This Is Part 21 Of The "What If Yuu Didn't Want To Go Back?" Series!

This is part 21 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"Goodnight, Yuu," whispers Grim.

"Goodnight, Grim," I whisper back. Korrak and Mandible are already asleep, and we dare not wake them.

A moment passes. "Grim, do you want to try and find another big stick tomorrow?"

"Hehe. Yes."

And then our eyes close.

It only feels like a moment later that we're up and walking again, back in the Backstage Room for our usual morning routine. The walk there is muscle memory at this point, so we arrive a minute earlier than Epel. Interestingly, Korrak isn't there, even though he and Mandible were out of bed when Grim and I woke.

Meh. I'm too tired to think about that and add it to my mental list of clues in the quest to unravel the mystery that is our human roommate and his 'possum familiar.

More people file in as I brush Grim's fur to the smooth and silky shine that is expected and achieved daily by every furry familiar in Pomefiore. I'm still half-alseep when I squeeze a dash of kitty toothpaste onto Grim's kitty toothbrush, but that doesn't last.

With my own hair brushed and Epel on my left, I think it's going to be a normal day. Still, something feels off. Very off. I'm unsettled, and I don't know why.

Then it hits me. Slowly, like something oozing onto my head, it hits me. If Korrak has pilot parents, then why did he do so well against Floyd?

This is going to keep eating at me until I solve it. Sigh. And I have classes today.

" 'Ats th'matter, Yuu? Yer lookin' pretty worn-out, an' th' day ain't even really started."

"Myeeh. Classes."

Epel looks at us, confused- before laughing. "We ain't got no class t'day, 's a weekend!"

Grim and I both thank whatever forces gave us a day off. Epel, Grim and I hurry through our routine and go to breakfast- eggs on toast.

I still haven't seen Korrak or Mandible today.

Before I can properly register it- or wake up- Grim and I are adventuring through the woods outside our dorm, continuing our quest for a stick.

We carefully dig through the leaves before I step anywhere, exercising all the caution we feel we'll need to ensure the perfect stick does not escape our notice nor break before we may properly obtain it.

The woods are peaceful. Grim has dismounted from my shoulder in favor of trotting along the forest floor, through the yellow-brown that carpets the grass and tree roots.

His ears perk up. He looks suspiciously at nothing, head turned, and then calms, ears lowering. Still, he's clearly on edge.

I've got a feeling about this. It's a little dread, settling in my stomach like tar, but there's also some determination, sitting atop the dread like snow.

The question about Korrak is still eating at me. It's harder to ignore now that the sleep has left my eyes and mind, but I'm setting it aside nonetheless to search for the stick. Still: why would he lie? Did he even? Maybe it's just redacted information he's not comfortable sharing, as opposed to an outright lie. Maybe his parents taught him self-defense.

But... that didn't look like professional self-defense. It looked like something learned on the streets- but how would I know? I'm new to this world, maybe that's just what their jujustu looks like.

What's that? It sounds like... chittering. I look at Grim. He's facing roughly north, at the source, ears pointed forward. He makes eye contact with me. The message is clear: I'm not just dreaming. There's something- or someone- out there.

Hold on. More chittering? It sounds... different, somehow. A different voice? Wait. That sounds a lot like Mandible. And the other voice is talking now, could that be...Korrak?

What language could that be? Not French, that's for sure... maybe something else?

Wait. I've heard people talking about an "Animal Linguistics" class. If animals have their own language... and Mandible is an opossum...

Grim and I make eye contact again. He's connected the dots, too. Another question: why is Korrak speaking opossum? I've heard other people talking to their familiars during meals and in the Backstage Room, but they don't speak the animal language- they speak their human language, and the familiar chirps, barks, chitters, or otherwise make animal sounds back. I often can't understand either side; a lot of Pomefiore people speak Dutch or Spanish or something.

This mystery just keeps expanding. My mental pinboard has even more yarn on it now, and no extra answers.

The chittering has stopped. Maybe that wasn't Mandible and Korrak? Meh. We have a stick to find!

The woods are pretty and peaceful. Leaves crunch underfoot and underpaw, respectively, and rocks must be carefully avoided- lest I fall over. Grim is a quadruped, so he doesn't have that risk.

