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wake up

You open your eyes. And then immediately squeeze them shut as a cloud of chalk dust gets clapped in your face, the student next to you looking surprised— but the sort of surprised as if they're faking it, barely suppressing a laugh. "What're you dozing off for, transfer student?" they ask, going back to wiping clean the chalkboard you two are standing in front of. "The sooner we get everything cleaned up, the sooner we can go home!" Another classmate tosses a wet rag at the side of your face, laughing as if a joke— if it weren't strangely warm to the touch, with dark red stains smelling strongly of iron.

All characters open their eyes and wake up in one of the classrooms around school. Whatever they remember last, it's lost in a thick, sleepy fog, the drowsiness still wearing off and making it difficult to reconcile the fact that they've never seen this classroom or these people in their lives, but somehow, it feels like they've been here forever. The other students all act familiar towards you, calling you by name and encouraging you to help clean the classrooms as part of observing the Vernal Equinox. Buckets of soapy water are set on the desks around the classrooms, light pink suds spilling over the sides, and both students and faculty can be seen hard of work scrubbing dark, stubborn stains out of the walls and floors. "It must be absolutely spotless," they murmur under their breaths. "All evidence must be erased."

You don't have to stay and clean. You could throw the rag back into a bucket and flip these strangers the bird and exit the classroom. But those who don't help clean even a little will find that they leave sticky red footprints wherever they walk, creating more work for everybody else and becoming very easy to track down and """accidentally""" knock over the backside of the head with a mop handle. Besides, it's not like you can walk out of the school and get back to whatever you were doing before. Your feet may bring you to the front door on autopilot, but the doors do not open for you, and neither do any of the windows no matter how hard you try to pry them open or kick them in.

Careful, though. On some windowsills, particularly on the third and fourth floors, rests a stack of five flat stones one on top of another: a gorinto to those who recognize such a thing, a pile of rocks to those who do not. The stones are all damp with water, topped with a scattering of wisteria flowers, and flanked by cheap packaged snacks. Whether on accident or on purpose, the moment you touch any of it—-

wake up

You open your eyes. The last thing you remember is touching a wet stone or trying to swipe the rice cracker beside it, and in the next moment, you're somewhere else inside the school. Characters who touch the gorinto or its offerings will find themselves pulled into a memory of high school life, one that feels like theirs, although they recognize that that's impossible. There's the feeling of being classmates with the other characters- perhaps two characters are seat partners, or best friends, or rivals, or club members- but despite the familiarity, do not know each other's names or recall ever seeing their faces before. Essentially, live your pre-established cr high school au dreams.

The memories fade in and out of different scenarios, but they all start off the same: You open your eyes.

You open your eyes and the inside of your left wrist is stinging; you stop scratching, pulling your other hand away before the angry red lines on your skin splits and bleeds. Somebody calls your name, just as you see a pan slide off the stovetop out of the corner of your eye, and the stinging on your wrist flares to a searing burn, hot oil splattering you and the person next to you.

You open your eyes. You're flat on your back in a room that smells of paint thinner, your chest is heavy, and it's so hard to breathe. Something is crushing your throat- a fluffy white cat with golden eyes, purring and kneading away, but then somebody calls your name and its fluff puffs twice its size in surprise, claws sinking into your throat, hooking and tearing as the cat scampers away.

You open your eyes. A kendo shinai comes down hard on your head, the one in your hand failing to come up quick enough to guard, your classmates groaning in sympathy all around you. Your head is spinning, you feel sick.

You open your eyes. You and a friend are seated side by side in the clock tower, back to the walls and feeling the resounding toll of the bell fill your entire being as the count reaches ten, eleven, twelve. The world turns to silence. Your friend opens their mouth to speak, but you cannot hear them. You cannot hear anything.

(tw: implied suicide) You open your eyes. Your classmate sits on the other side of your desk, a spread of sandwiches and juice boxes between you and the window to your side providing a clear view of the upper branches of the wisteria tree in full bloom. And the strangled look on an upperclassman's face as they fall headfirst from the sky on the other side of the glass, hurtling towards the pavement of the courtyard below.

You open your eyes—-

You're standing in front of a window, cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulling it away from the pile of stones. Perhaps another character has come to your rescue, or else one student in particular who shakes his head, whispers "don't," and walks away.

wake up

You open your eyes and wipe a bit of drool off the corner of your mouth. There's really no shame, when half the students sitting around you in the auditorium are half asleep as well. As if coming out of a dream, the characters don't remember getting here, just that they are now- sitting in uncomfortably hard plastic chairs in the back rows in the auditorium, the school principal's flat, droning voice reverberating oddly off the walls of the large room. No matter how hard you try, you cannot get up out of your seat.

