This Is Part 22 Of The "What If Yuu Didn't Want To Go Back?" Series!

This is part 22 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Sam's shop. I've never been there before, but it's about time to change that, I'd say. We need the distraction. Grim is enjoying it fully, probably thinking about the tuna he's sure to get.

And here we are! Admittedly, I'm not sure if we can afford anything that's not on sale, but it's worth a shot, right?

The shelves are stocked high, but not too high- many students are a bit short, so the items are only about two and a half meters off the ground at the highest. Despite that, there are stools along the ends of the rows, magically attached to their paths along the edges of the isles. I don't need them.

"Okay, Grim, can you smell the tuna or anything? I don't know where to look."

"No need, dear customers! I'll show you, just follow me."

Grim and I follow the man in the patchwork top hat through the expanse of items and prices, recognizing him as Sam, the owner. As he leads us, an odd feeling settles itself into my being. What is it? Oh, that's it- though the shelves are short, the store is vast, stretching onward like a neverending maze. Following Sam through all this feels a lot like I'm walking through a limnal space, guided by a supernatural entity of unknown origin.

"Here we are!" In front of us, Sam is motioning to a shelf with stout cans of tuna stacked one atop another. Sure enough, the price tag on the edge of the suspiciously strong plastic reads "SALE" and is followed by a slashed-out price displayed above a price that's worth half the original, written in larger font. I don't need to look to know Grim's reaction.

"Thank you!" I wave to Sam, grab some tuna, and turn back. He's gone by then, so I just move Grim to my other shoulder and walk to the counter. Sam is waiting there, smiling as usual, and sends us off with an enthusiastic "Thank you!" When we pay and leave.

How unusual. Oh, well. I'll let Grim have a can of this now, and the rest can be saved. Now, where's a trash can?..oh, over there!

...huh. There's a spot in the trash bags over here that's cleared out, about the size of a first-year student. Why? I can't see any reason someone would clear this out. Other than boredom, but this looks like it's been here for a while now. How odd. Meh.

I trash the lid and walk away. We have better things to do. Say, for example, hiding pencil erasers in Ace's bag until he notices and says something, or trying to figure out what the hell is up with Korrak.

"Myeeh, do you hear that?" I stop walking, merely two steps from the indent, and attempt to fine-tune my ears. When I hold my breath, I hear it. Music.

I'm a sin, but I'm half of the hourglass, glass, glass

I don't recognize the song, but I hear it. There is definitely some kind of music playing. But from where? A quick glance at Grim's ears tell me it's toward the pile of trash.

I turn around, slowly, silently, and look a little closer. The music is decently loud now, but I can't see its source.

"Hold my can." I take the half-eaten can of tuna from Grim with one hand and lower the other to allow him to jump down. He ignores the platform entirely and jumps down without my help, landing on concrete and quickly deciding he'd rather move the bags with magic than with his paws or face. The one right in front of him glows somewhat, rises, and reveals a pair of beaten-up headphones plugged into a strange, once-white rectangle.

Grim looks at me. I reach in with my free hand, grab the headphones, and Grim releases the trash bag the instant nothing is under it anymore in favor of hopping onto my arm. When I'm fully upright again, I pass Grim his tuna.

"Myeeh, thanks." He returns to eating. I try and examine the device. It resembles a rectangle when viewed from the front or back, but looking at the top gives it a more almond shape- if almonds were pointed at two ends and not rounded at one. It's very thin, too, much thinner than an almond.

The music still plays. I can't identify the song, but this is probably on a playlist, so I wait for the song to end. It loops.

Dah dah dah dah, da-dah dah dah, dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah

The music kicks up. I still don't recognize the song. The headphones don't fit over my head, but, in my endeavors to put them on, I see him, on the edge of my vision. Barely visible.

Korrak. I don't see Rook. Why is he here?

Ok, Yuu, hold on. You don't want to sound suspicious. That's your roommate and friend. He doesn't know I've seen him yet. So...

I turn to face him and ask, "Hey, are these yours?" He startles. Okay, maybe that wasn't the right move. Still, he attempts to reply- a series of quiet chitters and chirps I can't understand, yet still too loud to miss for my now cat-level hearing, even over the wind and faint music.