Ow! Tree roots. I also have to watch out for tree roots. Wish I remembered that before I fell flat on my face, but it's a little late for that.

"Are you okay?" I know that voice. That's Mandible.

"I'm fine," I start, lifting myself from the leafy forest floor. But, before I ask about what was overheard, I catch myself. They probably wouldn't react well if I asked.

Wait... this is a new area of the forest. I'm standing on the edge of a clearing, set in an indent in the ground, like a reverse hill. The inside of the bowl-like shape is all leaves, with some decent-sized boulders around the edges. One, two... Thirteen boulders, arranged in a circle. Some have sharp edges, others appear entirely smooth. All are grey, but various shades- some are far darker than others. A few even look to have stripes, like the igneous rock I learned about in middle school science class. It's very pretty.

There's an indent in the leaves- a path where someone walked. This must be where Korrak was earlier.

"What are you two doing out in the woods?"

Before I can respond to Mandible's question, Grim jumps in for me. "We're gonna get a big stick to make into a toy!

"Oh, that sounds fun! I think I saw one over here!" Mandible hops down from Korrak's shoulder and trots down the steep slope, into the clearing. I follow, take one step down, trip again, and fall- a hand wraps around my right wrist, and I realize I'm pulling Korrak down with me. He's strong, but gravity and momentum are stronger.

I hit the ground first. My arm breaks my falk for most of my body, but my hips don't get that, and throb with dull pain. I don't feel blood. Then, Korrak hits the leaf litter- and exclaims something when he does. It's not English, but the chittering we heard before. He sounds indistinguishable from an actual opossum.

Oops. I'm staring. And he's noticed, too. Time to try and pass it off as an "I was worried" thing.

"Myeeh! Are you two okay? Yuu? Yuu!"

Well, Grim's beat me to it. And, oddly enough, Mandible is chittering at Korrak. I think he's asking if we're alright.

I stand, stretch, and offer Korrak my hand. He takes it, and I lift him. "You good?"

"S-sure am. Thanks." He pauses. "Are you?"

I nod. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Yuu! Do you need ice?! I can summon some!"

"Don't, Grim."

Korrak is looking at me now. "You're pretty fluent in Cat."

I look at him, right into his smokey grey eyes. "What?"

"You're p-pretty fluent in Cat. I'm impressed."

"What do you mean by that? How can I be fluent in a species?" Only after the words leave my mouth do I remember Animal Linguistics is a class.

Korrak bursts out laughing. "Animals have languages. You seem p-pretty fluent in Cat, especially considering it's not y-your native language. That's what you and Grim are speaking. What's h-h-he saying, anyway?"

"He's asking if I need ice and offering to summon some."

Korrak laughs. "G-good ol' Grim."

"By the way, what did you mean by 'not my native language'?"

He pauses, nervous. "W-well, I'm assuming your native language isn't Cat. You seem f-fluent in it, th-though."

"I'm assuming the chittering is you and Mandible speaking Opossum, then."

Korrak nods. "Y-yeah. It's my, um.. Nevermind."

He whispers the last part, just a faint draft of breath, but my ears catch it anyway. Grim's do, too. This time, I take notice of how his words sound- he's speaking Cat.

"Your what?"

"Your what?" I echo his words, in English this time.

"N-nothing." That's a sound he doesn't usually stutter. He's nervous.

I give him a look. He doesn't cave, not yet.

"Found it!"

"Myeeh, that's too thin... maybe. Hey, Yuu, over here!"

I walk over to Grim and Mandible to look at the stick. It's wildly thin, and is shaped like a paperclip someone tried and failed to straighten out. It's not going to work.

"Yeah, too thin. Thanks for trying, Mandible." I spare a glance at Korrak. He's still standing there, nervous. I'm a little scared to leave him alone. Not completely alone, obviously- he'll still have his familiar- but an opossum can only do so much, and... sigh.

"Come on, hench-human. I wanna see Sam's. I heard there's a tuna discount!"

Of course, he's thinking of tuna. His favorite food. He's never told me, but, in the other world, my Grim loved tuna beyond any other food. He loves it here, too.

