harden into a harsh ninja expression, as a kunai slid down her sleeve and appeared in her hand. "Eavesdroppers must be punished."

Sakura and Hatsuho scrambled to their knees, waving their hands to diffuse the accusation. "No no no no, we weren't eavesdropping," Sakura claimed, her voice so clearly lying. She might have known how bad she was at fibbing, because she immediately sent for help. "Isn't that right, Hatsuho?"

"Uh, y-yeah, that's right! We were just walkin' by, and Sakura tripped on the hem of my pants!" Hatsuho wasn't much better.

Even under the circumstances, when she had asked for cover, Sakura wasn't going to let that slide. "I tripped onstage once! Don't go talking like I always have two left feet!"

"That's what you're complaining about? I'll be sure to have a more thoughtful excuse the next time you talk me into this!"

Their bickering continued, and they began to ignore the people they had been eavesdropping on in the process. That is, until Azami adjusted her kunai, jumping into a throwing pose. That got the girls' attention, sending them running. "Thanks for today, Sei," Sakura shouted, as the two disappeared around the doorframe.

Sighing, Azami relaxed, retracting her kunai, and Kamiyama chuckled. "You girls get into all kinds of trouble, don't you?"

Azami shook her head. "Ninja don't get into trouble. We always perfectly follow the Village Rules."

"Yes, yes," he conceded, continuing to pat her on the head. He knew better than to say Azami followed her rules by the letter, but regardless, he trusted her wholly whenever trouble struck.

And Azami felt the same way about Seijuro. He was strong, reliable, determined, collected, took charge, and...and... Any time she tried to finish the thought, come up with any other positive qualities her captain possessed, her mind would go blank and her cheeks would grow hot, and it would only get worse when she looked at his face.

She couldn't even look at him anymore, and she had to look down, pressing her fingers together nervously under her sleeves. "Seijuro..."

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