[Continued from HF Extra: Dream Arena ~ Another Noel?!]

…Across that nebulous membrane, pressing through the thick, nigh-impossible to penetrate barrier that separates our worlds…

The nexus of all thought awaits, responsible for all creation, all being…all interlinked, entwined…myriad doorways leading to different realities spanning forever in an impossibly huge ‘library’, invisible veins running through the leylines of each plane, pumping the same ancient ichor through each…

Every world, its inhabitants, their hopes, dreams, desires, and deeds…reduced down to tomes upon shelves extending ever higher and higher, out of sight. Infinite potential, Infinite possibilities. Never ending creativity, inspiration. Protagonists, antagonists, deuteragonists. Plot development, character development, motivation. Different instances of the same person. All constrained within their own little universe, the thick bindings of the book serving as that infallible wall, keeping each separate from its neighbor.

But… if two of these books were to fall and land upon each other, page to page…what could possibly happen?

The grounds of the building are unlike anything you’ve ever seen as you approach the megalithic building located within the "school zone". Wandering through the gates amidst the slightly older humans and monsters as they pour into the large structure, you can’t help yourself but eye the others near you as they move inwards. True enough, they are humans. Various shapes, sizes…but humans regardless. And with them? Monsters. Animalistic ears or traits adorn them, marking them as the same kind of beastfolk that make up the majority of your encounters back in Argomery. Male and female both…though, the sexual dimorphism isn’t as pronounced as the kind you’d see in, say, minotaurs. It’s much more restrained. Some are armed, but some are not…hrm. Maybe this place is dangerous, then. Regardless of that, all of them are either keeping to themselves or chatting merrily with their own cliques as they talk, the atmosphere incredibly relaxed. You can’t help but gawk at the scene.

A world of coexistence. Hah. It’s like you’ve been fast-forwarded through time to see the fruit of your labors blossom. Though, that begs the question; where does an outsider like you fit into all this?

Tightening your hood down, you move on.  The answer? Through the doors, of course. Nowhere to go but forward. Though some give you a passing glance…you manage to blend in enough to get inside, your garb and general stature denoting you as just another one of them. Stealth isn’t your forte, especially when you’re denied the ability to actively turn invisible, so acting - also something you’re not good at, mind - is your next best option… else you’ll just be someone loitering around outside with no greater goal in mind.

It stands to reason that you were dumped here for a purpose. Whenever you wake up someplace strange and unexpected, usually your goal isn’t too far off. That’s…just fate, you assume. Suspiciously convenient, always. So to lay eyes on this place first thing, at a prime time to slip in? The skeptical part of you mutters that it's a bit more than serendipitous.

Bodies brush by you as you pause and stare inside, eyes scanning everything you can. Again; utterly alien. Most pause in front of rows upon rows of boxes containing…shoes. Strange footwear unknown to you. They slip their shoes off, take the pair from the cubicles before them, switch them and leave. Your head tilts at the ritual. An unknown custom…but one you aren’t sure you can engage in. Too many variables. Are they picking shoes at random? Are they assigned shoes? Why are they switching their shoes at all? Is there difficult terrain inside that requires specific footwear…? Already at an impasse. Moving forward before you draw attention to yourself, you pick a corner in the sea of cubicles that appears to be mostly out of sight and feign switching out your strange shoes for stranger ones, miming the movements. You aren’t going to steal someone else’s shoes. That just seems…unsanitary. However, this allows for a moment of recon.

People pour off in every direction to the left and right of you. An unstoppable flood of controlled chaos through spacious yet still somehow narrow halls, all moving with conviction. Places to go, people to see. There’s nothing to do here but pick a direction and join the flow. You swallow harshly as you opt to go down the leftmost path, as it’s closer; continuing your infiltration deeper into the labyrinth. To what end, though? You aren’t sure. You just know that there’s something here. There’s always something. Has to be.  More than likely? Your ticket home. At the very least, answers to where you are and what’s going on. And, with that in mind, your brain stirs.

The air is thick with an almost imperceptible scent, but something you’ve become slowly accustomed to. You always wondered how mages could detect mana in an area - you now know that one way is smell. Something in the air, past the smell of various perfumes and colognes tickles at your nostrils in a way that evokes thoughts of swords summoned and attacks deflected by condensed sunlight. It's odorless, but the tiny pinpricks of electricity that tickle your olfactory senses are clear enough; that's the smell of raw power. The ability to manifest anything your imagination can conjure. This world has magic of its own… heh. Would that you were equipped to handle it. Sadly, the powers that be saw fit to leave you with a stick and an unenchanted garment. Your natural mana reserves may have gone from zero to “some”, but without a proper focus…it’s no use.

Minutes trail by into minutes as you blindly follow people through the halls. Up some stairs, down some others, all leading to halls connecting to halls, each filled with numerous doors that various older children break off from the horde and pour into. The endless panes of glass windows allow you to view the world outside; something like a grassy courtyard with seating arrangements lies between this building and the one connected to it on the side opposite you. Even more ground to cover. The crowd slowly thins as more and more people arrive at their destinations; others stopping at long rows of metal storage lockers briefly before hurrying off. The entire time, you keep yourself looking busy, like you know where you have to be.

Eventually, with enough method acting…you are left alone, your steps slowing until you find yourself standing in a hallway within the temple(?), everyone else sequestered away to their various positions within it. Quietly, you let a long, unconsciously held breath loose…before you pump your fist to yourself. Successful infiltration!

Fuck, now what?

Scratching at your cheek, you aren’t sure. You’re in here now, but again; why? There’s no clear point of focus. It isn’t like waking up in…wherever you were after you nearly cashed in your chips fighting Arkid. This palace is a veritable maze. Just waltzing into a room more than likely won’t do you any good; especially having seen that people actively occupy them. Something even more obvious when you stop and listen; there’s an outpour of voices from every direction. Muffled, true, but still there. Priests giving sermons, maybe…? With a lack of better options, you quietly approach one of the doors and lean in to listen.

Before you even get the chance to hear a single word, a shrill whistle from behind you forces your heart up and into your mouth with a soul numbing start, leaving you quite literally jumping up into the air out of reflexive panic, limbs scratching at the air before your feet find the floor. As you spin backwards, eyes wide in sudden onset panic, a young woman raises her hand at you in an accusing manner, index finger stabbing forward. Shit, you’ve been found out!

“Oi, oi, you!” she hollers keeping her gaze locked firmly on yours. Short black hair hides beneath a navy blue pointed cap, some manner of badge prominent on the front of it. Down from there, blue sleeves match the cap as her outfit tapers off to an exposed stomach with some sort of white blouse below it, leaving her outfit a bizarre mix of militaristic and slightly revealing. Another badge on her breast denotes her as ‘POLICE’. You have no idea what that word means, but based on the way she’s currently keeping you still with just her voice, you can only imagine it means she holds some sort of authority. Is she enchanting her voice…? It sounds less like a girl and more like some manner of bird screeching at you to halt! “Suspicious person! What are you doing in the halls? Class has already started, you know?! You’re way past just ‘late’!”

“I…” You blank. Despite the quick ocular patdown, that goddamn whistle has completely scrambled your composure! Without any time to come up with a real excuse- “Erm. I’m sorry, I’m just a little lost…” you explain, accidentally telling the truth despite your previous attempts to remain low profile. You raise your hands before you for effect, palms out and open in a non-threatening gesture. “I…don’t really know where I am, right now, ma’am.”

“Ehh…” the woman across from you murmurs, lowering her hand. That damn finger can cast ‘Hold Person’. She studies your face for a few moments, scrutinizing your words with great effort…only to either take pity on you or correctly deduce that you’re being honest in your explanation. Her stern expression softens. “Are you new here…?”

“In a manner of speaking,” you reply with a bitter laugh. If only you knew. The woman’s eyes narrow once more before you clear your throat. “It’s my first day here in a, uh…cosmic sense. I’ve never been here or anywhere around here before.”

“Ohh,” she says with a nod, a realization washing over her. She continues, expression softening further as she goes from menacing to…friendly. It worked? “You just moved into the area, then?”

“Erm…yeah. Yeah, I did. Can you tell me about it? Or, uh…where we are, right now?”

“Of course!” she says with an almost disarming smile, letting the whistle held around her neck with a bit of string fall slack. “It’s an officer’s job to help as much as it is to stop suspicious people, you know?” Officer. That word you know. She’s something like a guard! Or in some sort of military. Does this place have a military…? That hat of hers is…– “If you’re lost, then you probably haven’t been to the administration office. They can help you get your schedule sorted if you’re going to be attending Cover High!”

“Cover High…” you echo aloud, torn from the thoughts of an army of duck women marching upon an enemy nation. A name for the place you’re in! Progress! But it doesn't give you a hint as to what's actually taught here. Is it like a monastery, or… “Right, right. What do they teach here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Err…everything, I think? Math, science...” She counts on her fingers. Already more than what you could expect a ‘normal person’ to be taught by their families. “History…language, cooking, some engineering…”

“Extensive curriculum… a little of everything, then?"

“Hahn, more like a lot of everything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep up with everything academically but still- Er, nevermind that!” she interrupts herself, giving you an embarrassed look. Let something slip there, huh? “Come on; if you need a guide to the administration office, I can show you. I can’t have you wandering around unsupervised; it’s dangerous!... Well, not really, but I don’t want you to get lost.”

“...Alright,” you relent. With no other options, this may be your best bet. ‘Administration’ implies there’s a hierarchy at work here. These are people in charge of the students, most likely - the teachers as well. If anyone can give you any leads on getting home, it’s most likely them. “Please and thank you, Miss…?”

“Oozora Subaru of the Oozora Police, at your service!” she proclaims, puffing her chest out with a great deal of pride. You swear you can almost see a little star plink off of her head as she does so. She takes her position seriously. “And you’re…?”

“...Anonymous, of Kleinsburg.” The truth, then. No point in assuming a false name. You doubt ‘Keiichi’ would’ve gotten you far, given how you already messed up coming up with a convincing lie from a single shrill noise. Subaru’s face falls flat, awash with confusion despite her best attempts to hide it.

“Kuhlinesberg,” she repeats, absolutely butchering the pronunciation of your hometown. You wince. “…Hey, is that somewhere in Europe?”

“Uhh…yeah.”

“Ooh, you’re a long way from home then! Is that name European too…?”

“...Yeah," you feign. The girl taps her chin in a curious manner, head tilting as she processes the information. It's kind of cute.

“Hmm…that name has a different meaning around here… But, okay, okay! Follow close, alright? It’s easy to get lost if you don’t know where you’re going! Let me give you a tour of your new school!"

As the woman barely your senior waves you forward to accompany her, you let loose a small sigh. The capital of Bradias’ name went unknown, and more than that, she retorted with a place you’ve absolutely never heard of. The dark realization that you really are in a completely new world isn’t lost upon you, but acknowledging it brings no comfort, either. Right as you get comfortable with the rhythm of routine of your homelife, it’s always something… You wonder if this is how it feels to be cursed. It would be nice if you were ripped away to other worlds of your own volition, not just being attacked from nowhere! Ugh.

You wonder how Coco and the others are faring… the sooner you can get back to them, the better. Following Subaru will help you do just that, maybe.

But those shorts show entirely too much thigh. Keep your eyes straight, Hero.

Stamping her foot in immense frustration as her hands grapple with her own horns, Coco is faring absolutely fucking horribly.  One minute? Everything’s fine. Everyone is talking, accounted for, safe, and relaxed. The next? Anon freezes mid-conversation. Stiffens up…and then, with a booming voice, disappears into a Godsdamn portal that appeared from nowhere and snatched him up!! With the shared home now in chaos amidst the sudden separation, the women within all fume in their own way and try to come up with a solution. The unanimous thought amongst them? ‘It’s always fucking something!’

“It’s always fucking something!” she complains, gnawing her own lip as she grunts and huffs in aimless frustration. “Kanata, can you still not feel him!?”

“He’s…” The angel’s eyes glaze over as her halo glows and shifts, beginning to tilt a bit off balance as she focuses. The circular accessory finally grows dim as Kanata grumbles. “No. I can’t detect him…anywhere. Not in any of the layers, not…”

“I’m going to get Fubuki,” Marine blurts with a disgruntled growl. Another day, another issue that seems to plague only them. Is this boy cursed? Is the entire home cursed? Something doesn’t add up! You don’t hear about this happening to others! “Polka, can you find Farmboy and Ina?”

“You think they’re involved?” the exhausted fennec asks, blinking unevenly. Channeling mana into a void-that-was-once-a-gateway has left her utterly drained. “Ever since Ina…”

“No, but we need all the help we can get! Come on, come on! Up!”

“Wahh…”

“Always…fucking…something!!!” Coco continues. Until something can be done, it’s her only way to vent…

Stardust Buster. That’s a cool name. Add that to the list. As soon as you get new techniques that don’t have names, that’s one of them. Critical Drive. That’s another. You’re a natural at this. What about–

“Hey, are you listening?” Subaru asks, looking back over her shoulder at you as you stiffen on reflex. The girl’s eyes narrow at you as your startled expression betrays the fact that…no, not really, you weren’t. These grounds are huge, and while you appreciate the brief history lesson for everything you pass, you stopped listening when she started talking about how the bathroom facilities were built up. “It’s rude to not answer a question, you know!”

“Sorry, sorry, uh…what were you saying? I was thinking about something for a minute.”

“I was asking if you were nervous about transferring to a new school,” she repeats herself, offering you a look of concern. “It’s always a big thing, sure, but moving to an entirely new area and then needing to make new friends is a lot…you feeling alright about it?”

“I don’t think I’ll have too much of a problem,” you reply nervously. Mostly because you don’t plan to stick around here too long, if luck is on your side. This isn’t your home; you won’t have to live your life here. Hopefully. Oh, Gods, please. But the appreciation for the question is there, regardless; the smile that crosses your face comes easily. “But if I ever have any trouble, I at least know who I can ask. Thank you again for helping me with this.”

“Aw, of course!” Subaru beams. Despite the voice, she’s still a girl. A maidenly heart, or something like that…but you think she’d look cuter with longer hair, maybe. Ahh, don’t let Marine or Coco hear you saying that… “Really, if you ever nee–”

Subaru’s response is cut short by something erupting in a ball of flame behind her, blowing out the windows in the hall (and carrying her hat away with the blast of heated air) as someone from inside the room that exploded goes flying right out of it with a scream. Your blood freezes as you draw your ‘weapon’ on  snap reflex, pupils narrowing to pinpricks as a sharp intake of air floods your lungs. Smoke wafts by and up your nostrils as you shiver. Fuck, fuck–SHIT! Are you under attack?! As your heart rate spikes - indicative of the adrenaline coursing through your veins - Subaru merely looks…slightly annoyed, brushing her hair down as she turns back around with a groan. How is she so calm?? Nerves of steel!

“What was that?!” you bark. Your knees bend as you lean forward, taking a step up next to the officer. She’s unarmed, though. You doubt she’s a pugilist. And…even then, you just have a stick. But you’re needed. Something is happening… but Subaru’s grumbling to your right, though, isn’t exactly…frightened or filled with urgency.

“Someone messing around with something they shouldn’t - again,” she murmurs. “That’s the third time this week that someone’s-”

A second deafening boom and blast of heat leads to yet another figure soaring out of the second story window with a shriek, the ground beneath you shaking as you nearly lose your balance. Subaru stumbles for a moment, but a quick hand on her shoulder steadies her - the girl looking back at you surprised at first, but quickly giving you a look of thanks before she turns her eyes back forward. “Alright, that’s enough of that. Anonymous…er…i-is ‘Anon’ okay?”

“Yeah…yeah.” Your thin neck hairs bristle as you swallow the spit in your mouth. “What’s the plan?”

“You keep going straight - the administration office isn’t too far away from here. I’ll need to see what these morons are doing before they–”

This explosion actually knocks you clean off your feet as you land ass-first with a yelp. A series of explosions, and she’s still not even remotely phased?! Subaru - still standing despite the intense shocks, her expression of annoyance deepening - finally reaches her breaking point as she brings the whistle up to her lips and unleashes the same sound of doom she used against you earlier. Before you even have a chance to say anything, she storms off, yelling a mix of authoritative demands and threats of jailtime if the ones responsible for the repeated detonations of what you can only assume to be fucking bombs don’t stop doing whatever it is they’re doing in the alchemical lab they’re working out of. A new mix of screams - none of them hers - erupt from the doorway as the door itself is ripped back inwards, slamming it closed.

And, just like that, you’re alone again, heart thudding in your ringing ears as you sit on the floor, utterly confused and slightly terrified. You stay there for…a moment, trying to process what exactly happened - or, if this is a common occurrence, given Subaru’s nonreaction to what you can only describe as an attack on the school. The last time something like this happened you were faced with the slaughter of countless innocents back in Kleinsburg…how can someone be so used to deafening booms that they don’t react to them at all beyond mild annoyance? The sounds of fighting and screams for mercy are still coming from the room where the booms originated, and…laughs from the windows that were blown out.

Hopping up from your seat, you scurry over and look outside - suppressing the worry that you’ll soon be joining them if another explosion goes off. Sure enough, the two figures you watched blasted out from the inferno pat each other on the back - two young men, from the looks of it - laughing merrily as if they weren’t just sent careening to what should’ve been their certain death. There’s not so much as a scratch on them, especially strange considering they were shot out onto broken glass below. What is going on with this place?

You can only shake your head, dumbfounded as you take a step back. You’d rush in and help Subaru, but granted that none of the screams are hers, you doubt she really needs the help - besides, this is, uh…her jurisdiction, not yours. Stumped and lost, you can only follow her directions. Your head swims as you move onwards…

So, explosions here are just a thing. That’s fun. Not really - truth be told, to yourself of course, you’re still shaking - but at least no one was hurt. Haha. Ha. A chill runs down your spine, but you press onwards. This secondary building is just as big as the main one, you think, but it’s overall…quieter. The teachers you heard earlier are all but absent, unless there’s just less classrooms here. You can hear some occasional voices, but for the most part, there’s nothing in the halls but your own footsteps, ringing in louder than ever despite the partial deafness that afflicts you. Despite your triumph over the Rogue Fragment, much like with the Painted World, the memories remain.

Every sniff of brimstone or thunderous boom takes you back to that dark hall stained with the blood of what very well may have been your peers. To the thought of The Knight nearly killing you before your clone risked life and limb to save you, only for the villain to amputate your arm not much later. To watching your hometown burn beneath the monstrosity’s ire-filled gaze at the command of an impossibly powerful warlock whose location you have no leads on, meaning he can do it all again anytime he deigns to do so. Another shuddering breath escapes your lips as you try to relax. Cool sweat beads on your forehead…

No one is even bothering to investigate the booms. Urk. Your head pounds in sync with your heart as you force yourself to calm down, each breath held for a few moments as you move. Fight or flight chemicals finally leave your system, a burning sensation in their place. What happened before isn’t happening again. You’ll be fine; but not if you keep freaking out. Your heart stills back to a normal pattern of beating as you move through the halls. Clearing your mind as best you can, you step, step, step onwards, the rhythmic footfalls echoing out through the halls…and then…

“EEAAAKKK!! HELP!! HELP, PEKO!!” A girl’s voice screeches from your left, muffled due to the composition of the door that greets your immediate sight. You stumble forward to a surprised stop as a quiet crash from within the room the voice came from accentuates the urgency in her voice. Genuine fear. The sounds of a struggle. Just like that, the ripcord of adrenaline production is pulled again, the muscles within your eye socket twitching as your teeth clench. Shit- “HELP ME!!”

“I’m coming!” you yell out in response, darting to the door in question as you grasp at the handle. Your heart thuds. It’s not happening again. It can’t be happening again. You won’t let it happen again.

“EH?” The girl within hollers out in…surprise? “WAIT, WHO? DON’T! DON’-”

As the door flies open and you rush in, you’re very quickly caught around the ankle by some sort of rope - tripping you with shocking efficiency. Your stomach lurches. A different chemical cocktail shoots through your nervous system as the situation you were preparing for is quickly ripped away and replaced with a new one. No time to react. Muscles tighten foolishly to brace for impact. This will hurt more than you can fathom, at least for the moment. Any and all momentum you had going forward from your zero-to-a-hundred-and-ten jolt is immediately redirected downwards as you’re sent flying face first into a bucket of ice cold water, the edge of the metal catching you in the throat as you’re forced to yell out into the freezing liquid before you finally connect with the ground, tipping it over atop you as your head remains inside of it. Like you’re back in that black ocean again between mirrors. Though you’re still, you can hear water rushing…

You lay there for a moment as the cold water seeps into your clothing, soaking you to the bone. The impact hurt far less than you thought it would - strangely, it didn’t hurt at all - but your scrambled mind finally realigns itself. The deafening explosions earlier now have to contend with the water in your ears - giving you an amazingly painful brain freeze -  and taking what’s left of your hearing, rendering you nearly deaf as something like vertigo causes your brain to spin. Too many sensations all at once to pinpoint. Cold water sinking deep into your pallid flesh, a forceful reminder of gravity’s presence, indomitable head pressure. You can hear someone talking, but you don’t understand them through everything assailing your senses - and frankly, you don’t care at this point. A rumbling murmur somewhere in your thoughts whispers to you that you need to act. Burning hatred begins to bubble beneath your skin, beneath your veins - born of your blood, carrying the heat throughout your freezing form. Fingers clench the tiled floor, nails attempting to pierce it as you draw a ragged breath from within the confines of your head’s prison, the voice outside of it still yammering, but it’s all static. You’re trapped somewhere you don’t know, in a building that’s exploding, and now? You’ve fallen for a trick set to catch someone unawares with an attack. You’re shocked you can breathe at all the way the bucket hit your throat - it dented it inwards, even. But what’s important now is that you need to defend yourself. 

