This year's festival was a dud.
For the Red Guild, at least. Collectively, they had decided that a basketball tournament in the gymnasium would be a good idea, though the main problem was that Purple Crown didn't have many athletes. The sporty types that they did have, however, were all either baseball or soccer players, or wrestlers. In a way, the activity of choice fit those that represented the Harlies in the Academy, since most of the literal ten people there came from some area of North America. One of these Americans had been assigned to work an overzealous project which had all of three people sign up.
Aaron Fletcher, now thoroughly bored by the lack of a turnout, rested behind his station with his head resting on his left fist. In his right hand, he was browsing memes on his phone to kill the surplus time he had, occasionally getting a laugh out of a poorly captioned picture. On a slightly sadder note, due to the busy schedule of his parents and the distance between them, they wouldn't be able to fly out to see him this season, though he had no real way to resent them. He knew they tried their hardest at everything they did and they deserved every break they could get. So, no hard feelings, at least.
His thoughts were interrupted by the passing of the Red King himself, Michael Davis.
"Hey Mike! Next festival, we can't think New York. We've had literally three people sign up all day." He picked up the clipboard on the table that had a mostly empty piece of paper on it, the only names on it being three randoms from throughout the schools.
"Either that... or we offer some incentive. The winners of the tournament win our loyalty for the war. We're the only Guild with good PKers, and that's something everyone wants." He shrugged slightly and set the clipboard down again, hoping that a certain Irish girl would be by soon to give him some company in this lonely corner of the school. For the mean time, he twirled a pen between his fingers while he waited for a response. In a moment, the pen would fly from his fingers and launch down the hall, only to roll away into the main area, where the vast majority of the stands had been set up.
"Goddammit... we have more of those, at least. Ordered like, thirty of the things."
Jiro, being friend he was, leaned on the back wall of the hospital room as Asahi went on to explain everything that had happened. None of it really surprised him, truth be told, though some of the details had been glossed over for one reason or another. Quite the story, as a matter of fact.
"Y'know, something tells me you've seen worse days."AN INDETERMINATE AMOUNT OF TIME LATER
In the normally dark, musty room of Jiro Katsurou, things were taking a much brighter turn. The decorative carpet in the center of the room had been rolled up, shoved into a closet, and replaced with a large tatami mat, a low table had been set in the center of said rug, and five pillows surrounded it. One for himself, one for his father, and the other three for his sisters. They were all coming to visit in a little bit, and Jiro had spent most of the day preparing for this company. For the occasion, he had managed to dig out a tea pot and several cups from a box he had stuffed into the aforementioned closet, which were now in use. He looked up as the door to his dorm was rapped on three times, signalling what was likely his family's arrival.
"Just a moment!" He filled up the teapot and slid it onto the stove, dropping a number of tea leaves in and turning up the heat before pulling the door open.
On the other side of the door was his entire immediate family, consisting of his father and three sisters. For the time being, he shifted back to his native Japanese tongue. Sure, they all spoke fluent English, but this was a special occasion.
"Greetings, father." He bowed low to him and received a similar one in response, before turning to his siblings, whom exhumed a much more casual manner.
"Akane, Hinata, Kazue, it's great to have you all here. Come in, come in, make yourselves at home!" He held the door open for his four guests as they entered, then let it shut when everyone was in.
"This is a very nice place you have here, younger brother. It's usually more of a mess, isn't it?" The vibrantly haired Akane smirked, never missing an opportunity to rib the sole son of the Katsurou family. She got a casual nod in response as she sat on one side of the table, resting on her knees. The others soon formed around her, Jiro choosing to stand for a moment.
"Jiro, you know why we've come, don't you?" The father, Naoki, spoke up as he sat. His knees cracked through the motion, betraying his age.
"Oof... I'm not as dexterous as I used to be..." He laughed slightly to lighten the mood.
"Yes, you said you wanted to enjoy the festival this year. And that you'll be staying for it's duration." At that moment, a loud whistling was heard from the next room over, at which Jiro looked up.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment." He disappeared into that room promptly, setting up a tray of tea.
"He seems bright today. And responsible... surprisingly." The second youngest of the bunch, Hinata, spoke up. She was considered the meek and quiet child of the family, the easy one if you will, as well as the only one without dyed hair in the current generation at the table. She was also the most into Deep Ground out of all of them, and was a bit of a legend back home in Ueda.
"Yeah. I won't complain though, it's nice to see him holding up tradition." The youngest of the family, Kazue, smiled a bit and brushed her hair out of her face. She was the golden child with hair just a little darker than Jiro's, the one that was most likely to end up carrying on the traditional values of the country. Someone in every generation needs to anyway, and she was majorly into the history of her homeland. Off the top of her head, she'd probably be able to list every emperor the nation has ever seen.
"That it is, daughter. That it is. And here he comes now." As if on cue, the son of the family came back to the main room with full tray of cups and a steaming teapot, which he carefully set down in the middle of the table before pouring everyone a glass. Naoki took his cup and sipped at the hot, delicious liquid within. He nodded and set it down as Jiro took his place on the other side of the table.