Maybe we'll run into Rook there; we can ask him for help if we do. Hey, that's right- Rook is probably here somewhere, supervising. Korrak will be okay.

I laugh. "Alright, Grim, let's go and look."

Taking one last glance at the nervous, purple-haired boy and the furry marsupial, we leave the little bowl clearing behind us, questions put aside in our heads.

This is going to tie into two separate games: Twisted Wonderland and Project SEKAI. Trigger warnings: mentions of death, wanting to dissappear, abuse, manipulation, implied suicide. Jeez, that's a lot.

I'm going to talk about, specifically, Asahina Mafuyu (Yuki) and Riddle Rosehearts. There's a lot of similarities. It doesn't seem like that at first, but bear with me here.

In pjsk, we are first introduced to Mafuyu as a cheery, kind, agreeable, and helpful person. Her voice has emotion, but something's off. And you can't tell.

In contrast, the audience's first impression of Riddle is akin to that of a strict, controlling force, who opposes our poor prefect's shiny new friends.

And there's no way you'd think them alike if you don't look past that. If you skip all the stories and ignore Riddle's overblot and Mafuyu's trained card art. Because that's the point. It's not supposed to be obvious. You're supposed to view Mafuyu as "normal" and Riddle as "annoying" and never look closer.

Exept, you are supposed to look closer. You're supposed to squint at them and put them under a magnifying glass. And there's some genius in Mafuyu in particular- in pjsk, each group's main story starts with the group leader's backstory. Mafuyu is not a group leader. We don't start with a glimpse of her past. We start with her facade.

Mafuyu pretends. Her cheery face and higher-pitched voice are forced, and she is miserable. And when do we see that? When it's too late. When Mafuyu tries to dissappear into a world made of her emotions, a world so barren it's literally called "the Empty SEKAI."

Because Mafuyu doesn't know who she is. Because she's being abused. Riddle is in the same scenario.

Both of them have helicopter moms who try and control every aspect of their lives. Riddle's mom succeeded- and that's where their differences originate. Mafuyu rebels. She joined an anonymous online music group to vent and try and learn who she is without her mother's interference. Hell, she helped start it. That group started as two people, and she was one of them.

Riddle, on the other hand, gave in. He became an extension of his mother, of his abuser, and realizing that drove him to overblot. That desperation to emulate her was programmed into him by years of having no will of his own.

And yet, Mafuyu fought. She fought, and things got worse, and, as of writing this, her arc of escaping her abusive, overcontrolling household is Nightcord at 25:00(the music group she helped form)'s main arc, and it has yet to be resolved.

Mafuyu struggles. She doesn't know who she is. Her mother doesn't want her to learn, she wants her to be a perfect little honor student who becomes a doctor and studies all the time. Riddle's mom wanted that too, in a son- and she got it.

Riddle doesn't know who he is, either. After his overblot, he confesses: he never liked being an extension of his mother, but he suffered through it. He followed every rule, got every point, and he was in pain. In a way, he's lucky. At some point or another, that would've killed him.

And, when Riddle learned, he rebelled, too. Even before he knew, he fought because autonomy is critical to a child's healthy development, and they will always want to seek it eventually. He fought because he needed to. Otherwise, I doubt he'd've survived his freshman year at NRC. All those tarts, all forbidden... He'd've done what Mafuyu tried.

Riddle gave in. He gave in, and it killed him. He and Mafuyu are two sides of the same, ruined coin. One is being more actively molded and resisting, and the other only just became aware.

We see their development. In the Twilight Festa event, we see Mafuyu learn that she genuinely enjoys helping people. In book 2, we see Riddle run in the hallways to catch a rule-breaker. Riddle's progress is way subtler: he only just started trying to find himself. Mafuyu has a head start.

And... in a way, they're one and the same. They are lost bodies, searching for their souls. And I hope they both succeed.

In the end, they are both misfortunate children.

And, in a way, aren't we all?

You’ve come to the right person.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 5 AND 6

Oh man Rook Hunt? He’s so mood, haha. One half of me really like him as a character because he’s so outlandish. Man practically worships Vil for his beauty, stalks students to know them, and loves a lot of things that other characters take for granted. Even though he is in Pomefiore, he focuses a lot more on others without neglecting himself.

