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hello

You open your eyes.

And you scream.

Four long gashes tear your sleeve to ribbons and arm to searing pain, something sharp clamps down on your ankle and sinks into flesh and bone, down the hall another student dangles half a foot off the ground with their hair slowly separating from their scalp, and littered across the floor are bodies pooling blood and occasionally twitching— not in a last bid for life, but in the way strips of skin and muscle and fabric pull away from a person's limbs when several dozen invisible hungry imps have decided they don't want to be banished and would rather feast on the blood of their enemies if that's what it takes to survive.

For every instance of blood that touches the floor, the school pitches and transforms into a dilapidated version of itself, what npcs that were in the hall with you turning into shadow versions of themselves and taking hold of the fallen bodies to drag them to the auditorium. There, the empty room is pitch black. There, the threshold at the doorway crumbles and expands with each shadow that stands and feeds the void another sacrifice. In this school, in its darkness and its silence and its faceless students that cannot be touched, you may at least find some reprieve from the imps that do not exist, find fresh water flowing from the bathroom sinks, and scenes of normal school life playing out in the cracked mirrors that if you break even further you find that you return.

You open your eyes, and no time has passed. Something invisible tears open a student's throat, so close you can see their vocal cords bright white and vibrating as they scream. Blood splatters on the ground, and the school pitches and turns once again.

hi

For each fallen student, a new one transfers in to replace them. Between the student council election and the imp infestation, more and more you seem to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The contrast is stark between those veteran students with bandaged arms and a limp to their stride and long sleeves and pants despite the growing heat, and those students with bright and smiling faces, the ones who coo over the cats and share their lunches with anybody who looks hungry and sit in small groups outside by the wisteria tree to chat during breaks, ignorant of what keeps it fed.

With all the new transfer students, many teachers have decided to assign group projects for their classes: poster presentations on their favorite myth or legend, short skits portraying famous historical scenes, and, everybody say thank you Cain and Kelly, taking care of flour sack babies. Projects are by homeroom and can be done in groups of 2-4, because sometimes a family is a dad and a dad and a wine aunt and a dog. The projects are all due at the end of the month, and if you're able to keep your flour sack baby from being turned into a cake or torn apart by imps, you may notice that they start to feel... warm... after one week. At the end of the second week, they begin to make short, quiet noises— a gurgle, a breath, a whine. At the end of the third week, while you're cradling the sack in your arms, you swear it moves. At the end of the fourth week, well. The project is over. Maybe it'll hatch? Let me know if you make it.

can you hear me?

The veteran students don't seem very keen on working with transfer students who make excuses about not wanting to work outside of school, but newer students are more willing, eager to meet people and get to know them and learn about the school. They gravitate towards the bulletin board to check out the class ranks, new clubs, a new section on the board with several dozen slips of colored paper tacked onto it and a little container below containing blank slips and a pen so you can add your own wishes:

"I want to be normal. --XX, 1-A"
"I want to live. --XX, 2-B"
"I want my friends back. --XX, 3-D"
"I want life to go back to normal. --XX, 2-A"
"I want my brother back. --XX, 2-A"
"I want more power. --XX, 1-A"
"I want to be loved. --XX, 1-B"
"I want to fix the past. --XX, 2-A"
"I want to find my family. --XX, 3-B"
"I want to be loved. --XX, 2-A"
"I want a normal life. --XX, 1-A"
"I want my brother back. --XX, 2-B" "I want to see my family. --XX, 1-C"
"I want to die. --XX, 2-D"
"I want my friends back. --XX, 2-D"
"I want to fix the past. --XX, 3-D"
"I want freedom. --XX, 1-D"
"I want to live. --XX, 1-C"
"LUNCH DATE WITH IZUMI SENA!!! --XX, 1-A"
"I want to be strong. --XX, 2-E"
"I want freedom. --XX, 3-E"
"I want to live. --XX, 2-E"
"I want to die. --XX, 3-E"
"I want to remember. --XX, 3-C"

Wishes are meant to be granted, but... Some of the newer students make an attempt at being a little more realistic and add things like "I want the answers to next week's math exam" and "I want a pony" and do check the board occasionally, so it never hurts to leave a wish of your own.

