This Is Part 23 Of The "What If Yuu Didn't Want To Go Back?" Series!

This is part 23 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

I have several questions.

1. Why am I here?

2. Where is "here?"

3. When did I wake up?

5. What time is it?

6. How did I get here?

7. Who are they?

There are several other questions, of course, but these are the ones that press most persistently at my mind. Some are easy enough to answer- Grim's my familiar, of course he's here- while others- maybe there aren't any crickets because of the time? They should be active if it's still night- aren't so obvious.

Ah, well. The lane in front of me is long, as is the portion behind me I've absentmindedly walked prior to realizing I'm not somewhere I already know. The atmosphere here doesn't feel aggressive, hostile, or even unwelcoming. It just feels... calm. Strangely, unfamiliarly calm, like I've been here all my life without realizing it. Like a freshwater fish moved to a cleaner, kinder lake.

On my left and right are smoke-lined "screens" with short videos playing, repeating from what I assume to be the start after a second or two of playing. Each "screen" is about my height, hovering slightly above the ground beside the path, but I soon realize I'm taller. The bottom of the screens aligns with my ankles, not my feet, but the tops are still about level with my scalp. About a meter and a half from the side of the walkway is a row of trees with a deep brownish-black I've never seen in nature, much less alongside the pale blue, almond-shaped leaves. In form, some of the trees resemble simple oak, while others split at the base like birch. The variety is undeniable regardless of trunks: some droop like weeping willows; some branch straight up; some don't bother with limbs and just grow their leaves directly off of their bark. The nonpath ground that doesn't have a tree on it is covered in what looks to be clover, flowerless and evidently lacking in the four-leafed variety, favoring five-leafedness as some noticeable portion of the apparent population.

The path itself is a shifting shade of grey, then purple, then blue, and then I hold my head still and stare. Above me is a strange, dark sky, the same shade as right before a thunderstorm, when dark clouds coat the sky and hide the sun. In spite of the color, not one cloud is visible- just a series of small, silvery streaks, some pale blue and most are a very light, shiny grey that appears white against the dark sky. The streaks are scattered like faraway stars; some even form a bizarre sort of image, a constellation of abstract made to resemble a hundred shapes at once. If I look straight up, they resemble a fox, but if I turn a little to my left and peer slightly lower than before, It's an upside-down stag.

What a weird, wonderful world.

In my arms, Grim starts to stir, yawning as he does when he's sleepy. I smile. How cute. His eyes slowly blink open, and he hops out of my arms to stretch like normal, padding over to sit beside me once he's done.

I wait. Logically, he's going to ask where we are soon- but that "soon" never comes. He just sits there, trident tail silently swishing behind him, until he speaks:

"Where're we gonna go?" He says it so casually; I'd think he knows this place if I didn't know any better.

...Do I?

Maybe he knows. Perhaps this is his signature spell. Perhaps it is not. How should I know? All I've been given are strange, vague clues, many of which would seem so out-of-place anywhere else I'd absolutely remember if I've seen them before.

Grim is in front of me now, his paws moving the loose, sandlike material of the path into a tiny trail, documenting his steps. His eyes are staring right at my face, curious and patient. Heh. Never thought I'd call him that, but here we are. Oh, I should ask him.

"Grim, do you know where we are?"

"Sorta," he starts. "I've been here before." He pauses and looks around for a moment before he continues, "Well, here-ish. The path and trees were a different color, and the screen things weren't floating or smokey. The videos were of other things, too, and there were way more sky streak things. Oh, and the sky was darker."

I look around and focus my attention on one of the videos floating on my right. It's of a young child, about eleven if I had to guess, celebrating something with a group of others who appear to be about his age. Just before the loop restarts, a presumably adult figure who's mostly out of sight starts handing out popsicles, starting with the boy in the center of the screen. The kid doesn't ring any bells, but I recognize him regardless- not because he's familiar, but because his familiar is familiar.

Atop the child's head is a very distinct oppossum. The boy must be Korrak. Is this a memory or a dream? I can't be sure.

I reach out to touch it, and all of a sudden I'm in that park, Grim by my side, as a small Korrak kicks a black-and-white soccer ball into a goal made from what I think is PVC piping. The kids cheer, but the other team, a pair of acne-faced young teens, tries to rush the lady keeping score, claiming "offsides." The lady laughs them off, presumably having seen the goal and the fact that the ball didn't touch any of the sides, and tells them to act their age instead of whining.