"I'm glad to see you putting your mother's prized possessions to work. They've gathered enough dust back home." "Yeah, I'm just glad you could all come out here. I know the festival doesn't stop anything outside our bubble here, but you all took the time out of your busy schedules to come see me." The blue haired boy chuckled to himself lightly, shaking his head and looking down with a grin.
"It would've been a lot easier if I went home for the week. And cheaper, too." "Nonsense, brother. Besides, that house was getting a little musty anyway, and we all needed a vacation." "Akane, you really need to appreciate the heritage our home has. The servants of emperors have walked those halls!" The history buff of the group crossed her arms in a huff, staring down her tech-savvy sibling.
"Guys, I have one rule here: Don't fight. Beyond that, do what you want, just keep the peace is all I ask." Jiro gave them both a stern look, silencing the argument that was about to break out before it did. He then cracked a smile at them both, knowing that, collectively, they'd end up in some amount of mischief.
"Oh fine..." Kazue picked up her cup with both hands and sipped at it, savoring the heavy taste of the tea.
"Mmm... you follow mom's recipe for this, don't you?" She got a simple nod in response, much to her delight.
"I'm envious she left it to you... with specific orders to tell no one else what's in it." Hinata habitually flattened out her skirt as she spoke, looking down as she did so.
Jiro couldn't help but smile then, as she was right. In their mother's will, it was specifically stated that Jiro would receive her family's recipe for herbal tea, since he was basically the cook in the family. Long story short, it was quite clear that they had suffered for the time being while he was at Purple Crown.
"You just really want me to make a bunch of food for you guys to take home, don't you?" "...Maybe." She cracked a grin and looked up at her brother, almost begging for something of his make.
"You will cook for us, right?" Jiro smirked visibly, flattered that someone actually took note of his talent.
"Of course I will, it'd be rude of me not to." He happened to glance up at the clock on the wall, a sense of slight urgency overtaking him as he realized how late it really was.
"I hate to cut this short, guys, but I have a performance I need to get to. Settle yourselves in, campus curfew is midnight. If you're back here later than that, don't worry. Just call or text me, I'll let you in." He stood up and walked to a coat rack, grabbing a white track coat and a cardboard box on his way out. The boy received numerous goodbyes and thank yous on the way out the door, and he soon was gunning for the dressing room of the Ebony Strykers.
YET ANOTHER LENGTH OF TIME LATER
Upon his arrival to his destination, Jiro noticed several others already there and getting ready for the coming performance. The only one he recognized, however, was Asahi Goroshi, whom looked like he was about to keel over in his opinion.
"Nē, daijōbudesuka? Anata wa sore o kikku shiyou to shite iru yōdesu." He was confused for a moment when he didn't get a response, then face-palmed when he realized he was still speaking Japanese rather than English.
"Sorry, family's visiting. Anyway, you look like you're about to die. Nervous?" He set the box down on the table beside him and opened it up, withdrawing a white and orange calf-length overcoat, some brown trousers, and host of other items. This, quite simply, was the outfit of Phantom Regality, brought into the real world. The only major inconsistency would be Jiro's blue hair versus the peach color normally owned by his avatar, which he had no intention to change for the time being.
Late in the morning, Aderyn Finch awoke, silently thanking the drama club's performance later that night for being her only commitment. A pair of arms pushed off the warm layers and revealed the thin frame of the Welsh girl. She slowly swung her legs over the edge of her mattress and into a pair of duck-themed novelty slippers and went about her first project of the day; getting a pot of coffee going. Being the girl she was, many would find it surprising that she would settle for bags of ground coffee in the mornings, and yet she did. She plugged in a coffee maker in the kitchen and pressed a brand new filter into the top, soon filling it with the bitter powder that would soon be her favorite drink. She filled up the side with some tap water and started the machine, now heading to the bathroom. Given the age of the contraption, it would likely wake the lump in the other bed in the room that was Masae Kanegawa.
While her coffee did it's thing, Aderyn decided it would be a good time to make use of the bathroom in their dormitory. She padded her way over to the door and pushed it open, lazily closing it behind her and accidentally leaving it open just a crack. In a moment, the water in the shower would be running to heat up while the Brit shed her pajamas, quickly missing their overworn feel. Despite this, she took a moment to examine herself in the mirror. All things considered, she was lucky in a cosmetic sense, given that acne had never taken it's toll on her. Her hair, while in an unkept bedhead right now, was usually straightened out on it's own. Regarding her chest, she was glad to be on the smaller side. She'd heard so many other girls complain about constant back pain because of a large bust, and that was enough to dissuade her from wanting any part of that. Not unlike most, she boasted a flat stomach despite her addiction to caffeine, quite lucky on that end. She turned to the side and examined her rear for a brief moment, nodding to herself that she at least had some level of appeal there, neither too big nor too small. Despite her case of Vrolik's Syndrome, she had developed rather attractive legs and was proud of them, all things considered. Done with her self-criticism, which turned out mostly positive in the end, she stepped into the shower and closed the door, the fogged glass leaving enough to the imagination where her privates would remain private. She could've sworn she heard the door to the bathroom creak as she entered the shower, though she shrugged it off for the moment. There were more pressing matters...
"Masae! Where'd you put my shampoo!?" If the coffee machine hadn't woken her up, that would.