That's certainly the thought as the month goes on and there are more and more wishes for the construction in the clock tower stairwell to hurry up and finish already, as the entire month of June, from 6AM to 6PM, six days a week, the sounds of drilling and hammering and screaming and sawing can be heard in the stairwell despite no construction workers being seen entering or exiting the school. The clock tower itself is inaccessible while the stairs are being taken down and replaced with a brand new elevator— veteran students are particularly grateful, because it's hard to climb stairs and go to class when your shin is splintered and a thin layer of bandage is the only thing keeping your guts from spilling out onto the floor.

In the evening after the npcs leave, characters are able to open the doors on the second and fourth floors to find... that nothing looks any different. On the first floor, however, a set of elevator doors has been installed right by the front doors, and while the button to open the doors don't work, they can be wrenched apart and entered, revealing a barren space with metal walls, a clock hung on the back wall that ticks backwards, and too many buttons on the panel by the double doors. Most buttons are white, numbered -6 to 27 though out of order and not all the numbers are there. Some are black, one is red, neither colors having symbols etched into them. None of the buttons work when pressed.

Not yet.

it'll be alright

Until then, the clock tower can be reached as normal up several flights of stairs, the room at the very top bright and sunny with clock faces in the glass on all four sides, floorboards stained copper red and the air thick and difficult to breathe. For some, it's still worth it for the view of the wisteria tree in perpetual bloom in the courtyard below, especially as the heat and humidity of summer approaches and with it comes clouds of gnats that have taken up residence in the courtyard, hovering over puddles of light pink water left over from watering the courtyard overnight. Classes are no longer held outdoors, as teachers find it impossible to speak without gnats entering their mouths at any given opportunity, and the heat inside the school becomes near unbearable towards the latter half of the month as there is no air conditioning and teachers hesitate to open their windows. The homeroom teachers in 1-B, 1-D, and 2-C made that mistake once, opening the windows facing the courtyard and the gnats had gotten in, little homing missiles to their favorite food: blood, sweat, and tears. But if you don't cry, sweat, or bleed and aren't afraid of the gnats squeezing their way through the mesh screen in the windows, it can be nice to sit by the window and hope a breeze comes your way.

Those in classes 3-A, 3-B, 2-C, 2-D, 2-E, and all of the first year classes can find that they're able to open the windows in classrooms 1-B, 1-D, and 2-C to enjoy the breeze, but find an invisible barrier blocking their way and preventing any part of them from reaching out into the open space. 3-A, 2-C, 2-D, 2-E, 1-B, 1-D, and 1-E are able to remove the screen and exit through those windows facing the courtyard, keeping in mind it is the 3rd and 4th floors and they will have to climb back up to reenter the school. 2-C, 1-B, and 1-D can go a step further and find that the front door to the school opens for them, except when they try to leave, they run into an invisible barrier, unable to take another step out the door. But they can stand there and take in the sight of the school gates in the near distance, of the forest just beyond, of the npc students slipping past them on their way to and from home. At this threshold it is chilly despite the heat that smothers the school in waves, the air is fresh, invigorating, and when the sun passes overhead you swear you can feel it staring.

OOC

✽ Sometimes you summon murder imps and you gotta get rid of them yourselves. The imps are invisible unless supernatural sight (eg Nene, Clamor) or form (eg Moriarty, Sherlock) is regained, or are seen through an adder stone (possessed by Arthur, Gundham), but can still be fought either way through physical or magical means, or banished with the proper materials. They will NOT be rampaging and attacking everybody all the time, so this prompt is avoidable if you'd rather not, but they will gravitate towards 1) students who are alone, and 2) areas where there is already bloodshed happening.
✽ For the flour sack group project, groups are by homeroom and can number between 2-4 students. You may also assume npc students are part of your group if you wish.
✽ Characters may notice that physically, an elevator can't make sense without demolishing the first floor locker area, and they will have to accept the fact that not everything will make sense, and that sometimes, Ori just does not want to redraw floorplans. The elevator will be functional starting next month, maybe.
✽ Only windows in classrooms 1-B, 1-D, and 2-C can be opened by characters in classes that have gained at least one class rank to date. Those classes that gained at least one class rank last month are able to exit out the windows facing the courtyard only. Those classes with 30 or more ranks are able to open the front door to the school but not exit through it. To anybody else watching them open the door, they will see that character turn into a shadow and go through the motions of opening the door without exiting, exactly how npc students appear when they enter and exit the school.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eep! [ Turing turned their head, but they weren't expecting Shinobu to be that close, so they stumbled a few steps backward before realizing what she said. Oh. They...kind of were in the way, weren't they. ]

I-I see. Please excuse me!