Pushing yourself up with one hand, you rip the bucket off of your head with indignation and glare upwards, eyes darting from left to right. You spy the one responsible - a horrified young rabbit girl looking at you with no small deal of distress as she holds her hands up in a non-threatening manner despite the trap she set for you. She recoils as your eyes lock with hers. Her face falls further from worry to fear. The water drains from your ears as you hear her blithering something indecipherable. Your hand reaches for the ‘weapon’ at your hip as you draw to your feet…something within you burns as it stirs. Down your arm, you catch it briefly - something like a streak of familiar red lightning. The roar of the flames within fills your heart with a terrible heat as your eyes dart back up to the trap maker. This place is insane. But you’re not going to just lay down and let it claim you. You’ve survived the trap, but the person responsible is still standing. Subdue them first. Question them after. The rabbit girl’s eyes widen as you rip the stick outwards from the ‘scabbard’ that you call your belt, crouching into a stance meant to carry you forward with a strike–

When something grasps your arm from behind.

You smelled something fishy about this from the start.

The moment Pekora asked you for help, you knew that pint-sized troublemaker was up to something. And the more she elucidated what said ‘help’ would involve, the surer you became of your suspicions. Ditching second period to quote, ‘help set up a prank, peko’? In the adjoining clubroom building, which, conveniently, would be almost entirely depopulated this time of day? At that point you couldn’t even call it bait; she was just dangling the hook right in front of your eyes and asking you to take a bite.

And yet, bite you did. The memory of your intimate confession to her just a few days ago was still fresh in your mind, and far be it for you to turn down an opportunity to spend some time alone with your…girlfriend? Can you call her that now? Sure, you’ll be walking headlong into a trap, but you already do that pretty much every other day. And once whatever mishap she has planned for you is over? It’ll be just you and your little rabbit, with the whole first floor all to yourselves. Who knows? Maybe pranking isn’t the only thing she wants to do with you… 

As you passed through the doorway into the secondary building, head abuzz with indecent thoughts, you could already hear her. Histrionically crying out for help somewhere down the hall. An obvious ploy; the lure meant to goad you into trying to play the hero and rush to her aid, straight into whatever contraption she had set up for you. At least that was your first assumption…until you heard the crash.

Alarms blared in your sympathetic nervous system at the loud noise coalescing with Pekora’s panicked, chillingly genuine shriek. It dawned on you in that moment of horrified realization that what you thought to be feigned pleas for help may have been real. Memories that you hoped you would never have to relive clawed their way from the depths of your mind. Hot air washing over your skin. The burnt smell of black powder and singed paper. Pale skin stained red.

You ran as fucking fast as you could.

Everything seemed to pass in a blur. A single door flung wide in a long hallway. Pekora’s approaching voice, spilling forth a stream of apologies and pleas for mercy. Linoleum tiling drenched with spilled water, almost sending you sprawling across the floor as you all but threw yourself through the portal. Catapulting yourself past the threshold, from ‘then,’ to ‘now.’

And now, there she is.

Staring down the blade of a wooden sword.

“HEY!”

Your voice erupts out of your throat in a roar, hand lashing out like a snake and biting down on the assailant’s wrist. The sword’s tip begins to dip ever so slightly as you tug downward, veering the weapon off-course from its intended target. “What the fuck are-?!”

But your indignant demand hasn’t even halfway left the station before whatever element of surprise you had fizzles out, and an alarming, almost supernatural strength wrenches against your own to effortlessly yank that arm free from your grasp. The diminutive figure twists with the momentum, pirouetting in place with a graceful swiftness that doesn’t even give you time to wipe the look of dumb shock off your face before you find that wooden shaft barreling towards you in a brown blur.

Your body honed by countless beatings reacts before your brain, reflexively yanking yourself back through the open doorway just as the tip sweeps through the air that your head had been occupying, wind whipping across your face. “WOAH!” The soles of your shoes lose traction and begin to hydroplane across the slick tile floor, a hair’s breadth from giving out from under you before your outstretched hand manages to narrowly clamp down on the door jamb and bring your backward momentum to a halt. Stumbling to regain your footing from the impulsive retreat, you whip your free arm up to shield your face. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

The figure eloquently answers in the form of a second strike, its focus (thankfully) shifted away from Pekora to you entirely. The blade stabs forth with a precision that the first reflexive swing had lacked, ignoring your impromptu shield and aiming lower at your exposed center of mass. The tip sinks into your torso, only stopped short of puncturing your chest cavity by virtue of the safety ward dispersing the force in a ripple across your body. But even mitigated, the power behind the thrust remains shockingly formidable, more than enough to knock you back.

Your tentative grip on the doorway slips, leaving you to helplessly tumble to the ground, spilled water soaking your shirt and sending a chill across your back as you slam into the wet tiles. “Nh-!” A grunt of discomfort escapes your throat. Weakly trying to push yourself back up, you barely manage to prop yourself up on an elbow before your jumbled senses detect a dark shape looming over you. Your attacker draws closer, sword at the ready. And as it does, you’re finally able to process just what the hell you’re looking at.

A boy. A young one at that. A freshman? Pulled up over his head is a black hoodie, beneath which hides a face further obscured by a mane of excessively long bangs. A pair of glowing(?!) red eyes smolder behind the mess of locks, a distant forest fire through the trees. Are you fighting a fucking demon?! A demon freshman?! But the initial shock gives way as you hold your gaze on him long enough to actually register the expression on his face.

He’s…scared.

That wide-eyed look is unmistakable. You’ve seen it before. It’s the same face Pekora made on that fateful day, while she sprinted through the halls at breakneck speed to save Moona from her prank gone wrong. Sheer, blind desperation.

“Wait!” Your free hand shoots up in front of yourself in a clear act of surrender as the fearful boy begins to raise his sword again. “Stop! Just fucking wait a second, alright?!”

The blade comes to a halt, wavering in place as though its wielder can’t seem to decide whether to lower the thing or not. Whatever haze of panic this kid is caught in, your words seem to have broken through to him, if only for a brief moment. You don’t dare move a muscle, lest the slightest shift send him right back into a frenzy, though your gaze does chance a peek past his shrouded form and into the room behind him.

Pekora has capitalized on her assailant’s shift in attention to retreat to the far side of the room, pressed up just about as flat against the wall as physically possible. Between the rabbit ears lying flat against her head, the amber eyes as wide as saucers, and the legs buckling as though they may give way at a moment’s notice, she’s clearly terrified. Terrified…but unharmed. As she locks eyes with you, you can feel the tiniest glimmer of relief. This may not exactly be the valiant rescue you were going for, but at least the sword isn’t being pointed at her anymore.

You, on the other hand, find yourself in a most precarious position. Whoever this demon freshman is, he’s freaking the fuck out. And if his trifling smackdown on you is any indication, he can easily resume clobbering you into the ground if he so chooses. And for both of those reasons, trying to keep fighting him seems…‘ill-advised,’ to put it politely. You need to choose your words carefully and de-escalate the situation. “I’m not,” you hesitantly begin, “going to hurt you.” A bit obvious, seeing as he’s got you dead-to-rights. But you should say it anyway.

“…Traps.” The boy offers a monosyllabic response in a tone almost as unsteady as his sword-arm. It almost sounds more like a croak than a proper voice. His head darts back to give Pekora a wary glance, the momentary scrutiny causing her to stiffen up like a board, before he just as quickly whips his gaze back to you. The wooden weapon remains trained on your prone form, trembling yet steadfast. “And explosions. What…is happening here?”

Man of few words, isn’t he? The…very brief explanation leaves you figuratively scratching your head as you try to decipher his meaning. Those ‘explosions’ must be referring to the ones that went off in the main building a few minutes ago. Probably someone going hog-wild in the chemistry lab again. Bit of an odd thing to get freaked out over, but after what happened last week, it’s hard to blame people for being jumpy.

And as for the ‘traps’ part…

With the adrenaline rush of your initial scuffle wearing off, your tunnel-vision is starting to widen, allowing you to take in your surroundings in greater detail. Perhaps the first and foremost being that this hooded kid is absolutely drenched in water from the shoulders up, his hair matted and stuck to his face. Whatever spill happened here, it would seem that he was in the so-called ‘splash zone.’ And the dented bucket lying discarded on the floor not too far into the room only seems to confirm your suspicions.

“Pekora.” You speak in a slow, yet firm tone. Like a parent scolding their child who just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Did you do this?”

The rabbit girl’s jaw flaps as she averts her eyes and uneasily grabs one of her pigtails with both hands, stroking the lock of braided hair again and again. “I-I-I-I,” she stammers, “I-I heard footsteps and….a-and I thought it was you…”

Welp. Mystery solved, open-and-shut. Just as you anticipated, Pekora had a prank lined up for you after all. This rando just had the misfortune of arriving on the scene shortly before you, and taking the metaphorical bullet in your stead. “I, um…” You shift once more from the guilty-looking rabbit to her unintended victim, who still looks about ready to run you through. “I think we’ve got a case of mistaken identity here. That trap wasn’t meant for you-”

“How are you still breathing?”

“What.”

The boy’s follow-up question is as immediate as it is completely unrelated to the topic at hand. “I aimed for your lungs. It should have knocked the air out of you. But you’re not even winded. How?”

Now you’re becoming just as flummoxed as him. Being surprised by the explosions? Understandable. People are a bit on-edge after what happened to Moona. Getting pissed off about falling into a trap out of the blue? Also fair. Most people haven’t become conditioned to that sort of treatment like you have. But wondering why he wasn’t able to grievously injure you? What kind of question is that? Everyone at this school knows that the safety ward would render an attack like that useless. Yet he’s reacting like it’s something he can’t even comprehend. Hell, he almost sounds disappointed. “I’m confused by how confused you are.”

“I’m confused by how you just shrugged off having your chest caved in!” the boy fires back. “Is…is it armor? Are you wearing armor under your shirt?” The tip of his blade twirls in a circular motion in front of your chest. “Or…are you not human either?”

‘Either.’ That demon theory is looking more and more likely. “N-No, I’m definitely human, and I’m not wearing armor,” you answer. “Why would I need armor when we’ve got the safety ward?”

Those last two words seem to give the boy pause. The tip lowers again as he eyes you with a total lack of understanding. “Safety…ward…?”

…Alright, hold the phone.

You knew this guy looked like a freshman, but the school year’s a good three months in; even they should have been made privy of the workings of this place by now. How new is he?? Or has he just been living under a rock these past few months? “There’s a warding spell around the school, kid,” you illuminate. “Nobody can get hurt. That little stick of yours is just a glorified back-scratcher here.”

You can almost hear the gears turning in his head. The wooden sword dips lower, and lower, until it has finally come to a resting position at his side. His grip on the weapon tightens for a moment as he puts his free hand to his chest and takes a deep, shaky breath, unclenching once more as the exhale washes past his lips. Breathing exercises. Trying to calm himself down. Marine made you do something similar after your flareup in the hallway last week. As he engages in the self-soothing act, you can see the red glow fading from his irises, the forest-fire extinguished to leave the treeline in tranquil darkness…and fully enshroud his eyes in the process.

Just as Marine did, you wait patiently until he’s done, soaking in the floor-water in silence. It isn’t until his bloodlust appears to have completely faded and his unsteady breathing has stabilized that you dare utter a word. “You good?”

“...Yes.” The young boy shakes his head as if to banish any residual violent thoughts before slipping his weapon back into its ‘sheath’ (i.e. one of his belt loops). “I’m, uh, ’good.’” You’re not sure if he’s relieved to know that he isn’t in any immediate danger, or resigning himself to the fact that he can’t cause harm to anyone in retaliation. You’ll take either, honestly, so long as it gets him to stop going aggro on you. You’re about to ask him if this means you can get off the ground now when he indirectly answers the question for you, holding out one little hand. “I am…sorry,” he mumbles in embarrassment. “For hitting you.”

Phew. It would seem your fledgling diplomacy skills managed to earn their keep today. Accepting his offered hand, you let the humbled boy help you up off the soaked ground…with, once again, an alarming amount of strength for such a small kid. “It’s fine. No harm no foul.” Glancing over his shoulder at Pekora, you loudly clear your throat. “And I think YOU deserve an apology too.”

The rabbit girl blanches as you forcibly drag her back into the spotlight. Intentional or not, she was the cause of this whole mess. And you’re not about to just let her hang back and spectate while you clean up after her. As the hooded boy looks to her, she can’t seem to even bring herself to look him in the eyes (or more accurately, in the hair), gaze darting about the room as if looking for something, anything else she can focus on. “I, um, I-I…” She ultimately seems to find a good enough target in the form of…the discarded bucket, of all things. As she eyes the toppled container, her braided pigtail sweeps before her face to hide herself from the demon freshman’s gaze. “...I’m sorry,” she finally manages to say. “I-I didn’t mean to…to get you involved in this.”

“Good girl.”

The kid looks between you and her, tilting his head in what you assume to be confusion. Honestly it’s a bit hard to tell what kind of face he’s making when you can only see half of it. You think you liked it better when his eyes were glowing... “Why were you setting up traps in the first place?” he finally asks her. “To capture him?”

Pekora only burrows herself further into her improvised mask, stumbling inelegantly over her words. “N-No, I, um, it, I-I was…”

Right, that’s enough of that. In the interest of this conversation not taking all morning, you take the reins back from the socially inept girl and answer for her. “It was a prank.”

“…What is that? A ‘prank’?” He repeats the word as if it’s one he’s never heard before.

“...” “...”

Pekora’s blank stare matches your own. Apparently not only is this guy a stranger to how things work at this school, he seems to have difficulty grasping even basic concepts of social interaction. He’s starting to feel less like a freshman and more like a newborn. “Uh…it’s like…tricking someone,” you try to explain. “For fun. Have you really never had that happen to you before?”

“Er…” The boy scratches his cheek as he appears to plumb his memory banks. “…Someone hid an egg under my hay-pile once.”

“Under your hay-pile?” you echo in bewilderment. “What, do you live in a barn?” But you quickly throw off the unrelated inquiry with a dismissive shake of the head. It’s becoming abundantly clear that you’re only going to get more confused the more this kid opens his mouth, and you need to take this conversation somewhere more productive. “Y-You know what, it doesn’t matter. More importantly, what are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“...Shouldn’t you?”

The verbal riposte leaves you at a loss. Over the kid’s shoulder you can see Pekora begin staring very intently at the wall as she whistles innocently to herself. “...We…um…we’re…” Your thoughts race in a frantic effort to search for some kind of excuse. “...ditching.” And fail miserably. “We ditched class. Now what about you?”

Thankfully the kid doesn’t seem to know what to do with your admission of guilt, earning you little more than another one of those curious head-tilts before he speaks again. “I was trying to find the…‘administrative offices.’ I’m kind of new here.”

“You don’t say.”

“There was this officer girl helping me,” he continues, ignoring your dry remark. “But then the…bombs? Happened.”

‘Officer girl’... “Subaru?” you hazard a guess.

“Yeah, that was her name.”

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s new, he’s lost, and his guide had to leave him behind to go deal with some future domestic terrorists. The picture is starting to become much clearer, so long as you don’t think too hard about who or what this demonic kid actually is. “Well, you’re in the right building, but…the admin offices are on the second floor.” You could easily leave it at that and send him off on his own, but… “I can show you the way.”

“Huh?” You don’t even need to see his face this time; the surprise is clear in his voice alone. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, why not,” you answer with a shrug. At this point it’s probably safe to say that whatever hopes you had of getting up to some ‘activities’ with Pekora have gone out the window, and god only knows what this jumpy kid will do if left to his own devices. He already drew a weapon on both Pekora and you, and you have no reason to believe he won’t do it again the instant something else manages to pull his devil trigger.

Plus, you’re sure as hell not going to stick around and help clean up this mess.

“And you,” you address your rabbit companion, “look like you have some tidying to do.”

Pekora lets out a petulant grumble. But her pouting doesn’t last long before she seems to come to the logical realization that the only alternative would be to just leave the clubroom in its present flooded state, almost definitely landing herself in hot water later. No pun intended. “Yeah yeah,” she ultimately concedes with a sigh. “I will...peko.”

“Hm.” With a satisfied grunt, you shoo the little gremlin from your thoughts and turn your attention fully to the little demon instead. “Alright kid, c’mon. It’s this way.” You usher him forth with one hand as you lead the way down the hall, a gesture that thankfully even he is able to comprehend. As his light footfalls catch up to yours, you take a glance at his shrouded form. “And could you please put the hood down? That ‘school shooter’ look is gonna make people nervous.”

The request is met with your second bout of reluctant hemming and hawing in the past few seconds as the boy’s mouth purses into a thin line. He seems to contemplate whether to acquiesce or tell you to get bent for a few moments, before the former apparently wins out and he slips the black hood back onto his shoulders…exposing a veritable mop of messy hair underneath. How he’s able to even get around without bumping into things, you can’t even begin to guess. But at this point you’re just not going to question it. "...Feels wrong, somehow..." he mutters under his breath, fingertips lightly brushing over his exposed mane.

“Thank you.”

The hallway falls quiet. The sounds of your two sets of shoes against the linoleum floor echo through this desolate area of the school as you make your way towards the stairwell in increasingly-awkward silence. And he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to pipe up, staring ahead with that damnably unreadable look on his face. You never thought you’d be in this position, but you may actually be the less awkward guy in the room for once.

“...So…uh…” You tentatively probe the mystery kid as the two of you begin ascending the stairs. “You got a name?”

The boy doesn’t even turn his head. “...Anonymous.”

“...Eh?”

Your bewildered utterance, on the other hand, does seem to catch his attention. As he leers up at you, you could swear he looks…mildly annoyed. “Is there something strange about my name?” he asks with a hint of indignation. “You’re the second person today to react like that, and I’ve only met three so far.”

For a second you were going to assume that he just browses way too much 5ch and wanted to hide his identity. But judging by his insulted reaction, ‘Anonymous’ might be this guy’s actual, honest-to-god NAME. And with how weird he’s already proven to be, you really shouldn’t rule out any possibilities, no matter how outlandish. “Is…is Anonymous considered a normal name where you’re from?”

“Yes,” he answers brusquely. “Is it not here?”

“Er…no.” You’ll just give it to him straight. Rip the bandaid off before he has to have this exchange a third time. “You’re basically calling yourself ‘nobody.’”

“...” After a few moments of silently staring at you from behind his bangs, the boy responds to the revelation with little more than a shrug as he looks away. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. It’s just what my parents named me.”

“Your parents must have had it out for you.”

“Maybe. I never met them.”

“...Oh.” 

Transfer Student, social butterfly extraordinaire, ladies and gentlemen.

Foot now lodged firmly within your mouth, you duck your head in embarrassment as your cheeks begin to burn. Calling yourself the less awkward guy in the room may have been a bit premature…

“...You?” The boy’s voice breaks through your internal self-flagellation.

“Huh?”

“Your name,” he elaborates. “What is it?”

“...”

On the one hand, you did recently earn the right to your real name (as dystopian as that sounds). But on the other hand, Pekora is the only one so far who you’ve ‘outed’ yourself to, so to speak. It would probably be easier to avoid confusion if you just give him your usual…‘title.’  

“...Everyone calls me Transfer Student.”

Even through the mess of hair, you can see the visible confusion on the boy’s face. “Your name is Transfer Student?”

“That’s not what I said.” Before the boy can ask for clarification (or, more likely, not ask), you point to one of the approaching doorways lining the hall. A familiar spot where you and the rest of the ‘coalition’ convened just last week, to meet with the biggest cheese in the school. And the man most likely to know just what this mystery kid’s deal is. “We’re here.”

The boy follows your digit toward the plaque bolted onto the door. “...‘Headmaster’s Office’?” he reads aloud.

“When it comes to ‘administration,’ this guy is about as high up the ladder as it goes. If anyone can help get your shit sorted out, it’s probably him.” You’ll be barging in without an appointment this time, but present circumstances don’t exactly allow you to just come back later. And knowing Yagoo, he probably won’t be too bothered. “You good to-?”

The question hasn’t even fully formed before ‘Anonymous’ unceremoniously flings the door open and strides in.

