It's a bright and breezy 6 AM.
Makoto wakes up to the sun glaring directly at her eyelids, as if someone were hammering her door down with a sledge; to say it was a rude awakening would be an understatement.
Frazzled hair, tiger jammies intact, she saunters aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllll the way through the halls and down towards the cafeteria. In a groggy mood, she makes herself a waffle with some blueberries along with strawberry milk.
Feeling the sensation of tree bark chipping away, or a cold shiver run through her being, she knew what it was.
"Ah shit, now? Really???"
``Yatagarasu Makoto`` calls out a cold, gray voice.
It was someone working on receptionist duty. They telepathically call out specific individuals in cases of alerts or general messages until their shift ends.
"Yeah?"
``You have a letter from your sponsor. Pick it up from the delivery quarters.``
"Ahgghhhh..."
"(What does he want)" she thinks to herself.
"That's it?"
``Affirmative.``
"Cool, thanks"
``In the name of the Rising Sun.``
"....ok"
After finishing up her breakfast, she strolls down the cold, wooden halls for a while.
"Wait a sec... how could he send me a letter if.... unless it's like some sort of application... But I don't remember him saying anything about any plan? Unless it's a surprise plan, knowing him isn't out of the question... On the other hand- knowing him, I can guess what this is. I swear if he's doing this just to waste my fucking morning I'm going to kick his ass. Not that I could but like- NEUGGHHHHH."
She made an audible, frustrated grunt. A couple of students heard her, looked back, made a confused face, before returning to their conversation.
After 20 minutes of navigating through the school's hallways like some SMT warp dungeon, she finally makes it to the delivery quarters. Why they put it in the basement of the school is beyond her, but it probably had something to do with it being a very underutilized room to begin with. After all, in the age of the internet, a printer to print out scans and pdfs seemed more handy than waiting a couple days to weeks for receiving the same page. Better yet, one could just read emails and messages instantly instead of waiting all that time to hear a simple response. All of the information from one place sent to another- sent in less than a heartbeat. The power of communication; all in the comfort of your pocket, your fingertips, or the corner of your room. So why would anyone need mail? Indeed, indeed. Either that or, they purposefully made the most inconvenient delivery room known to man. Even if nobody used the mail, parcels are still a thing.
Makoto picks up the envelope with scribbles on it.
She opens up the letter.
Okay, quick break of pace here, sorry. I actually have *3* versions of this letter
The “cleanest” one, which is a slight idea of someone with his condition, but still implying he’s still somewhat illegible to write, what with muscle memory and all.
image [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1095961215718670396/1096311479885631538/SPOILER_IMG_1747.png?ex=65eaa721&is=65d83221&hm=b61e48df0769819d10580ca31b1207626f0c89b023b1d6aefca97ca139c73a3d&]
The more accurate depiction
image [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1095961215718670396/1096311645141213274/SPOILER_IMG_1748.png?ex=65eaa748&is=65d83248&hm=1947f729d96bacb937ce985f716a4ec65933349e4790f7d36abb4181b9ce0257&]
And the funny virtual version aptly made in MS Paint no less
image [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/775778634677092396/1211245634557059072/the_letter.jpg?ex=65ed7f67&is=65db0a67&hm=c05486dbce93a88c6a4104d08faebc0d166d992807f837a4917e579451d4cd30&]
She reads the letter.
She stares.
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Makoto tries to read the letter.
She stares again.
A giant bulging red vein on her forehead made itself known. Her grasp on the letter hardens to an iron degree.
"That fucker...
He thinks he's so fucking funny."
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in Hawaii.
"Man..." reminisces Makoto's teacher
"I sure am fucking funny."
As people scream in a frenzy, Taberu adjusts his sunglasses and pats the sand off his red swimming trunks.
In the coast of Lanai, near a luxurious resort, there are:
-Several thousand civilians in the nearby city.
-Taberu.
-3 undercover CIA agents who disguised themselves as citizens.
-An eight foot tall ancient evil that the Oceanic people have feared for thousands of years. Pale skin, wrapped in foreboding tattoos, tentacles for dreads, and dripped with an ethereal orange piupiu skirt.
-And 14 far off hurricanes that appeared 10 minutes ago; all of them waiting patiently for their master's signal.
"Oh yeah... I'm doing this right now..." he comments to himself.
"Sorry, got a little off-track ya see, I just pranked my protégé real fucking hard and man, thinking about the look on her face is kinda taking me out of this right now.
So you said you were uh... Weirdo? Weedo?"
"𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕠.
ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙.
𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 ℍ𝕠𝕡𝕖.
ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕒.
𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣".
"-I just asked for your name." interrupted Taberu.
"God damn
But since you're in such a talkative mood (and I am too, in all honesty), then I'll beg the question:
If you're such a bad guy, then why are you waiting to send your hurricanes?"
"𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕤
𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨... 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖".
Taberu cleans the inside of his right ear
"mmmmmmmmm.............
4 seconds...
Yeah... yeah
4 seconds at most."
The eldritch deity of the Sea gives Taberu a confused squint.
Taberu looks back and senses three individuals that smelled...off
"I don't know who the fuck you guys are, but I'd suggest you run."
One of the agents stood by while the other two sprint as if their lives depended on it. (It did).
"Are you implying you can't handle this?" rebuts the agent.
"I didn’t mean run away from him"
The agent gave a frozen stare, stood there for what felt like a minute, before computing what Taberu meant. They immediately dash away in the vague direction as the other agents.
"𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕥...𝕞𝕖?
𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘.
𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖."
Taberu took off his glasses.
He opened his thirsty, gaping eyes.
"Try me" he hisses.
.
.
.
Cicadas sing.
.
.
.
As if awakening, all the citizens of Lanai suddenly regained consciousness. They didn't remember being on the spot that they were in but...maybe they just weren't paying attention. No panic from seeing hurricanes near the coast- there were no hurricanes to be seen. No roaring waves, no natural commotion, only confusion as the last 15 seconds seemed like a blur. Akin to driving from home to work, hypnotized by the road, only reacting to the sight of traffic lights and other hypnotized drivers. Barely paying attention; living automatically. That familiar sentiment occurred right now. Cars shifted and people felt out of breath from running but-
running from what?
Nobody knew.
And nobody cared.
That being said-
was the coast always this close to the resort?
.
.
.
Tuesday.
Taberu knocks on Makoto's door.
Makoto opens.
"So,
Am I fucking funny or what?" he asks
"...
Dude it's 4:37 in the morning. let me fckign sleep."