[ They moved out of the way completely. ]

[ Oh, but if they aren’t precious. Shinobu can’t help but smile at how endearingly polite Turing is. It’s a refreshing change of pace from the company she’s used to keeping. ]

Consider yourself excused.

[ She takes a step back, too, giving them back their personal space. ]

You seemed very absorbed in whatever it was you were doing. Did you need help with something?

Yes, actually. I was looking for the person who attached this note to my wishes on the bulletin board.

[ Turing looked down at the note in their hands again and frowned. Maybe the person who left it got tired of waiting for them. ]

I was told to go to classroom 2-E, but no one is here...

[ Shinobu’s eyes light up with the realization that the person looking to borrow other students’ PDAs isn’t a person at all; they’re a robot, and they’re standing right in front of her. She looks Turing up and down once. Person or not, this is the first time she’s ever been a whole head taller than someone who isn’t at least five years her junior. ]

Well, I suppose that means I’m not here either, then.

[ They get a very performative sigh and her best put-upon look. ]

What a shame! I was really looking forward to getting along with this ‘Turing,’ too…

[ When Shinobu looked them over, they shuffled their feet a bit and looked away. Due to one particular student in 2-A, being stared at was a doubly uncomfortable experience. When she spoke up and sighed, however, Turing fell for it hook, line, and sinker. ]

That's not what I meant--!

[ Wait, hold on. Their worry was swiftly cut off by a certain realization. Their class register definitely wasn't up-to-date anymore, but it did help! ]

Were you the one who left me this note? I suppose it's possible there is another student named Turing here, but that seems very unlikely...

[ Guilty as charged. Shinobu confesses to her crime with a nod, then makes to root around in the pockets of her skirt. When she pulls her hand back out, she brings her PDA out with it. ]

I only have one, but I believe you would be better served by this than I would be.

[ Should Turing try reaching for it, she snatches it away and keeps it just out of their reach. ]

What are you planning on using this for, though, hmm?

[ There was a very visible pout at Shinobu playing keep away. While they did jump up to try and grab it, that only happened once; their dignity was worth more than that! Hmph! ]

I would rather you said you weren't going to give it to me instead of deliberately holding it out of my reach.

[ There was a pause as Turing considered how to answer that question. ]

I was asked to bring five PDAs to pay my membership dues for the art club. I already relinquished my own. I was told they would be returned at some point, however.

An artist, are you?

[ It’s strange, thinking about how a robot might have dreams and aspirations like humans do. Maybe they want to know what it means to be one, Shinobu reasons, so that they can better emulate a person. Why else would they ask about grief, about the burden of human emotion?

Tired of having fun at Turing’s expense, she brings the PDA down low enough that they won’t have to jump or stretch for it. ]

How wonderful! And to think I was worried you might be a murderer looking for intel on your could-be victims…

[ Her smile says she’s joking, but something about her tone of voice, sharp like a sword’s edge, makes it sound like she isn’t. ]

[ Over the past five or so seconds, Turing was sent on a wild rollercoaster of emotions. Yes, having someone call their artistic endeavours wonderful and smile at them to boot was nice! No, having someone think of them as a murderer was not nice! Why were humans confusing?? ]

I...I am not sure whether I should be flattered, insulted, or both.

[ They were also watching Shinobu with a dubious look as they reached out to pluck the PDA from her hand. ]

Thank you for the PDA, though. I think?

You needn’t thank me for it. I’m glad I was able to help a friend.

[ Shinobu will brook no argument. Whether Turing’s agreed to it or not, they are friends. They have to be. She’s doing it so that she’s able to keep tabs on everybody stuck on school grounds, she tells herself, not because of something silly like an obligation to her sister.

But friends aren’t friends if they don’t know each other by name, are they? ]

My name is Shinobu Kochou. I hope our friendship will be a long and lasting one, Turing-san.

[ Ah, another Japanese honorific. That was getting to be more common, and of course Turing had to respond in kind, even if Shinobu's behaviour had knocked them off-kilter. Honestly it was still knocking them off-kilter after that part about friends. ]

I hope so too, Kochou-san. [ They still seemed a little bit wary. ]

I'm happy to hear you call me a friend, but I must admit that I wasn't expecting to hear it after what you said about being worried that I was a murderer. That doesn't seem conducive to making friends...