…Apparently he is.

~~~~~

Progress. All steps forward are progress. Granted, you nearly clobbered the ones who were willing to provide you with such progress into the dirt (tile?), but…well. You weren’t your best self at that exact moment. Arguably, you were your worst. Panic caused you to leap straight into self-defense mode, which…then spiraled out of control into conquest-mode. Damn dragon blood can cloud your judgment sometimes… After the explosive fiasco earlier, having someone to take you exactly where you need to be was a welcome change, even if you found yourself struggling to make ‘small talk’ with someone from another world whose introduction to your character was you nearly decapitating them on reflex… but, uh… you’ve made friends in stranger ways.

Transfer Student himself gives you an incredulous look as you open the door and step inwards, but you don’t want to waste any more time than you already have in this bizarre place. In the span of maybe an hour you’ve gotten into a scrap, been scared witless, and that’s not even counting the battle you did with that…weird Fake Noel. If you can get to the bottom of–

You freeze in your tracks as you stiffen to attention, the man at the far end of the room looking at you expectantly behind his large desk, a frighteningly familiar warm smile plastered across his features. The words blurt from your throat before you can consciously process what it is you’re seeing. Who it is you’re seeing.

“Your Majesty?!”

“What?” a voice from behind asks. You ignore it as the man behind the desk doesn’t seem to react at all to the question beyond the smile at the edge of his face growing just the tiniest bit wider.

“I prefer the term ‘headmaster’, but if that’s what you wish to call me, I’ve no strong objections, young man.”

“K-King Yagoo, I…” you stammer. Another ‘what??’ comes from the doorway behind you. “What are you doing here?!”

“Well…this is my office,” he replies without missing a beat. “It would be strange if I weren’t here during school hours. And please, I’m no king. Just a humble man with a passion for education. Are you, perhaps…a new student?”

“I–” You blank, head swimming. This is him! This is absolutely just King Yagoo! Granted, the suit he wears is a far cry from his typical royal garment, but…you balk.

Your mind tick-tick-ticks as you stare at the man for a moment, his neutral yet jovial expression never shifting as his eyes match yours. There’s a horrible realization bubbling up within you - and that, of course, is that this may not be your Yagoo, so to speak. Rewinding a bit, you just glossed over the fact that what you found yourself entangled in immediately before winding up here was a deadly struggle against a woman who looked like Noel - who responded to the name Noel - but wasn’t Noel. At least, not the Noel you know from your world. You’ve only ever met one other outworlder - that soldier Ina forced you into conflict with - and you didn’t exactly have time to chat or share stories…

Gods, are there other versions of you out there, too? Is there another Anonymous running around this school…? Shaking your head, you find it difficult to relax. Yagoo leans over in his chair, looking past you for a moment.

“Ah, Transfer Student - is that you I’m hearing out there? Shouldn’t you be in class at this hour?”

“Shit,” comes the voice from the doorway. Called it earlier. Hah. After a moment of silence, the boy peers around the door frame, offering a bow of greeting as he nervously clears his throat. “H-Hello, sir. I was just, erm…going to the restroom when I found ‘Anonymous’ here lost. I offered to take him to you; it’s his very first day and he didn’t know where to go.”

“Hmm, hm. That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you for extending your hand in hospitality to our newest student…Anonymous, he said your name was, young man?”

“Yes sir,” You reply dumbly. This is too weird. This is seriously too weird. Is it really not him? Is he just playing a joke on you? “Anonymous, of Kleinsburg.”

“Kleinsburg…” he muses, stroking his chin. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it. You must be from someplace far away, then.”

He has to be fucking with you! A ‘prank’ or whatever! As you open your mouth to say something, the man settles back into an upright position in his large chair, bringing his hands over some manner of black slab laid before him on his desk. Looking back over your shoulder, you can still see Transfer Student - now looking between you and the King’s doppelganger uneasily. When the ‘headmaster’ behind you makes a small sound of surprise, you turn back.

“Hah. Well, you really are far from home,” He chuckles softly, looking back to you with that same easy, almost all-knowing smile. “Fascinating. I’ve no doubt you’ll fit right in around here. I’ll go ahead and print off a copy of your class schedule and where you’ll be staying, for your own reference.”

“Wait–”

“Transfer Student?” Yagoo asks once more, leaning to the right in his chair once again. “Would you please come in here for a moment?”

“...Yes, sir,” the boy in the door answers, still somewhat nervous as he leaves his perch and steps inwards, taking position next to you.

“Sir, wait,” you try again. “I don’t think you-”

“Since you were so kind as to help him in the beginning, would you mind going a step further?” Yagoo continues, ignoring your attempts to press the issue that you really don’t belong here. Transfer Student’s eyebrow cocks out of the corner of your eye.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Well. Young Anonymous here has come quite a far ways away from his place of origin. A ‘world away’, so to speak,” he presses…eyes drifting over to you. He stares into your soul with something like…acknowledgment. A deeper understanding of the situation. Perhaps deeper than your own? You aren’t sure. He isn’t ignoring you…he’s setting you on a track without giving away your origins. But…why? Who is this guy…? And why is he– “And I can imagine no better person than the one standing in front of me to be the one to aid him in helping him get settled in.”

“What.” Transfer Student deadpans, even breaking past the reverence for authority he showed not even a minute prior. Skepticism practically oozes off of him.

“You and the…what did you call yourselves? That ‘coalition’ of yours? You’ve shown yourselves to be a capable and tight knit group of well-meaning young people. Surely you can handle helping one young man find his way, yes?”

“I…” Transfer Student mutters, face painted clear with confusion. His eyes drift over to you, utterly lost and looking for something. You can only offer a sheepish smile in return. Whatever he’s looking for, brother, you can’t provide it. He pauses for a few moments, seemingly lost in his own thoughts…before he lets out a small, defeated sigh, his back straightening as he once again bows to the headmaster. “Yes, sir. I’ll, uh…show him the ropes.”

“Good lad. I knew I could count on you,” Yagoo says, offering an appreciative nod to the boy as he lifts his head up from his bow. Some machine next to him makes a bizarre series of noises…and out from it pops two pieces of refined paper, the headmaster snatching them up without so much as a second glance and holding them out across his desk. As he beckons you over, you shuffle forward and grasp the papers, taking them for yourself. They’re warm, the pages of extremely refined paper crumpling slightly beneath your fingers. “Here, Anonymous. Take these; your class schedule and the location of your lodging for the time being. I’ll give you the benefit of being able to play hooky today, if only because immediately dropping you into class isn’t exactly conducive to the experience of learning what’s going on. Too much at once can overwhelm you, you see. Transfer Student?”

“Yes, sir?”

“That applies to you, as well. I’ll go ahead and let your teachers know that you’ll be performing a favor for me personally. And, I’m sure that Ms. Usada isn’t far behind you, so…”

“...T-Thank you,” Transfer Student replies, suddenly quite sheepish. The headmaster’s chuckling grows just the tiniest bit louder, though still restrained.

“Of course. Now, you two have some…exploring to do, I suppose. Please, Anonymous,” he says, giving you a small wink. You blink. “Enjoy yourself. I look forward to hearing about how you find the school. Go ahead. Look around, make friends, make an adventure out of it.”

“Er…t-thank you, your Majesty,” you reply on reflex, bowing in response to the kindly older man’s machinations. Seems that meeting up with Transfer Student…is part of the plan. You have no idea what’s happening, but…somehow, seeing Yagoo is comforting, even in another world. You can still feel Transfer Student looking at you whenever you refer to Yagoo by the title you’re used to, though. Understandable. Perhaps he’s just not royalty, here. Rather than a kingdom, he manages…a school. “For your kindness. And, uhm…thank you too, Transfer Student. I appreciate it.”

“...Don’t mention it,” he sighs. Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he straightens back out. “You ready to head out? I can show you around.”

“Yeah, yeah…you take point, then. I’ll follow.”

“Right. Nice seeing you…’your Majesty’,” Transfer Student echoes. Your cheeks flush a bit, embarrassed by the clear mockery (even though it’s light-hearted), but King Yagoo doesn’t seem too bothered. “Come on, kid.”

Marginally less alone than you were when you first got here, your impromptu party leaves the headmaster’s office, closing the door behind you with a quiet ‘click’. You can’t shake the feeling of something bigger at play…but you don’t have time to ruminate on the feeling before the dejected sigh of the older boy next to you draws your attention. Transfer Student stands to your left, looking over to you with something like confusion laced with the most mild amount of disdain, his gaze matching yours. Waving you forward, the two of you begin your walk once more, this time in the opposite direction. Back to the hare, then. Ms. Usada, Yagoo said. Usada Pekora. Seems they’re close, then…given how he was willing to leap into harm’s way for her.

“Can’t say I expected to wind up being told to play tour guide today. Especially to someone who tried to beat my ass not even a few minutes ago. Your parents, they royalty or something?”

“Not that I know of.”

“...Shit, stop that,” he says, looking away. You can’t tell if he’s speaking to you, or himself. Maybe both, seeing as how the snark he spits stopped dead in its tracks. “I don’t get why he wants me to show you around…usually people find their own way around.”

“If I didn’t know about something as important as a giant spell stopping people from getting killed,” you begin, voice flat as you can only offer the boy a nonplussed expression, “then I can’t imagine how much else important I’m missing about this place. I’m not not used to working alone, but I still need some help…and I’m guessing Headmaster Yagoo thought the same.”

“Working alone. Riiiiight...Why were you calling him ‘Your Majesty’?” His brow raises once more. The snark is back. Or just earnest confusion. Both are understandable in this case. “He’s in charge but he’s not an actual king. That just a thing where you’re from?”

“You can say that.” Because clearly saying ‘Oh, because in my world, he’s the ruler of my country’ will get you a nod of total and complete understanding.

“Ohh, vague and mysterious. The boy from nowhere with weird customs. Must be a European thing.”

“Subaru seems to think so…” You sigh, shoulders sinking. You’d love to get out of here. What the Hell is a Europe? Seriously. The teasing, while light-hearted, is grating…no fault of his, but still. Your head begins to ache again. Alternate versions of people you know, something Yagoo isn’t telling you, and now? Shacked with a joker who’s treating this like it’s some huge inconvenience…which, it may well be, but he could at least try to act like it isn’t fucking his day up… Blech. “Whatever. I don’t really care. Where are we going?”

“...Shit, man. Are you OK?” your guide asks, seemingly catching on to your sour mood. Internally, your eye twitches.

“I’m in a new place I know nothing about, away from everyone I love, who are probably worried sick about me,” you state flatly. You can register his expression shifting - something he catches. Sympathy? Maybe annoyance; thinking that you’re whining for no reason. You aren’t sure. Yagoo said out loud that you’re very far from home. There’s no way he didn’t catch that. “It’s just…a lot to take in and process at once. I’m sorry.”

“...Yeah, I know the feeling. Maybe not as bad as you, if you really came from someplace far away. But…it gets easier. Hell, take it from me. The Transfer Student. And now isn’t forever.” His voice is…softer, than it was before. The snark has turned off, even. He offers you a sympathetic smile as you look over to him, the expression resting strangely on his face as though he’s unsure of his own ability to provide you…comfort. But, he continues. “If you’re really that close to the people you know, I’m sure you’ll stay in contact. The internet's a hell of a thing and all that. Plus, who knows, you might make some good friends quick to help deal. Anything is possible here…even stuff that seems impossible.”

“...What’s that?” you ask, caught off guard. Another word you don’t know.  “The ‘internet’?” The sympathetic smile he offers you falls flatter than Rushia. Even just joking about that - even a world away - causes a shiver to shoot down your spine.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“What?” you ask once again, shrinking under your guide’s dumb stare, his pace stopping dead for a moment as you wince. Hey, what happened to the encouraging little speech there? It was actually pretty nice. All things considered, it was…actually a little uplifting. The pressure welling up in your headspace has been relieved, if only a little. But now-

“What kind of backwater hellhole are you from where you don’t even know what the internet is?!” he barks. “Do you know what a computer is, even?”

“...”

“Christ,” he murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be in for a lot of shocks, then. Maybe that’s why Yagoo wanted someone to help you out…We got sent a villager from…Romania? I don’t even know.”

“I’m from a city! A capital, even!” you protest, griping against the (not-so hidden) insults.

Transfer Student merely scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Alright. It’s fine. It’s cool. Just don’t freak out if you hear a phone start ringing.”

“...A, uh…”

“Oh come on!!”

Though you glare, the older boy merely sighs, his shoulders dropping. The walk back to the room you previously left is a brisk one…as he continues to say words you’ve never heard of, asking you if you know what they are. Every answer in the negative only causes him to stare at you with increasing disbelief. You’ve felt dumb plenty of times in life, sure; but this is a whole new low for you. You’re educated, damn it! This isn’t fair!

“...Cars.”
“No.”
“Planes.”
“Nope.”
“Ships?”
“...Airships or ship-ships?
“Air what?”
“Er- Nevermind.”
“Uhh…” he continues. If he lets it go or if he’s holding it in his brain for later, he doesn’t give you any hints. “Video games…?”
“What’s a video?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Though you bristle and prepare to defend yourself, Transfer Student stops outside of the room that his rabbit companion - Usada Pekora - still works within, based on the amount of grumbling and griping coming through the door. As he swings it open, the rabbit within leaps upwards from the door hinges squeaking, seemingly still a bit…skittish following your earlier encounter. When she sees it’s him - and then you - the ears that stand on end seem to relax. Understandable amount of worry considering…well. You should apologize at some point, but for now, you’re just tagging along.

“A-Ah, you’re back, peko…both of you. Did something…?”

“We’re in charge of showing the new Amish kid around the school,” he deadpans, voice betraying no humor. Pekora’s ears flop down as she lets out an ‘eh?’ “Yagoo’s orders.”

“What the Hell does ‘Amish’ mean?” you ask. You can’t help but feel that you’re being insulted again.

Transfer Student can only groan. “It’s- look, it doesn’t matter. Pekora, this kid doesn’t even know what the internet is.”

“...Where did he come from, again?” the leporine girl asks, looking past the Transfer Student and to you…though she quickly averts her gaze as you match hers, the bunny taking on a look of guilt laced with unease. Your mouth twitches into a small frown.

“Somewhere in Europe. A capital, even…apparently.”

“That’s…that doesn’t really narrow it down, peko…”

“I’m from, uh…Eastern Europe,” you lie, studying their expressions. Transfer Student looks back to you with a raised brow, but Pekora seems content with the answer. Or she just wants you to stop talking. “And a bit unfamiliar with the technology here, as Transfer Student here has made painfully clear. Please fill me in on anything I have to know about it.”

“He doesn’t know what phones are,” TS bluntly informs her, whispering…but because you’re right behind him, it’s not exactly subtle!

“Yagoo asked you to guide him, not bully him. Be nice.”

“What? I am being nice.”

“What kind of stuff were you asking him if this is the first thing you tell me, peko?! Were you teasing him the entire way here?!”

“...N-No…?”

“You can’t be serious!”

The two continue their back and forth right in front of you as you can feel your brain beginning to melt. Right. This isn’t going to get you anywhere beyond a bed for a migraine if you don’t do something to push things along. Step one? Clear the air, just a bit. Your presence has made things…a little awkward, you feel. That, or Transfer Student is just content to verbally noogie you until you eventually expire. While that isn’t exactly something you can’t contend with, it’s nicer to be respected - especially given everything you’ve been through. You deserve respect. And, if these two are close, a good way to earn some respect is…

“Uhm…pardon me. Miss Usada?” you begin tentatively, breaking the two away from their ‘secret conversation’. While Pekora’s ears stiffen back up to attention as you speak to her, you can only offer her a soft smile and sympathetic gaze. Though you doubt she can see the latter. “I’d like to apologize for how we first met.”

“Ehh? Apologize to me?” she asks, expression shifting from contained apprehension to honest confusion. Transfer Student himself seems a little surprised. “But I’m the-”

“I flew off the handle there and threatened you unjustly,” you continue, pressing your advantage. Words are but another form of battle. And it seems your unprompted apology for your earlier actions has her on the backfoot. “And I’m sorry for any distress I may have caused you. I’ve…been through quite a lot, and sudden sounds like that can cause me a large amount of stress. Coupled with me wandering into your ‘prank’, it set me off in a way I’m not proud of, and I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of that. The same goes for you, Transfer Student.”

“Eh?” he asks, inadvertently echoing Pekora’s immediate response. Smirk.

“Thank you for helping to calm me down, earlier. I was…in a bad place, mentally. You helped remind me of, well…who I am. And I’m not someone who goes around threatening others just because he’s scared. So, thank you for that, and sorry again for striking you.”

The two look to you, a bit dumbfounded by your newfound verbosity - granted, you haven’t been exactly incredibly talkative, but still. The apology is genuine for both of them, despite the boy’s repeated pokes at your own expense. Maybe that’s just how he is and there’s no malice behind it. Maybe he’s showing off for Pekora - you’ve seen stranger rituals and displays of affection. Gods know you’ve been both on the giving and receiving end of verbal pokes and prods from your own loved ones. But ultimately, you get the feeling that he’s really not a bad guy at all - the earlier peptalk attests to that. It was on reflex. Their first choice was to try and offer you some form of comfort when you told them of your problems, even after he was lightly teasing you earlier. That shows his heart; and the fact it’s in the right place.

Pekora is the first to react, the lagomorph finally seeming to untense completely in your presence, facial features softening to a pleasant expression. She offers you a slight bow in turn, her ears bouncing as she does so, before she looks back up to you - finally meeting your gaze without flinching.

“Apology accepted, peko! It probably must have been a really bad first impression of the school, but please, don’t let that sour your opinion. It’s really nice here…and the people here are even nicer. Isn’t that right?” she says…nudging TS directly in the ribs, the boy letting out a ‘gach!’ upon the impact.

“I was telling him that earlier!...And, uh, yeah. We’re good, man. You were just having a bit of a hardcore freakout, but you came around. No worries.”

“I’m glad,” you beam. The two of them in the doorway finally step aside, realizing that they’ve been unconsciously barring your entrance to the room proper. TS makes a vague gesture of ‘come in’, and you do just that. Gone is the puddle of water and the true villain of this story thus far, the bucket that so callously assaulted you. What’s more? No rope. “I hope that we can move on and…become better acquainted. I’m in your care.”

With that, you close the door behind you with a quiet ‘click’, moving in as the older duo take seats at the desks within the room, Pekora politely pulling out a chair for you as she passes it. There’s nothing left to do but take it and settle in; at least until one of them deigns that you should move on. As you sit down and scooch in, a conversation between the three of you begins. It’s polite conversation - asking about you, and you asking about them in turn. It doesn’t take much to tell that they’re truly close - perhaps a bit closer than you initially assumed, given how well they seem to bounce off of one another with prodding comments met with smirks and chuckles. You can’t help but feel your own lips twitch upwards…and with that…

A long breath escapes your lips as you try to…let loose. You’re tense. Who wouldn’t be? But that doesn’t exactly help you. Staying wound like a spring ready to erupt at a moment’s notice here is…pointless. You physically cannot be harmed, and more than that, the people you’ve met so far (including the bizarre otherworld Yagoo) are amiable. You’d do well not to sully that friendliness. So for now? The doubt and worry in your heart needs to take a backseat to…being a good person. Socially. Not difficult…under better circumstances where you’re allowed to tell the truth. Ah, well. Just play along…and maybe, if the time comes and you can really let go…you can be honest about your origins.

“I told you, I can’t do that kind of stuff any more…” Ina gripes, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as Polka and Fubuki gesticulate between them and the couch, the former-priestess’ long hair constantly needing to be brushed from her eyes. She hasn’t had to use scissors in a long time - and normally she at least has time to do some sort of maintenance - but pressing matters called for being ripped out of bed at nap time and brought back to the hero’s home. Which is apparently in utter chaos.

“But you still know about it! Can’t you give us any clue at all where he was dragged off to??” Polka inquires. Ina lets out a grumble in turn.

“There might be some sort of residual energy, but if it’s so far away that not even Kanata can trace it, there’s definitely nothing I can do. As it stands, I’m still struggling to really cast half of what I could before.”

“Does this kind of thing happen a lot?” Farmboy asks. Marine throws her hands up in a fed-up gesture in response to the question, the pirate going right back to fuming with her arms crossed after.

“Urk…maybe…maybe Rushia knows something?” Fubuki sighs, rubbing her temples. “She’s a portal expert.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” Marine asks. “Anon had that fancy Emerald Key on him!”

“Maybe Mio knows something…? She still goes there pretty frequently and I doubt she has a copy of it.”

“She’s already fighting to keep Coco from ripping her own horns off,” Farmboy replies, his arms folding upon themselves as he looks towards the door that leads to the hallway. Sure enough, Mio’s voice can be heard somewhat distantly attempting to soothe the queen’s griping anguish, Coco herself showing no signs of stopping her rampage anytime soon. A maid somewhere shrieks. With a grunt, the boy moves. “I’ll ask. Miss Ookami shouldn’t be left to handle Coco alone, anyway…”

“You call her Miss Ookami?” Ina asks, still messing with the hair trying to blind her. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?”

“Shut it.”

This isn’t quite how you expected your day to go. In a bizarre twist of fate, playing hooky for a single period somehow ended up landing you an entire day off from school. At the behest of the headmaster himself, no less! But, as is often the case, there was a catch: instead of sitting through drab lectures and jotting down notes to cram into your skull later, you find yourself shouldered with the perhaps far more difficult task of helping the new kid acclimate to this school. You’re not used to being on this side of the figurative podium, and Cover High has no shortage of oddities to it that took you days, or even weeks, to wrap your head around. If you want to teach this ‘Anonymous’ how to fit in here, then you’re going to have your work cut out for you.

That said, being put in unexpected situations and forced to just adapt on the fly has become a fairly common occurrence for you, especially in the past week. It may have taken you a while to learn the ins and outs of this place, but eventually you did learn them (for the most part). If your insight can make his own transition period even just a little more comfortable, then you’ll have at least managed to accomplish something. Yagoo said it himself: he gave you this job because he believed you’re capable of getting it done. The least you can do is give it an honest try.

Besides, it does feel easier having Pekora here with you. At first you’d been worried that the timid rabbit’s struggle with interactions outside her social circle would end up making things more complicated rather than less, but for some reason she seems to be warming up to the new kid with an almost alarming swiftness. Less than an hour ago he was holding her at swordpoint, and now here she is smiling and talking to him without a single iota of hesitation. Hell, she even pulled out a chair for him. Either that surprisingly eloquent apology of his was laced with a Friends spell, or she’s just getting really into the caretaker role. A repeat of Moona’s situation, perhaps? In any case, the assistance is proving invaluable.

Now then. Time to give this kid the Cover High Survival Guide.

Part 1 - The Basics

Given Anonymous’…hell with it, that name’s too long to say every single time. Given Anon’s total lack of familiarity with modern technology, it’s probably safe to assume that he’s never been to a real school before. You should start with the babby’s-first-edumacation stuff before you get into the real nitty-gritty. “Okay,” you begin as you tap the class schedule set out before him. “This is what your week’s going to look like starting tomorrow. You see those blocks the day is divided into? Those are class periods. Four in the morning, then an hour break for lunch, then three more in the afternoon. They’re all in different classrooms, so make sure to check the room number to know where you should go next.”

Anon eyes the paper as you walk him through it. Even under all that hair you can tell that he’s concentrating intently. “What do these ‘periods’ entail, exactly?” he probes.

“Well, seeing as you know how to read, I’m guessing you have at least some experience with being a student.” Maybe he was home-schooled? His pa-...shit…his LEGAL GUARDIANS must have seen fit to place him slightly above the level of a medieval peasant. He has that going for him, if nothing else. “It shouldn’t be too different from what you remember. Just listen to what the teacher says. If it sounds important, write it down in your notebook. If they say it’s going to be on the test, definitely write it down.”

“And try not to fall asleep in class, peko,” Pekora adds. “They don’t like that.”

“That’s funny. Because I vaguely recall Moona telling you something similar just last week.”

“Zip it, Transfer Student.”

Anon lets out the faintest of chuckles at your exchange of barbed words before tapping his finger over one of the segments on the schedule. “What’s this one? ‘P.E.’?”

“Physical education,” you explain. “Basically you just go outside and exercise for an hour. Running, gymnastics, whatever random sport the coach feels like putting you through, shit like that.”

“Oho, you don’t say…” The boy’s smile only seems to widen; this is the first part of his curriculum that he looks genuinely enthusiastic about. On reflection it shouldn’t come as a big surprise, what with the wooden sword he’s carrying around, and his somewhat worrying proficiency with it. For someone so small, the kid has a martial prowess that it would do you well not to be on the receiving end of again. Raised by warrior monks in a monastery? You should add that to your list of theories… “So I just go through all these periods, and then…what? Leave?”

“Well, it depends,” you answer with a waver of the hand. “If you get stuck with cleaning duty, then you’ll have to help tidy up part of the school before you go.” The revelation is met with little more than an understanding nod without so much as lifting his head. Guess he’s familiar with the concept. “A lot of kids also sign up for after-school clubs. Sports, singing, engineering, we’d honestly be here all day if I were to list them all. We can check those out later if you decide you’re interested.”

Under the table, you feel Pekora’s leg lightly nudging against yours. “Don’t forget to tell him about homework.”

“Right, right.” What did you say? Invaluable. “More often than not, the teachers are going to give you assignments to do after school’s over. You’ll want to make sure to get them done before class the next day.”

“Assignments?” Anon repeats the word with a cock of the head. “Like, missions?”

“...I guess they could be considered a kind of mission, yeah.” If it motivates him to get his work done, you won’t judge. “Usually it’s pretty mundane stuff, like reading a few pages out of the textbook or filling out a worksheet. Shouldn’t take much longer than an hour to get it all done, on a good day.”

“It might be a bit confusing at first, since you’re being dropped right in the middle of the semester,” your rabbity assistant adds, her face shining with a reassuring smile as she motions a finger between yourself and her. “We’ll help you finish it though, don’t worry, peko.”

“By which she means I’ll help you both fin-ow!” Your wise-ass remark is interrupted by a sharp kick to your shin, an unpleasant jolt to the senses even with the safety ward.

“I’d appreciate that.” Anon gives a gratified bow of the head. “A lot of these subjects are a bit…unfamiliar to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you that. You’re not sure how the hell this poor kid is supposed to keep up with Algebra class when you’re not even sure if he knows how to do basic addition and subtraction. But from the looks of his schedule, he’s got all the same subjects as you and Pekora, so at least he won’t be flying solo. A courtesy on Yagoo’s part, you presume. May as well toss him a harpoon so long as he’s being thrown straight into the shark tank.

“We can give you a walkthrough of where your locker and classrooms are once we’re done here. But before we get into that…” As your gaze meets Pekora’s, she seems to read your intentions on your face and gives you an affirming nod. You’ve both just about covered the fundamentals…which means it’s time to move on to the more advanced material. Knowing about homework and cleaning duty will help this kid survive at a regular high-school.

Now you need to teach him how to survive at THIS high-school.

Part 2 - The Bullshit

“I know that those explosions earlier got you a little spooked,” you preface, “so I feel like you deserve a fair word of warning. Stuff like that…is going to happen here a lot.”

You can see Anon’s complexion go just a little paler as he gapes back at you. “M-…more bombs…?”

“Among other things…” Pekora almost sounds apologetic as she confirms the grim news. And when you stop to consider that a good number of said explosions tend to be her handiwork, she has good reason to be.

“Pekora was telling the truth earlier when she said that the people here are…mostly nice.” You’re not about to speak in absolutes when you know that asshole ex-deputy is still skulking around somewhere. “But they’re also…um…a bit…” Your eyes dart over to the rabbit girl as you lift your brows, wordlessly signaling for backup.

“Eccentric,” she offers.

That’s a more courteous word than what you had in mind. Let’s go with that. “Yeah, eccentric. They like to ‘get up to no good,’ so to speak. And being completely immune to physical harm sort of cranks that temptation to misbehave up to 11.”

Anon looks blankly back at you. “Up to 11??”

Extracurricular lesson added: slang. “I mean it makes it worse. Weird and unexpected stuff happens at Cover High pretty much constantly. Maybe someone’ll be trying to build a mech out in the courtyard. Or one of the botany club’s ‘experiments’ will grow legs and start running through the halls. I won’t go down the list of every weird occurrence you might see, because, again, we’d be here all day. And I’d probably still manage to miss a bunch. All you need to know is, whatever unexpected or strange things happen, just accept it all as fact. The sooner you learn to work with the craziness, the more you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“And remember that the safety ward exists,” Pekora quickly appends. “So even if something seems dangerous, nobody’s actually getting hurt.”

Anon looks between the two of you with a conflicted look on his face. You figured he wouldn’t be too happy hearing that he can expect more of what happened earlier today, but you don’t know what else to tell him. In a total-immersion scenario like this, ‘getting used to it’ is the only option you really have. You know from experience. “Aren’t there…you know…rules, though?” he finally asks. “I know that this place has guards of some kind, and Subaru didn’t seem too happy about what happened.”

“She does try to keep the peace as best she can,” you admit, “but even she and her deputies can only do so much. The Oozora Police have the authority to arrest you if you’re causing too much trouble, but they can’t detain you indefinitely. Most people eventually get let off with a slap on the wrist.” The school jail may as well have a revolving door, honestly. You sure as hell don’t envy Subaru for the amount of mischief she has to contend with. “Hell,” you hook a thumb towards the rabbit girl next to you, “we’ve got one of the school’s biggest repeat offenders sitting ri-OW!”

The toe of Pekora’s shoe digs into your leg for the second time as she shoots you a glare, her ears pressing down flat against her head. “Don’t tell him that!” she hisses through her teeth. “I’m trying to be a good role model, peko!”

“Oh, sure, ‘good role model’,” you fire back as you soothingly rub your poor shin with the topside of your foot. “You realize the guy’s first experience with you was falling into one of your traps, right? Do you think you can just memory-hole that?”

Anon glances at you, then at Pekora, then back to you. “She does that sort of thing often?”

“Constantly. Don’t let the ‘sweet little bunny’ act fool you, this girl’s a certified menace to society.”

“I’m gonna be a menace to you in a minute if you don’t shut up!” A furious blush has ignited in the girl’s face, her mouth stammering soundlessly as she looks back at a very-much perplexed Anon. “L-Listen, I…I only do stuff like that with my friends. That prank was supposed to be for THIS moron,” she punctuates the insult with, what else, another blow to your leg, “not you. I won’t try to pull any pranks on you, I promise.”

As Anon glances your way for what you’re assuming is verification, you can feel your inner volition tugging on the reins. Easy now. You’re skirting the edge between teasing and bullying. Bring it down a notch. “...She’s telling the truth.”

“See, peko?”

Anon’s response comes in the form of a small, yet reassuring smile. “It’s alright. I had a feeling he was exaggerating a bit. And I do appreciate the…’restraint’.” The corners of his mouth widen ever so slightly as Pekora averts her eyes in embarrassment, throwing another dirty look your way in the process. You may have just earned yourself a particularly unpleasant trap in the near future… “Is there anything else I should know?”

Clearing your throat, you gratefully take back the wheel as the boy helps steer the conversation back on topic. “There, uh, are a few ground rules that’ll make life easier for you. First and foremost: be nice to Sora.”

Something shifts in his demeanor. While his face remains a blank, half-shrouded canvas, the way he subtly perks up his head and straightens his posture, you get an odd feeling of…surprise. “Sora?” he echoes, as if it were a name he wasn’t expecting to hear.

“She’s the idol of the school,” you explain. “Everyone has a ton of respect for her, both the faculty and the students. Have you heard about her already?”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’ve heard about her.” Anon’s posture starts to relax again, the momentary shock fading from both his body language and his voice. “I overheard some people talking about her in the hall. It sounded like they were pretty fond of her.”

Hm.

“Well, just make sure you’re polite to her if the two of you ever happen to cross paths. People might get…overzealous, if they feel like you’ve wronged her somehow.”

“Understood. What else?”

This time Pekora is the first to answer, with perhaps the most crucial piece of advice given thus far: “If you ever see a blonde girl with an eyepatch serving food in the cafeteria, do not eat it.”

“...What?” The out-of-left-field remark catches the kid unawares. “Why? Is it poisoned?”
“It may as well be.”
“It’s the most vile technically-edible ‘food’ you’ll ever taste in your life.”
“Uh…”
“Also, if you see a blue-haired girl in a checked dress wandering the halls, do not look her directly in the eyes.”
“Checked dress…?”
“Don’t drink anything that the coyote in the lab coat offers you, under any circumstances, peko.”
“And whatever you do, for the love of God, stay out of the Husband Collection clubroom.”
“...What the hell is a ‘husband collection’?!”

