IC INBOX: INUGAMI

[underlined]

“Uh, hello. You've reached Keisuke... I’m sorry, but I’m not able to pick up right now. Leave me a message and I'll try to call back. Um... thanks, bye.”

[VOICE CALL, TEXT MESSAGING, AND PHOTO SHARING IS ENABLED ON THIS CELL PHONE.]

Comments

text | june 25, evening

[canoodle]

where are you
are you safe??

[underlined]

im... not entirely sure. near the auditorium i think?
ive been trying to keep moving
i dont know...
im not hurt but i dont think any of us are safe

Call | July 15th or something

[chainbroker]

[ Texting's for squares and people under thirty. Ring ring. ]

[ Unfortunately for Keisuke, if- and whenever he answers, he's going to get a strung out and absolutely tortured-sounding drawl over the line for his trouble. ]

Keisuke, have you got a minute?

[ In actuality it's more of a whine, but it's been ground to an irritable point. After all these years, he might have just finally found definitive proof to the argument that there is no god, and it's the lack of nicotine in Adolescent Hell. ]

[underlined]

[CALL FROM: YOUR DAD

Keisuke picks up after squinting at the ID for a second (it actually read "Motomi," of course).]

...Hello?

[Oh... Yeah, he doesn't sound so great. Keisuke remembers that he hadn't had his cigarettes on him in the transfer from Toshima to the school. He feels a stab of sympathy, though he doesn't have much of a frame of reference.]

Um, yeah... what is it, Motomi-san?

text | july 18, evening

[canoodle]

WEHHH KEISUKE EVERYONE HATES ME o(〒﹏〒)o

[underlined]

[If there's any delay in texting, it's because he's squinting at that "face," trying to understand what it is.]

i dont think thats true at all...
whats wrong?

text | july 19, mid afternoon

[prudentiam]

it's been a rough few weeks, and i hear some people have lost all contact. how're you holding up?

[underlined]

have they?
thats not good...
im fine i guess. better than some people i know
just kinda exhausted from watching out for everything all the time
howre you shinichi?

July 13th

[koat]

[ Just another day in Inugami Academy. It feels as if he's steadily growing more accustomed to things here, though he hasn't grown complacent nor has his desire to leave lessened in the slightest, but there's really only so much adjusting one can do in a place so unpredictable. Toshima had been, to Rin, predictable, and in that regard it had almost been safe. Inugami is, obviously, a different story. Without the desire to attend classes diligently, he finds himself wandering most hours of the day, talking with people, keeping up with information about what's going on. He picks up on the fact that others have been receiving things in their lockers again during this time, and decides to check his own just in case. No luck, but maybe Keisuke's been luckier. Classes have been done for a few hours now, so he figures his friend might be back at the stairwell, heading there first without bothering to message him about where he might be - he'll do that if his first guess is incorrect. As he's turning the last corner to the steps, he calls out in a sing-song voice ] Keisuke~ I'm home!

[underlined]

[Keisuke had been utterly relieved to see his clothes in the locker when he opened it. It—wasn't even that he didn't like the uniform. It didn't bother him nearly as much as he had heard Rin complain about it, but he liked having a few more options. It'd been a really careful balancing act of wearing what when, washing clothes (as well as he could) when necessary... All that and the fact that he felt most comfortable in them. It'd been his work uniform for years, so it just sort of felt right after all that time, he guesses...

Now, he hadn't really texted Rin or anything about this because it didn't seem to be as big of a deal as getting their tags back. He had just taken it back to the stairwell, checking it a half-dozen times or so and listening out for approaching footsteps before starting to change. Sure, he could've used a bathroom, but they already had all their other stuff here... it made sense...

At the point that Rin begins to approach, he's pulled on his coveralls, keeping them tied loosely at his waist as he starts to look for where he set his shirts (plural........) down...

Which is when Rin calls out.]

!! [Shit! Where are they?! (Spoiler alert: he'd set them down right when he passed under the stairwell, easily within sight when Rin actually does formally arrive.)]

U - Uh, hold on, Rin, one second!

[He's already starting to turn bright red.]

text | august 13

[canoodle]

[ she isn't entirely sure if she should, but she texts him anyway. ]

are you okay?

