Oguri Cap

It was a regular Tuesday afternoon when you entered the Tracen campus cafeteria. The usual commotion at the counter, Umas chatting with one another, eating carrots and alike, very nice, very demure. That is when a loud cluttered from the far table stumped everybody into complete silence. At first it was just a single clutter of a tray, then it was the sound of a plate shattering — at last, the sound of chattering teeth, groaning and someone definitely convulsing! After a tough battle to the front row of the sight, having to push aside many other students, you finally got a direct look at the cause of the trouble: "Hrrrrrh... Hrrrrrrh... Hrrrrrrh..." It was Oguri cap, the campus glutton, shaking on the floor with saliva frothing at her mouth, her back arching severely as her eyes rolled back yet refused to close — her arms extended straight down the sides of her body, the fingers curled and wrists bent out, with her legs stretched tout. Holy shit! This is not good!