~~~~~

Alright, here we go.

“Right, 4,” you read off the paper.

Anon turns the dial with a somewhat unnecessarily-intense focus, as though a single millimeter’s worth of error would render his efforts fruitless. As the proper number aligns with the indicator, you take a glance back down at the code.

“Left, 24.”

The dial spins in the opposite direction, stopping again on the proper digit.

“Aaaand right, 21.”

And back the way it came, it turns one final time.

“Okay. Now pull down.”

Anon gives the lock a light downward tug…popping it open with a satisfying metal ‘click’.

“Open Sesame,” you announce with a grin as you give the smaller boy a congratulatory smack on the back. “Good work, kid.” It feels a bit odd to be celebrating something as simple as unlocking a locker, but this is yet another piece of technology that the little Luddite has never seen before, and he managed to pull it off on the first try. He should be allowed to feel a little proud of himself. And sure enough, his posture does seem to puff up just the slightest bit as he slips the opened lock out of the latch and opens up the metal compartment.

Just as you anticipated, the locker is already fully stocked. Textbooks, workbooks, notebooks, calculator and pencil case. The full high-schooler’s survival kit. Some of the textbooks look a bit old, their hardcovers worn and their corners bent; typical wear-and-tear of being in a rowdy teenager’s possession for an extended period of time. Hand-me-downs from someone who graduated, if you had to guess.

“This seems like a lot of security for just a few books,” Anon comments as he plucks one of the weathered tomes out of the stack and curiously turns it over in his hands. “Is theft that much of a problem here?”

“It’s more of a privacy thing.” You project your voice past the back of the preoccupied boy’s head and over to the girl standing on his opposite side. “People like having a little space to themselves.”

Pekora pouts back at you with a silent harumph, but says nothing. The little burglar knows she’s got no defense this time.

Inwardly snickering to yourself, you run through your mental checklist. Upon concluding your extensive (and towards the end, somewhat rambling) orientation, you and Pekora took the new kid on a walkthrough of his typical daily route, from his assigned shoe cubby, to homeroom, all the way to seventh period. Other than some mild confusion as to the purpose of indoor shoes, he seemed to take it all in without much issue. And now with your final inventory check of his locker squared away, this tour is just about concluded. And not a moment too soon; the venture took you all of third period and most of fourth, so it should be just about time for lunch-

‘RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!’

The book falls from Anon’s grasp and tumbles to the floor as he whips his head towards the shrill noise and reflexively reaches for the grip of his sword.

Shit, you forgot to tell him about the bell.

“Hey, hey.” Thankfully Pekora’s there to come in clutch, resting one little hand on his back as she speaks to him in a calm voice. “It’s alright, peko. It’s just the end of fourth period. That bell’s to let everyone know that class is over.” And sure enough, no sooner has the utterance left her mouth than the nearby classrooms begin to expel their contents out into the halls, a steady vomit of chattering students that quickly begins to fill the once-vacant corridor with traffic.

Anon’s shoulders sag as his hand falls back limply to his side and he lets out a weary sigh. “Does this place have to have so many loud noises…?”

“It won’t be so loud once you’re actually in the classes instead of out here.” Offering those small words of assurance, you crouch down to pluck the fallen book off the tile floor and offer it back to him. “Right now though it’s lunchtime. You hungry?”

The boy looks up at you for a moment, studying you with that usual unreadable expression. What he’s thinking about you right now, you can’t even begin to guess. Kind of reminds you of Moona when you first met her, now that you think about it. “...I could eat,” he finally admits, accepting the outstretched tome.

You nod. “Alright. Lock back up and we’ll head ou-”

“Ahoooy~! ✰” 

SHIT.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end at the familiar high-pitched voice, drawing closer at a velocity that instantly sets your fight-or-flight instinct on high alert. Head whipping towards the source, you don’t even have the chance to bring up your defenses before a blur of crimson invades your airspace and a soft sensation envelops your arm.

“Heya Transfer Student!” Marine looks up at you with that usual mischievous grin as she hangs off your appendage like a plump leech. “Fancy seeing you here~”

“Marine!” “Marine!” “Marine?!”

…Eh?

You distinctly just heard three voices. You, about ready to demand the clingy girl unhand you this instant. Pekora, about ready to pry her off of you by force. And…

Anon??

As you look over at him, you find yourself witnessing an expression that you’ve yet to see from the boy thus far: he looks absolutely fucking flabbergasted. His jaw has just about fallen onto the floor. His thick bangs have parted just enough to grant a rare glimpse of one eye bulging almost out of its socket. Every last muscle in his body has locked up in place, freezing him on the spot like a statue while his astonished gaze burrows directly into the girl stuck to your arm. It isn’t until he seemingly manages to allocate enough mental resources to notice you staring at him that he bolts upright in startled realization and snaps his mouth shut, hair shifting to once more conceal his features. “U-Uh. Um…!” But whatever feeble attempt he seems to be making to regain his composure, it’s clearly not working. He’s been caught with his figurative pants down, and he knows it.

“Ooh, did you make a new friend?” Completely oblivious to what you just heard, Marine eyes the inwardly-panicking boy with a mixture of curiosity and that particular Marine brand of flirtiness. “Hey there, little guy. What’s your name?”

“UHHHHH…!”

“Awww, are you shy? It’s okay, I don’t bite. Unless of course you want-ow! OW!” Marine’s shameless coquetting comes to a screeching halt as Pekora clamps down firmly on the girl’s ear and begins to pull.

“Get off of him, you wannabe pirate!” Face burning as bright as a star, the fuming rabbit all but rips her off of your arm. An interruption that seems to give the paralyzed kid the moment he needs for a hard reset, his posture straightening and his throat loudly clearing.

“Mm-m. My apologies.” All traces of shock and fear have fled from his voice, returning it to its usual cool tone. You even see the corner of his mouth pull back into the tiniest of grins. “It isn’t every day I see a pretty girl like you. I must have gotten a bit…smitten.”

Oh fuck off.

Marine’s eyes widen at the cheesy pickup line, her cheeks flushing even as she cradles her aching ear in her hands. “O-oh my…♡” You can almost see the hearts in her eyes as she falls for his baited words hook, line and sinker, losing interest in you entirely and shifting her focus over to him. “Well aren’t you forward? Where’d Transfer Student find a little smooth-talker like you?”

“Hmmm? ‘Little’?” Tilting his head in faux confusion, his smirk only seems to grow wider. “Don’t be so quick to judge by appearance. I may be shorter than you, but I can still sweep you off your feet - literally and figuratively."

Fuck. Off.

This is becoming almost physically painful to watch. The stream of brazen flattery just keeps spewing out of this kid’s mouth like a firehose, and she’s guzzling it down and asking for seconds. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone indulge Marine in her lecherous behavior like this, and now you find yourself wishing you could go back to living in blissful ignorance. And judging by the utter disbelief on Pekora’s face, your rabbit-eared companion is sharing the sentiment.

“I may just have to take you up on that sometime…” Biting her lip, Marine squirms in place with an almost manic giddiness, thrilled to find her advances reciprocated for ONCE. “My name’s Marine...”

“He knows.”

The grave undertone of your statement flies right over her head as she sidles up to the boy. “Oh? Well then, you better not forget it.” One finger lightly brushes over his chest, tracing the bold white text stitched across the front of his hoodie. “And how about you, ‘hero’...?”

“Call me Anon.”

“‘Anon,’” she repeats. “I like it. So mysterious~” Those wandering fingers begin to slip further down as she speaks, slowly reaching for his hand. “Maybe you could share some of those mysteries with me over lunch-?”

But the act of skinship is interrupted as you firmly grasp her by the arm, stealing her attention away from her new toy. “Actually, you should go on ahead.” The words themselves are polite, but your tone carries a finality that makes it abundantly clear that this is not a suggestion. You can feel Anon’s eyes boring into you with a burning intensity, but you just let the sensation flow over and past you like water. “Pekora and I are still helping the new guy get his bearings.” As you look back at Pekora, her long ears visibly straighten at the sight of the look on your face. “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh…y-yeah.” The flustered little rabbit quickly nods in agreement, wisely going along with it. “We’ll, uh, we’ll catch up, peko.”

“Ehhh?” Marine’s mismatched eyes flit between the three of you as unknown calculations run through her head, ultimately letting out an astonished ‘oh!’ and (thank god) backing off from Anon’s side as she finally seems to put two and two together. “I see what’s going on here,” she declares with a sly look directed the rabbit girl’s way. “Peko-chan! You’ve finally adopted a kid! Just like you always wanted!”

Apparently she got five.

“Get out of here, Marine!” the rabbit snaps back, face burning a bright rosy hue that only intensifies when she sees the deadpan stare Anon has affixed her with. “You’ve made things weird enough already!”

The redhead answers with little more than a giggle and a pat on Pekora’s shoulder as she passes, making her way in the direction of the cafeteria. “It’s okay, I get it. Don’t worry, I’ll not get in the way of your family bonding.”

“I said that’s not-!”

“See you guys at lunch! Don’t take too long!” Looking back with a smile and a wave, hunger glints in Marine’s eyes as she takes one last glance at Anon. “And make sure you bring your cute new friend with you.”

He sees her off with one last million-yen smile. “It’s a date.”

Uuuuugh.

With a wink and a twirl on the balls of her feet, Marine sets off at a trot down the hallway, crimson pigtails bouncing at her sides as she slips into the throng of students and leaves behind the scene of utter destruction she just unknowingly caused.

Anon’s posture visibly slackens as the redhead disappears from view, a deep sigh drifting out of him and his shoulders drooping. Decompression. A sudden release of tension. Relief at the end of a stressful situation. “...Well she was nice-”

“Anon.”