[underlined]

[There's ambiguity and ambivalence all around, as Keisuke honestly isn't sure how he feels.

Not bad? But not necessarily good? He doesn't know.

He's happy that she texted, though.]

oh um
yeah i think so... just kind of out of it i guess
howre you?

text @ approx. aug 24 / i'm slow as a snail ad infinitum ..... donates myself to science ........

[bunt]

yo keisuke!! how're you holding up??
wanna see smth rly cool :-O

rip...

[underlined]

oh... im doing ok... its just been really hectic around here all over again
howre you doing yamamoto?
and oh yeah sure. where r u rn?

text | sept 10

[prudentiam]

i know you usually steer clear of our friendly neighborhood natives, but...i think they're up to their shit again.

you see them maybe push anyone around?

[he's being vague, he knows. but with how pissed off he is, going into detail will only piss him off further.]

[underlined]

[Oh... that's not good.]

no...
i saw them snub someone kinda harshly earlier today but nothing physical
did something happen?

[nopperabo]

[ While walking down the hallway after lights out, your character will feel fatigued and drowsy. What happens next is sudden and quiet, as our prankster strikes. Flat fingers jab into your character's sides while a hissed "PSHOO!!!" is heard, the perpetrator ultimately going in for the stupid surprise of "jumper cables." Hopefully you didn't have to pee! Unfortunately, however, when you turn back to see who it might have been, the darkness has already covered them, although a man's stifled laughter is heard.

For the remainder of the 19th, your character will feel as if something is following them constantly, even experiencing the feeling that whatever is following them is ghosting them from only inches behind. ]

19th | late study date

[catenate]

[Despite not really wanting to say anything, he has noticed the shift in Keisuke since yesterday in class. He seems jumpier for one thing, distracted and unable to pay proper attention to what's going on. That's why he's suggested this meet up. They can't use either of the activity rooms as people are sleeping there for sure, so instead they end up in the main area of the gym.

Iwaizumi's taken paper and pens from the art room with the intent of taking the pens back after, but this is so they can actually get some work done on both teaching Keisuke kanji but also so he can teach him some more difficult anatomy words.]

How're you holding up?

[He lays out poster paper on the floor, nudging a mat next to it so they won't get uncomfortable too quickly. He still can't properly feel the ends of his fingers so he's gathered that's a lost cause now, but it does make moving things much easier. He just finds that he has to push harder with the parts of his fingers he can feel to keep his grip.]

[underlined]

[Oddly enough, Keisuke had slipped into a kind of ease in the bizarre circumstances of the school after the first month or two. It was noticeable because he was a guy who naturally gravitated towards nerves, skirting along the fringes of paranoia with the memory of Toshima fresh in his mind, but once he had started to understand systems inherent in this place, he'd started to relax a little. So today, after a particularly nasty scare this morning with no answer as to who or why it had happened, he couldn't seem to shake a feeling was watching him, following him... plotting, or something like that. It was nerve-wracking, so he was sticking to populated areas, trying to fool his mind into calming with the base understanding of "safety in numbers."

So when Iwaizumi seemed to discern from the ether (it wasn't that hard, actually, with how easy it was to read Keisuke) his more-frayed-than-normal nerves and asked to hang out, he eagerly agreed. He trusted the guy, and he was a capable sort as well.

So they end up in the gym, equipped with armfuls of art supplies lifted from the club room. Keisuke's looking nervously into a dark corner when Iwaizumi addresses him; he faces him sharply, dull surprise on his face for a half-second before it resolves into something vaguely apologetic.] I'm - uh. [Usually he would lie ever-so-slightly so others didn't worry, but this was Hajime...] I've just had this - feeling all day, like... I'm being followed.

[He sets down the pens he was carrying next to the poster paper spread on the floor, sitting on the mat that Iwaizumi indicated.] I'm... sure it's nothing. [but...

He's - noticed Iwaizumi's hand a moment late. He's not the most observant sometimes, especially when wrapped up in his own issues.] Your hand...?

text | 10/10

[ex_adept179]

[It might seem rather out of the blue, goodness knows Slaine seldom initiates text conversations, but all the same...

One new message for Keisuke]

If you happen to have a free moment...