If I was more over-the-moon for Rook, I would kin him completely… except for the stalking, since that is weird. I’ve been stalked before in real life and it isn’t fun, trust me.

Bbbuuutt this is fiction. We know the motives behind Rook’s attitude even though other characters don’t. He’s also extremely funny, lol. I find his sense of style and his actions very humorous, and that only adds to his charm. If he were real, I feel as if he and I would be able to talk about each others interests so genuinely. I’d also be able to joke with him well!

Spoilers ~~~~~~~~~~

This is a buffer sentence.

I also find the fact that he comes from Savanaclaw very interesting. It would explain why he’s so good at being a hunter in nature, and being Le Chasseur D’Armour (The Hunter of Love) for multiple interesting folks. It makes me wonder about the geographical and sociology that enables people from the Afterglow Savannah (Sunset Savanna for the EN folks) to be sensitive to sounds, sights, and smells.

After all, Rook isn’t a… what’s the name? He isn’t like Ruggie, Leona, or Jack, who have deeply interwoven animal traits. He’s human (I think), which makes his biological data more interesting.

Oh man, and when he went to the Island of Woe (IoW) to see how he could get Vil back to Night Raven College (NRC), he cleverly uses his social patterns to get in. I believe I looked him up on a website called TVTropes (a wonderful place to see all the tropes that different movies, series, and characters have. It’s an AMAZING website, I highly recommend taking a look), and it explained why he did what he did.

By disguising his real motive as wanting to give Vil his beauty products (so that he would continue being beautiful), he managed to get himself, Epel, and the MC into S.T.Y.X. His actions are so outlandish, but fitting to his character that Ortho and Idia capture them instead of eliminating them or whatever. It’s something only Rook would do.

And that is SO FASCINATING!

Chapter 5 was one of my least-liked chapters. However, it was still a catalyst to diving into Pomefiore as a whole. Rook usurps the expectations that the audience has for them, especially when dealing with Vil before his overblot. Man was going to DRINK that damn liquid that would have KILLED Neige to 1. Express how much he wanted to believe that Vil wouldn’t do such a thing and 2. So he can risk getting a taste for poisonous fruits.

Rook literally admires Vil’s beauty first before jumping to action upon the danger that his overblot indicates.

HE ADMIRES VIL’S OVERBLOT!

HOW CRAZY IS THIS MAN?!?!?

He also does ballet! SLAY KING ballet is SO HARD!

This is also a buffer sentence.

Spoilers End! ~~~~~~~~

I love seeing how Rook ticks, like how he loves seeing how others do. He would SO be either a psychologist or get into the beauty industry, if not into a job that enables him to ‘hunt’ others better. ROOK HAS SUCH A FLEXIBILITY TO HIM THAT IT DRIVES ME NUTS JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW COMPLEX HE IS!

Then there’s the other half.

It’s a lot more selfish and deeply connected to my desire to know and be known. It’s extremely hard for me to trust people (especially in our day and age) because the world is so corrupted. My mother would tell me about how children would run in the streets unattended because they were safe. Parents would take care of kids from different families. They let them walk lengths to school without worry.

But it’s so distrustful now.

You don’t see children running around anymore in droves. Lots of people don’t show care for others anymore (not only because they might not care, but if they do care, it’ll be seen as creepy). I go walk alone in DAYTIME and fear that a car might hit me, or I’ll get assaulted somehow. I can’t even fully trust my own friends and family because you just never know what they might do.

I can’t even think about getting into dating because if I don’t balance taking it seriously and feeling the emotions, I’ll most definitely be taken advantage of. The idea of a partner is exciting, but thinking about how it might apply to me is terrifying. I wouldn’t be able to do it.

Which is why I feel so close to Rook, both as someone I would be and as a character.

As a fictional character that I hyperfixiated on, I know a LOT about him and his motives. I can predict how he would be. I don’t know his entire history or syllabus, or what his next action might be sometimes, but I know and love Rook for everything that he is.

The best part is that he would most likely do the same for me, just because of how he acts generally. He would desire to KNOW me like I know him now.