"Yeah," Mandible nods, presumably translating for Korrak, "those are ours. Thanks for finding them." I can't be sure as to why Korrak stutters and Mandible doesn't.

"Well, here you go. Your song is still playing." Indeed it is, the singer's voice calling out to be remembered for hundreds of years. Korrak, upon seeing my outstretched hand, visibly relaxes and reaches out to take it.

I've seen that reaction before, on videos, in photos, and in the mirror- not the magic one- when I realized something I saw as precious hadn't been stolen or lost, but was being returned to me.

I saw it in Grim's eyes, reflected from my own when I saw him before the entrance ceremony.

These must be important to them. They've probably had them for years and years, a persistent source of comfort through tough and easy times alike.

Grim was like that for me.

"Thanks," speaks Mandible. It takes me a moment to register his words as his, momentary confusion clouding my judgment of Korrak's voice vs. Mandible's jaws moving. The confusion clears with a single word rushing into my mind: ventriloquism.

Another question rises from the ashes of my puzzlement, burning like a Phoenix: why doesn't Mandible stutter?

Just as quickly, the question abandons me, and nothing more comes of the interaction- rather, a new one begins at the moment's end, with Rook walking up and playing a hand on Korrak's unoccupied shoulder. Korrak briefly panics, a flash of intense fear taking root in his eyes, but that fear is pulled up when he realizes whose wrist the black-gloved hand is attached to.

"Monseurs," Rook begins, nodding at me and Grim as well as Korrak and Mandible, "Come with me. You are going to brew potions in class soon, and I have been instructed to ensure that you all know the basics and how to apply them."

I approach when Rook motions with his free- well, not really, he's holding his bow with that one- hand for me and Grim to follow his lead. A short-feeling walk later, we're back at Pomefiore's main building, through the lounge, down a flight of stairs, and standing in a dark, basementy room that reminds me of medieval castles- if they were cleaned and the atmosphere of a damp, uneven-floored chamber were intentionally crafted. Rook leads us over to a cauldron, and I see the nearby bench against the wall. Epel is sitting there, head slumped a little to his right like he's drowsy, but not yet asleep.

Rook snaps his fingers. Epel jolts upright, his head turning rapidly from side to side until he spots us and hurries from his seat to a spot beside the cauldron. He's in his labwear, and, with a flick of his magic pen, so is Rook. Korrak follows suit, swapping his neatly-buttoned jacket, dress shirt, and Pomefiore-purple vest for a dull white lab coat and a pair of the goggles every Pomefiore student has. Mandible chitters something I don't know at him, and, a moment later, me and Grim are the only ones not in labwear- a fact soon made false. Clearly, my practice is paying off.

Rook waves his magic pen again, filling the cauldron with a shimmering liquid I initially fail to recognize as water in the opalescent lighting of the room. Epel looks at us all, moving his goggles down his face to sit over his eyes once Grim taps the clear frame of the cat-adjacent familiar's protective eyewear.

"Now, then," the vice housewarden speaks up, his voice steadfast, "Every Pomefiore student worth their salt needs a flawless pharmalogical grounding." He briefly moves away to fetch a cart with three levels, the upper two of which are covered in a thick, single layer of small glass vials with corks. The top jars look to contain herbs, judging by the faded green and slightly-wilted brown reflected and refracted by the smooth, light-bending surface of their containers. The ones on the middle level, however, appear to contain a collective rainbow of various spices, rocks, furs, and everything else Crewel hasn't let us touch yet, with the exception of equipment.

I squint at the sudden, unmistakable scent of mint wafting off the cart, in spite of the fact that it's on Rook's right and I'm on his left. Grim moves to cover his nose with his paws, but stops when he remembers he's wearing lab gloves and that might not be a bright idea. Looking over, Mandible's nose is twitching like mad- he and Korrak must be getting the brunt of it.

In asingle half-second, I realize Rook is holding his breath, his chest steady instead of slowly moving with his lungs, and then he pushes the cork down onto a vial I hadn't noticed him reaching for, closing it. The aggressive scent of mint wanes and blows away. Rook exhales and inhales, clearly relived. He's a hunter; his sense of smell is sharp. Too-strong oders must be overwhelming to him- they are to me.

