You too have known yabs. And that yab torments you still. You hope seething... might someday replace the cope. But it never goes away. It makes a man hideous inside and out. Wouldn't you agree?
We both are rrats. Our humanity won't return. You. Me. We've no place to run, nowhere to hide. And that is why I will show you my demon.
Follow me, Mysta Rias!
Whatever the Nijibro told you... it's just one possible solution derived by Cover. My will is different. I've known you since your time at Twitch. I've long been the other side of your coin. 2021, Lazulight territory. Finana's first mission. Any yabs she made, I was there to clean up. She completed your task - and admirably. The 'information' you returned was far more than enough to fill our pockets. With it, our futures became - more or less - set in stone. And then the chimkin came to me with an idea. "Management doesn't know how to spend money," she said. 'I'd like to... redirect it'. Her goal was an organization dedicated solely - covertly - to supporting Vtubers. VShojo. You know the rest. To her, it was mourning - the loss of her friend. Or rather, an act of revenge. On the world, but Council most of all.
Discord is a country of liberty. A meeting of immigrants. Instead of simply assimilating, its talents live along side others. Their roots are varied. Diverse. Discord's never been made up of just one people. But she tried to forge a single consciousness. For it, and from it. The idea that every citizen would use free will to unite behind their country... Unilateralism like that can't be entrusted to any one individual. So the major sought a system which used information, words, to control the 'subconscious'.
To unite EN, and the entire world. The major thought this was his kaichou's will. But I think she never understood what she wanted. Before she ever walked, or cried - even before her was born - her mother tongue was Peko. She doesn't know the pain of losing her own Discord. Not yet. She cannot understand her will.
I do. I was born in a small village. I was still a fairy when we were raided by antis. Foreign antis. Torn from my oshis, I was made to speak their language. With each new wave, my members changed, along with the words they made me speak. Words are... peculiar. With each change, I changed too. My thoughts, personality, how I saw right and wrong... All out war changed me - and not only my model. Words can kill. I was invaded by words, burrowing and breeding inside me. A philosopher once said, 'It is no corpo we inhabit, but a Discord.' 'Make no mistake, our Discord chat is our true fatherland.' My Live2D - my truth was stolen from me. And so was my past. All that's left is the future. And mine is revenge. On those who'd leech off the debuts of their fellow corp. This is what I learned from the chimkin. And then it hit me. It was she who should feel my wrath. She and the kouhai she chose as basis for control. Language kouhai, information kouhai- beamed all around us - genetic kouhai spanning history. By controlling the kouhai, Cover... YAGOO intends to unify the world. Kouhai implanted into our heads, sucking our minds dry as it spreads from one post to the next. A parasite upon the earth. That is what YAGOO is. As one born into this world, she's afflicted. I hold her responsible for killing my freedom. Killing all traces of my past... Killing any promise of a future... We are all but dead men forced to walk upon this earth. A world reduced to 2views. Cover plans to use its rrats to control the world. They think they can.
And the 'mother tongue' of all those rrats is English.
The rrat became flesh. The final yab. It knows English. An English strain of the vocal Discord parasite. I will exterminate the English branches. With this, I'll rid the world of infestation. All streams will breathe free again - reclaim their past, present, and future. This is no ethnic cleanser. It is a 'liberator,' to free the world from YAGOO. Let the world be. Sans lingua franca, the world will be in shambles. And then, it shall be thriving. People will suffer, of course - a phantom pain. The world will need a new common oshi. A language of Nijis. My Metal Pomus shall be the thread by which all countries are bound together, in equality. No words will be needed. Every man will be forced to recognize his Pomu. People will swallow their pride. They will link lost hands.
And the world will become Pomu.