[ Shinobu breaks eye contact for the first time since invading Turing’s personal space. ]

I suppose not.

[ But her entire life has been defined by a clear-cut binary. There are people who are human, who live and die at the whim of the world, and then there are people who aren’t. Those people exist only to remind humans of their mortality. They exist only to tear them limb from limb, to watch them bleed out and die.

Turing unfortunately falls into the latter category, if only because they lack the flesh and blood and beating heart that makes her human. She thinks the worst of them because it’s all she’s ever done. She doesn’t know what else to do. ]

I’d like to be able to get along with everybody, though, even if I can’t find it in myself to sympathize with them. … It’s what she would have wanted.

[ Was it possible to truly get along with someone if you couldn't sympathize with them? It seemed like that was more tolerating someone's existence instead of getting along. It didn't make sense, so of course they wanted to say something about it, but the words that came next stopped them in their tracks.

It was very easy to slot "Hayden" in the same place as "she." Now, it wasn't a good idea to make an assumption on so little information. They knew that much. Still... The very least they could do was help with honouring this person's request. Turing had no idea if that was even close to something that Shinobu wanted for herself, but maybe that didn't matter. Maybe the whole point was to feel a little closer to someone who would never come back. ]

Then I will try to help you get along with everyone. I will also be glad if I can help a friend.

[ They smiled just a tiny bit. ]

Will you?

[ That’s infinitely more compassion than she expects from someone who shouldn’t have the capacity for it. Shinobu’s mouth forms a small ‘o,’ before her surprise melts and makes way for a smile that promises nothing good. ]

I can’t imagine someone using the school bulletin board to wish for more friends would know how to help with that. Are you sure that you’ll be able to?

[ When in doubt, deflect, deflect, deflect! ]

[ That smile, as small as it was, instantly disappeared at those words. Ouch. For a very short moment, it was replaced by something that almost resembled disappointment before giving way to an emotion of a different type. ]

I am beginning to understand what you meant when you said that you're unable to sympathize with others.

[ Hmph! ]

If you are not confident in my ability to help you with this, you are free to refuse my help. There is also a difference between getting along with someone and being their friend!

It appears I’ve said too much. My apologies!

[ Shinobu’s apology doesn’t sound sincere, though. For as much as she looks like she’s having fun with this, there’s a barely restrained something caught deep in her throat. Is she… annoyed? ]

You can keep my PDA for as long as you may need it. In the meantime, let’s see if you and I can learn to get along, shall we?

[ This...felt wrong. Turing couldn't pinpoint exactly why that was, exactly. It wasn't just because they didn't feel they had gotten a proper response to their words, either. It would be easy to just write off Shinobu entirely, but could they really do that to someone who said they wanted to get along with them? ]

Kochou-san, what do you like? I think it will be easier to get along if we can find something we have in common.

[ Hobbies aren’t something Shinobu gives a lot of thought. Between hunting down demons, tending to the wounded, and taking care of everybody at the Butterfly Estate, she never had the time to while she was at home. Here, it’s not much different; any time she has to spare after class is time she spends making sure nobody else’s corpses are strewn across the courtyard or found on display somewhere around the school. It’s a sad thing to actually come to terms with. Her smile barely masks how it actually makes her feel.

The answer she eventually comes to isn’t really a ‘hobby,’ and she’s not sure it’s something she ‘likes,’ either, but it’s probably the closest thing she has. ]

I’m rather good at chemistry. I suppose you could say I like it, too.

What is it you enjoy, Turing-san?

...

[ Turing hesitated. Would they be hit by an opportunistic attack if they left themselves open again? ]

I like painting when I have the time. [ Yup, that was all they were going to reveal about themselves. ]

I was wondering if you liked art or calligraphy as well, as you drew a butterfly on the note you left for me and your handwriting is very neat.

Do I not seem like somebody who would have neat handwriting?

[ Shinobu’s smile takes on a scary sort of bend. It’s almost like a dare. Go on, Turing, it says. Answer her question. ]

I can appreciate art for what it is, but I have no talent for painting. My strengths lie elsewhere.

Are you able to read Japanese kanji at all?

Eep! [ SEE this is exactly why they were hesitating!! They were not answering that question either. They liked living, thanks. ]

Y-yes, I can! Japanese is one of the many languages I can translate. I can translate any written phrase in over 40 languages in under 3 seconds.

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