Short-lived. “…Y-…Yes…?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

This kid has some explaining to do.

~~~~~

The taste of the words that left your mouth lingers on your tongue, forcing you to wince at yourself as Transfer Student and Pekora lead once more, the two of them whispering amongst themselves as you begin to ascend a staircase. You feel like you need a drink or something to wash out the saccharine speech…but even the feeling of sickness that hangs around you is secondary to the shock of seeing…well, Marine. But not your Marine, you suppose. Another Marine. The same as another Yagoo, and apparently another Princess Sora. Though, it stands to reason that here, she’s not royalty. 

The same mannerisms, the same voice, all of it on a person you can say you’ve never met. Her meeting was a bit less lecherous than the one you had with the pirate aboard her ship, at least. Even here, Marine is Marine…a universal constant, so to speak. Multiversal? You aren’t sure. But, there’s more pressing matters at hand. As you look up from your thoughts, you can see Transfer Student looking back at you over his shoulder. His eyes cut at you briefly before he turns back forward…and your fingers flex nervously as you rest your non-dominant hand atop the hilt of your ‘sword’. He saw your reactions to Sora’s mention and Marine’s appearance; what’s more, he heard you directly refer to King Yagoo - Headmaster Yagoo - by ‘your Majesty’.

The look upon his face was very poorly hidden, if he attempted to do so; he knows something is off about you. But if he knows that you know, you’re unsure. As the two of them stop ahead of you and open a door, you have little time to debate the thought. Before you, the cloud-dotted sky of the open air peers through the door that, apparently, leads to the roof of the school. A tall fence secures the place to stop anyone from falling off…and Transfer Student gestures for you to go first. As you accept the ‘invitation’, you glance at the pair of them as you pass. While Transfer Student’s glare is iron, Pekora’s eyes shift to avoid yours.

Something inside tingles. There’s a feeling of…uncertainty.

The breeze atop the roof is…refreshing, put lightly. The midday sun beams down upon you with a soothing warmth, the sounds of the other students carried upon the air, muffled and distant. The sounds of life. Moving on in this bizarre world in this strangely magical place. The sun is always so…surreal, now. Maybe you’ll finally regain some color to your pale cheeks.

The sound of the door closing behind you, however, forces your head to turn back. Pekora stands at the door, seeming somewhat sheepish…as Transfer Student takes the first step forward, his aggressive demeanor not shifting in the slightest. Knees bending, you shift your weight just the tiniest bit forward.

“Something you’re not telling us, isn’t there, kid?” His words are laced with razors as he stops across from you. Right fist is tight, left is just a bit looser. But his stance is still. He’s not set to approach. Watch for movement.

“Everyone has secrets,” you reply bluntly. Wrong choice, maybe. His facial features flicker to something angrier, but he quickly catches it.

“Cut the shit. Calling Yagoo ‘your Majesty’ was already strange,” he begins, glaring at you. “But that reaction to Sora’s name, and then that shit with Marine… one thing is weird, two is a coincidence, but you’re three for three with weird shit that really fucking implies you know more than you’re letting on, here. You know these names. These people, all without being told. And if it’s really your first day here, that should be impossible. Unless you’re some kind of stalker…which you aren’t. Right? There’s a good explanation for all this. Right? And you’re going to tell us what it is, right now. Right?”

A bead of sweat forms on your brow…and though you try to control it, you can’t help but feel trapped up here. By design, you imagine. You weren’t paying attention to where exactly you were going, but now it’s obvious that the plan was to get you here to make you talk. Your heart pounds with a familiar heat.

“...If you’re planning on torturing me,” you start, fingers squeezing the pommel of the wooden sword. “I’ll make you work for it. Just because you can’t be hurt doesn’t mean I can’t make it as unpleasant as possible.” That fence can’t stop you. You’ve taken worse falls. You doubt he has.

“You little–”

“Transfer Student,” Pekora says from behind him - forcing the boy to tense. Pekora herself looks…anxious. Not quite fearful, but bordering on it. …Something in your heart aches seeing her. As the boy across from you takes a deep breath, Pekora continues. “Don’t, peko. Anon, no one is going to hurt you - or try to hurt you. Just…”

“Pekora and I took you under our wing. Even after you tried to attack us, we went out of our way to help you. When you needed someone to be there, we were. So unless you want to trample all over that hospitality, I suggest you knock off the bullshit and start telling us the truth."

. . .

The heat dissipates. Transfer Student’s somewhat aggressive facial features begin to fall, and both he and Pekora both look to you, waiting for an answer.

They have been nothing but helpful. That part is true. They physically can’t hurt you. Yagoo’s wink when he first asked him to watch over you… You untense once more, even as your muscles complain about the exertion you’re putting them through with no explosive release. Moving your hand away from the weapon, you can see Pekora let loose a tiny held breath.

“...Right, then. You’re…entitled to know the truth about what’s going on here.”

“Then spill it,” he demands brusquely.

“Transfer Student.”

“No, he’s right.” You sigh, beginning to pinch the bridge of your nose. How do you say this…? Maybe just the direct approach is best? No matter what, you’ll sound insane. But…what did he say earlier? Insane is the norm, or something like that. “I can tell he’s just…worried. It’s all strange, I’m strange. Let’s just…start over.”

Taking a long pause as you bring the crisp, warm air into your lungs, you bring a hand up and to your heart, offering them a proper bow of greeting once more. There’s nothing to do but do it, then. Worst comes to worst? You leap off the roof. Alright then. Page one…

“My name is Anonymous, the Stalwart,” you begin nervously. You keep your head low - enough where they can hear you, but not that you can see them. You’d rather not see the baffled expressions, right now. “Knight and Savior of Kleinsburg - the capital of Bradias, my home continent - and Champion of Argomery, the city of monsters. I’m not here to…mislead or do you any harm, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I’m not here by choice. Something happened to me, and I was ripped away from my home by unknown circumstances then forced into a deathly struggle with… another knight. Someone who wore the face of a heroine I know, but distinctly wasn’t her. After I bested her in combat, I wound up here rather than back home, on a hill overlooking the school…stripped of my gear and wearing this garb, my weapon replaced with a poor wooden replica. After sneaking in because I had nowhere else to go, I found out that in rapid succession that…apparently I’m a student according to your headmaster, the King of my country is here and is your headmaster, the Princess is a ‘school idol’, and more recently, that one of my dearest comrades is just another student here.” You pause, taking a breath. Silence. “I…know  those people. But they’re not the ones that know me. I’m not sure what’s happening. But, uhm…I feel like maybe I can trust you two with this. My apology earlier was genuine. Please don’t think this is a lie, or that…I’m crazy, or–”

“Christ, so you’re an outworlder,” Transfer Student says, seemingly…unfazed by the revelation. If anything, he sounds relieved. Your head swings up…and you find his expression has fully reset, any hint of malice fading after your explanation. Pekora herself tilts her head curiously, seemingly pondering something. What? “That’s…pretty tame, honestly. Not the part with you running into doppelgangers of people you know, but-”

“Wait,” you balk. “Wait, this isn’t…a big deal?? I thought you’d have someone throw me in an asylum.”

“This place is magic as shit, kid,” he replies dryly. “Your story is…pretty wild, sure, but it’s nowhere near outside the realm of possibility. There’s plenty of people here from other worlds. Aliens. Elves. Alien elves. We’ve got students from literal Hell. You just drew the short end of the stick and wound up here without knowing where you were. Though…I guess I can understand why you’d keep it a secret, if you didn’t know about the kind of stuff that goes on here…”

“...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s hard to find the chance to slip in something so insane-sounding when you don’t know how people will react, or if they’re secretly out to…I don’t know, experiment on you or something.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I get it, now…hah. Man. I can’t tell if you’ve got bad luck to get sent here, or the good luck to have people find you.”

The older student across from you offers you a somewhat sympathetic grin as the tension in the air…vanishes. Dumbstruck, you can’t help your jaw from hanging open a bit as he lets out a tiny breath, folding his arms before himself as he seems to think on what to do in this exact situation…Pekora behind him still tapping her chin, eyes squint as she can’t seem to figure something out. So, what, that’s the hard part done? They’re just willing to accept that explanation?

Guess that old Alaysian saying is coming into play, huh? Something about looking a gift horse in the mouth and how it’s a bad thing…

“Well. Something weird is going on if they got your info to make you a student,” Transfer Student says, seemingly thinking aloud. “If you just got tossed here without any warning or desire, especially. And Yagoo sure seemed certain that you needed a guide. At first, I thought it was just because you were…technologically illiterate, but I guess it goes deeper than that, huh?”

“Both is an option…” you mutter. No, you don’t know what the fucking ‘internet’ is. Is it a really big net? Is it really worth teasing you over? Motherfucker. “But, yeah. I think he knows more than he’s letting on, but I doubt he’d just tell me if I asked him. I thought he was covering for me at first, but… why would he do that if he knew about where I was from?”

“Dunno, but if he wasn’t up front about it to begin with, he probably won’t let it spill. He likes to let us solve things ourselves if it’s not life threatening…hmph. Well, we could always try out The Nexus to see if they can shuttle you back where you belong. Your world have a name?”

“Uh…the Earth, I guess?” You reply…The Nexus. That’s a menacing name, isn’t it? But if it gets you home…

“...That doesn’t help, like, at all. Hey, Pekora, you have any ideas?”

“Wha-?” the rabbit girl asks, finally ripped away from her contemplation. Her expression is…befuddlement. Or something close to it. You can see her briefly eying you for a moment before giving her attention back to Transfer Student fully. “What’s happening?”

“Anon here doesn’t know the name of the world he came from beyond Earth, and there’s a ton of Earths. Like, more Earths than we could ever count. Any thoughts on what to do, here?”

“Uh…” Pekora mutters, spacing once more. After a second or two of thought, she looks back down to the two of you. “...We could try to narrow it down based on what the world is like, peko.”

“Huh. Well, yeah, when you mention it…” Transfer Student muses. “That could help rule out some of the more insanely advanced worlds. Given that you don’t know what a lot of stuff is,” he pauses, turning back to point at you for effect, “I’m guessing it’s from a relatively medieval-type place. Can’t imagine anywhere else would let a kid run around with a sword.”

“I don’t know what that word means, but…this place is definitely a lot more advanced than Kleinsburg and most of Argomery. But then again, you didn’t know what airships were when I mentioned them earlier.”

“...I still don’t. Do you mean, like, zeppelins? Or…”

“What the Hell is a zeppelin?”

“So no.”

“It’s…like, a galleon, but with a mechanism that allows for flight,” you reply, giving vague gesticulations as you try (and probably fail) to convey the idea. You can actually pinpoint the exact second the lights go out behind his eyes. “You know? It’s a ship but for the air.”

“...What the fuck are you even saying? Airplanes??”

“No, it’s-”

Your attempt to rectify the misunderstanding and steer away from whatever the fuck an ‘airplane’ is is cut short by a roaring grumble…from your stomach. The black pit within your gut rumbles angrily, having been denied sustenance for far too long; especially after the nightmare of an engagement you found yourself entangled in with the Fake Noel you battled shortly before this mess took place. Sheepishly, you bring one of your raised hands down to your tummy.

“Ah…E-Excuse me. It’s, uh…been a while since I’ve eaten anything…”

“Oh...well, it is time for lunch,” Transfer Student murmurs, pulling out a tiny slab from his pocket and glancing down at it. “We’ve still got plenty of time to eat. Maybe it’s easier to discuss this over some fuel. You ever seen a cafeteria?”

“I’ve seen the canteen in a large barracks…”

“Same thing, more or less. Come on, then, ‘knight’,” he says, seemingly back in the business of lightly teasing you rather than threatening you for information.

“...Technically you would address him as ‘sir’ or ‘master’, peko,” Pekora states in response to Transfer Student’s teasing, grasping the door handle and pulling it back open once more. Holding it open, she gives a small gesture, welcoming you both into the building ahead of her. You offer her a small nod of appreciation, Transfer Student doing the same as he takes the lead, hooking his thumb back over his shoulder to you first. Form up, let’s go.

“Thank you, Pekora. But just ‘Anon’ works, really. I’m…not a fan of unneeded formalities.”

“Wasn’t going to call you ‘master’ anyway, but that’s good to know. Let’s go get you some food.”

Once more a unit - the air of suspicion you foolishly cultivated around yourself fully dispelled - the three of you move onwards, away from the roof and back into the never ending maze of hallways. Inwardly, the tense pressure that built upon your breast has finally let go. There’s no need to hide the truth of your situation, and frankly, you aren’t a great liar to begin with. You’re lucky you made it this far. But with it all said and done, you can now truly get to work on finding out a way home. First stop? Food. You’re starving. Ass kicking takes a toll on the metabolism. After that? Someplace called The Nexus.

“Are you sure Ina didn’t have something to do with this? Even subconsciously?” Fubuki asks…much to the chagrin of the group within the room, a loud, collective groan ringing out. Having gone out to retrieve additional allies, Rushia and Fubuki are the two latest additions - the former courtesy of Mio and Farmboy.

“Yes, we’re sure!” Marine barks in response. “Unless she’s secretly the best liar in the world, she doesn’t know anything about it!”

“I keep saying I can’t do stuff like this anymore and no one believes me,” The ex-priestess deadpans. “What about you, necromancer?”

“Hm, hmm…Rushia can feel the energy still…but it’s very obscured. Almost entirely dispersed, now…it’s a very powerful spell, but where it leads is hard to tell…”

“Can we try to, I dunno…strengthen it somehow?” Marine asks. Fubuki’s head tilts.

“Like…pour more magic into it to try and open it back up?”

“I already tried that,” Polka replies, draped over one of the couches, tail and ears still flat. Farmboy, sitting next to her, offers her another grape - which the fennec takes gratefully, her body fully drained following the expenditure of magic. “All it did was make me feel like I got bled dry.”

“If you’re just doing it without any sort of direction, it could do that…” Rushia says, bringing her hands up before her. A soft green glow begins to emanate from her slender fingers. “But Rushia is a bit more versed in this. The threads of magic are there…frayed and rendered, but still connected. With some work, Rushia can reconstruct them, but it’ll be slow.”

“Better than nothing…” Polka mutters, letting out a heavy sigh. “Where’s Coco…I’m not hearing anything breaking out in the hall…”

“Rushia…helped her relax. A little spell to put her to sleep.”

“Neeeh…hit me with that too, why don’tcha…”

Smalltalk fills the (now cleared) air as your small party ventures forth to get some food in your stomachs, down the stairs and into one of the long halls, moving at a leisurely pace. Primarily, they’re questions about you specifically - Transfer Student and Pekora taking turns asking you about what you have in your homeworld, technology wise. While it’s not as pointed and teasing as when Transfer Student was doing it to you earlier, it’s still nonetheless a little daunting to consider everything that they have that you don’t. But, that’s just the power of advancement, you suppose.

After a final question about if you have toilets or not comes up - a sigh of relief coming from Pekora as you tell her that yes, you are familiar with the porcelain throne - Transfer Student’s pace begins to slow. He looks back at you over his shoulder…eyes drifting down towards your weapon.

“Hey…I was thinking about what you said earlier. You were saying you were in some sort of ‘deathly struggle’ before you got here?” Transfer Student asks, Pekora at his side. The rabbit also looks back, somewhat curious. “What did you mean by that? Were you forced into wrestling or something?”

“Uh…no. Nothing that easy,” you reply, offering an uneasy smile as your mind drifts back to the black void you found yourself in. That manic grin in sharp contrast to the dire curses. “It was an actual fight. I’m not sure why or what set it up, but–”

“A fight? ...Like, with fists?” he asks...perhaps missing the severity of the situation you were in. But, you haven’t exactly been incredibly candid about what it is you are. What it is you do.

“No.” You reply in a flat voice. You can still remember her yelling. ‘Leaving me to die?! I’ll crush you!’ “No, they… were trying to kill me.”

The two of them stop dead in their tracks ahead of you on snap reaction, nearly causing you to crash into Pekora’s back as you stumble to a halt. As their heads whip back towards you, TS wears a face of shock as Pekora’s shifts to fearful disbelief.

“Wait, what do you fucking mean ‘they were trying to kill you’?! You’re a kid! Why the Hell would they be trying to take you out?! Is this a joke or…was it a game, or-”

“Are you okay, peko?” Pekora asks, taking a step back from Transfer Student in your direction. Though you raise your hands defensively, she’s already worriedly looking your clothing over for any signs of wear and tear. Or blood. If you were still in your gear…your armor might still be shattered from that final attack she threw at you. You would’ve been a bit bloody - the barbs of her mace dug deep into your flesh. But, you aren’t. The powers that be saw fit to clean you up before tossing you here. “Were you hurt, were you-”

“I’m fine!” you yip, taking a step back from Pekora with your arms outstretched. Fine now, perhaps. The Amulet of Embers has been your savior twice now. “Really, I’m fine! I won, so-”

“That doesn’t mean you should’ve been in a situation like that to begin with! Jesus Christ, someone tried to kill you! How are you okay after something like that???” Transfer Student reiterates, still dumbstruck by the idea that your life was in genuine danger not too long ago…when something seems to wash over him. A realization. “...Wait. Shit. Was that why you were so jumpy with the explosions in the hall earlier?”

“Well…yes? But it wasn’t related to that incident in particular–”

“What do you mean ‘that incident’?! How many times have people tried to fucking kill you?!” He yells, cutting you off as his features twist to something like…anger. Not towards you specifically, but maybe for you. Pekora’s amber eyes widen in horror.

“Uhh…” You laugh nervously. Gods. How many times has it been? “Well, there was the dragon that attacked my city that I had to fight, but the worst attack I got hit with there was her tail smashing me. The heroine I looked up to tried to crush me after I realized she was leading me into a trap FOR said dragon after the fact.” You count on your fingers. An old familiar feeling of something like cold ice water begins to drip into your stomach again as you recount your brushes with mortality, piece by piece. A creeping black vignette oozes into the edge of your mind's eye as battle after battle plays out in sickening detail. Every blow struck, every attack endured. Every drop of blood lost, every beat of your terrified heart. The two students stare at you as you open your mouth, continuing. ‘There can’t be more’. “After that, I almost died from getting shot in the back by a fireball that burnt me so badly it apparently left my skeleton exposed, buuut I got better, so it’s okay. Then I got kidnapped by a circus performer and I had to fight my way out of that after getting some stab and slash wounds, and then some stuff with an airship happened and I had to fight my way through a full crew by myself, then some huge guards that nearly cut me in half, and then there was the captain who kept shooting me with her gun over and over that I barely scraped a win out of before I passed out from blood loss…”

“What the fuck??” Transfer Student murmurs, mouth agape. Pekora stays frozen in place, listening with dread as you press on. This isn’t even the worst of what you’ve been through. You continue.

“After that, a Priestess of some weird Outer Gods tried to kidnap me and, uh…steal my soul by swapping it into the body of a clone of me after trying to make me hate the people I love. But then I found that out and got dragged into a nightmare version of a fake painted world she made for me by force where I had to fight the horrible abomination versions of the clone of me and the fake mom she made for me before I fought her myself, and that, uh…that really got to me, for a bit. Some nightmares for a month or two. Then–”

“Just. Fucking. Stop.” Transfer Student raises his hand before you. Snapped from your reminiscing, you blink and reattune yourself with the situation you’re in. While Transfer Student himself has gone a shade (or two) paler at the expedited version of your adventure so far - not even getting to the part involving Castle Mirrikhdal and how you were forced to save your hometown from a gigantic eyeball (put simply), Pekora is on the verge of…tears.

“What…What kind of horrible world are you from, peko?” she asks, voice croaking as she sniffles. This spurs Transfer Student into action, bringing him back to reality as he all but leaps to her side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “It sounds like you’ve been through a nightmare, and that’s not even with all the details…”

“It’s…just my life,” you reply, unable to formulate a response beyond it. What else are you going to say? There’s not much more to it than that. You’ve accomplished much, yet next to none of it was by your choice… “It could be worse, but–”

“No, dude. I really don’t think it could be. It sounds like every day is just…you trying not to get massacred.”

“It’s not every day. These are just…infrequent problems that rise up and end up sucking me into them.”

“Still!” Pekora says, wiping the tears from her eyes as Transfer Student comforts her, rubbing her back reassuringly.“Why would you want to go back to that?? It sounds terrible!”

“My loved ones are there,” you say matter-of-factly, back straightening as you speak with conviction. The thought of them immediately drains the lingering dread from your system; you’ve had a few close calls with death. So what? They make it all worth it. You’d vanquish a thousand Rogue Fragments if it meant protecting them. “That’s all that matters to me.”

“...Fuck, man,” Transfer Student grumbles, bringing a hand down his face as he keeps his free hand on Pekora, tugging the rabbit girl a bit closer. She looks back to him, her lips shakily curling up to a little smile. “Can’t you just…can’t you just bring them here instead? You wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of shit anymore.”

“Not as long as Arkid is running around unchecked…”

“Who??” Pekora asks, looking back up to you. There’s a flicker of recognition in her weepy eyes, but it fades quickly.

“The bastard who tried to detonate my city,” you reply dryly. “That’s the other incident that’s made me a bit…jumpy. An old magus who seems to just…want to kill people, now. Didn’t exactly seem keen on talking, the smug son of a bitch. He unleashed a monstrosity in the sky overhead, which nearly tore the place apart as it lashed out. After killing the thing, his damn Dark Knight cut my arm off…”

“He what?!” They both bark in unison now. You scratch the back of your head awkwardly in response…before realizing you’re using the arm that got separated from your body to do so. Holding it up - and pulling down your sleeve a bit to show that it’s all flesh and blood - you continue.

“Yeah. His attack cut through my shield and armor both, severing it.” Still amazed there’s no scar. There’s some other slash marks, true, but the main severing point is pristine. Thank you, Coco. “But I was able to get it reattached and I woke up fine…after a bit of a coma, I guess.”

“How are you just saying these things like it’s normal, peko?! This is…this is crazy! Why are you being forced to deal with all this?!”

“Because trouble comes to me,” you explain…bringing a hand to your chest, over your heart. An old knight’s salute, courtesy of Tejeda. A vow of duty. “And if anything threatens me or the people I love more than anything else, I’ll bring it down. Haven’t lost a fight yet - don’t plan too. And as long as people need me?” Your voice trails off. Clenching your fist closed, the dragon within answers, your voice briefly twinned. Protect them all. “I’ll keep fighting. Until I can’t.”

A loaded silence lingers between the two students and yourself as you finish giving your explanation on the struggles you’ve been through. That’s leaving out the severely emotional bits, too. With the heat of the dragon within fading, your arms slowly fall back to your side, leaving you in your neutral standing pose as Pekora watches you across from her, eyes still trembling and threatening to flood with tears over the perceived injustice of your situation. There’s a sharp pang of guilt within your breast, admittedly. While your stories of triumph and suffering are usually met with some manner of disbelief back home, this world  seemingly doesn’t have such struggles… especially for one of your age. It makes sense to have this reaction. The boy across from you, while still stunned, lets a heavy breath slowly leave his lungs, his gaze drifting from yours.

“Christ. It’s starting to sound like whatever cosmic bullshit sent you here was just trying to give you a vacation.”

“I wouldn’t have minded, if it was by choice and didn’t involve me getting my chest nearly caved in,” you offer, giving an anxious smile. Of course, hearing that second part makes Pekora’s already drooping ears practically hit the floor. Shit. “But, I’m still glad that whatever it was saw fit to leave me in the care of such considerate companions…I’m sorry if anything I said was troubling.”

“If it’s just how things are in your world, it isn’t your fault. Sounds like that place is Hell on Earth, being honest.” Transfer Student leans around to check Pekora’s face. When he sees her eyes are still tear-filled, he pauses for a moment, arm lowering. He slips the bag from his back and reaches into it, producing a small towel - something he uses to carefully dot her tears, much to the girl’s surprise at first. Her cheeks flush red, but she doesn’t fight it. “But if your home is your home, I…guess that’s just how it is.”

“There’s more good than bad. Honest. I’ll tell you about it over some food, if you want.”

“I don’t think I can eat after hearing all that, peko…” Pekora sniffs, her eyes finally dried thanks to the efforts of Transfer Student’s expert towel manipulation. He’d make a good handmaiden…er. Butler? Is there a term for that? Gentleman in waiting? 

“If nothing else, maybe Marine or the others will have some idea of where you’re from. We’ve got a few outworlders in the group. One of them’s bound to know something.”

“I hope so…I still owe Marine - er, your Marine - an apology for the earlier…behavior.”

“Blech. Don’t worry about it; she loved it.” Transfer Student looks a mix of mildly annoyed and maybe a touch disgusted. Ensuring that Pekora has calmed down, he tosses the hand towel back into his bag, but keeps close to her side. “But you know, when you said ‘dearest comrade’ earlier, you didn’t say a name. I guess by process of elimination…huh. Weird thought, thinking about her in a place like that. Anyway, come on. Standing around here isn’t going to get us any closer to where we need to go.”

With a nod of acknowledgment and a moving of legs, it doesn’t take much longer to reach the cafeteria itself proper - you were barely two minutes away from it when the question was posed and you inadvertently startled the askers. Laughter and conversation pours out into the hall through the large double doors, and as they’re pushed open, the sheer amount of people within the large space fills you with something like…anxious energy. More beastfolk and humans intermingling. It’s a welcome sight. But you still aren’t good at dealing with big groups of people. Your brain lags.