A memory surfaces in my mind- falling asleep in a bed of mint, wild mint, dug up and moved to one spot, with Grim in my arms, and then it fades, vanishing like clear gel tossed into the sea. Another event rises into the forefront of my attention, more solid and vivid than the last. The mix of disappointment and sorrow that rose then comes with it, soon yet gradualy overtaken by the sense of apathy that settled into my being back then. That numbness stuck around for years until fate dragged me into this school to reunite with Grim and feel again.

Why did that particular memory surface? What is it that ties then to now, only now? Laying in a bed of mint- oh! My nose is sharper now, much sharper. Back then, I could lie in a bed of it and rest well, but now a meter and a half away is too close.

My familiar stands on all fours and stretches straight up, claws digging ever-so-slightly into the surface of my skin and coat. I snap back to the present. That's right, I'm busy. Busy doing what? Oh, that's right, Rook's helping with upcoming potionology work.

"Now, then..." Rook doesn't talk too much, evidently favoring the act of guiding us by our hands and arms, only commenting when the herbs become involved. Contrawise, he hums near-constantly, one of the melodies bringing the earlier encounter with Korrak and Mandible to my immediate attention. It's the same song.

Rook was there. Good. That means Korrak had some other company. I was a little worried, but now that I know Rook was there to keep an eye on them, some tension I was previously unaware of dissapates like smoke set free from a jar and into the cool evening breeze.

Soon, though, we are back upstairs, in the Backstage Room, discussing as we usually do. I hear someone say the time and our roommates leave me to complete my last two steps with ease, choosing to brush Grim until we're both off to bed. Korrak is asleep by the time we get there, and, soon, Grim curls up in his cat bed as I curl up in my human bed, and then we both close our eyes for the night. My dreams are a single, simple phrase:

"Memory Lane"

Everyday Freak of Science: part 5

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

As soon as my voice is under my own command again, I speak. "J-Jade, what's going on? W-where are you t-taking me?"

"It has become clear to me that you cannot be trusted with feeding yourself. As such, I will have to ensure you are eating properly- both in quantity and in content."

No. No. Is he really going to resort to that? No. No. No. Please, please no.

He opens a door and shoves me inside. Is this another office? There's a safe, a glass-topped table, two couches on either side of it... where is this?

The clacking of heels, approaching the door. They pause. Jade's voice interrupts the brief moment of silence.

"Pardon me, Azul. The VIP room is in use."

A sigh. "Jade, I've told you not to use the VIP room for lunch alone- be that by yourself or with Floyd."

"It's a rather urgent matter, Azul."

"Alright, fine... ten minutes."

Footsteps, again, leaving.

Okay. I have ten minutes. That's how long I have to survive.

The door opens. Jade enters, holding a plate of various kinds of fish- mullet, obviously, but also wrasse, shrimp, sturgeon, and cuttlefish. Not one hint of green is on that plate.

"Come on, Requiem. Open up." He stabs a piece of cuttlefish with his fork and holds it up to me.

I don't want to. He's just going to force it into my throat- I don't want that.

"Come on." His voice is surprisingly soft and gentle.

"No." In contrast, my voice is firm and wavering; unsure.

He sighs. "You leave me no choice."

I close my eyes for only a second before opening them to see Jade waking over to me, fork in hand, plate in other. He takes a seat next to me and puts the plate onto the table. Then, his free hand is opening my mouth; bracing it to keep me from closing it.

I close my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable force-feeding. Please, higher-ups, don't let this happen.

My mind is on the brink of breaking, I can feel it. Fragments of memories I want to forget tap at the sides of my thoughts, threatening me with reliving them if this keeps going the way it has so many times before.

A piece of cuttlefish is placed gently on my tongue. My recollection sabotages my sense. Shards of my past form into stained glass windows, depicting what I yearn to never see again.

A researcher, dressed in a white lab coat stained with blood, holds a pair of tongs, a piece of cuttlefish clutched tightly in them. Another researcher and another still, white-clad bodies in the corner of my vision, blue latex gloves holding my mouth wide open. I scream. The cuttlefish is forced into my unwilling mouth, down my throat, and, though I try, down it goes. Any human in my position would cry, but I can't. My eyes just don't do that.