I could see Rook gathering so much intel on me that it’s not funny. He would see how I act, and why I act the way I do. He’d know what I like to do, what I don’t. He’d know what gifts to get me, know what I would need, even before I tell him.

He’d be such a great friend, and if it comes down to it, an even lovelier boyfriend. We share the same desire to know, and sharing those interests together is… it reaches into my very being and pulls something out.

We both admire beauty in things that others might not see. We’d both admire the clouds in the sky. We could both people-watch together to pick apart what makes people who they are. We’d write poems and fawn about the structure of them, the diction. Maybe he’d teach me about makeup, or I could teach him about origami.

I desire to know about him. I desire to be known. Knowing Rook, he would share that same deep desire to see, to think, and to know.

If there’s anyone that I could even fathom trusting with my life, it would be Rook. Sharing each other’s personalities and needs in a way that I don’t have to worry about in real life.

TLDR: Rook is a fascinating character. He has a kooky personality, funny attitude-style, and very interesting history. There’s a lot of traits he has that, when they come together, makes Rook a fascinating character to study. He’s complex. I both relate to him and want to be with him because of who he is.

And those are my thoughts on Rook Hunt.

Now, let me turn that question onto you, @mentallyshattered. Who is one of your favorite characters? What are your thoughts on them?

If y’all want to rant about a character too, feel free! This isn’t only for Shattered.

Similar headcannon: blind Trey.

A Trey who's been blind since birth but wears a pair of his dad's old glasses to avoid appearing hostile and to draw attention away from his eyes.

A Trey who memorizes the layout of the dorm kitchen, just as he did at home.

A Trey who uses magic to read and write, intentionally-but-subtly hiding his blindness "to avoid attention"

hey,, guys

just randomly came up with the most insane idea that i have no reason for except Hey, Wouldn’t This Be Neat.

Cater being partially Deaf.

Cater being able to read people’s lips easily from across a room, contributing to his ability to read the room quickly.

Cater not caring if people notice his hearing aids because oh mY LORD Are his stylish.

Cater having these:

(any people who are actually Deaf or HoH, feel free to add on to this!)

Everyday Freak of Science: part 2

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Incredible.

When I first heard the place was fancy, I started to fear that the place would be like the fancy lab I was made and raised in: sterile white, repeating halls with no decor and only intuition to determine which hall's where.

But, this? This is incredible. There's water- I can't swim or "touch" it, per say, but I can feel it- a comforting pressure on my being. Everything is a kind of fancy I'm not used to: more modern, with décor, color, shapes, and an overall oceany feel I'm not used to, although I should be. I am a shark in part, after all.

I'm hit with inner conflict rather soon: some part of me, the shark part, feels at home and in place. The other part of me- the part that was made instead of sampled from an embryo- feels like I don't belong; like I'm contaminating this beauty with my unnaturalness.

My feelings must soon be pushed aside, though. Before long, I get a real introduction, along with the rest of Octanville's shiny new students: the boy with the off-white hair stands on some kind of raised platform, the lights shut off, and a fucking spotlight shines upon him.

"I am Azul Ashengrotto," he starts, "your new housewarden. Welcome to Octanville. This dorm is based on the benevolence of the Sea Witch, something we try our best to embody, in part by running a café: the Monstro Lounge, which all of you will have the opportunity to work at. Volunteers are always appreciated. First-year dorms are down that hallway. First come, first served, two per room. Choose wisely, as you will be sleeping there until the end of the school year. You are dismissed."

Well, that was sudden. Hey, wait- I'm gonna be late! I want a good pick of the rooms. Should I run? That's what the others are doing. Okay, I'll try- ow! Okay, that hurt. Guess I'm just going to have to try again.

Okay, I can do it now! Let's see... I was near the hallway entrance back at the lab, so I want to be close to the end of this hall. Is there a room? Yep! Mine. I'll take the bed on the left.

Hey, I don't have any stuff... guess I'll just lie on this bed to claim it, then. Ooh, this is extremely soft!

I don't wake up until Jade wakes me up, softly shaking me and whispering.

"Wake up, Requiem. We have something to discuss."

My tired mind recalls a memory: my favorite researcher, softly shaking me awake just like this whenever I dozed off during a test. I like this.