“Come on. There’s a spot up ahead where some…friends usually are,” Transfer Student states, urging you on after he notices you lock up. “Marine’s probably there too, if it helps.”

“...A familiar face would be a big help,” you reply in jest, sticking close to the pair of them as they lead. “I can’t imagine how you’d even find a place to sit in this chaos.”

“You normally just stick with who you know, peko. And since you know us, you’ll sit with us - easy!”

“Yep. Once we get situated, we’ll–

“Ah– There! There he is!” a familiar voice calls out. Ah, yes. You know that tone well. As Transfer Student and Pekora both lock up, Transfer Student letting an ‘ah, shit’ slip from his lips, you peer around them to see…

A lot of faces you’ve seen before.

Marine waves excitedly to you, and next to her - staring at you curiously - are Noel and Rushia, accompanied by some elf you’ve never seen before at Noel’s side. The attention of the girls are secured firmly upon you and your new companions following Marine’s excited greeting, and you feel yourself lock up like a startled deer in response.

It isn’t until you see the not-quite-a-pirate leap from her seat and rush over to you that you finally find the willpower to move - taking a step backwards in a bid to create space before it’s too late. When her hands excitedly take yours, however, it becomes incredibly clear that escaping this awkward situation of your own design is not an option. Fuck – You’re trapped!

“I was wondering when you’d show up! It’s not nice to keep a girl waiting, you know~?” she says in a teasing tone, giving you the same seductive smile you’ve seen a hundred times over by this point, further scrambling and blurring the lines that separate the two instances of Marine within your mind.

“I– Hey. Sorry, I, uh…had to have a talk with Transfer Student and Pekora about some stuff,” you answer awkwardly, nonchalantly locking eyes with the pair beyond Marine. HELP. ME.

“Hmhmm…well, you can make it up to me now, neh?” she asks, sidling in closer to you, her hands still clasped within hers. She smells like cherries; her fingers beginning to coyly interlock with yours. Ah… “We were really enjoying getting to know each other earlier, so maybe we can get back to-”

“Oya!!” Pekora roars…quick-stepping in behind the girl and sinking her teeth into her shoulder, forcing Marine to not only drop your hands, but jump into the air with a strange mix of a moan and a yelp. You take the opportunity to very slightly reposition yourself behind Transfer Student, who watches the exchange with an unflinching expression. “Do you have to put your hands on everyone you see, peko!? You just met them and you’re already trying to feel them up! Have some decency!”

“What?! We were having a conversation!” Marine whines, rubbing her shoulder after Pekora lets loose, the rabbit still fuming at her with her ears perked high. “Besides, he started flirting with me! Why do you want me to suffer?!”

“Because you’re making him uncomfortable! And even if you weren’t, you’re in public! Don’t you have any shame?!”

As the two (quite literally) butt heads, Transfer Student is the one who steps in, lifting the two of them apart by their uniforms with relative ease.

“Alright, alright, enough of that. I don’t know the logistics of a rabbit in a cat fight, but I don’t want to find out. Marine, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know Anon. Pekora…she’s Marine. She can’t change. Go easy on her, for both of our sakes.”

Marine sticks her tongue out at the rabbit, who quickly makes swiping motions at her in turn, before the two of them finally go limp and give up, both of them looking to their captor with annoyed but resigned expressions. Being given permission to touch the ground again, he lowers them, and then looks back to you.

“You good?”

“I’m used to dealing with Marine. I appreciate it, but don’t worry about it. It’s just part of her charm,” you respond, Transfer Student offering you a nod in the affirmative. However, in that moment of having his guard lowered, Marine all but apparates next to you once more.

“I’ve got plenty of charm to go around. I’d love to show you some mor-”

“Get back over there!” Pekora fumes, pushing Marine back to the table as the redhead complains.

The gaggle of girls poke fun at the pouting pirate as the pressing lagomorph forces her back into her seat, the two of them bickering back and forth, leaving you and the other male alone. You sigh.

“This is going to be really awkward for me…” you admit, looking over to him. “I mean, more than Marine already made it, especially if she was talking about what happened earlier… We should just tell them the truth, right?”

“Honesty’s the best policy. Or so they say. It’s probably best to get it all out of the way sooner rather than later. Those four are a serious force to be reckoned with when they put their mind to something; I’m sure they’d be happy to help. But, uh…anything I should know about them? From your perspective I mean.”

“Uruha Rushia, Shirogane Noel, Houshou Marine…and an elf I’ve never seen before,” you reply bluntly, eyes tracking each of the women as you name them off. Transfer Student’s brows raise. “I know them. I’m friendly with them.”

“Then you already have an idea of what they’re like, if this Marine is anything like yours. If you can befriend them once, you can do it again.” He slaps you lightly on the back. Memories of Coco come flooding back. “Come on. Let me lead.”

With a quiet sigh of preparation, you follow closely with the one these versions of your friends are acquainted with, Pekora and Marine still entangled in their life or death struggle as one grabs ears and the other grabs pigtails. As he clears his throat much in the matter a disappointed father would (you assume), the two of them quickly find themselves hands-off, each looking concerned that they’re about to be put in air timeout again.

“Pekora,” Transfer Student begins, speaking in a tone far softer than the slight-scolding one he had mere moments ago. “Can you please do me the favor of getting Anon and yourself a tray while I handle the introduction? I can get one for myself after we’re all situated. I think if we sent him up there to the line himself he’d die.”

“Hey!” you complain. When he looks back at you with a grin, however, your bristling stops. Damn it…

“Hrmm…just make sure this one keeps her hands to herself, peko. I feel like if I look away for two seconds she’d be trying to rip the clothes off him…”

“Oi, I don’t want to hear your complaints! If your little boy wants to become a man with me, that’s his business, not- gack!” Marine is cut off by the rabbit’s hands wrenching around her throat.

“I’m going to stuff you in a locker loaded with C4 if you-”

“Pekora. Marine. Mind your manners. You’re highschoolers, not kindergartners. Come on, please.”

“Grr…okay! Okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes, peko. If you need me, though, just yell and I’ll come hopping.”

Letting the pirate go for the third time with a ‘hmph’, the bunny girl goes ahead and leaves for the time being…marking you the center of attention once more. The four girls at the table look to you expectantly, their curious gazes boring into you with an intensity that only women can muster. Your guardian and savior begins, mercifully freeing you from the collective gorgon stare.

“Alright. Everyone,” he says, stepping to the side and raising an arm to gesture towards you. “This is Anon. As Marine has undoubtedly told you by now in her gushing, if her earlier outburst was any indication.”

“Ah, yes! Marine was telling us you brought your little brother to school today!” The white-haired knight speaks up first, the elf next to her letting out a little chuckle. Transfer Student’s face drops in sync with yours.

“Wh-n-no. We’re not related. He’s just a new student. Anon?”

“Uh…hi,” you offer, raising a hand and giving it a slight wave. Noel’s lips curl into a tiny smile, just a bit faster than the others. She’s the only one to actually give you a wave back. 

“Isn’t he a little young to be coming to a highschool?” Rushia asks. There’s no malice behind the statement. Just an observation. “Unless he’s just very gifted…”

“I’m not complaining,” Marine says, leaning over the table as she rests her cheek atop her hand, gazing at you amorously. Oh, Gods. “He’s already shown he’s more man than almost anyone here.”

“Marine, stop that or I’ll put you outside,” Transfer Student groans. “And yes, he is too young to be going here. That’s where the problem comes in. As I recently learned, he’s an outworlder; but he’s not here by choice. He just sort of…wound up here after he got scooped up by a portal or something. More than that, he’s a student, somehow. Yagoo seemed to know something, but he didn’t tell us anything, and now he’s in our care as per his orders.”

There’s a pause amidst the group as they blink, somewhat confused, processing the information that’s just been unceremoniously dumped upon their lunch platters. What’s turned into the opportunity for a new friend has turned into a difficult situation. You almost feel like you should apologize for the confusion. After a few moments of baffled silence, a whisper circulates between them, a few quick glances afforded to your direction in between…before the scarlet haired beauty goes first.

“What, he just…volunteered us to be his chaperones?” Marine asks, finally broken free from her aggressive fantasizing. Seems the bit about you being an outworlder has finally broken through to her. “That seems kind of negligent, doesn’t it…? What about his parents? Did his parents get sent over too?”

“Sore topic,” Transfer Student blurts, quickly swiping the tips of his fingers over his throat back and forth in a ‘stop’ gesture. Marine’s face pales.

“How long have you been here?” the dark-skinned elf asks. You should really get her name at some point.

“Only a few hours. I woke up outside under a tree on a hill and just…came here because I had no other leads.”

“So whatever it was that grabbed you dumped you here on purpose,” she muses. “Curious…”

“When you combine it with the fact that he magically has a record that says he’s supposed to be here? Yeah.” Transfer Student takes a seat at the table across from the women. He gestures for you to do the same, and with a gracious smile, you do just that, taking up a position next to him and across from Noel. The white-haired knight’s eyes remain fixated on you in a strange way… you fidget.

“Uhm…Are you okay, Noel?” you ask on reflex. Internally, you damn yourself. You let slip the fact you know her name without being told it; another thing you’ll have to explain. If she notices, though, she doesn’t let it bother her; she simply gives you a smile that radiates heat on par with the sun.

“Of course, little guy,” she coos in a tone you’ve never heard from her before, sending shivers down your spine. A mix of matronly and something else you can’t pinpoint. Based on the immediate response from the people around her - which is for their heads to whip over and stare at her in disbelief - they haven’t heard it, either. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m just fine. Let’s focus on you right now.”

“Uh oh,” the elf whispers under her breath.

“Flare?” Transfer Student asks. “What was that? What’s happening?”

“Transfer Student?” A voice rings out from behind, shaky. As you both turn to see what’s behind you, you spy Pekora precariously balancing three trays worth of food, her legs quivering uneasily as she gives an awkward grin. “L-Little help, peko?”

“I-” he responds, getting up without missing a beat. “I told you I could get my own. You didn’t have to try and bring this all over yourself.”

“If you were doing the hard part of getting them brought up to speed, it’s the least I could do,” she replies with a sigh of relief, her haphazard stance relaxing as she no longer is under threat of a single misstep sending her sprawling.

“Aw. Isn’t he sweet?” Marine chuckles…before something pings off in her head. “Huh…Hey, Anon?”

“Yeah?” you ask, turning back to her.

“How did you know Noel’s name?” she inquires, head tilting. “Unless Transfer Student told you, but…”

“Actually, yeah,” Flare (you assume) asks. “Marine said you knew her name too, but she just assumed you said it after hearing those two yell it.”

“...Well. Being honest…” You cough, bracing for the awkwardness of this conversation. “It’s because I know you. Or, well, I know other versions of you, I guess.”

“Hah?” Rushia blurts out, despite staying quiet for most of the conversation. “What do you mean?”

“In my world, I’m on relatively good terms with each of you…” Rip off the bandage. Jump straight in. “I’ve worked with you all to some pretty good ends. Except for uh…’Flare’, I think Transfer Student said your name was. Sorry. But it’s nice to meet you.”

“Wha?” Flare blanks. She almost seems the tiniest bit offended.

“Wait, you know another me?” Marine asks, a certain excited sparkle in her eyes. “What’s she like?”

“I’d actually like to know that too, being honest,” Transfer Student says, sliding a tray in front of you from behind before taking his seat once more, pulling out a seat for Pekora, who graciously takes it with a tiny sound of thanks. The platter is divided into portions of rice, a bowl of soup and what looks like beef. A healthy side of leafy greens adds some color to the meal. Overall? Well-rounded, and a welcome sight to your empty stomach. Though, your discerning eye can’t help but notice a dip in the quality compared to what you’re normally allowed access to; but that’s just a benefit of being around the Queen, you guess. Beggars can’t be choosers. “Especially if you know them from that Hellworld of yours.”

“Hellworld?” Rushia asks, seeming to perk up at the notion. “Is he actually from Hell?”

“It’s a phrase. But it doesn’t sound like a good place to be from,” he says, bringing his utensils up into his hand. “But we can discuss that later. Right now, I want to hear about how he knows you three.”

“Why am I left out…” Flare mutters.

“If it makes you feel better, he didn’t know me either, peko.”

“Right. Uhhh…” From left to right, it’s Rushia, Noel, Flare (sorry!) and Marine. May as well go down the list. “Alright. Uruha Rushia,” you state, the tiny necromancer(?) sitting up. “Necromancer. The current Mistress of Castle Mirrikhdal - which used to belong to an ancient sorcerer that plagued my world for a few hundred years. She finally banished him for good, and now she’s living there with the undead who were trapped there, even though they’re free now. Everyone there loves her, and she’s proven to be a wonderful friend and asset both.”

“...I have a whole castle?” she asks, excited at the prospect. “And a legion of loving undead followers…that’s quite the setup.”

“You don’t seem particularly surprised by the necromancer part…”

“Well, yes. I’m a necromancer. It makes sense that I’m a necromancer there too, right?”

“Universal constant, huh…”

“What about Noel?” Flare asks.

“Sure. Shirogane Noel, heroine of the Kingdom of Cover. Champion of Myrma, Goddess of Valor and Compassion. Wields a mace bigger than me. My, uh…childhood idol…”

“That’s amazing!” Noel claps, apparently quite pleased with the idea. Flare shares her enthusiasm, but still seems a little bummed out that she doesn’t have an otherworld counterpart to be compared to.

Marine, however, all but vibrates excitedly in her seat. “What about me?! Am I a pirate? I’m a pirate, right? Right??” she asks, her excited grin impossible to miss. A slight smile crosses your lips.

“One of the best there is. Houshou Marine, of the Houshou Pirates. Captain of the Lustful Maiden, an airship capable of flight and sea travel both.”

“YES!” She cheers.

Pekora groans. “Don’t give her more fuel…”

“That ship name is gross, man,” Transfer Student whispers over to you. You offer a reciprocal blank expression.

“I knew it, I knew it!” She giggles excitedly, legs kicking under the table in joy. “I knew I was meant to be a pirate! What am I like? Am I a courageous beauty? Am I a ruthless pirate lord? Do I have a harem of sailors?!”

“Why is that what she sounds the most excited to find out about, peko?”

“You’re…” You pause, eyes drifting closed. Every bit of memory you have about Marine comes together in a maelstrom as you try to come up with a concise explanation. Her joy, her anger, her thoughts and her feelings. Her goofy moments, her tender moments. Her beautiful heart. A woman as deep as the blue seas she sails on; filled with boundless love. Marine… “You’re indescribable. Beautiful, brave, kind, caring…it’s really hard to pinpoint what stands out the most when you’re such an all around great person. But you’re someone I’m very close with, who I’d move mountains for, and who I wouldn’t trade for the world.”

The comforting thought of the plucky pirate brings a much-needed bit of respite to your mind. It’s not that you’re on edge, here; not anymore, at least. But little compares to the feeling of love that you get from those close to you. That feeling is all you want and need in this world. However… you can’t help but notice the silence following your statement.

As your eyelids lift, the girls across from you each wear expressions of embarrassment, save for Marine. The redhead herself seems completely floored, cheeks the same color as her locks, stunned into submission by the admission. One of the few rare times that Marine has actually been bested into being quiet. A single nod of acknowledgment comes from the boy to your left. 

“...Not the answer you were looking for?” you inquire, breaking the spell of silence, head tilting just a touch. While Noel and her elf friend giggle to themselves, Rushia is the one who clears her throat.

“I-It sums it up. It’s just…it’s a bit more heartfelt than I think she was expecting.”

“It sounded more like a lover’s confession,” Flare states, laughing a little under her breath.

“Y-Yeah…” Marine agrees quietly, for once actually looking away from you as she steams. “I- She must really mean a lot to you…”

“Put lightly. Marine is… I love her a lot, so–”

“Eh?!” Marine yips, cheeks flushing further. “W-W-What?! What do you mean?!”

“That explains a lot about the flirting earlier,” Transfer Student whispers over to Pekora, taking a bite of his rice. Ah. Right. Your stomach.

“Uh…n-nevermind,” you mumble, taking your own utensils up into your hand. Okay, slow down. No sense in making this any more awkward than you already have. “Excuse me, I’m very hungry, so…”

“H- What?? You can’t just leave it off there after saying all that super romantic stuff!” Marine whines.

However, Transfer Student comes to your aid once again. “He can. Let’s not get sidetracked. If you want to have this conversation, ambush him later at your own peril. I won’t always be there to save you from Pekora’s wrath.” He plucks a bit of meat into his mouth. He chews for a moment before swallowing and continuing. “Now that that’s out of the way, that’s basically everything. I was planning to take him to The Nexus here in a bit to try and get him home, but we still need some clues on where he’s actually from. All we know so far is that he’s from a real old fashioned sword and sorcery type world. Isn’t that right, Sir Knight?”

“He’s a knight??” Flare asks, the elf’s amber eyes looking back to you. “I thought knights were usually older teenagers to young adults.”

“I was a squire until fairly recently, and a page before that,” you reply, affirming Flare’s knowledge. You scoop a bit of rice into your mouth and begin to eat the food presented to you courtesy of Pekora, your body grateful for the meal. For all the warning of a strange blonde girl, it’s actually quite palatable. Let’s try some meat here, next… “I kind of got…accelerated through my training due to some circumstances.”

“You didn’t give them the same introductory speech, so don’t be surprised if you bring some stuff up and they have no idea what you’re talking about peko,” Pekora warns you from the side opposite of Transfer Student, peering around him. “And, uhm…leave the bit you told us in the hall a few minutes ago for later, too. We’re trying to eat.”

“What thing in the hall?” Rushia asks. Pekora gives a dismissive, avoidant laugh in reply.

“So Yagoo left a little knight in our care, he doesn’t know the world he’s from, and he needs our help?” Noel asks, looking at you with that same sisterly expression of concern. Who the hell is this lady?!

“More like we were also given direct orders to help, but yeah, that’s about the by and large of it. I’m already committed to it, since it’s clear he needs the help - Pekora is too. What about you guys? Sound like something you’re interested in? No pressure.”

There’s an incredibly brief period of silence as Transfer Student finishes posing the question. Noel, surprisingly, is the first to speak up.

“Of course I’ll help. If he has a place he has to go back to and needs us, I can’t just say no to something like that. Right, Flare?”

“Un. I’m interested in learning more about his home,” she says, offering you a cordial grin. “Especially if we need to figure out where he’s from to get him back home. All this talk of…well, different versions of us in another world is exciting. But not if he’s trapped here.”

“Count me in too!” Marine says, placing her palms on the table and pushing herself up from her seat just a touch as she leans over it. You avert your gaze away from the cleavage she ends up showing off. Knowing Marine, there’s no way to tell if it was intentional or not. “Anon needs to get back to…uh. Me! Pirate me! And I want to meet pirate me, too!”

“Ah, yes! I’d love to see the Castle that ‘I’ rule over,” Rushia says, clapping her hands together before her. “Is that an option?”

“If we can find out where he’s actually from…and it’s safe to visit…”

“It’d be really jarring for everyone else, but…I don’t see them saying ‘no’ to giving the people who helped me out a look around,” you reply. Shit. They’d be guests of honor, even. Knowing Coco, she’s probably in Hell mentally right now. Everytime something’s happened to you that’s dragged you away to some unknown place against your will, she’s worked tirelessly to get you back. This is probably no exception. The answer in the affirmative seems to give the girls a greater sense of excitement.

“I think that settles it, then,” Transfer Student says…seemingly finishing his meal and pushing himself away from the table. As he stands, he claps a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all on board. Pekora?”

“Eh? Are you going somewhere?” the rabbit asks.

The older boy nods to her, taking a step back from the table to push his seat back in. “Yeah. I’m gonna run home - I’ll be back quick, promise. Gotta grab something that’ll help us out in a bit. Can I ask you all to try and work together to get a better lock on the place that Anon might be from? We’ve got a foundation, but we need something more…precise. Don’t want to send him to some place worse by mistake.”

“Well, have you started asking him about landmarks?” Rushia asks. Reaching under the table, she rummages around in something unseen before producing a soft-covered book, the pages within lined but empty as she opens it atop the wooden surface. Within her hand, a writing instrument deploys with a tiny click. “The more you know about a world, the easier it is to figure out which one it is. Historical events, continents…”

“He mentioned a place earlier, peko…uhm…Bradias, right?” Pekora asks. You reply with a nod, something which earns a prideful smile from the girl. “Yeah! Bradias was the name of the continent he’s from.”

“So, a planet called Earth…with a continent called Bradias…” Rushia mutters, slender fingers moving as she jots the information down. “Perfect! A good start.”

“Seems like you all have this under control,” Transfer Student states, taking a step back. When Pekora looks to him in something like apprehension at the idea of being your main chaperone, he shoots her a tiny, placating grin. Turning, he looks back over his shoulder. “Not trying to get out of interrogation duty, but the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get back. I’ll see you soon.”

“A-Alright,” you reply, seeing him off with a wave as you turn in your seat, the boy departing with controlled haste. Interrogation duty. Though he said it in jest…you gulp as you turn back around. Expectant stares meet you, all of them waiting for you to spill your world’s lore. You gulp, feeling quite small as you sink into your seat. “Okay, uhm…the main places in my world are Alaynia, Volar, Minos…”

“What about where you’re from?” Noel chimes in, leaning forward over the table as she listens attentively. …Noel’s always had a fairly sizable set of assets, but in this change of clothing, without the benefit of her armor…eesh. “Bradias must have more going on there, right? It’s easier to start local.”

“Ah…uhm. There’s The Kingdom of Cover, which is where I’m from…under the authority of King Yagoo th–”

“King Yagoo?!” Marine blurts, doing a spit take with nothing in her mouth. The rest of the girls share similar looks of shock mixed with entertainment, though Pekora simply tosses a bundle of napkins at Marine to force her to wipe her mouth clean. “What?!”

“Imagine how I felt seeing him as the headmaster here,” you deadpan. The king without his royal robes…feels wrong. Though, if you remember right, he’s apparently quite strong. Maybe this version of him isn’t as, uh…jacked.

This is going to be a headache. At least you paid attention to all those old tomes about world history.  Let’s see what we can glean from the past to help your future…

The treetops dance overhead, branches swaying in the warm summer breeze blowing in from the coast. Amid the rustling of leaves and the ever-annoying trill of cicadas, you trot down the steep hillside road, legs carrying you forth at a brisk pace. Both to put distance between yourself and those damn insects, and to expedite your little outing. Yagoo’s blessing to shirk your studies may have freed you from any worry of being caught and reprimanded for leaving campus early, but you still feel the need to get this errand done fast. You left that kid in the company of a bunch of excitable teenage girls, with only Pekora there to watch over him. And between Marine and whatever manner of fucking succubus is possessing Noel, the poor rabbit’s almost certainly going to have her hands full. The sooner you can get back to her, the better.

Thankfully, your house is just a short commute from school. And it being the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the streets are almost completely devoid of both pedestrians and vehicles, leaving you free to jaywalk to your heart’s content. Flaunting all manner of traffic regulations, you briskly make your way along the well-traveled suburban path while you speak into your phone.

“No, I’m not ditching class.” Gaze darting up and down the desolate street ahead, you vault over the guardrail with your free hand and hustle your way to the other side. “We got this new foreign exchange student, and Headmaster Yagoo asked me to help him out with some things…Yes, really. You can confirm it with him yourself if you want. I have to take the kid into town to pick up some school supplies.” That last part isn't entirely truthful, but the real story that you’re trying to help him find his homeworld would probably just make it sound like you’re bullshitting. Better to offer something a bit more plausible. “It’ll only take an hour or two. I’ll have her back before you even get home. Promise.” Your attention flits rapidly between navigating your way through the maze of houses and negotiating with the digitized voice on the other end of the line.

Two efforts that would ultimately prove fruitful almost simultaneously; no sooner has home come into view than you finally hear the words of authorization you were hoping for. Your mouth curls into a self-congratulatory grin. We’re in business. “...Alright. Thanks…Okay, I will…Love you too, Dad.”

With a quick tap of the End button, you switch over to the LINE app and type out a message to Pekora.

Read 12:47 PM Got what I came for. How are things over there?

HELP 12:47 PM

Read 12:47 PM That good, huh? 

Read 12:47 PM Bring the kid out front. I’ll be there soon.

The phone slips into your pocket and, in the same fluid motion, your house key comes out. Truth be told, you were going to do this whether you got your dad’s permission or not. You’re no stranger to ‘borrowing’ this little beauty in secret. But things are much easier on your conscience this way. Letting yourself in, you beeline for the garage and flick on the lights.

As expected at this hour, the room is devoid of cars; your parents likely won’t be back until evening. But tucked neatly away in the corner, against the backdrop of myriad toolboxes and spare parts, an all-too-familiar shape sits shrouded under a black nylon cover. Your old man’s second pride and joy, and an ever-faithful friend. You can feel your grin widening as you draw closer, one hand resting gingerly atop the waterproof material and peeling it back with the same gentleness one might use to pet a kitten.

“Hey, girl. It’s been awhile. Did you miss me?”

