Event || Once Upon A Dream

[eternitymods]

Who: All characters who signed-up!
When: May 31st - June 04th
Where: The Dream Width (+ Curti Center & Airships)
What: Event log for the Once Upon A Dream Event! Should your character have their own memory, start your own top-level with said memory. If not, then tag around in other characters's memories! Furthermore, feel free to use the Mingle threads at the Curti Center and in the Airships for non-memory related CR. Please refer to the OOC Post for details and plotting. Plot Memories and the second Airship Mingle will be unlocked on May 25th.
Warnings/Notes: Memories with specific warnings will be marked as such by their players.

Please use the following form for your memory's title line:
CHARACTER'S NAME | MEMORY TITLE | WARNINGS (IF ANY)
We will add links to your memories here as the event progresses!

Mingle: Curti Center | Airships #1 | Airships #2
Plot Memories: The Dream | The Nightmare | The Premonition
Holographic Messages

Adrien Agreste | Then and Now
Aqua | Thorny Pathway | cw: spoiler for kh 0.2
Castor | Lord of the Inferno | cw: fire, mind control
Ena | Zera Hamlet, Reprise | cw: mutilated corpses
Futaba Sakura | Early Days | cw: references to verbal abuse/neglect and auditory hallucinations
Ignis Scientia | For The Life of the Chosen | cw: spoilers, violence, death
Irhya Pendhula | The Parting Glass | cw: violence, amputation
Johnny D'Amico | United Earth Prisoner
Kanji Tatsumi | You're a BOY, you know! | cw: bullying, mild homophobia
Lelouch vi Britannia | Julius Kingsley
Monika | Just Monika | cw: spoilers, possible horror, possible deletion
Nanamo Ul Namo | A Good Memory
Noctis Lucis Caelum | Light of the Crystal | cw: chapter 13 spoilers
Okuyasu Nijimura | Lending a Hand | cw: blood/injuries
Prompto Argentum | I'm not one of your experiments! | cw: episode prompto spoilers
Selphie | The Answer | cw: gore/death
Takashi 'Shiro' Shirogane | The end of the beginning | cw: end of season 2 spoilers
Tidus | A Broken Dream | cw: death, bullying

Comments

Kanji Tatsumi | "You're a BOY, you know!" | cw: bullying, mild homophobia

[topgun_textiles]

Visitors step into the morning hours of a long hallway dotted with doors on the right, ending in a darkened two-way fork leading into the unknown. The watery sunshine of the early hours poured in through the windows, cracked open to let in the breeze on the left side.

A breeze blew in, gently rustling countless posters put up on the walls, children's drawings and other announcements framed proudly, accompanied by strange symbols that those who understood the language would recognize as Japanese hiragana, splashes of katakana and kanji. They read off names of the students, titles of the drawings, or advertised upcoming events going on in this particular elementary school. From behind the doors, there are voices of adults, teachers giving their lectures for the day. The scene is relatively peaceful, and may be rather nostalgic for some.

One of the doors slid open, and someone stepped out. They were a taller figure, adult, clutching something in one hand, but she had no color, no definition... she was a shadow shaped like a person, and bore a big white X scribbled over her face as she tread quickly past the visiting group that had just come in. It's here that visitors notice that they're not wearing what they boarded the airships with, but uniforms of some kind that implement black and white houndstooth on the collars and skirts.

From the door the shadowy figure left behind that remained cracked open, the silence from within broke into hushed giggling and whispering...



[ooc: I'll match your preferred format.]

[promiselisting]

Familiar? Sure, she'd give it that. Nostalgic.... required her to actually have had fond memories of elementary school. Which she didn't. Indeed, her visceral reaction is to cringe a bit, looking around. Not to mention be confused because she was... back in Japan? Not Vaikuntha? But this clearly wasn't her elementary school so uh... what was going on?

The door seems like the most obvious thing so uh. She slowly pushes the door open to peek inside, cautious of possibly alerting anyone to her presence. Freaking everybody out would be a pretty bad start, she thinks.

