Spring welcomes the schoolyear with open arms — the weather is, by all accounts, the warmest and most cordial introduction to the new year but does nothing to soothe the nerves of incoming freshmen and returning scholars. It's as open-minded as any school could be, thankfully, with the entirety of school-age kids nestled in a singular district just a hop and a skip away from the national university. The massive campus boasts a near labyrinthine enclosure of buildings with state of the art technology meant to provide a very safe environment and atmosphere. That's the reputation paper, but putting all the schools in a singular district has always bred trouble.
Slater ruminates on this fact from the safety of his bed-room, pacing the length of it with a blooming anxiety. He knew that he would have to walk the same halls he thought he put behind him, though heavy is his body and mind at the thought of it. His head hurts. His stomach twists. He is contemplating skipping the initial orientation held to welcome the incoming freshmen and hiding away somewhere else in the city.
It's unfortunate that it's not really an option, even though the school hails itself as progressive in terms of it's structure.
Truthfully, he is merely procrastinating on getting ready to head out, not even dressed. Slater's siblings can be heard just outside the door, each running and shouting and screaming for a chance to use the bathroom. He has been awake since the first sun rose, going over the plans he's been crafting for the last three weeks as he settled into this old-new environment he has found himself stuck within. It's a shame really, then, that all his plans center around attending school as a student, as himself. The people he needs to meet need to be met in the least suspicious way, excluding Bones.
The door opens and Slater is still in the middle of walking a hole into the carpet.
His head turns; he is greeted by one of the youngest ones, Hana, who regards him with a disappointed gaze. She is chiding him, wagging her finger much like a disappointed mother. A habit she's picked up from their actual mother. Momisaki.
Slater is rooted to the spot, watching at the toddler slides a finger across her throat to mime a neck-slice action. The following words leaving her lips in a cadence he's all too familiar with: "Get dressed! Or else!" It's a warning from his mother, who by nature, did not tolerate this kind of procrastination — though, she is understanding.
He offers a sheepish smile, "Alright. I'm getting dressed now, Hana. Thanks."
"Mmm, okay! Bye, Nii-chan~!"
The door closes behind her and his thoughts immediately run rampant with the grief of it all.
Fuck. Slater's hands cover his face in an effort to calm his nerves, bringing forth a darkness to his eyes that soothes the temperament of his soul and draw him away from the anguish of existing in a living body. He can't carry on like this. He hasn't been able to- breathe.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
Nine times out of ten, in the past few weeks he's opened up his closet to stare at clothes he hasn't worn in years. This is much the same, though this time it is with purpose. He'd thought that he could evade this ( without any real reason to suspect that he could ) and pulls out the articles of clothing that make up his school uniform.
This time he pulls out the clothing: a white-button up with a pocket on the left breast, pristine and stiff from dry-cleaning; dark-blue nearly black pants, not quite slacks and not quite athletic suit; and a jacket that's not actually apart of the school uniform and more so his own comfort item, merch of Strawberry Cream Soda. The obnoxious pink might be nauseating to others; Slater thinks it the pinnacle of fashion ( outside of his other merch that he has hidden away ).
The Academy, offers a small selection of items for uniform. It's actually more akin to a dress code ( that most adjust to edit to their personal tastes ) than a strict uniform. It's just that Slater finds himself more comfortable in this than the school-branded jacket and cardigans.
Appearing this way in the mirror sinks his stomach down to his toes, behind him, ∎∎∎∎∎ stands and adjusts his own uniform. Somehow, he makes it look far more stylish than Slater's and that's one of the more obvious differences between them. ∎∎∎∎∎ is taller. ∎∎∎∎∎ is cooler. ∎∎∎∎∎ is actually popular. Well-liked. Cordial. Affable. That Guy. In every positive connotation of the word. Whereas Slater is lacking in every way.
He hates it.
"Breakfast before heading out." It's not a suggestion, it's a command.
Slater's stomach gurgles in protest, but who is he to say no? There are secrets he cannot hide from ∎∎∎∎∎. "Okay... What'd she cook?"
"The usual. Rice, egg, toast. There should be some sausages, too." A menu not out of place and neutral enough that it could suit all of their dozens of palates.
For what it's worth, Slater doesn't try to hide his displeasure. "Ah. I'll... get some snacks from After/Dark."
"A snack? More like an energy drink and candy." Nothing that would actually be filling. It was his saving grace though, his holy grail. If not that, then what?
With a roll of his eyes, Slater turns and pushes ∎∎∎∎∎ out of their shared room. There is no protesting, just a laugh that reverberates through to his bac and against the palms of Slater's hands. The door is shut with a mock-slam, not loud but a dramatic flair before he pushes it to a silent close. He just wants to be alone for a few moments before they head out.
As it turns out, he needs it.
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Laughter is muted against the heft of his earbuds, nothing is playing in any particular fashion though he is made well again by the ability to ignore his surroundings. He's taking the long way to The Academy, minding the business that minds him as he cruises on his skateboard ( leaving his hoverboard at home, just so he can feel the wheels rattling against the sidewalk ) with one hand clamped around his phone and the other within his pocket.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The people bend around him, to the best of their ability. Slater swerves where he can in an effort to both practice his skills and re-familiarize himself with the city he grew up in.