Do you know whether cookies require baking soda or baking powder?

[Because obviously people who didn't move to Mars when they were eleven would know these things...right?]

[underlined]

[This is the first time anyone has ever asked him cooking advice.

It'll likely be the last.]

oh um... shit, i dont remember which one dal dal was using
it would probably be powder, right?? i dont know why youd use soda in a cookie

[This is the person you chose to ask, Slaine.]

( study hall, october 12 )

[connote]

( OOC: I lost control of my brain... ... ... )

[ His appetite arrived in unhealthy intervals, sparse in its irregularity of the usual tremors that influenced the rest of his peers during routine, opportune moments - but seemed to have abstained from infiltrating the orbital thoughts that rendered him unintentionally negligent. A voyage of rumination that may as well serve as fodder that barely sustained him, it was a nonsensical journey of collecting meandering trivialities, only succeeding to distract than to recall the importance of whatever conviction he had unconsciously cultivated during the few aimless months spent in the academy. Still, if it wasn't hunger, dull in its once-recognizable need to be satiated, thirst was a natural in persuasion, enticing in its promise to alleviate if he chose to follow after his instincts.

Akira opted for a small carton of juice instead of water. Sporadic intake throughout the initial month was enough to question the dubious taste that assaulted his palate. He has found that its substitute was a seemingly trustworthy counterpart in comparison - the taste was agreeable, and it subdued leftover suspicions, craving eventually satisfied with a favorable aftertaste. He would normally pocket one and withdraw, finding temporary solace elsewhere as his eyes remained forward, an obvious avoidance of startlingly red. However, Akira continued to idle along, eventually cementing himself before a familiar shelf donned with a supply of pudding cups. This time, no one was there to disturb the endeavor of obtaining one, and his grip enclosed around plastic, held under contemplated scrutiny.

A color that hardly frequented the Japan he had always known, he had become acquainted with it now, favoring it over the bland walls of the building that detained various others. It reminded him of the scent of nature, what it meant for the world to remain alive instead of bleak, desolate, nearly permanent in its wasted potential. His memory stirred as if restless, however - a struggle to evoke what he had once disregarded in his obvious detachment. But, rather than dwell any further, he reached for a plastic spoon encased in clear wrapping before abandoning the cafeteria - with an undetermined next time. The academy's whims and what he had desired were hardly in sync, and he fell victim to its caprice. There was a lack of reaction on his part, his nerves calloused towards occurrences that he had long since adjusted to.

Akira entered the open space of study hall with casual steps, like it was his initial destination rather than a last minute detour. He eventually slowed by the edge of a table, pudding cup lowered until it sat confidently on the chilled surface. His peripheral caught the pleasant gleam of one of the windows, granting a decent view of the courtyard outside - and untidy brown hair, a familiar slouch. Akira risked a glance then, heart palpitating in expectation before lulling into its careful tempo. Structured education, companions of a similar age group crammed into organized classrooms, it was something Akira didn't care for, never felt robbed of. However, a glimpse of Keisuke, earnest in the assignments provided, stifled the memories that threatened to escalate. He thought it was oddly fitting - or he wanted to believe so, fending off imagery of hopeless as he pushed the pudding away with purpose.

Instead of conveyed curiosity, he watched the pudding cup, its pale shade of green, glide across the table, curling the corner of paper as its brief adventure reached an end. Akira walked past from behind, but not before dropping the plastic spoon, still in its obvious wrapping, beside it. "Have you eaten yet?", he wanted to ask. But, perhaps that may breach their silent agreement - and his pride wouldn't allow for any damage to be inflicted upon his unspoken promise. Anyway, he wasn't necessarily hungry: just walking around with pudding in tow due to an oddly placed sentiment of recollected memories - solids in its vast selection, and a particular deep green he never once cared for - so it wouldn't be a loss if Keisuke decided that he didn't want it, either.