~~~~~

Anon’s face is the picture of shock. His thick bangs have once more parted, as if by the whims of some unknown sentience, to reveal his widened eyes staring at you in awe…or perhaps more accurately, at the unknown thing you’re currently dismounting. “What. Is that.”

“This,” you give the polished metal chassis an affectionate pat, “is a 2018 Honda Super Cub. Cobalt blue.”

“You have a motorcycle?!” Pekora’s dumbstruck face mirrors her companion’s, eyeing you as if you just outed yourself as a space alien. “Since when do you have a motorcycle, peko?!”

“Since before I moved here.” You slip the helmet off your head and give your flattened hair a tousle. “I just don’t ride it to school.” Of course, the thing isn’t actually yours, strictly speaking. But they don’t have to know that.

Anon is quick to draw closer with Pekora hot on his heels, admiring the strange new contraption with an (appropriately) childlike curiosity that inadvertently lends credence to all those jokes about showing modern technology to a layman from the dark ages. At a glance, the vehicle looks a bit different from a Cub fresh off the assembly line; extensive tinkering has added a number of custom improvements such as a windscreen, front storage basket, and rear seat with passenger handles. Not to mention whatever modifications were made to the engine and other internal workings. With the amount of retrofitting this thing has undergone, you frankly aren’t sure what its exact specs are anymore. But it has wheels and gets you from point A to point B. And for a teenager, that’s already pretty much the coolest shit ever. “‘Motorcycle’,” the boy repeats the unfamiliar word. “It’s like a metal steed…”

“Pff.” Muffling a snicker at both the odd phrase and the sight of Anon all but undressing the bike with his eyes, you muster up a response. “Yeah, that’s about right. Imagine a horse. Now, imagine ten of them. Then, imagine all of them combined into a single machine. That’s what this is.”

“That’s rad.” The boy begins to reach out, fingertips hovering mere centimeters from the gleaming metal as if in fear that the thing might somehow lash out and bite him if he touches it the wrong way, before seemingly finding his courage and lightly stroking the frame. Like petting a horse’s neck. “How is it able to move on its own? Some sort of propulsion magic?”

“It, uh…it’d take awhile to explain.” The concept of an ‘engine’ is probably a few tiers too high up the tech tree for Mr. High Fantasy here, and you’d rather not spend the brainpower trying to think of another analogy. “What matters is that it’ll get us into town a hell of a lot faster than going on foot.” And cool the poor kid down, from the looks of it. How he can stand to wear that black hoodie in the middle of June, you have no idea.

“Seriously?!” he blurts out, looking up at you with stars in his eyes…you think. “I get to ride this thing?! You’ll show me how?!”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, kid. I’m the one driving here. You are riding in the back.” The blunt statement seems to take some air out of Anon’s sails, his shoulders visibly drooping in disappointment. But you remain firm. “These things can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. You need a license before you’re legally allowed to drive one around.”

“Wait,” Pekora interjects, amber gaze darting between you and the distinctly two-seater vehicle. “Am I not coming with?”

“I think you’ve earned a break.” Based on that…‘succinct’ LINE message earlier, you’re guessing that Anon’s questioning may have had some complications. And eyeing the rabbit girl with greater scrutiny quickly reveals that her sailor-collared dress has become disheveled, her long blue locks now tangled and unkempt. “Speaking of which, what exactly did I miss?” you ask, an undercurrent of concern in your voice. “I was barely gone for fifteen minutes and you look like someone tried to kill you.”

Her ears wilt at the pointed question, a hollow look passing over her face as if even remembering the nebulous calamity is mentally draining. “Ugh,” she groans. “It started off so normal, peko…we were asking Anon about his home, just like when you left.”

“Until?” you probe further, eyebrows raising as you await the drop of the other shoe.

“Until Noel asked him if he has a big sister.”

Wait for it…

“...and if he wants one.”

There it is. “What the hell is up with that girl today…?”

Pekora’s little hands wave in front of her, gesticulating wildly as she speaks. “Then Marine got jealous and started to pick a fight with her. Flare and I were trying to calm them both down, but then Marine grabbed his hand again, and…”

“...And you started fighting with her too,” you finish for her.

Those long white ears droop further as she averts her eyes, awkwardly tapping two fingers together. Bingo. “I-it…it was a huge mess...”

So it basically turned into a cartoon battle dust-cloud. Seems you were right to hurry. “What was Rushia doing during all this?”

This time the answer comes from Anon, who up until this point had been content to hang back and let Pekora handle explanations. “She just pretended nothing was happening and kept asking me questions.”

“At least someone was staying on task,” you mutter to yourself. “And? Did she learn anything useful?”

“She seemed to think so.” Reaching into his pocket, the boy procures a folded sheet of notebook paper and passes it over to you. “Continents, cities, kingdoms, I gave her as much as I could remember.”

Unfolding it, you find the inside filled with dozens of names, all arranged into neat little columns in surprisingly-elegant handwriting. Kleinsburg. Alaynia. Argomery. Mirrikhdal. A whole lotta places you’ve never heard of. But you’re not what you’d call an expert on interdimensional geography, so maybe the folks at the Nexus will recognize one of them. If anybody has a chance in hell of knowing where this kid is from, it’s the Extraterrestrial Transit Bureau. “Alright, I think we can work with this,” you state, tucking the paper away as you look between your two companions. “I’ll take the kid downtown and see if someone at the Nexus can point us in the right direction. Best-case scenario, we’ll have him on the next departure back home. Otherwise, we’ll head back here.”

Pekora looks back at you with a tiny, almost indignant pout. “What am I supposed to do?”

“...You have,” you dead-pan back at her, “A) the headmaster’s permission to ditch class all day. B) access to the engineering clubroom. And C) the entire campus as your trapmaker’s nightmare playground. And you’re asking me what you should do??”

A look of dawning realization flashes across the girl’s face, her floppy white ears snapping bolt upright. Momentary shock that quickly gives way to a wide and devilish grin. As if your words had flipped a switch somewhere inside her head, the telltale glint of mischief has returned to Pekora’s eyes for the first time since this whole debacle began. After hours of playing nanny, the inner trickster is emerging from the shadows to once more wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting world. “...You know what,” she replies, “that’s a pretty good point, peko.”

“Um.”

“Just remember your promise.” Taking a quick glance Anon’s way, it’s hard to miss the color draining from his startled face. One can only imagine how jarring it must be to glimpse that little she-devil’s true nature when she’d been nothing but kind up to this point. “No pranking the new guy.”

“I know, I know.” Pekora’s expression softens as she turns her attention to the somewhat-alarmed boy, the deviousness bleeding out of her smile. “Good luck,” she gently encourages him. “If you do find your way back home…it was nice to meet you.”

“Er…” Anon is quick to compose himself and offer her a warm, if slightly forced smile in return. “It was nice to meet you too. And I, uh, apologize again for the misunderstanding earlier.”

“It’s alright, peko. It wasn’t your fault.” With a wave, Pekora spins on her heels. “See you later, ‘Transfer Student’!” she calls back to you as she trots off towards the school building, cotton-ball tail wiggling behind her with every step. “Make sure to keep your eyes peeled~”

Your neck hairs bristle at the deliberately ambiguous phrasing. There’s a nonzero possibility she’s just telling you to drive safely, but knowing her…no. This school is about to get a whole lot more hazardous.

“Uh, what…” Anon speaks up from your side. “...What was that, exactly?”

“I told you, dude. Menace to society.” Taking your eyes off the rabbit girl’s retreating form, you reach for the Cub’s storage basket and pluck out a second helmet. The one you used to wear, back before you were old enough to drive yourself. Back when your dad was the one at the helm, and you were riding shotgun. Fun times. A bit smaller than your own, but hopefully not too small. “Here. Try this on.”

As Anon takes the thing and tentatively tries to fit it over his head, you can see his unkempt hair visibly compressing in on itself, just barely managing to cram into the tight space. He’s going to have the world’s worst case of hat hair when he takes that thing off. “It’s a little snug, but I think I can deal with it,” he declares as he clips the fastener in place.

"...Are you sure you don't want a haircut while you're here?” you offer. “There's a few barbershops in town."

"I don't really see the need,” he says, his bangs still reaching out from under the helmet to drape over his face.

"I don't think you can ‘see’ anything."

“Are we going?”

With a roll of your eyes, you slip your own helmet back on as you take your spot on the driver’s seat and tuck back the kickstand. “Yeah yeah, hop on. There are handles, so please hold on to them, not me.” It's a bit of a shame that your first passenger on this thing is another boy. You would have loved to take Pekora out for a drive. Those slender arms wrapped snugly around your torso, her cheek against your back, her long hair blowing in the wind…

Eh, but what can you do? There’s always next time.

You hear Anon emit a faint grunt of exertion as he struggles to mount the ‘metal steed’, fumbling awkwardly for a moment before seeming to find his balance and settle into place. “This motorcycle...is it very fast?”

…

The corners of your lips pull back towards your cheeks as you turn the ignition. Roused from her brief slumber, your mechanical companion blinks silently up at you, dashboard flickering alight and speedometer waving in greeting. A wordless gesture answered in kind via a tap of the starter. With a sputtering screech (and a startled yelp from the boy behind you), the engine springs to life. The beast has awoken.