"...and now, let us congratulate the graduating class," the principal says, stepping back from the podium. A single student rises to her feet and meets the principal at the center of the stage, her long dark hair falling across her face as she bows and receives her diploma. "Congratulations, graduate. May your life be full and prosperous. Please, if you would say a few words..."

The girl straightens and pushes her hair out of her face with one hand— she has no other hand, the entire sleeve of her right rolled all the way up to the shoulder and pinned flat. She forgoes the podium and the microphone, but somehow, her voice rings out clearly and reaches all the way to the back of the room: "Keep your eyes open."

With that parting message, she steps off the stage, disappearing into the mass of students who stand and fill the room with applause, drawing the graduation ceremony to a close. Characters find that they can now get up and move, which is a good thing because the other students are all pushing and shoving to get out of the auditorium and out the front doors, phasing right through the closed doors. Like a sieve, the school empties out, leaving behind the dregs.

wake up

Your eyes are open and the school is quiet. None of the students or faculty remain in the school, and all the staff— the principal, faculty, nurse, and counselor's— offices are locked. A skinny black cat flicks its tail from where it sits on top one of the lockers, where characters can find a copy of the school calendar showing the next two weeks to be spring vacation, with the school being closed for the holiday.

At least, with school vacated, it's clear from those left who's in the same boat and allows the chance for exploration away from prying eyes of the other students and staff. Introductions are probably in order, a discussion of what the fuck is going on, maybe also a plan of attack— or a plan for survival, at the very least, because there is no way out of this school. What ingredients are left in the home economics kitchen is going to have to last everybody the next two weeks. The student store is already empty. The water runs pink. The vending machines don't respond to jostling or being kicked over and brought to the ground, only the last dozen "merit points" on your PDA that you can't earn any more of, with class out of session. The snack you've been hiding in your locker should probably be saved as a last resort. The cats are starting to look tasty.

Hang in there. School will be starting again real soon.

OOC

✽ Characters experience the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until the graduation ceremony, after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon. All npcs will know the characters' names, but characters will not know each other's names until introduced.

✽ The second prompt occurs upon a character touching a gorinto or any of the offerings surrounding it. While touching it, characters fall into a trance and experience different scenes of high school life, with examples given in the prompt but players are free to play out any aspect of normal school life taking place at any time during the school year.

✽ stopit is an npc and will be available for threading in his toplevel during the vernal equinox and graduation day, but not during spring break. After the game opens, he will be available as a student for threading on the npc contact page. The graduating student will not be available for threading in this TDM.

✽ During spring break, all npc students and faculty will be absent from the school, with exception of one white cat and one black cat. For this TDM, in addition to the areas greyed out and inaccessible on the locations page, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable, as there is no staff. The library and club rooms remain open, but supplies will not replenish themselves.

✽ As a reminder, all doors and windows leading outside are locked and cannot be broken. From midnight until 6AM, all sound disappears from the world. Characters are free to use their PDA as a network, but it is text (and shitty touchpad art) only and all threads are public.

✽ TDM threads may be used for bonus activity after April AC is submitted.

Comments

[patcheel]

You can't give gifts back!

[Hana stops in her tracks, because she couldn't out-walk him anyway in her now-damp jelly socks. She turns around to look at Ishimaru, totally aghast.]

How rude!

[She whines a little, looking down at her ruined socks, and then back at the shoes.]

Okay, I'll put them back on...

[After removing her socks and holding them out to Ishimaru like she expects him to dispose of them for her.]

[moraloutrage]

[Ishimaru now misses when the shoes were the biggest problem... He looks sickened as the socks are presented to him! And he doesn't try to grab them, instead holding her shoes back out to him.]

Ugh! H-hold it right there, Miss! You... you are just going way too far now! Making even more of a mess, and shedding even your socks?!

[He cranes his neck back, away from the socks.]

Please do not give them to me! I- I should make sure to report this to the public morals committee! [Which... he is a part of... right?]

[patcheel]

[She takes her shoes back, and shoves her gross socks into her uniform pockets.]

You can't expect a girl to wear jelly-soaked socks, now can you?

[Which was not Ishimaru's issue with this whole scenario. Hana takes a moment to put on her shoes, and already her feet feel sweaty without her socks, but it will have to do for now.]

Come on! Let's go clean!

[Hana grabs for Ichimaru's hand like she hasn't been annoying him.]

I'm sure the public moral committee has way more things to worry about than a shoe exchange, like who left that really big jelly stain in the girls' bathroom!