A seat next to one of the windows, it was less tempting to look over his shoulder, hoards of students situated somewhat behind him, obscuring his general location from where he sat. Removing the carton of juice from his pocket, his grip was moderately limp around it, but firm enough to confirm its tangibility against his palm. Akira finally stared out into the courtyard. He figured he could get used to it now, small encounters like this. ]

[underlined]

[Keisuke had adjusted with alarming alacrity to the new culinary options that the academy had offered him. It wasn't often back home that food of any sort of freshness was available for a price within the range of affordable, let alone being provided for free. It'd actually taken a while to get used to it, unprepared by an understood reliance on a single food staple for sustenance, but since then he's appreciated it. It's one of the few boons of this school, that they didn't have to worry about going hungry. Not that had been the case back home, with both of their steady supplies of income and Solids (and some other food) remaining relatively cheap, but it still remains worth mentioning.

He's adjusted so much to the privilege of ever-present food that he even forgets meals from time to time. Wrapped up too much in whatever horror was currently haunting the student body, or perhaps just too absorbed in whatever spike of homework the teachers had assigned him, he relegates it for "later," another meal he might snatch out of a vending machine rather than eat in earnest in the cafeteria with the rest of the students.

There were a few of the people he counted as "friends" that he might've expected to see in the study hall today, but Akira hadn't been one of them. During the day the room was frequented by students, both native and transfer, that used the place for what it was intended—or a quiet place to get away and rest. So entrenched in the former, Keisuke had neglected to think that his friend might be interested in the latter. He didn't even think to look up from the pages he was scrutinizing before the strange sound of something skidding across the surface of the table he sat out drew his attention. He looks up, eyes locking onto and tracking the movement of the pudding cup until it comes to a halt against his notebook. One could practically imagine a question mark drawn up over his head as he hastily looks up, around, to see who might've done it, turning to catch sight of Akira just as he walked past—but not before placing the spoon alongside the container of food.

Keisuke's shocked, and it's written fairly plainly on his face for a long moment. He has never known Akira to be very considerate—sometimes he could be, though Keisuke thinks often also (or perhaps worries, frets) that it's just something to appease others so it might end up being best for himself. This, however, without the complication of word or intention, anteceded by Akira walking away and assuming a separate place near the window showed that it was meant just as it was. An offer, hazy between either thoughtful or unplanned, but Keisuke ends up thinking that he doesn't mind. As he reaches out to accept the food, moving it slightly closer to him, he decides to attempt to be selfish for just a moment and think that perhaps it was a kind gesture meant just for him, and one he will graciously accept.

That space is still drawn between them is something that Keisuke blames himself for. He can't seem to bring himself to say that the initial request had been born of uncertainty and fear, that an Akira showing up in his classroom out of the blue and telling him a fine weave of things that seemed to perfect to believe might or might not have been another trick of this place. He had wanted time and space to see, and, if he was real, accept what he had declared. Keisuke—feels as though he's gotten closer to that, though speaking with his friends has only made him more confused on the subject of Akira.

But keeping him at arm's length wasn't going to help anything, was it? Keisuke is immobile for several long moments, conflicted, consternated, but eventually he does move. He gathers his notebook and pencils, the gifted pudding cup and spoon, and relinquishes his chair before walking a short distance over to where Akira sat quietly, looking out the window into the courtyard.]

Do you - [voice small and subdued, and not just because of where they were,] mind if I sit with you?

[Back home in the CFC, or even in Toshima, he wouldn't have asked such a thing. It was generally understood. But that wasn't the case here, largely because of his own words and actions. But that's what he's trying to fix, a bridge he was attempting to mend.

But only if Akira was interested. So he waits, mien a faint miasma of nerves, all pins and needles.]

text | oct9

[canoodle]

keisukeeeeeee~~~ you never tried my cooking before yet, right?
are you hungry? OF COURSE YOU ARE
come down to the home ec room
i already made a plate for you~! ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[underlined]

[Like many guys, one of the quickest ways to Keisuke's heart is through his stomach.]

ill be right there

[And no, he doesn't run down the halls because that's against the rules, but he walks very quickly. So quickly, with a high tempo of very long strides, that he might as well have ran. He slows as he nears the home ec room, though, and opens the door as unobtrusively as he can.

It's safe to assume whatever it is she has cooked smells absolutely divine. He reigns in his enthusiasm, greeting her with a,] Hi, Dal Dal.

You... didn't have to... [as he walks into the room, though there's a hesitation in his voice that makes it apparent that he's pretty damn grateful she did offer.]