"There you are. Come with me."

The room on the right side of the bed looks like someone else has claimed it. No suprise, there's only so many rooms.

Jade leads me to a place that reminds me of the managers' offices from the shows I was sometimes shown for testing and research. It's probably just that: an office. Azul sits at the desk, clearly waiting.

"Hello, Requiem. It has come to my attention that you are the only student who is not on the list. Why is that?"

"Um. I don't know..."

"Why not?"

"It's my first day..."

"Well, obviously." Azul sighs. "What day did you submit your application?"

Application? "I didn't apply for a job."

"College application. When did you submit it?"

"I'm here as a student, aren't I? Not staff."

"That's... ugh. Okay, allow me to clarify: I have your name and year. I have your year because you just arrived and transfers have a special entry process, which you did not go through, and I have your name because Jade got it at the entrance ceremony. That's it. No birthday, no species, no age, no native language, nothing. As housewarden, that makes much of this very difficult."

Oh, I get it. He wants to make a file on me.

"My name is Requiem Melanopterus. I'm 16 years old. I am a blacktip reef shark, I was made on March 24, and my native language is English, though I am also fluent in Russian, Dutch, Japanese, Korean, Spanish, German, French, and Polish."

They both appear shocked now. Azul, in stark contrast to Jade, is shocked silent.

"You're fluent in nine languages?" Well, O probability should have considered that most people would be suprised.

"What do you mean, made?" Oh, Ashengrotto can still talk? I was worried I had hurt his voice.

"Well, I was made in a lab. They started with a blacktip reef shark embryo, then altered the DNA bit by bit to make a mershark. Then they wanted to test my learning ability, so..."

For a solid minute, nobody speaks. Then,

"How would you like to work at the lounge?"

Hello! I need medication for life to prevent my lungs from collapsing, this implies permanent treatment with steroids, oxygen therapy, control of oxygen in the blood and antibiotics to prevent the development of bacteria in the lungs.

I'm afraid I have to insist on this because it may be the only way to get my treatment.

I need medication for life to keep my lungs from collapsing, this costs around $700 per month.

Things are really tough on me,I can’t afford. Please donate🖤

That is tragic, and I hope you get the treatment you need. The US health system really sucks, doesn't it? Also, congrats on being my first ask!

...Anyway, why did you send this to a fanfic blog? You didn't even include a link.

This is part 22 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Sam's shop. I've never been there before, but it's about time to change that, I'd say. We need the distraction. Grim is enjoying it fully, probably thinking about the tuna he's sure to get.

And here we are! Admittedly, I'm not sure if we can afford anything that's not on sale, but it's worth a shot, right?

The shelves are stocked high, but not too high- many students are a bit short, so the items are only about two and a half meters off the ground at the highest. Despite that, there are stools along the ends of the rows, magically attached to their paths along the edges of the isles. I don't need them.

"Okay, Grim, can you smell the tuna or anything? I don't know where to look."

"No need, dear customers! I'll show you, just follow me."

Grim and I follow the man in the patchwork top hat through the expanse of items and prices, recognizing him as Sam, the owner. As he leads us, an odd feeling settles itself into my being. What is it? Oh, that's it- though the shelves are short, the store is vast, stretching onward like a neverending maze. Following Sam through all this feels a lot like I'm walking through a limnal space, guided by a supernatural entity of unknown origin.

"Here we are!" In front of us, Sam is motioning to a shelf with stout cans of tuna stacked one atop another. Sure enough, the price tag on the edge of the suspiciously strong plastic reads "SALE" and is followed by a slashed-out price displayed above a price that's worth half the original, written in larger font. I don't need to look to know Grim's reaction.

"Thank you!" I wave to Sam, grab some tuna, and turn back. He's gone by then, so I just move Grim to my other shoulder and walk to the counter. Sam is waiting there, smiling as usual, and sends us off with an enthusiastic "Thank you!" When we pay and leave.

How unusual. Oh, well. I'll let Grim have a can of this now, and the rest can be saved. Now, where's a trash can?..oh, over there!