I gasp. Where am I? Where are they? What... what room is this?

Slowly, my vision steadies, and the blurriness gives way to a shape. Several shapes. And colors, cool colors. Purple... a couch? There's some teal... a black stripe?

Oh, that's Jade. I can see the whites of his eyes better than I can see his irises. Wait, there's someone else, with off-white hair...

"Azul?"

"I heard screaming," he clarifies. "What's going on?"

"Requiem, are you okay? You just fell to the ground," Jade starts, entirely ignoring a shocked Azul. "You seem calmer now... what happened?"

"I-I was there, back in the lab, they were- please, don't let them-" my voice breaks into a sob. Jade gets onto the ground, one knee on the floor, and holds my upper body against his own. Strong arms hold my weight and I lean into the warmth, desperate to eject that experience from my mind. When I pull away from him, I notice his jacket is darker where my face touched.

I raise a hand to my eyes. They're wet. I'm crying. Jade notices.

"The crying is an effect of the potion. I know, I know, it takes some getting used to."

Azul speaks up again. "What happened? Why is someone crying in my VIP room?"

This is going to tie into two separate games: Twisted Wonderland and Project SEKAI. Trigger warnings: mentions of death, wanting to dissappear, abuse, manipulation, implied suicide. Jeez, that's a lot.

I'm going to talk about, specifically, Asahina Mafuyu (Yuki) and Riddle Rosehearts. There's a lot of similarities. It doesn't seem like that at first, but bear with me here.

In pjsk, we are first introduced to Mafuyu as a cheery, kind, agreeable, and helpful person. Her voice has emotion, but something's off. And you can't tell.

In contrast, the audience's first impression of Riddle is akin to that of a strict, controlling force, who opposes our poor prefect's shiny new friends.

And there's no way you'd think them alike if you don't look past that. If you skip all the stories and ignore Riddle's overblot and Mafuyu's trained card art. Because that's the point. It's not supposed to be obvious. You're supposed to view Mafuyu as "normal" and Riddle as "annoying" and never look closer.

Exept, you are supposed to look closer. You're supposed to squint at them and put them under a magnifying glass. And there's some genius in Mafuyu in particular- in pjsk, each group's main story starts with the group leader's backstory. Mafuyu is not a group leader. We don't start with a glimpse of her past. We start with her facade.

Mafuyu pretends. Her cheery face and higher-pitched voice are forced, and she is miserable. And when do we see that? When it's too late. When Mafuyu tries to dissappear into a world made of her emotions, a world so barren it's literally called "the Empty SEKAI."

Because Mafuyu doesn't know who she is. Because she's being abused. Riddle is in the same scenario.

Both of them have helicopter moms who try and control every aspect of their lives. Riddle's mom succeeded- and that's where their differences originate. Mafuyu rebels. She joined an anonymous online music group to vent and try and learn who she is without her mother's interference. Hell, she helped start it. That group started as two people, and she was one of them.

Riddle, on the other hand, gave in. He became an extension of his mother, of his abuser, and realizing that drove him to overblot. That desperation to emulate her was programmed into him by years of having no will of his own.

And yet, Mafuyu fought. She fought, and things got worse, and, as of writing this, her arc of escaping her abusive, overcontrolling household is Nightcord at 25:00(the music group she helped form)'s main arc, and it has yet to be resolved.

Mafuyu struggles. She doesn't know who she is. Her mother doesn't want her to learn, she wants her to be a perfect little honor student who becomes a doctor and studies all the time. Riddle's mom wanted that too, in a son- and she got it.

Riddle doesn't know who he is, either. After his overblot, he confesses: he never liked being an extension of his mother, but he suffered through it. He followed every rule, got every point, and he was in pain. In a way, he's lucky. At some point or another, that would've killed him.

And, when Riddle learned, he rebelled, too. Even before he knew, he fought because autonomy is critical to a child's healthy development, and they will always want to seek it eventually. He fought because he needed to. Otherwise, I doubt he'd've survived his freshman year at NRC. All those tarts, all forbidden... He'd've done what Mafuyu tried.