[There isn't one, but she's certain Ishimaru isn't the type of boy to go peeping in the girls' room to verify her story.]

[moraloutrage]

[Ishimaru ends up feeling a new wave of regret with every step this interaction takes. Did she just put those dirty socks into her own pockets?! He... holds back the urge to lecture her about taking care of her uniform. He can save that for another time! At least now he's finally gotten her to clean!]

N-now that's the spirit! [Except that it doesn't feel like a victory... Still, he'll follow her back into the classroom.]

Er, ah, yes. That is quite concerning! Someone could slip on and get hurt. I should, uh, see if someone else wishes to look into that! [That does succeed in flustering him! At least there's no chance he'll check it out himself.]

In any case... let us focus first on making this hall of education squeaky-clean!

[patcheel]

[Hana smiles to herself, pleased to get a reaction to the fake mess in the girls' bathroom. She picks up a bucket from the classroom floor a little too enthusiastically, spilling some soapy water onto the nearby desk.]

The squeakiest!

[Plopping the bucket down in on the desk bench, she finally takes the rag out of it, and wrings it out; proceeding to scrub at the desk like a competent person. However... in less than two minutes, she groans and gives a little huff.]

Someone will just spill soda on it anyway. It doesn't need to be that clean...

[moraloutrage]

[A reaction indeed! It takes him a moment to regain his composure. But now, things are turning around. Now both of them can do their part in this cleaning duty!

He picks up the rag he was using and is quick to get back to work, intensely wiping down one of the desks! For a few short minutes, he feels at peace. Until she speaks again.]

Now that is not a good attitude at all! It needs to be as clean as possible, or other students will think that it is okay to make such messes. This classroom should end up looking so clean, that any student will feel guilty about dropping even a single crumb onto the floor! Let this room be as pristine as the spirit of the student body!

[patcheel]

[It was always okay to make messes at Hana's house. This cleaning is ridiculous. She sighs, and slowly and methodically scrubs the desk.]

I'm only doing this because you're cute, Eyebrow-chan.

[moraloutrage]

[That compliment does manage to fluster him again, slowing down his scrubbing, and he stammers before he speaks.]

Y-you mean because it is your civic duty! One's... looks have nothing to do with this. [Then he pauses for a moment before adding.]

Also, don't you remember my name? It is Kiyotaka Ishimaru! [She should know his name... right? Aren't they... classmates...? Ishimaru blinks and focuses on his scrubbing.]

[patcheel]

Whatever~! Same thing!

[Hana scrubs away, cleaning the same spot over and over again. She pauses when he says his name. Of course she knew it... didn't she? Only, it hadn't immediately come to mind.]

Oh, right! I-ishimaru-kun! I didn't get enough sleep last night and you have to admit, your eyebrows are like, their own person, and so they should be addressed as such!

[But why hadn't she felt complete familiarity? Hana makes a little "eh" noise and goes back to cleaning. A moment later, she looks over at Ishimaru.]

Um, you know my name, right?

[moraloutrage]

Ah, I see... I suppose that I should feel proud that my eyebrows strike such a strong impression! [He says, nodding along as he considers her point.

And as she asks her question, he's quick to answer.]

Of course I do! What sort of student would I be to forget the name of a dear classmate? I should ask for a severe punishment if I ever did forget a name like...

[He freezes up at that point and starts to sweat, because now he realizes. He feels like they're classmates, but he has no idea what her name is. So he's like a deer in the headlights for a moment before he continues, with much less gusto.]

...l-like yours! [He'll just end the sentence without actually saying it. Nailed it!]

[patcheel]

[Hana frowns as she watches the perspiration appear. It is kind of hot in here. Maybe they should open a window... For a moment, she seems fine with his answer, but it catches up with her eventually.]

That's right! I'm unforgettable, and... hey. You don't know it!

[She points her finger accusingly.]

[moraloutrage]

Ack!

[Ishimaru immediately crumples under the pressure and cries out.]

I- I'M SO SOOOOOORRRRRRRYYYYY!!!

[patcheel]

Oh, no! Eyebrow-chan, it's okay!

[She flails a little, then falls into her comforting instincts, honed from years of dealing with her panicky brother. Hana approaches cautiously, ready to pat Ishimaru on the shoulder.]

I mean, Hana's a very common name and you probably just forgot which Hana I was with all the stress from the jelly tracks!

[Which no one has taken care of yet and someone could be making more of a mess in the hallway right now.]

[moraloutrage]

[The guilt is overwhelming! What kind of model student can he be when he forgets such a memorable fellow student so easily?!