A chittering Mandible runs to join the cheering children as they toss Korrak into the air- I didn't know they could do that, but I guess little kids are stronger in groups of fifteen- and an adult hands out the "trophies," one for each winner. Korrak clearly isn't the only one with a familiar, as the instant another grown-up reaches to pass Mandible an ice cube with some grapes frozen inside, a small, many-legged clump of colorful fur bolts to her, barking and cooing and chittering and meowing that doesn't seem to be speech so much as just shouting. As the treats are handed out, I see a border collie, a raccon, a cat, and a pigeon quiet down and rest beside their respective winners to rest and eat. The border collie, still not fully grown, jumps onto the lap of a boy with brown hair that reminds me of tree bark, while the raccon runs to a young girl I don't clock as "not a boy" until she undoes her ponytail. The cat, a mostly white shorthair with black paws, an equally dark head, and a tail to match sits on the back of a very pale boy with hair that makes his skin look worse as he lies on his stomach to eat, and the pigeon flies directly into a nearby oak tree, where a small, dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks and wide eyes climbs to meet it.

Eventually, small Korrak finishes his reward, and, tongue stained purple, announces that his mom told him to be back before dark, and leaves, Mandible on his shoulder. The sunset has dyed the sky a bright, beautiful orangey-red, and then I am back in on the path, Grim beside me all the same. The portion of the memory is still looping like is was before on the smoke-lined screen, as though nothing changed. Nothing did. How odd.

Wait, I said something. There was a phrase- "memoir lake," was that it? No, it couldn't be. I don't see a lake.

"Weird," begins Grim. "I've never tried to go through one of those before. Did you see how the grass kinda doubled and split when we touched it? Like, some of it was unaffected, but some was kinda see-through and didn't just phase through my paws."

"I wasn't paying attention to the grass..."

Grim shrugs with his little kitty shoulders. "Fair enough. I barely did." He pauses, paws shifting nervously on the sandlike path. "I used to just...be somewhere a lot like this sometimes. I'd start at the end of the path, and there'd be a light of some kind, and I'd touch it like you did with that memory thing, and..."

I remember. I never went anywhere particular to find Grim, he'd kind of just... show up. I would fall asleep in the woods, as one does when they aren't attending a prestigious magic college, and wake with my familiar in my arms or curled against my stomach. I never questioned it; he'd been appearing like that for years. It'd been part of my "normal" since I was a little kid, and I thought nothing of it, the way rich kids think nothing of their money until they learn their classmates live without it.

I smile. My magic was always there, I suppose, I just couldn't use it until I was there, too.

My magic. My magic. My magic. Is that really what this is?

Grim finally asks me what I've been asking myself: "Is this your signature spell?"

It's mine or his, right? Grim's been seeing this kind of magic for years, and it connected to me then, so it has to be one of ours, right?

I stop and look left. Another memory, with an even younger Korrak. He looks to be hiding behind a small pile of black plastic trash bags, presumably playing hide-and-seek. An adult, a presumably a police officer, steps into the frame, head and chest still out-of-sight. He steps loudly around, leaving a young Korrak to breathe again with relief. The memory loops. I watch, still and silent, as a Korrak who can't be any older than six dashes into an alleyway, digs 'neath the garbage bags, and stashes himself away, holding his breath.

I break away when the cop leaves again. What the hell? That didn't look like a game.

Before I can stop it, my hand reaches out and presses against the screen. For a moment, it feels as though the world has stopped, and then I'm standing on sidewalk as a slight breeze ruffles my hair. Small Korrak bolts through my legs like they aren't there and forces his body against its momentum to make a sharp left into an alleyway. The cop runs up, noticeably slower than the five-or-so-year-old, and stops affront the escape route. He walks forward, slowly, boots thumping on the concrete, and I follow.

The police's face is blurry and obscured. This is a memory, and Korrak didn't get a good look at him, so that's not too surprising, but when I fall onto the trash bags I realize Grim was right- each bag duplicates into two, one of which phases through me, and the other of which doesn't.

The cop leaves, Korrak exhales, and I watch as he cries. Cries little child tears, curling into a ball of scared with Mandible clutched in his arms. The trash bags must be some kind of safe haven to him. Is that why his headphones were where they were when we found them?

A small, quiet whine tries and fails to echo in the dark outdoor halls. Mandible chitters. I don't know what he's saying.