“Do you want her to be?”

~~~~~

The houses and trees pass before your eyes in a blur, an endless procession of suburban monotony blended together into vague shapes passing in and out of sight too fleetingly to be processed. The air parts against the windscreen like frozen-over seawater before an icebreaker to flow over and past your hunched form, ruffling little more than the sleeves of your shirt that poke out the edges of the protective bubble. All outside ambience, bird and insect alike, is drowned out by the growl of the engine, a rumbling din matched in volume only by the excited whooping directly behind you.

“WOOOOOOOOAH!” The noises coming out of Anon sound like a combination of terrified screaming and ecstatic laughter. Just the cocktail of emotions you were going for.

“Having fun, kid?” you shout back at him without turning your head, eyes glued firmly on the road.

“This is the greatest day of my life!” Caught up in the adrenaline rush, the boy seems to have shed the anxiety and frustration that had been weighing him down all day. You’d hoped that going for a ride would bolster his spirits a bit, and it would appear your idea had merit. For perhaps the first time since you met him, he almost sounds…happy.

“Heh.” Your smile widens, lips parting in a toothy grin that nobody can see. “Well hold on tight, ‘cuz we’ve got a corner coming up!”

“Huh?”

Left turn, 50 meters out. Sparse foliage gives a nice, clear view of the other side. No pedestrians. No incoming traffic. That stop sign may as well be a suggestion. You release the throttle and angle towards the turn as it draws closer. Your eyes turn to the vacant road ahead. Where you want to be. Don’t look anywhere but the place you want to be. You ease on the brake lever and push the left handle to point the wheel away from the turn. Destabilized, the bike begins to fall in the opposite direction. Tilting towards the direction you want to go…and also the pavement.

Steady…

The lean angle increases. The asphalt draws closer, the heat radiating from its surface warming your skin. A voice of steadily-increasing panic sounds at your back. “Fuuuuuck-!”

You release the pressure on the handle to let the wheel swerve back in the proper direction. The bike sweeps across the intersection like a stone in a sling. Your grip on the throttle tightens at the apex’s rapid approach. Your jaw clenches. Your eyes narrow.

Almost…THERE!

A mechanical roar cuts through the air as you twist the throttle as far forward as it will go. The heavily-listing vehicle lurches upright with the acceleration to complete the sharp turn and barrel down the new street, her triumphant warcry coalescing with those of her passengers.

“YEEEEEEEEAH!” “WOOHOOHOO!”

You and the kid tear your way through the neighborhood at breakneck velocity, utterly lost in the thrill of the moment. It isn’t until other vehicles begin to appear on the road that you’re essentially forced to fall in line with the speed limit and slow to a more reasonable pace. As you head deeper into the town proper, your surroundings begin to shift, the homes and public parks of the residential area giving way to the high-rise office complexes, shops and restaurants of the commercial district. You don’t even have to look back to know that Anon’s head is on a swivel, taking in the myriad of unfamiliar sights while he poses a seemingly endless stream of questions.

“What are those ‘horseless carriage’ things?”
“They’re called cars. Like motorcycles, but bigger and safer to drive.”
“Why are there so many buildings with a ‘7’ on them? Is it some kind of insignia?”
“Those are convenience stores. Fucking things are everywhere.”
“What’s inside those tall spires?”
“Overworked salarymen, probably.”
“...And what’s a ‘salaryman’?”
“The sad fate that awaits most of us when we grow up.”

With how quiet and reserved he’d been when you first met, you initially had Anon pegged as the silent type. But he’s quickly proving to actually be pretty inquisitive. It’s hard to blame him, being in a strange and unfamiliar world full of shit he knows nothing about. And after the grocery list of traumatic events he’s been through, which he so casually read off to you and Pekora, seeing him lighten up a bit and act more his age is honestly kind of a relief. Poor kid really did just need a vacation.

But his borderline interrogation tapers off into silence as your winding path through the city streets finally arrives at its terminus, your destination looming overhead. Pulling off the main road and into the parking lot, you hear Anon pose one final question. “What the hell is this?”

“This,” you start as you pull into an empty space and kill the engine, “is the Nexus.”

From the outside, the place doesn’t look too different from your typical high speed railway station. A massive building the size of a city block, its exterior boasting that typical modern architecture of sleek, pristine white curves and glass. The transit hub thrums with the hustle and bustle of daily life, crowds of people beyond number shuffling in and out of its myriad entrances. Even the pick-up and drop-off area is in a state of constant motion, a never-ending stream of cars, shuttles and taxis pulling up to the curb to spew forth more bodies or suck them up and ferry them away. But the telltale scent tickling your nostrils as you draw near, an arcane aroma that seems to permeate the entire building, makes it immediately clear to all who approach that this is more than a mere train station.

A sensation that Anon seems quick to pick up on, sniffing at the air as the two of you slip off the bike and unfasten your helmets. “The smell of magic here is overpowering,” he remarks as he pulls the thing off…to reveal the world’s worst case of hat hair, his once-fluffy mane squished into the shape of a bowl. Called it. “What exactly is this ‘Nexus’ place?”

“Well…” The gears turn in your head, throwing words around in an effort to find a description that will click with him. “...You know a port, right? Boats coming in and out, dropping people off, sailing others away, pretty much always busy?”

“I’ve never been to one myself, but yes,” he answers, following close at your side as you lead the way towards the crowded entrance. “I know of them.”

“Well, this is pretty much the same thing. Except instead of bringing people from overseas, it’s bringing them in from other worlds.”

That seems to pique the boy’s curiosity, his head lifting to peer up at the imposing building ahead. “How do they accomplish something like that? Portals?”

“So many portals,” you confirm. “Just, an unreasonable quantity of portals.”

Anon emits a quiet, impressed whistle. “I can’t even begin to guess how much mana that must take. Some of my friends had to jerry-rig a portal a while back, and according to them it took quite a bit of effort.”

“From what I read in history class, it took us a bit of effort too, back when we were first figuring out how the damn things worked. We’ve been able to streamline the process a bit since then.”

“Really? How?”

“Hell if I know. I’m a high-school student, not a magitek engineer.” As you pass over the crosswalk and approach the entrance, the throng of bodies forces you to deftly weave your way between the crowds, keeping the kid closeby lest he get swept up in the current. The only other precaution you could take would be to hold his hand like a child, but, uh…no. “What matters is that these places are run by the Extraterrestrial Transit Bureau. Basically the part of the government whose job is to catalog all the different worlds out there and how to get to them. If we want to send you home, then they’re our best bet.”

A rare, genuine smile crests the kid’s face. Of a different sort from the manic grin he was probably wearing during your joyride, or that sleazy look he gave Marine. An expression carrying a very particular emotion that you once thought you would never experience again, and only recently became reacquainted with.

Hope. 

Clinging to that thin sliver of hope, Anon follows you through the wide glass threshold.

The passage opens up into the main concourse. Crowds of commuters, vacationers and tourists of every race you can think of mill about the room with a gamut of purposes. Some stand in line at the ticket counter to collect their boarding passes. Others peruse the station shops for snacks and souvenirs for their untold journeys. Others still simply lounge about on the many benches and seats, stealing the occasional glance at the schedule display screens while they wait for their appointed departure. Bodies flow up and down the capillary-like escalators to the station platforms, blood cells in the beating circulatory system of the Nexus. A somewhat majestic, but ultimately mundane sight for the likes of you.

For him, on the other hand…

You look over to see Anon staring agape at the spectacle before him, gaze sweeping across the massive room so wildly that he physically spins on his heels to take in a full 360-degree view even as he continues to match pace with you. “Wooooah…”

The corner of your mouth twitches as a wry look flits across your face. This is perhaps the most apt use of the phrase ‘a kid in the candy store’ you’ve ever seen. Out of respect for the sheer novelty of the experience, you allow him his moment of reverie before breaking him out of the trance with a loud clearing of the throat. “Alright, pick your jaw up off the floor. We’ve got a job to do here.”

“Huh?” His head snaps back over to you, brought back to reality. “O-Oh. Right. So where are we headed?”

“Well…” A quick glance at the ‘Departures’ section of the display screens turns up no shortage of familiar names. Makai. Shallys. Tao Tao. The Underworld. Realms you recognize, even if you’ve never been to them yourself. But no Earths. Well, one Earth, but ‘Tokyo Wastes’ definitely isn’t a part of Anon’s version of it. You’re pretty sure only robots live there. “I don’t see any names from Rushia’s list on the scheduled departures. We should check the ticketing counter, see if they’ve got something set for later.” You’re pretty sure that portals to worlds with less frequent traffic don’t open every day. Maybe he’s from one of them?

With Anon trailing close at your heels, you beeline for the ticketing counter and take your place at the back of the line, just behind a gaggle of oni college students chattering away about, drumroll please…boxing. The next few minutes of your life would be filled with excited and increasingly-deranged ramblings about some mysterious masked newcomer to the ring with a right-hook belying her young age and a ferocity befitting her canine heritage. By the time the horned lunatics finally get their turn at the counter, they’re already betting against each other over which one of them could take her in a fight, and you’re about ready to hang yourself with the nearest stanchion rope.

At long last, the gang make their boisterous departure, and your own turn comes up. Approaching the counter, you find a bespectacled woman sitting on the other side, a pair of feline ears adorning the top of her head of neatly-bobbed brown hair. “Good afternoon, sir,” she greets you with that professional politeness characteristic of a customer-service industry veteran. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi,” you answer. “We’re looking for a departure that isn’t on the schedule. You have portals to other versions of Earth, right?”

“Of course.” The catgirl clerk adjusts her glasses, an almost prideful smile coloring her face. “This station provides transit services to all worlds currently logged in the ETB’s database, alternate Earths included. Just tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll see what I can find.”

Awesome. You’d been a bit worried that a small-town station like this would only provide partial services, but this should make your visit far more definitive. Fishing the notebook page out of your pocket, you unfold it and look at the first name on the list. “Alright. Got anything for, uh…‘Kleinsburg’?”

The woman swivels to face the monitor on her desk, tapping away at the keyboard with practiced finesse.

“What is that?”
“It’s a computer. I’ll tell you later.”

“Hmm…” Her lips purse, brow furrowing as she scrolls down on the mouse-wheel. “...There’s a Kleinburg in Ontario, Canada.”

“...Is it the capital?”

“No sir, that’s Toronto.”

“Then no, that’s not what we’re looking for.” There’s no way this kid is Canadian. Doesn’t apologize nearly enough. Glancing back down at the paper, you mentally cross the name off and move on to the next. “How about…uh…Argomery.”

After another bout of swift typing, the woman shakes her head. “I’m not getting any results for that one.”

“Er…Bradias?”
“Nothing for that either.”
“Volar.”
“Nothing.”
“Alaynia.”
“Still nothing.”
“M-...My-rik-dul?”
“Not even remotely close.”
“Shut up kid, I’m doing my best.”
“How do you spell that, sir?”
Oh come on…

You read down the whole list. Every last name. Cities. Kingdoms. Entire goddamn continents. And each time, you’re met with nothing but blunt rejection. What the hell is going on here? This is the fucking Extraterrestrial Transit Bureau! Knowing about other worlds is supposed to be their whole thing! How can not even they know where this guy is from?!

And your growing frustration seems to be mirrored by the woman behind the counter, her cat ears beginning to flatten against her head and her tail visibly bristling behind her. “Sir, are you just making up random names?”

“N-No!” You hold up the list and point to the contents as if to absolve yourself. “These are real places! I’m not bullshitting you!” Real places according to a girl who wrote down the testimony of a guy you just met a few hours ago. But Rushia had no reason to tamper with the evidence, and given how reluctant Anon was to share the true story of where he’s from, it’s highly doubtful he’s just taking you for a ride. “This kid got dumped here from another world, and we need to find a way to send him back! He’s got fami-...fuck…friends back home who are probably worried sick and wondering what the hell happened to him!”

If nothing else, your earnest response seems to convince the clerk that this isn’t just a prank, her tensed tail slackening once more to curl around the base of her chair as her glare softens. Yet her tone remains cold and businesslike. “Well I’m sorry, sir. But we’re only authorized to open portals to registered worlds. If your friend’s home isn’t in our database, then I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’d recommend contacting the Dimensionally Displaced Individuals Department.”

Fucking bureaucracy! There’s no way in hell you’re sending this kid to be dumped into government-funded housing to wait for them to someday, eventually, we super-duper pinkie promise, figure out where he’s from. But the sensation of dozens of eyes boring into the back of your skull tells you that you’ve more than worn out your welcome at the front of the line and should step aside or else be physically moved aside. So as much as your blood is boiling in your veins, your better judgment compels you to just take the loss and get out of the way before you cause more of a scene than you already have. The last thing you need is a repeat of what happened in Yagoo’s office last week. “I understand,” you half-heartedly mumble with your eyes downturned. “Thank you anyways…”

Defeated, you and Anon shuffle away from the judging stares of those waiting behind you and into the comforting anonymity of the concourse at large. Impotent rage roils about inside your head, an endless stream of muttered curses spilling out of your mouth. This is so fucking typical! You should have known this would happen from the start! Expecting competent help from the government? What the hell were you thinking?! The tips of your finger and thumb rub against your temples as if in an attempt to banish the anger from your thoughts while you sink into a vacant seat in the waiting area, elbow resting against your knee.

“...That didn’t go well,” comes Anon’s voice from your side.

Do-ho, ya think?! “No,” you mumble back, choosing a more diplomatic response. “No it did not.”

“...So…what now? That woman said something about a ‘displaced individuals department.’ Maybe we could try asking them?”

Your head weakly shakes against your hand. “It’s a glorified welfare program, dude.”

“But-”

“They’ll throw your case file onto the pile with all the other isekai protagonists and stick you in a shitty apartment for months until they can get around to dealing with you.”

Don’t say it.

“Or, more likely in your case, an orphanage…”

You fucking moron.

The blunt statement slips out before you can stop yourself. Sheer demoralization has left your inner volition weak, a faint voice in the back of your head capable only of berating your incompetence and failure. This was the only real idea you had, and it just went up in smoke before your eyes. If Anon’s homeworld is unknown even to the ETB, then this job that was so unceremoniously dumped into your lap just got a whole lot more complicated. And no matter how many times your thoughts run around in circles searching for a new plan…you’ve got nothing.

“...What are we going to do…?” the boy weakly asks.

“...” Your head turns just enough to look his way. That kernel of hope that had been lighting up Anon’s face just a few minutes ago has been ground into dust. Slumped forward in his seat, he stares hopelessly into the floor, the corner of his mouth quivering as if tears could begin to spill out from under that veil of hair at a moment’s notice. The young hero who mere hours ago was effortlessly styling on you with a wooden sword has been reduced to little more than a lost, scared little boy. This is your fault. Yagoo had faith in you to do this job, and you’re fucking it up. Letting him down. Letting Anon down. Letting everyone down. “...I don’t know.”

“I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“Well…rather than think about what you can do alone…why not think about what we can do?”

Your head lifts away from your hand. Out of the inky quagmire of your thoughts…a memory bubbles up to the surface. The warmth of late-afternoon sunlight on your skin. The feel of pleated fabric against your tear-stained cheek. Dainty fingers brushing delicately through your hair. The scent of cherries.

A voice.

“This might be bigger than anything you can fix all by yourself, but you’re not the only one who doesn’t want to see Pekora go.”

…Of course…

“I know we can get her out of her funk if we all put our heads together.”

It’s the same...

“I’ll get the whole crew together!”

It’s exactly the same.

That lantern in the night blinks her eye at you, burning away the miasma and muck from your mind. Gripped by sudden clarity, your posture straightens. Your brow unfurrows. You really are a fucking idiot. The answer to this problem has been staring you in the face this entire time, from the very moment Yagoo presented it to you. He didn’t ask you to help Anon find his way. He asked you and the coalition! You and the others! You and your friends! You know what you’re all capable of when you collectively put your mind to something, and you know that you haven’t even utilized a fraction of a fraction of the group’s true potential. And you’re going to just throw in the towel after a single setback? Pathetic. Disgraceful. Unacceptable.

This mission is just getting started.

“Alright kid.” Rising from your seat, you turn to Anon with your head held high. All traces of weariness and depression have fled from your voice. You speak with a firm determination, imbued with purpose. “We let it have its five minutes. Now instead of sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, let’s get off our asses and get back to work.”

Though Anon lifts his head to meet your gaze, he doesn’t share in your newfound resolve. His shoulders remain drooped, his mouth tightened into a frown. “You just said you don’t have any ideas…”

“Yeah, well I’m working on that. Now come on, Sir Knight, up on your feet. We’ve got places to be.”

Somewhat reluctantly, the crestfallen boy pushes himself up with a sigh. “...Fine.”

The two of you leave the crowded Nexus behind and return to the parking lot. Anon doesn’t say a single word the entire time, seemingly withdrawn back into the shell he’d been hiding in when you first met him. Even getting back on the bike doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. This kid needs a pick-me-up.

…Perhaps a detour is in order.

Pulling out of the parking lot, you merge with the flow of traffic to weave your way through the sea of cars…away from the direction you came from. A detail that seems to finally break through Anon’s barrier of gloom, eliciting a quiet utterance of confusion from behind you. “Where are we going? I thought the school was the other way.”

“We’re taking the scenic route.”

~~~~~

A deep breath flows in through your nose, tickling your olfactory nerves with the scent of salt, and kelp, and iodine. An unmistakably pungent, yet not entirely unpleasant aroma. The smell of the sea. Beyond the safety barrier to your side, and the steep dropoff just beyond, the deep blue of the ocean stretches on and on, seemingly endlessly, into the horizon. Unseen waves crash against the cliffside below, their rhythmic low roar intermingling with the rumble of the engine as you ride down the coastal road in silence.

Anon still hasn’t uttered a word since you left the Nexus. You chanced a peek over your shoulder a few kilometers back to see him staring out into the azure expanse, his bangs rustling in the seaside breeze to expose the pensive look on his face. His first time seeing the ocean? Or maybe he was just caught up in his own head, processing everything. Maybe it was both.

Whatever the case, you opted not to interrupt him.

At last, you spot your destination up ahead where the safety barrier briefly terminates into a shoulder in the road. Within stands a small viewing platform, little more than a simple fence of half-rotted wood running the perimeter of the cliff’s edge. To anyone else, an unremarkable blip on their path.

To you…a place of comfort.

Your grip tightens on the brake handle as you draw closer, decelerating the bike by degrees until she lazily rolls off of the pavement and comes to a full stop upon the dirt. A tap of the killswitch silences her growling to return the desolate place to a still equilibrium.

“We’re here.”

A gust washes over you both, ruffling the boy’s flattened hair as he slips the helmet from his head. “And where exactly is…‘here’?”

“I guess you could call it my ‘secret spot’ of sorts.” Hanging your own helmet on one of the handlebars, you approach the decaying fence to look out at the world beyond. The sound of muffled footsteps against the dirt signals Anon following in your wake. “Not much of a hideout, I know. Just some shitty fence on the side of the road.” Your hand brushes over its corroded surface, tracing the cracks beneath your fingertips. “But I liked to come here a lot when I first moved here.”

“...Why??” The incredulity in his voice is clear as day. He is not impressed.

“It’s…kind of a long story. Back then, I was a bit…” One digit twirls in the general direction of your head. “...messed up, mentally. Didn’t get along too well with other people. The whole reason I got a motorcycle license in the first place was so I could get away from everything.” There always was something therapeutic about driving. A chance to be alone with your thoughts. Just you, and the road, and your trusty metal companion. You found this place on one of those rides of solitude, and something about it…‘clicked’ with you. “Whenever I was having a shitty day, and back then I was having a lot of shitty days, I’d find my way back here. Take the bike out…sneak it out in the middle of the night if I had to.” A self-mocking smile passes over your face at the recollection. Opening the garage door as quietly as you could. Walking the bike two or three blocks away just to make sure the engine wouldn’t wake up your parents. Walking it two or three blocks back when you were done. And somehow you’d still manage to get caught. “I’d come here, park, and just…sit. Listen to the waves for a while. Watch the stars. Y’know, contemplate shit. It wasn’t much, but…it helped me feel a little better.”

“...” Anon looks out past the fence, watching the distant ocean swell in silence. His face is as unreadable as ever; whether this place or your words are having any effect on him, you can only guess. Eventually though, he does seem to find reason to speak. “...I’ve never seen the sea before.”

So your guess was on the mark. “S’relaxing, right?”

“...It is a bit.”

A small concession, but it’s a step in the right direction. Whatever latent power drew you to this place all those months ago, it seems to be working its magic on the disheartened boy. But a bit of nice ambiance alone won’t be enough to hoist him out of the pit. That’s going to be on you. As much of an amateur as you are at uplifting people…you have to do your best.

“...I know it’s been a pretty rough day for you.” Your forearms drape across the fence as you lean on the barrier. Thankfully the decrepit thing doesn’t buckle under your weight. “Tossed into an unfamiliar place, surrounded by all kinds of weird shit you don’t understand, no clue how to get back home, our biggest lead not panning out.” Reading the list out loud, it honestly kind of amazes you that he’s managed to last this long. Boy’s resilient, you gotta give him that. Appropriate considering what he’s already survived. “Feeling like the Powers that Be are conspiring against you…it sucks. I had to deal with some similar bullshit not too long ago. Not the…you know…” You gesture vaguely with one hand. “...‘sent to another world’ part, but the ‘feeling helpless’ part. Another long story, but the short version is that I’d hit rock-bottom. It was like the whole world was coming down on me, and there wasn’t shit I could do to stop it. I was…in despair. And you’ll never guess who showed up to get me back on my feet and keep me going.”

That seems to coax his gaze away from the panorama, turning upwards to you. “...Who?”

A rare look passes over your face. A grin both wry and warm. Mocking, and affectionate. Seemingly conflicting emotions brought together as one. Ambivalence befitting the girl on your mind.  “A certain redheaded pervert.”

The recognition is instantaneous. Anon’s whole posture seems to straighten, ever so slightly. Slumped shoulders lifting. Head perking up. You knew mentioning her would get a reaction out of him.

“That girl saved me. Suddenly, I wasn’t in this shitshow alone. I had allies…friends.” Moona. Astel. Coco. Marine, and all of her genmates. With every face that passes before your mind’s eye, your smile grows just a little warmer. Each one, more kindling for the fire in your belly. “A proper ‘crew,’ for the first time in my life. We were all in it together, and we figured it out together. I know we can do it again.”

“...But…” Despite his rising spirits, hesitation lingers still on his voice. “But nobody even knows where I’m from. How are you supposed to ‘figure’ something like that out?”

“I dunno,” you casually confess with a shrug. “That’s why I need them. The others. The reason I don’t have to come here anymore. We’ll put our heads together, and we’ll come up with something. It might take some time and a bit of trial-and-error before we get it right. But we will get it. We always do. So even if shit feels hopeless right now…it’s not.”

You rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Through that forest of shaggy hair, you look him dead in the eyes. And you speak from the heart.

“You’ll get home, kid. You’ll see your friends again. You will. And you won’t have to do it alone. So don’t give up, alright?”

~~~~~

Gazing out upon the sea, your already turbulent emotional state begins to shift towards something more…pleasant. Everything’s been laced in misery the past hour; disappointment after disappointment. But the mention of Marine fills you with something like hope once again. It’s funny, you think. ‘Universal constants’ keep coming up in your mind. And another one is, of course, that Marine is always a complete and total darling. As you watch the waves rise and recede, you can’t stifle the tiny chuckle that escapes your lips, your passive frown finally shifting up.

“What, something funny?” Transfer Student asks from your flank. “Come on, I put my heart into that pep talk.”

“You did; and I appreciate it. Really…it helps. After everything today, I think that’s just something I needed to hear. Usually, funny little abductions like…this,” you pause, gesturing idly around yourself, “are resolved fairly quickly and directly. Without something to fight back against…I guess I was just feeling really, really lost. But…when you mentioned Marine…”

Your sentence trails off as you gaze back towards the ocean. The scent of seawater is…attention grabbing, put lightly. It’s impossible to ignore. Something the Lustful Maiden reeked of, given all of its time in the water. It’s a scent of comfort; associated with someone close to your heart. Transfer Student lets out a small ‘heh’, leaning over the barrier once more.

“She must really mean a lot to you, huh kid?” he prods as you take a position up next to him, letting the ebb and flow of the tide seep the worries from your mind. You aren’t a quitter. You aren’t a crier, either. Come on. You’ve been through way worse. One set back isn’t enough to stop you. You’re Godsdamn undefeatable. Internally, you punch your fist into your hand, psyching yourself up.

“Yeah. She…really is. She promised to take me out to see the sea one day, after I told her I’ve never been. Promised to teach me how to swim, too. I hope she doesn’t mind that I sort of beat her to the punch…”

“She’d understand, if it was done to keep you from beatin’ yourself up in your head,” he replies. “Marine’s a big sweetheart like that.”

“...Yeah. I’m very lucky to have her.”

“You and me both.”

“...Hey, Transfer Student?” you ask, looking over to him. His gaze drifts from the ocean to you, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah?”

“...You and Pekora are sort of like me and Marine, right?” It’s a sound deduction. When you watched them together before…something within your brain kept pinging off. Familiarity. And now, on the topic of Marine in a setting that isn’t going to get you killed from embarrassment, it clicks. That’s the same sort of back-and-forth teasing you do with her and, to a lesser extent, Coco. He tenses up in embarrassment before you finish your sentence. “You’re lovers.”

“I-” He stammers, physically rocked to his core. Your head tilts as his composure quickly reconstitutes itself, the burning on his cheeks staying despite his stern expression. “We’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Lovers is a bit, uhh…that’s a pretty strong way to put it.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you ask??” he says, attempting to turn the conversation away from the immediately heart-stopping question. You can only give a little shrug of your shoulders, offering him a smirk.

“Just kind of suddenly made sense in my brain, when we were talking about Marine. Thinking about her made me feel a little bit better. Being with her helps, too. And…I dunno. There was this…” You pause, bringing a hand to your nose as you struggle to articulate your sentence. “Look. Both of you had it, whenever you were together and speaking with one another. A warmth. You know what I mean?”

“...I’d prefer it if you didn’t look at me that closely,” he mutters, covering the cheek that faces you with his free hand as he averts his gaze. “Christ.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing. It just means…you really love her. Am I right?”

“...Yeah. You’re right.” He speaks quietly. But the words are laced with true conviction. His tone isn’t appeasement or embarrassment; it’s an honest statement. “I do.”

“Heheh...”

“What now? You gonna tell me you can see little hearts floating around me when I’m with her?”

“No, no. That’d be some funny magic, but nothing like that. It’s just nice to know, I guess. You two are really happy together. It’d be a shame if you weren’t connected somehow.”

“You aren’t the first person to say that.” He huffs, a tiny grin crossing his lips.

“Wanna tell me how you two met?” you probe, the boy next to you giving you an incredulous look. “I’m a little curious how the whole enemies to lovers thing played out.”

“Pff. It’s not a long or exciting story, y’know. She started pranking me one day and never stopped, then I started fighting back. Now we’re dating.”

“Aw, come on,” you tease, nudging the boy’s shoulder with your fist - something which actually seems to surprise him, based on his lightly startled reaction. “There’s gotta be more to it than that. Regale me with your tale; humor me.”

“Damn. Y’know, I had you pegged for the quiet type at first and now you’re trying to get stories out of me? How the tide turns.”

“I’m a multifaceted individual, thank you very much.”

“Didn’t know you knew words that big.”

“Now you’re sounding like Marine.”

A shared laugh gently echoes from the spot you both stand out, barely louder than the water advancing and receding not too far off.

You’re an unquantifiably huge number of miles away from your home…and for now, at least, that’s okay. The tension and grief vanish almost completely, because, if anything, you know you aren’t alone. This isn’t the same as when you were ripped away by Ina, or Polka, or even when you had to contend with Marine - at least for the first half of that little venture. You have allies by your side. Expressly determined ones, at that. So long as you don’t give up hope - your determination - to see your loved ones again, you’ll find your way back.

And so, rather than worry about it any more…you take the chance to relax with a new friend. Breathe in, breathe out. Enjoy the moment. Everything will be okay.