'Do I go to After/Dark first', he thinks, turning down a narrow street.
After a moment, he decides that it's better to just... go to school. He would have a moment to visit and get some snacks during a break. There was also the many vending machines that littered the campus.
Regardless, he keeps his momentum and finds his way there eventually.
The campus is large and imposing, unfortunately, not easy to miss. The school district is able to be reached via the Rotary Transportation System, teleport pads, or the old-fashioned way. The scenic route, so to speak. Slater prefers it to the other and more quick and convenient pathways. Mainly due to the need and desire for some kind of pre-school reprieve. Getting his mind in order was a must. One that he refuses to give up.
Students surround and inhabit the campus in droves.
Laughing and chattering away. Slater does not spot any familiar face, but if he did...
In an effort to draw less attention to himself, Slater steps off his skateboard and kicks it up into his hand to hold. The rest of the way would have to be on foot. This means he has to remove his earbuds in order to hear his surroundings better. Hearing the gossip, the words, the voices of the people around him is another way to anchor him to this save file and this timeline. For weeks he has been gathering resources, scrolling through pocket and taking screenshots of relevant news articles, information. Anything. If his brain wasn't working, he'd need something else to work for him.
That's what he needs.
Easily, a dribble of words comes into focus.
"Have you heard of that wish thing? People have been posting all their information just for a chance."
"All that just for one wish? How desperate can people be?" A scoff, someone else laughs beside him.
"I mean, people are insanely desperate." Someone else says.
"Have you gotten any messages yet, then?"
"Nope."
"Me neither, but like..."
"Hey, guys!" An interruption takes place, but he's already pieced together what it means when his system comes into focus right before his eyes.
SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR
If you're curious, you should go up to them.
Why not?
Since it's not a command, Slater ignores it. Waving the suggestion away with a gaze that could ki— well, maybe not kill, but rather maim.
Besides, he knows what they are talking about, having come across it already on his Pocket crawl.
This is around the time the Fool's Game was starting up. Though, it's not time for him to act or deal with that right away. The time for it would be later in the year though, he thinks that the conversations around it are more than what he remembers there being. He only briefly takes note of it as he stalks towards the courtyard before orientation would begin.
"Instead of trying to force me to make friends, why don't you stop avoiding-" His quip towards the 'system' is cut off by another body barreling into his own. He stumbles backwards, barely able to prop himself up by his skateboard. He is assaulted with a dry floral scent, with the aftermath of seawater. It's a bit sterile, though he is unable to get his wits about him as the purple-haired someone just scrambles away with stammered apologies. He stares after whoever it was with a sense of deja vu and a strange sense that he was making a mistake letting them go.
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Orientation begins with a bang.
Literally.
A bright display of anima by the faculty, in an effort to showcase their abilities for the incoming freshmen and the other students as a reminder that this school year would be both bright and fun. The main and most enthusiastic one is a woman that Slater doesn't really remember, though he should. In the center of the auditorium are the new students, with the faculty and the stand-in for the director at a podium in the front. It's raised above, with the returning students in the surrounding bleachers.
"Welcome to a new year at The Academy, I welcome all new students and returning in place of the director." A dry tone leaves the lips of a near platinum honey blonde man with blue and green heterochromia. He stands straight, rigid. There is something no nonsense about him. "You will only refer to me as Oleander Green or Assistant Director Green."
Slater remembers him, the brother of the director and a tool if he could ever know on. He was someone to avoid, the dragon was not one that Slater ever enjoyed getting acquainted with.
"Here at the Academy we expect all to follow the rules, to respect one another, and to not use your anima to hurt or harm others." The way he said it, the tone of which he used, sounded like a threat.
A flare of his anima's aura silences the branches of people who are whispering amongst themselves, "If anyone has any questions. You may speak them now."
No one speaks.
"Then, I am glad you all understand." Oleander excuses himself from the podium with the driest speech, his brother would have done much better.
Someone far bubblier replaces him and this one Slater also recognizes: Cherie O'Ryan.
Her pink hair stands out and she takes to the podium like a fish to water. "I am so excited to have you all as peers and classmates for the following year! I'm your Student Representative, Cherie O'Ryan!" Her energy is infectious to all but Slater. He finds himself uncomfortable instead, hugging onto himself as he looks around for any glimpse of his own brother.
The search comes up empty.
"Here at The Academy, we believe in having fun! We believe in teaching you how best to control your anima! We believe in opportunity and research!" Cherie grins, "We hope you enjoy your stay and if you ever have any kind of question or concern, you can message me on Pocket at Cherry_Bomb!" A few students take out their phones, typing in the username. Slater doesn't need to, he already knows her and how to contact her more efficiently.
"Now as you know," Cherie hums, "Every year we have a tournament."
Slater decides to drown the rest of it out, not because he's remembering what the rest of the contents are, but rather because he no longer wants to listen to it.
Instead, without even meaning to, his eyes finds someone who had been on his mind weeks prior. A tall, still vibrant and bright-eyed youth. A boy with a fate that Slater could not stop.
Xavier Le Bourreau.