[KIN'UN]

[detentionroom]

[You needed an escape.

For a moment– however brief, or however not– you longed to get away. Perhaps you envisioned a vacation upon sunny, beachy shores, palm trees at your back and seagulls floating in the air. Perhaps you envisioned nothing at all, and merely accepted that anywhere but here would do. Either way. . .?

You blink. . . and you wake up slouched on a school desk, arms folded with head resting between. You lift your gaze and realize that you've woken up in the middle of a classroom, seated in one of the. . . uh, very few functional desks that remain. The others have been broken into pieces, with legs and splinters of wood scattered across the floor. Deep claw marks decorate the walls, having gouged the sheetrock with jagged, violent gashes. The window curtains are closed, but they too have been torn and ripped to shreds, with holes showing a dark and unidentifiable landscape beyond the four walls which trap you.

And written on the blackboard, in large, white letters that seem to glow in the midst of the dim room lighting, is a warning]

DO NOT GIVE THEM YOUR NAME.

[. . . you are not alone]

[Each and every new arrival awakens dressed in a high school-issued track uniform. The design is up to the players, but each uniform is already color-coded to match the group at large. Somewhere on your body is a new marking: a mysterious floral design shaded the same color as your track uniform. It is glowing very gently. And in your pocket you feel. . . something warm. Further investigation reveals a tiny little omamri, tucked away in your outfit, for safe keeping. Huh! What a nice gift!]

[For now, the front door to the classroom is locked. No matter how hard you try– with physical prowess or otherwise– the door cannot be opened.]

[But hey! You can poke around the area, if you'd like! Maybe get to know your new classmates. . . ? Try not to panic. For now, everything is. . . calm]

Comments

[THE JOURNAL]

[detentionroom]

[Sitting atop one of the desks is a pink, leather-bound ledger with the following inscription on the front: "To all who enter here. . . we wish upon them financial success, so that they may never want for anything."]

[You may open it to read what is written inside]

[Alternatively: perhaps you'd prefer to examine the yearbook instead! It includes pictures and brief profiles of everyone on your team only. Isn't it fun to snoop??]

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

[Of course he is immediately being nosy regarding the journal and the yearbook. Right now, he's thumbing over to a page of the latter, a finger landing on... your entry, maybe.]

Is this information correct? Verify it for me, if you'd be so kind.

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[velluminous]

[ ??? flips the book around so she can read it

"most likely to crash out before 35"

EXCUSE ME??? ]

Bahh.

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

[HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT CRASH OUT MEANS 😭 He thinks this means that maybe she's bad at riding horses or has bad luck with motorcars. It could be true!]

Inaccurate or... embarrassing?

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[velluminous]

[ AS IF SHE KNOWS EITHER ]

Incomprehensible!

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

Surely not all of it.

For example. Are you thirty-seven...?

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[velluminous]

[ asking a woman her age, holmes? wow ]

Yes, I am thirty-seven. Yes, I am five foot and two inch.

[ a shiver of revulsion, though: where did this image of her come from, and who acquired it? who took it? she's never seen it before. to stave it off, lays one clawed, manicured finger down over "alias", which is blank. ]

What are you making of this, hm?

[demergo]

[ looks over the yearbook- ]

A-ahh, yeah that's uh, correct. I haven't been to school in a while.

[ratiocinations]

[Huffs.]

Well. It might be surprising to learn- [that's sarcasm; he's the oldest one here apparently] -but neither have I.

Still, I suspect that's why your superlative is what it is. "Dropout."

[demergo]

S-super—...? [ super... super... well usually that's a good term? so- ]

...Um, y-yeah? Yeah.

[ratiocinations]

[A brief moment of consideration passes, which is him assessing the other teen quietly. What he garners, he doesn't say, but he does seem to dismiss the idea of a "superlative" for now.]

It's a silly title, that's all. Amounts to very little after one's finished with their school years.

[demergo]

[ a super silly little title? got it! ]

Oh...w-well I'm not done? I me-mean, I guess I am but not because of my age. So it might still uh, amount...?

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[threadling]

......slide it over here.

[Yeah, she's not getting out from behind the desk to look.]

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

[girl you can't stay there forever

But he obliges. He slides it over.]

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[threadling]

[That sounds like a challenge. She reaches around the desk with one hand. The other arm is still resolutely being kept at her side, obscured by the desk.]

...

Kin'un? That's...Japanese?

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

[Hm.]

My Japanese is lacking, but if you say it is so... Then perhaps this is a classroom in Japan? It would explain why it all feels so foreign to me.

/2

[threadling]

But they have a different writing system in Japan, why would it be written in English.

[She flips through the pages.]

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[threadling]

[And sputters when she gets to one of them.]

-- commit a felony?!

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[bad_crowmance]

[ He glances at it. ]

I was never in any clubs.

[ That's his contribution. ]

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

I believe the clubs are either a commentary of our personalities, or reflective of our interests.

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[bad_crowmance]

If we go by that logic, then I'd say yeah-- it's pretty accurate.

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[ratiocinations]

Even the... [Glances down at his yearbook entry.] "Giant Robot Piloting?"

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[threadling]

Somebody should club you.

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[bad_crowmance]

Ouch! And here I haven't even said anything to you yet.

Re: [THE JOURNAL]

[threadling]

You have terrible energy.