...huh. There's a spot in the trash bags over here that's cleared out, about the size of a first-year student. Why? I can't see any reason someone would clear this out. Other than boredom, but this looks like it's been here for a while now. How odd. Meh.

I trash the lid and walk away. We have better things to do. Say, for example, hiding pencil erasers in Ace's bag until he notices and says something, or trying to figure out what the hell is up with Korrak.

"Myeeh, do you hear that?" I stop walking, merely two steps from the indent, and attempt to fine-tune my ears. When I hold my breath, I hear it. Music.

I'm a sin, but I'm half of the hourglass, glass, glass

I don't recognize the song, but I hear it. There is definitely some kind of music playing. But from where? A quick glance at Grim's ears tell me it's toward the pile of trash.

I turn around, slowly, silently, and look a little closer. The music is decently loud now, but I can't see its source.

"Hold my can." I take the half-eaten can of tuna from Grim with one hand and lower the other to allow him to jump down. He ignores the platform entirely and jumps down without my help, landing on concrete and quickly deciding he'd rather move the bags with magic than with his paws or face. The one right in front of him glows somewhat, rises, and reveals a pair of beaten-up headphones plugged into a strange, once-white rectangle.

Grim looks at me. I reach in with my free hand, grab the headphones, and Grim releases the trash bag the instant nothing is under it anymore in favor of hopping onto my arm. When I'm fully upright again, I pass Grim his tuna.

"Myeeh, thanks." He returns to eating. I try and examine the device. It resembles a rectangle when viewed from the front or back, but looking at the top gives it a more almond shape- if almonds were pointed at two ends and not rounded at one. It's very thin, too, much thinner than an almond.

The music still plays. I can't identify the song, but this is probably on a playlist, so I wait for the song to end. It loops.

Dah dah dah dah, da-dah dah dah, dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah

The music kicks up. I still don't recognize the song. The headphones don't fit over my head, but, in my endeavors to put them on, I see him, on the edge of my vision. Barely visible.

Korrak. I don't see Rook. Why is he here?

Ok, Yuu, hold on. You don't want to sound suspicious. That's your roommate and friend. He doesn't know I've seen him yet. So...

I turn to face him and ask, "Hey, are these yours?" He startles. Okay, maybe that wasn't the right move. Still, he attempts to reply- a series of quiet chitters and chirps I can't understand, yet still too loud to miss for my now cat-level hearing, even over the wind and faint music.

"Yeah," Mandible nods, presumably translating for Korrak, "those are ours. Thanks for finding them." I can't be sure as to why Korrak stutters and Mandible doesn't.

"Well, here you go. Your song is still playing." Indeed it is, the singer's voice calling out to be remembered for hundreds of years. Korrak, upon seeing my outstretched hand, visibly relaxes and reaches out to take it.

I've seen that reaction before, on videos, in photos, and in the mirror- not the magic one- when I realized something I saw as precious hadn't been stolen or lost, but was being returned to me.

I saw it in Grim's eyes, reflected from my own when I saw him before the entrance ceremony.

These must be important to them. They've probably had them for years and years, a persistent source of comfort through tough and easy times alike.

Grim was like that for me.

"Thanks," speaks Mandible. It takes me a moment to register his words as his, momentary confusion clouding my judgment of Korrak's voice vs. Mandible's jaws moving. The confusion clears with a single word rushing into my mind: ventriloquism.

Another question rises from the ashes of my puzzlement, burning like a Phoenix: why doesn't Mandible stutter?

Just as quickly, the question abandons me, and nothing more comes of the interaction- rather, a new one begins at the moment's end, with Rook walking up and playing a hand on Korrak's unoccupied shoulder. Korrak briefly panics, a flash of intense fear taking root in his eyes, but that fear is pulled up when he realizes whose wrist the black-gloved hand is attached to.

"Monseurs," Rook begins, nodding at me and Grim as well as Korrak and Mandible, "Come with me. You are going to brew potions in class soon, and I have been instructed to ensure that you all know the basics and how to apply them."