[pishirogane]

Yasogami High uniforms...

The moment Naoto registers that, she knows whose memories she might be present in. After all, while she didn't recognize the primary school personally, but could identify the uniform. Immediately, it felt wrong; she hadn't even bore witness his Shadow and yet, she's here? She recalls something happening while they were on the ship, but... no, first things first, she hurries down the hallway.

Thank goodness for Futaba's bright hair color, but that's concerning too. Futaba was here? "Futaba-san?"

[promiselisting]

Futaba jumps slightly and whips around, though the sight of a familiar face is something of a relief. Although confusing.

"Naoto? What are you doing here? And... what are you wearing?" because that wasn't her job uniforms or anything she'd seen her wearing before? Although that simultaneously makes her realize, she's... wearing something along similar lines? "Wait, what am I wearing?"

Because she hadn't worn a school uniform in months.

[pishirogane]

"... I believe we're inside a memory. There was an issue aboard the ship..."

They had been warned before heading out. Looking back at Futaba, she recalled that of course she wouldn't recognize the uniform. "They're the Yasogami High Uniforms."

Naoto was in her preferred version; good job Kanji's memory.

[topgun_textiles]

Even the smell of the school was legitimate, of simple lemon cleaners and paper, and the breeze brought in tree sap and warmed soil. For a memory, it was fairly vivid, right down to the faint amount of dust swirling in the shafts of sunlight coming in through the windows.

The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[pishirogane]

And staring in after her meet-up with Futaba, Naoto watched the scene with a scowl. She previously had known that Kanji hadn't had the best time in school. From a few issues after his father's passing to more concerning attitudes that must've effected his overall academic career, she could only imagine.

... Even then, it was still worse than what she would've anticipated. And so went marching on toxic traditional views enough that Naoto scowled and... didn't have anything to say about basically witnessing what might be Kanji's first assault on a fellow classmate. Watching, she remembered being around his age, and so many times she had gotten frustrated with kids her age... and then adults, but it wasn't time for those thoughts.

He was coming towards them. "... Ready, Futaba-san?"

[conniemaheswaran]

When Connie's eyes open, she balks at her surroundings. Okay then. This wasn't where she was just a second ago. She was performing some maintenance on her gunblade on the airship and... oh. So this is what a memory was like. Surprisingly mundane, really. Time to get a sense of her situation. One: Assess the environment. This was obviously an elementary school of some kind, and she knew just enough Japanese to recognize the language at a glance. It would've seemed normal if not for the woman meticulously edited out of the memory and the obvious void past a certain point.

Two: take inventory. This obviously wasn't her memory, so at least she wasn't bound by the illusion's thrall. Connie checks both pockets and grimaces. No slate, which meant no equipment. It wasn't likely that she'd have to fight in a place like this, but it would still pay to be on guard. Any physical changes? Other than a costume switch, it looked like Connie's body was left unmodified.

Three: reconnoiter. There were two obvious places to check for whoever was trapped in this memory: she could either follow the mysterious nonwoman, or examine the place she emerged from. Connie goes with her instincts and decides the check the latter first, peeking inside the doorway before marching in.

[topgun_textiles]

The classroom behind the door was more of the same as the halls: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[conniemaheswaran]

Something was incredibly wrong here. What could have possibly distorted this person's memory so much as to forcibly erase everybody from the scene? Connie's answer comes when the razor-edged rumors and chatter reaches her ears. She clenches her fists, teeth set. Oh joy. Bullying. Friendlessness. This was bringing back fantastic memories. At least now she knows how to deal with it.

She stalks towards Kanji's seat, putting a face to the name as she realizes that this is the memory of the guy who shared food with her on that horrible, horrible first day. Connie had been hoping to meet up with him again, just... not like this.

As Kanji begins to cry but before the shadow can completely break him, Connie walks up behind him and says, in a voice that barely contains her rage, "On the contrary, Tatsumi-kun, would you mind if I sit down with you? It looks like you could use some good company." She glares at the shadow, anger burning in her eyes.

