“Here I am,” Amane announces, frowning as she places the bag down in front of the stewing Michiru. “I really don’t like wasting all of these, but it’s really the only way to get rid of a stink like this. Alright, Michiru, out of the tub. Sachi, you’re with me.” She picks up one of the tomatoes, tossing them Sachi’s way.
Sachi catches it without having to look. “Let’s get cleaning!”
And so two girls with tomatoes in hand approach the dripping wet Michiru, who gulps and shudders as they loom ever closer.
Soon, they press the fruits up against her, rubbing them against her cheeks, squishing them together, and making her mouth pucker like a fish.
“Guysh, I don’t think thish ish working,” Michiru says, just before two of the tomatoes burst, sending juice and seeds down along her jaw and chin.
“Look, do you want to be free of the stench or not?” Amane says, grabbing another tomato and rubbing it over Michiru’s collarbone.
“We’d better hurry,” Sachi says, vigorously scrubbing Michiru’s shoulder. “We don’t want anyone else seeing what’s going on here now.”
“Yeah,” Amane agrees. They might think we’re doing something perverted.”
Michiru turns a bright red, partially because of the tomato juice on her face and head and partly from the idea that someone would come in at any moment. Her eyes focus on the door, trembling, realizing that the stench wafts down throughout the building, inviting anyone to come in.
“Hurry up and tomato me!” she gasps, grabbing a handful of her own and smashing them against her chest. “I just wanna be cleaaaaan!”
Michiru stands in the middle of the bathing area, her hair flat against her body, streaked red with the rinds and seeds and juices of tomato. She shudders as the culinary vegetable's acidic nature drips over her body. Her knees are brought close together, and her finger and thumb are pinching at her nose.
Amane stands there with a clothespin on her own nose, glancing over toward Sachi.
Still, Sachi turns her dark gaze toward Amane in her gas mask.
Sachi is the first to speak.
“Are you sure we applied this correctly?” she asks. “Maybe it’s not raw tomatoes, but a tomato-based solution instead? A topical cream or perhaps some sort of paste?”
“Skunks aren’t native to here,” Amane admits. “I only know what I’ve read about them in casual interest.” She sighs, holding a half-smashed tomato in her hand—the last of the batch.
Michiru whimpers.
“Well, I suppose it’s the moment of truth,” Sachi says, her hands upon the edge of her mask.
“No!” Michiru says, frowning. “I don’t want my horrible smelliness to hurt either one of you again. I… I’m gonna do it first.” The tomato-skunk girl takes a moment to compose herself, relaxing her shoulders and squeezing her nose just for the last moment of relief before the moment of truth. And just as quick as she pinched, she lets go. And she takes a big whiff.
Michiru falls to her knees, clasping onto her head, wailing and tugging her hair between gagging and coughing fits. “It, ack, didn’t gaah, woork, blech!”
Her friends are chatting up possible methods, but Michiru holds her hand out to stop them.
Frowning, both Amane and Sachi sigh. They take the leftover bag and the cleaning supplies. They wheel themselves away, leaving the nasty-smelling room and the woman stuck stewing in the whole ordeal.
Michiru eventually got into her clothes, though her face is still stained red, both from the tomato and all the embarrassment she had to endure. She sulks as she walks through the woods, head drooping down, shoulders hunched, and feeling the weight of the stink all over her. She can imagine whisps of green hovering over her body like the tentacles of a terrible octopus, warning all others to stay far away from her.
“I’m cursed,” she says, turning her face skyward. “Oh, I won’t ever have any friends again because I”m always going to smell bad!”
She doesn’t watch where she’s going as she trudges along and curses to the sky. Her foot catches onto something for a moment.
A loud yowl hits her ears. The kitty!”
The scared thing runs away from her and into the brush. 
Michiru plants a foot and spins around on her heel.
The path here is uneven, and when she spins her foot and her whole weight around, she sinks into a minor groove in the track, her balance breaking and her face falling towards the edge of the path.
And it is when she is falling, that her life starts to go into slow motion.
Standing on the edge of the pathway is a fluffy little furball of black with a long white stripe going down all of its body. It stares up at her, its eyes so beady and glowing with fear or even malice. Perhaps, there is even the hint of a sinister smile. But just as quickly as its eyes catch hers, it spins around, every tuft of fur swishing in the speed at which it whips its body around.
Its tail is long and fluffy, and it lifts up, actually brushing up against her nose as she falls to the ground.
Michiru bumps her chin against the ground, throbbing it a moment later. She whins, and winces, only to open her eyes to the sight of a puckered little dot upon the skunk’s butt. She stares at that little butt, her eyes reflecting the quivering orifice with fear as tears well up in the corners of her eyes.
“N… no. Mister skunk. P-please, don’t!
She never knew how it worked or what it actually was that first time around. But now, she watches in total horror as the butt shifts and a little gland pokes free, puckering and squeezing, the spray of droplets flying out like thousands of little missiles ready to carpet bomb an entire country. They pulverize into a squirting miss, becoming an utterly undodgeable net of terribleness. Soon, they smack against her face, some hitting just under her nose. The putrid odor wafts up into her senses, filling her mind with a gagging horribleness. Some smack into her mouth, filling her tongue with an acrid taste that overpowers all of the tomatoes and leaves her drooling and spitting. Finally, some even get to her eyes, where it stings with a pain she never felt before.
Michiru rolls on the ground, crying and sobbing. The pain and the taste are there for a moment, as her tears and her spit clear it up, but the smell, oh no, the smell! It’s worse than ever before, and it feels like it’s got a hold of her brain. Her entire soul stinks of skunk, and she gags and coughs and spits and cries and whines, rolling on the ground. That octopus that she imagined no longer reaches out above her but has its hold all over her body, binding her in a stench strangle, making her whole world spin,
And while Michiru heaves and hacks and cries and begs, the skunk runs off, disappearing into the forest, leaving as mysteriously as it had arrived.