The memory ends. I'm back on the path. What is there to do now but learn more?

I step twelve paces forward. All of the screens' loops would suggest Korrak has never had a house. Further back, more of the same. Farther and farther into his past I glance, and there is not a single instance of Korrak being raised by humans. I don't see a single plane.

The "pilot parents" lie has been very disproven. He grew up homeless? That explains so much! The fighting must have been a necessity out there, and the aforementioned lie was a practiced cover for why everything he owns fits in a single bag. He was probably raised by opossums, too, and learning a human language was probably a challenge.

Poor Korrak. He must have had a difficult life.

I venture into the nearer past. Teen and preteen Korrak does not appear to have been taken in. He has, however, learned to read, which seems to have lead to an interest in science. He doesn't get to indulge that.

Finally, I see the black carriage approach. He's going to Night Raven. Screens further ahead show the entrance ceremony, our dorm room, the Backstage Room, us. Rook taking him to Vil's room. The leaders of Pomefiore taking him and Mandible under their wings as they did Grim and I.

Vil brushing Korrak's hair while Rook smooths Mandible's fur with a brush. Getting a phone for the first time in sixteen years, from our housewarden himself. Clutching Mandible in his arms while trying to curl in on himself, just like he did all those years ago, but now Rook is there, too, hugging him- wait, that's the clearing we saw him in!

Much of this is giving me dejá vù. Rook and Vil treat Korrak and Mandible the way they treat me and Grim: like birds encouraging their fledgling chicks to spread their wings and fly. How come I didn't know of this sooner? As glances of the past would suggest, mom and dad- what the hell, they aren't my legal parents or guardians, I'm getting ahead of all this- went out of their ways to give us privacy. How nice.

I jog to where I started. A "fire" burns there, emitting smoke but no flame. I could walk through if I wanted.

"Myeeh, we need to leave! I don't wanna be late," shouts Grim, trident tail straight up. He's right, we need to go! But how do I...

Two words come to mind: a name. My signature spell's name.

"Memory Lane," I say, and I'm back in my bed.

"Hevell228." Idia's voice is as cold and hard as stone as he speaks, anger ready to erupt at any given moment. Somehow, the way he addresses me by my username doesn't remove from the gravity of the scenario. I can't see his eyes, and his hair betrays nothing, still the cool, even, faintly glowing blue of a Minecraft soul torch.

"Yes, housewarden?" I don't sound as meek as I did that first fateful raid, in the middle of class.

"Report." He wants to know. I take a deep breath and pray silently to the devs of every game I know in the hopes they can somehow keep him from taking his inevitable rage out on me. He never has- I'm just the messenger- but my dad wasn't the same, and my fears are ingrained into my skull.

"They came again last night, around 8:54pm. The usual five. We couldn't identify them. They stayed their usual six hours and took their usual quarry. We weren't able to stop them. They engaged with only a few, and we were unable to stop them. But! We were able to save some of the high-quality targets from their grasp. They only made off with seven of the good ones. And eighteen low-quality and eleven medium-quality."

"Ha ha!" Idia's hair turns a triumphant orange. He throws his fists in the air, turns around, and faces me directly. "I knew it! Those noobs stand no chance against the AOE I loaded the defense crews with! GGEZ to them! Finally, it's not a game over for our inventory!"

I smile, sharing his victory- our victory. Ignihyde's victory. It's small, no doubt, but it's not like this is a lifelong fight- and the Culinary Crucible ends tomorrow.

My smile morphs into a smirk. They probably won't come back.

Masterlist

Thank you!! I probably would've missed most of Mafuyu's character if I weren't an N25 main. It's subtle until you read the stories.

I might do one of these again! Currently, I'm thinking Saki Tenma and Ortho Shroud- but I'd have to finish book 6 first, and read a bunch of Saki's stories. Probably gonna be a while. And, thank you!!

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.

So, I decided to try and get Mafuyu's bday card, and,

ONE TEN PULL. OH MY GOD.

From there, I decided to try for her new bday card with my twenty pulls, and

HOW??? MAFUYU I LOVE YOU TOO WELCOMEEEEEEE

This. I have always wondered what the non-overblotters would look like if they were the ones to overblot.

If Ruggie can shove twenty people down the stairs on a regular day, can you imagine what he can do if he overblot

"What if Yuu didn't want to go back" is now officially off hiatus!

Thank you for waiting!