[chefbayardee]

Hunk had no idea where he was. It wasn't Vaikuntha, because that definitely looked like Japanese writing, and sure looked like a school for children. He had no idea what it said which made it even easier to ignore, and his instincts pushed him towards the sounds of lectures down the hall.

The x-faced shadow gave Hunk quite a start, and he loosed a yelp of surprise that stopped as soon as it revealed itself to be a passive actor. It didn't care. Weird shadows didn't matter. It didn't react to him, even though he was a big buy with- a school uniform? And not just any uniform, it looked like the ones that Kanji and Naoto wore!

"...Oh." The realization dawned on him, just as the laughter and chatter of children registered in his mind. It was the only lead he had, so he made his way to the door and stuck his head in.

[topgun_textiles]

The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[chefbayardee]

He was without words, without action. The taunts and jeers were harsh and cruel- Hunk's heart was hurting and he knew it was a memory, something that Tatsumi, that Kanji had endured. If these stupid kids knew how cool he was now? He wasn't actually sure if Kanji was the sort to gloat, but-

And then a chair flew across the room, with Kanji (who looked really different with black hair, young age aside) following soon after. One. Two punches. And he made his way to the door. Keeping him in there, in that room full of cruel, faceless shadows, wasn't going to help anything. So he waited until the boy made his way out of that room, sure not to block his exit. But as soon as he was through the threshold...

"Do you want to talk about it, Kanji?" Hunk hoped so. It hurt to see this child in so much pain. And if he can't get through to the kid, he might be stuck in this memory. And that's not okay. One time was more than enough.

[peninhand]

Japanese school, children laughing... Ah, the typical setting she was used to. Was it her memory again...? No, she was conscious and all too aware of the situation. She had to be trapped in someone else's memory. And upon further inspection, her uniform was different from her usual one... Someone else that came from a similar setting to hers, then?

Her musings were interrupted when the shadowy figure walked past her. What was this...? A monster? A person? Perhaps both. People often were the worst monsters one could imagine, even if they didn't intend to be perceived that way. She dared hoping this was a side-effect of being in a memory and not an actual memory.

Regardless, she pushed open the door, to see what awaited in the room that shadow had come from.

[topgun_textiles]

The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[peninhand]

"..."

While she'd never been bullied, it didn't take a genius to recognize what she was seeing. Why, one of her club member had been victim of such things. The cruelty of children knew no bounds, did it? And yet adults always used words such as "innocence" to describe childhood... What a joke.

Regardless, it was oddly satisfying to see the kid who had hurled those insults at Kanji get what he deserved, at the hand of his victim no less. Perhaps he was just a child who didn't realize the weight of words.. How hurtful words could be. Far more hurtful than fists. The kid might have thought he was in pain, but it made no doubt to her the bullied kid was the one in real pain.

When Kanji made for the exit, Monika took a couple step backward, enough so they would be out from the other kids's sight, all while remaining in his way. She didn't recognize him, she had only spoken briefly to his older self after all, but she knew without the shadow of a doubt he had to be the one dreaming, the one to who the memory belonged.

"Wait..." She spoke softly, she didn't want him to be scared or run away from her. Instincts told her to comfort and help him, but she also knew he had to be snapped out of this memory as quickly as possible... That would be a tough one.

Re: Kanji Tatsumi | "You're a BOY, you know!" | cw: bullying, mild homophobia

[poisonwish]

Hm? What was this? Snow White looked around, recognizing the language as Japanese and the place as a school... But it didn't look like Otogi's school. One glance at his outfit confirmed it definitely wasn't Otogi's school -- the uniform was different.

But why the hell was he wearing some random Japanese school uniform?

Snow White scowled but his attention was drawn to the hushed laughter of children in one of the rooms. The door was open; he might as well look while he was stuck here. Maybe he could figure out what was going on and how to leave.

[topgun_textiles]

The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[poisonwish]

Snow White watched with a scowl. Disgusting. This is why he hated children. They could be so cruel and yet so ignorant at the same time... Like burning someone at the stake in the name of piety and righteousness.