Riddle gave in. He gave in, and it killed him. He and Mafuyu are two sides of the same, ruined coin. One is being more actively molded and resisting, and the other only just became aware.

We see their development. In the Twilight Festa event, we see Mafuyu learn that she genuinely enjoys helping people. In book 2, we see Riddle run in the hallways to catch a rule-breaker. Riddle's progress is way subtler: he only just started trying to find himself. Mafuyu has a head start.

And... in a way, they're one and the same. They are lost bodies, searching for their souls. And I hope they both succeed.

In the end, they are both misfortunate children.

And, in a way, aren't we all?

You’ve come to the right person.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 5 AND 6

Oh man Rook Hunt? He’s so mood, haha. One half of me really like him as a character because he’s so outlandish. Man practically worships Vil for his beauty, stalks students to know them, and loves a lot of things that other characters take for granted. Even though he is in Pomefiore, he focuses a lot more on others without neglecting himself.

If I was more over-the-moon for Rook, I would kin him completely… except for the stalking, since that is weird. I’ve been stalked before in real life and it isn’t fun, trust me.

Bbbuuutt this is fiction. We know the motives behind Rook’s attitude even though other characters don’t. He’s also extremely funny, lol. I find his sense of style and his actions very humorous, and that only adds to his charm. If he were real, I feel as if he and I would be able to talk about each others interests so genuinely. I’d also be able to joke with him well!

Spoilers ~~~~~~~~~~

This is a buffer sentence.

I also find the fact that he comes from Savanaclaw very interesting. It would explain why he’s so good at being a hunter in nature, and being Le Chasseur D’Armour (The Hunter of Love) for multiple interesting folks. It makes me wonder about the geographical and sociology that enables people from the Afterglow Savannah (Sunset Savanna for the EN folks) to be sensitive to sounds, sights, and smells.

After all, Rook isn’t a… what’s the name? He isn’t like Ruggie, Leona, or Jack, who have deeply interwoven animal traits. He’s human (I think), which makes his biological data more interesting.

Oh man, and when he went to the Island of Woe (IoW) to see how he could get Vil back to Night Raven College (NRC), he cleverly uses his social patterns to get in. I believe I looked him up on a website called TVTropes (a wonderful place to see all the tropes that different movies, series, and characters have. It’s an AMAZING website, I highly recommend taking a look), and it explained why he did what he did.

By disguising his real motive as wanting to give Vil his beauty products (so that he would continue being beautiful), he managed to get himself, Epel, and the MC into S.T.Y.X. His actions are so outlandish, but fitting to his character that Ortho and Idia capture them instead of eliminating them or whatever. It’s something only Rook would do.

And that is SO FASCINATING!

Chapter 5 was one of my least-liked chapters. However, it was still a catalyst to diving into Pomefiore as a whole. Rook usurps the expectations that the audience has for them, especially when dealing with Vil before his overblot. Man was going to DRINK that damn liquid that would have KILLED Neige to 1. Express how much he wanted to believe that Vil wouldn’t do such a thing and 2. So he can risk getting a taste for poisonous fruits.

Rook literally admires Vil’s beauty first before jumping to action upon the danger that his overblot indicates.

HE ADMIRES VIL’S OVERBLOT!

HOW CRAZY IS THIS MAN?!?!?

He also does ballet! SLAY KING ballet is SO HARD!

This is also a buffer sentence.

Spoilers End! ~~~~~~~~

I love seeing how Rook ticks, like how he loves seeing how others do. He would SO be either a psychologist or get into the beauty industry, if not into a job that enables him to ‘hunt’ others better. ROOK HAS SUCH A FLEXIBILITY TO HIM THAT IT DRIVES ME NUTS JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW COMPLEX HE IS!

Then there’s the other half.

It’s a lot more selfish and deeply connected to my desire to know and be known. It’s extremely hard for me to trust people (especially in our day and age) because the world is so corrupted. My mother would tell me about how children would run in the streets unattended because they were safe. Parents would take care of kids from different families. They let them walk lengths to school without worry.

But it’s so distrustful now.