At least her words and shoulder-patting help to comfort him.]

Ah... Ah yes. Of course! That must be the case! How foolish of me. Of course your name is Hana! I am so sorry that I let it slip my mind...

[Of course that's a thing he always knew! Or so he assures himself. But now there's something else to divert his attention to. So he springs up attentively.]

Wait a moment, the jelly tracks! That mess... has never truly been cleaned, has it?!

[patcheel]

Not truly!

[She's not interested in cleaning the jelly mess, but at the moment, it seems a small sacrifice to make Ishimaru feel better.]

We should go clean it up before it gets tracked all over the school! Just imagine!

[She presses her hands to her cheeks and gasps unconvincingly, like an old horror movie actress.]

[moraloutrage]

[He balls up a fist, powered by a newfound determination!]

Exactly! It would ve far too unsightly for any proud hall of education! Not to mention all the people who could slip on it...

[Arms full of supplies, he bolts towards the door.]

Hana-kun!! With our forces combined, it will not stand a chance!!

[patcheel]

[With renewed vigor inspired by Ishimaru's speech, Hana grabs her rag and bucket and follows.]

We shall vanquish that dastardly jelly!

[She's not exactly sure what 'dastardly' means, but it sounds cool.]

[moraloutrage]

[Her energy makes his heart swell with pride! He only wishes she could have been that excited about this from the beginning.]

Now you're talking! See? It will not be so hard, especially with both of us working together!

[He sets the bucket down by the footprint and picks up his own rag, ready to scrub away.]

[patcheel]

Ho!

[She pumps her fist, and accidentally spills some water. But it's fine. Kneeling, she corrals the tiny puddle towards the footprints with her rag.]

Where do you think the jelly came from? It doesn't smell like strawberries... or cherries.

[The scent is a bit metallic.]

Ooh, maybe it's paint! I bet the footprints lead to the art room!

[She seems to have forgotten they're her footprints.]

[moraloutrage]

[He slows down his pace as he considers her words.]

P-paint is the other prime option that comes to mind...

[And the only other option he's letting himself entertain.]

Ah, but, you are the one who produced the footprint. So if anyone knows the source for sure, it would be you! ...Did you happen to go to the art room before this...?

[patcheel]

Haha! That's right!

[She tilts her head one way and then the other, scrutinizing the footprints.]

No... I wouldn't go to the art room! I mean, I would, but I don't paint - I knit! Hmm. No! If they're my footprints, they're definitely jelly!

[Hana lowers her face close to the footprint to get a better sniff.]

It could be raspberry.

[moraloutrage]

[The mystery deepens! Ishimaru continues to try and keenly examine it, but he's not having much look there.]

I see. Knitting is quite the productive hobby. Well chosen, Hana-kun! I wish you luck in your endeavors with it!

[But their focus is on this jam. He frowns as he weighs out her opinion.]

Hmmm... this does not seem to smell like raspberry either. Perhaps... some new flavor may have been discovered? Or- or maybe it has been blended with something else! There are many possibilities... b-but at the end of the day, it is another stain to be cleaned! We should not worry too much about discovering its origin, though I would also like to prevent such messes from occurring again in the future...

[patcheel]

[She pulls away from the footprint and nods decisively.]

You're right, Ishimaru-kun! The origins of the mystery jelly matter not! Let us make this hallway sparkle!

[Though she tries, she can't quite get the wholesomeness and true passion in her words. She scrubs idly at the footprint. It's slow-going, but that jelly is coming up.]

You know what we need? Music to clean by!

[Hana starts moving her shoulders to some beat only she can hear as she cleans.]

Oppan Gangnam Style! Dun dun dun dundun dundun...

[moraloutrage]

That's it exactly! Let us clean so thoroughly that this floor will reflect our brilliant young faces!

[He chimes that excitedly, before he goes to town on one footprint. Yes, it shouldn't matter what kind of stain it is. ...Right?

....He soon sweatdrops once she starts to sing.]

....Er... I suppose some music can be conductive to one's work ethic every now and then. ...But, ah, I am afraid that I am unfamiliar with that particular song....

[patcheel]

Oh, that's too bad! It's a fun song.

[She scrubs in circles, but it's mostly smudging the jelly(?) and her face isn't reflected yet.]

We can make one up instead! Ishimaru-kun's Cleaning Song! Ready!? Okay! Here we go!

[Hana drums out a beat on the untainted part of the floor while she swipes the jelly around.]

Scrub. Scrub, scrub.
Make the floor all shiny!
Scrub. Scrub, scrub.
A mirror of our precious youth!

Okay, your turn!