Disgusting.

So he didn't move when the boy finally snapped and lashed out. He didn't move when the chair clattered against the wall, or when the punches landed with wet thwucks into a bloody nose. He only moved when the shadow-boy ran past him as if running for his very life.

"Tch. Asshole," Snow White muttered through grit teeth. He looked upon Kanji. "You could have hit him again. He deserved it."

[studdedcouncilprez]

Unlike the first memory, Makoto was ready when she entered the second. The disorienting effects of being flung into another world was still there, but less so. Rather she took in her surroundings slowly and allowed herself a moment to understand how this place "felt." Nostalgic would be a good word, but in some ways the place was completely new. Makoto had spent most of her life in the big city and the peaceful tranquility of a slow rural area made things seem that much more unique. She was just about to get used to it when the silhouette of a woman passed through the hall. Makoto was struck with how unnerving a sight that was. She was a presence, but not a particularly friendly one.

Realizing that the woman was important to this particular memory, the Phantom Thief took a few tentative steps towards the door. Bracing herself she opened the door.

[topgun_textiles]

The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[studdedcouncilprez]

How horrible. Makoto thought as she took to the corner of the scene. There was a moment that she was going to speak out, but then she would not know the wound of this memory more. This was meaningful to someone. Despite her desires she needed to find out what was going on and to who. Anything less would have been a waste of the memory.

All she needed was the name 'Tatsumi,' to understand more of what was going on. In that instant pieces fell into place, as well as a few of the ones that she did not know when they first talked to each other. There was no way for her to know, but at the same she felt somewhat guilty anyway.

The boy stepped forward and bolted. Ah... yeah... she saw that before too. It would seem that was just how he handles a situation he didn't know how to handle... something that he never quite grew out of. But if this was a memory the moment he got too far then the scene and the moment could be lost.

As the boy move past she extended her hand at the back of the boy's outfit. While she wanted to lay a hand on his shoulder she was doubtful that would be enough to stop him. "Hold up. One moment. I want to talk to you, Tatsumi-san."

[kuposcreed]

"Ah...kupo?" This was all a bit disorienting. Last Bonnie remembered she was on one of the airships and now...this place wasn't familiar to her at all. As she fluttered along the general shape of the place became clear to her. A school then, okay. She didn't recognize the language but it did look a little familiar from some of the mail she had to deliver from time to time for the Heroes back on Crystallis.

As the door slid open she gave a little panicked midair flutter and then flew up to perch on top of the door hinge. No chance they'd look up. Humans were generally pretty bad about remembering to look above them for predators as it was. Moogles were not so foolish.

The shape of the figure as they left the room confirmed Bonnie's caution. Narrowing her little eyes she pulled her hood down, getting into focus. Time to get to work and see what was going on here. Carefully, and with the help of her wings, she did her best to sneak into the room from the top of the doorway, looking for a new perch to settle on inside.

[topgun_textiles]

The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.

In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.

"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"

"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."

"She should have asked someone else..."

"I know! She should have known better."

"Sshh! He can hear you."

"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."

One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.

"Why won't you just leave?"

The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.

"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"

The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"

"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"

The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.

"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."

The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.

But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.

The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.

He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.

[kuposcreed]

Bonnie frowned as she listened to the chatter of the children. Despite their fluffiness, moogles were no strangers to bullying, not just from other species but from within as well. But there was that fine line that separated pranks and cruelty and it was so much more blatant with the larger races. Bonnie had trouble fathoming how they walked across it so easily sometimes.

The fading of the children was disconcerting, but if that meant that these were not normal people; if they were monsters or something else, that made it easier for her. Monsters were scary, but they were easier to stand up to because of that fear. Standing up to protect others.

But it all happened too fast. Kanji was grabbed and shouted at and struck before the moogle could make her move. She was too shocked by it all, to be honest.

But as she ran she flew after him. She still barely knew him, not enough to call out to him, but she gave chase so that he wouldn't be alone.