You don’t see children running around anymore in droves. Lots of people don’t show care for others anymore (not only because they might not care, but if they do care, it’ll be seen as creepy). I go walk alone in DAYTIME and fear that a car might hit me, or I’ll get assaulted somehow. I can’t even fully trust my own friends and family because you just never know what they might do.

I can’t even think about getting into dating because if I don’t balance taking it seriously and feeling the emotions, I’ll most definitely be taken advantage of. The idea of a partner is exciting, but thinking about how it might apply to me is terrifying. I wouldn’t be able to do it.

Which is why I feel so close to Rook, both as someone I would be and as a character.

As a fictional character that I hyperfixiated on, I know a LOT about him and his motives. I can predict how he would be. I don’t know his entire history or syllabus, or what his next action might be sometimes, but I know and love Rook for everything that he is.

The best part is that he would most likely do the same for me, just because of how he acts generally. He would desire to KNOW me like I know him now.

I could see Rook gathering so much intel on me that it’s not funny. He would see how I act, and why I act the way I do. He’d know what I like to do, what I don’t. He’d know what gifts to get me, know what I would need, even before I tell him.

He’d be such a great friend, and if it comes down to it, an even lovelier boyfriend. We share the same desire to know, and sharing those interests together is… it reaches into my very being and pulls something out.

We both admire beauty in things that others might not see. We’d both admire the clouds in the sky. We could both people-watch together to pick apart what makes people who they are. We’d write poems and fawn about the structure of them, the diction. Maybe he’d teach me about makeup, or I could teach him about origami.

I desire to know about him. I desire to be known. Knowing Rook, he would share that same deep desire to see, to think, and to know.

If there’s anyone that I could even fathom trusting with my life, it would be Rook. Sharing each other’s personalities and needs in a way that I don’t have to worry about in real life.

TLDR: Rook is a fascinating character. He has a kooky personality, funny attitude-style, and very interesting history. There’s a lot of traits he has that, when they come together, makes Rook a fascinating character to study. He’s complex. I both relate to him and want to be with him because of who he is.

And those are my thoughts on Rook Hunt.

Now, let me turn that question onto you, @mentallyshattered. Who is one of your favorite characters? What are your thoughts on them?

If y’all want to rant about a character too, feel free! This isn’t only for Shattered.

Similar headcannon: blind Trey.

A Trey who's been blind since birth but wears a pair of his dad's old glasses to avoid appearing hostile and to draw attention away from his eyes.

A Trey who memorizes the layout of the dorm kitchen, just as he did at home.

A Trey who uses magic to read and write, intentionally-but-subtly hiding his blindness "to avoid attention"

hey,, guys

just randomly came up with the most insane idea that i have no reason for except Hey, Wouldn’t This Be Neat.

Cater being partially Deaf.

Cater being able to read people’s lips easily from across a room, contributing to his ability to read the room quickly.

Cater not caring if people notice his hearing aids because oh mY LORD Are his stylish.

Cater having these:

(any people who are actually Deaf or HoH, feel free to add on to this!)

Hello! I need medication for life to prevent my lungs from collapsing, this implies permanent treatment with steroids, oxygen therapy, control of oxygen in the blood and antibiotics to prevent the development of bacteria in the lungs.

I'm afraid I have to insist on this because it may be the only way to get my treatment.

I need medication for life to keep my lungs from collapsing, this costs around $700 per month.

Things are really tough on me,I can’t afford. Please donate🖤

That is tragic, and I hope you get the treatment you need. The US health system really sucks, doesn't it? Also, congrats on being my first ask!

...Anyway, why did you send this to a fanfic blog? You didn't even include a link.

Everyday Freak of Science: part 1

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Where am I? A box? A...coffin? That last one makes the most sense. I can't breathe in here; there's no water.

Oh. They've discarded me. I suppose my existence became more of a burden then a point of pride. Then again, I don't think I should've been a point of pride in the first place.

Suddenly, the lid opens, and I am sprawled out on cold stone. I still cannot breathe, but I suppose this was always going to be my fate.

Footsteps. Heels, clacking on the ground, closer and closer, approaching. I can see shoes now, paused in front of me. I don't recognize them. Is this a stranger? Did the lab get a new researcher?