I approach when Rook motions with his free- well, not really, he's holding his bow with that one- hand for me and Grim to follow his lead. A short-feeling walk later, we're back at Pomefiore's main building, through the lounge, down a flight of stairs, and standing in a dark, basementy room that reminds me of medieval castles- if they were cleaned and the atmosphere of a damp, uneven-floored chamber were intentionally crafted. Rook leads us over to a cauldron, and I see the nearby bench against the wall. Epel is sitting there, head slumped a little to his right like he's drowsy, but not yet asleep.

Rook snaps his fingers. Epel jolts upright, his head turning rapidly from side to side until he spots us and hurries from his seat to a spot beside the cauldron. He's in his labwear, and, with a flick of his magic pen, so is Rook. Korrak follows suit, swapping his neatly-buttoned jacket, dress shirt, and Pomefiore-purple vest for a dull white lab coat and a pair of the goggles every Pomefiore student has. Mandible chitters something I don't know at him, and, a moment later, me and Grim are the only ones not in labwear- a fact soon made false. Clearly, my practice is paying off.

Rook waves his magic pen again, filling the cauldron with a shimmering liquid I initially fail to recognize as water in the opalescent lighting of the room. Epel looks at us all, moving his goggles down his face to sit over his eyes once Grim taps the clear frame of the cat-adjacent familiar's protective eyewear.

"Now, then," the vice housewarden speaks up, his voice steadfast, "Every Pomefiore student worth their salt needs a flawless pharmalogical grounding." He briefly moves away to fetch a cart with three levels, the upper two of which are covered in a thick, single layer of small glass vials with corks. The top jars look to contain herbs, judging by the faded green and slightly-wilted brown reflected and refracted by the smooth, light-bending surface of their containers. The ones on the middle level, however, appear to contain a collective rainbow of various spices, rocks, furs, and everything else Crewel hasn't let us touch yet, with the exception of equipment.

I squint at the sudden, unmistakable scent of mint wafting off the cart, in spite of the fact that it's on Rook's right and I'm on his left. Grim moves to cover his nose with his paws, but stops when he remembers he's wearing lab gloves and that might not be a bright idea. Looking over, Mandible's nose is twitching like mad- he and Korrak must be getting the brunt of it.

In asingle half-second, I realize Rook is holding his breath, his chest steady instead of slowly moving with his lungs, and then he pushes the cork down onto a vial I hadn't noticed him reaching for, closing it. The aggressive scent of mint wanes and blows away. Rook exhales and inhales, clearly relived. He's a hunter; his sense of smell is sharp. Too-strong oders must be overwhelming to him- they are to me.

A memory surfaces in my mind- falling asleep in a bed of mint, wild mint, dug up and moved to one spot, with Grim in my arms, and then it fades, vanishing like clear gel tossed into the sea. Another event rises into the forefront of my attention, more solid and vivid than the last. The mix of disappointment and sorrow that rose then comes with it, soon yet gradualy overtaken by the sense of apathy that settled into my being back then. That numbness stuck around for years until fate dragged me into this school to reunite with Grim and feel again.

Why did that particular memory surface? What is it that ties then to now, only now? Laying in a bed of mint- oh! My nose is sharper now, much sharper. Back then, I could lie in a bed of it and rest well, but now a meter and a half away is too close.

My familiar stands on all fours and stretches straight up, claws digging ever-so-slightly into the surface of my skin and coat. I snap back to the present. That's right, I'm busy. Busy doing what? Oh, that's right, Rook's helping with upcoming potionology work.

"Now, then..." Rook doesn't talk too much, evidently favoring the act of guiding us by our hands and arms, only commenting when the herbs become involved. Contrawise, he hums near-constantly, one of the melodies bringing the earlier encounter with Korrak and Mandible to my immediate attention. It's the same song.

Rook was there. Good. That means Korrak had some other company. I was a little worried, but now that I know Rook was there to keep an eye on them, some tension I was previously unaware of dissapates like smoke set free from a jar and into the cool evening breeze.

Soon, though, we are back upstairs, in the Backstage Room, discussing as we usually do. I hear someone say the time and our roommates leave me to complete my last two steps with ease, choosing to brush Grim until we're both off to bed. Korrak is asleep by the time we get there, and, soon, Grim curls up in his cat bed as I curl up in my human bed, and then we both close our eyes for the night. My dreams are a single, simple phrase:

"Memory Lane"