"Well, this is a problem."

The voice sounds unfamiliar, like someone I've never met. Male, probably.

The heels clack again. I see the person leave, jogging, and the room is silent once again.

Goodbye, mysterious stranger. Have a nice day.

Wait, the clacking is back. And it... brought a friend?

"Oh! Yes, that little pup certainly needs some help. I don't think he can breathe."

The new voice is also unfamiliar. I see the furry ends of a long coat, and black shoes, and, oh, the newer guy is lifting my head up.

"Drink this. Quickly, pup!"

Before I can protest, the newer one has lifted my face and poured something down it. I struggle for a moment, but soon discover something.

My scales, grey in most and black in part, are vanishing. My tail splits into legs, and my gills close in favor of lungs, and I can suddenly breathe.

"What just...Happened?"

The man with the long coat appears amused. "First time? Don't worry about it. The potions are free of charge for students who need them."

Students? Is this a school? Am I... normal? No, this has to be another experiment. They've never studied my behavior beyond "how sharklike is his brain?"

Then again... this doesn't feel malicious, or curious. This man, this strange, unfamiliar man, just seems like he's being nice.

"Are you going to go back in your box? We need to start the ceremony."

Bird Man is talking again. What ceremony? I've never been in one of those. Maybe... maybe this will be fun.

Time to figure out how to walk.

"One foot in front of the other, pup. It takes some getting used to, I know."

Surprisingly, it's...not that difficult. The only hard part is balance, but some part of me rights myself when I'm about to fall. That's probably my human genes.

Soon, I'm back in my box. It's cozy, now that I can breathe in here. I didn't expect that.

I hear something- footsteps. Hundreds, all filing into the vast chamber. Why are there so many people here?

Students. Entrance ceremony. Is this how the first day starts at schools? Thinking about it brings about some kind of feeling... joy? I wouldn't know, but I like this.

After a few long seconds, I fall into a sleep. How strange, I wasn't tired. Oh, well.

I wake. Was I asleep for only a second? Oh, well. There's people- what do I do? So many of them, face after face after face-

I don't know how I know what to do, but something says to leave my cozy box, walk in front of the floating ellipse, face it directly- there's a face, like an enchanted mask, on the other side.

It stares. For a moment, it stares, and then it speaks.

"Octanville!"

I turn around. Someone with glasses and off-white hair that's just the slightest bit blue motions for me to stand behind him. I follow.

"Hello," whispers a voice next to me. I turn, frantically searching for the source, and find a boy with teal hair, mismatched eyes, and a soft smile. "I am Jade, vice housewarden of Octanville. What is your name?"

I don't answer at first. I'm too busy looking at this guy's teeth- triangular teeth, just like mine. Teeth from the ocean, meant for catching prey.

"I'm talking to you, with the grey hair that has black tips. Can you hear me?"

This time, I talk. He's waiting for an answer now, and I ought to give him one.

"Y-yes."

He smiles again, teeth hidden behind his lips. "What is your name?"

I recall the name I was given by the researchers. On paper, I was 18-24C. In practice, I was The Little Mershark, him, eight-dash, blacktip, sharkie, and, by the one researcher who treated me like something sentient, like something with feelings and fears and the capacity to wonder, I was called "Requiem."

Mostly, though, people just called me "You." It got so common, they started spelling it Y-u-u to avoid confusion.

My favorite name was the one the nice scientist gave me, "Requiem."

"All right. That's a very pretty name, Requiem. What's your last name?"

Oh, I said that out loud. Just the name, I hope. What did he ask? My last name? Well, the closest thing I've ever had to a name is Requiem, so... wait! Humans have a formal name, their last name, and a casual name, their first one. Was Requiem more formal?

It was both. Crap. What do I tell this guy?

"Melanopterus." Well, that's the back half of my scientific name, so... It counts, right?

"M-e-l-a-n-o-p-t-e-r-u-s?"

"Uh... yep."

How did he get that? No matter, I think I have a chance. Maybe, just maybe, this is a place where my existence isn't a mistake. Or, maybe, this is a place where my existence as a mistake is okay.