Seta Souji ▫ 瀬多総司 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eatsyourscience) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2012-02-19 12:13 pm
eatsyourscience) wrote in entranceway2012-02-19 12:13 pm
Entry tags:
10; dream action, backdated to Saturday, 2/18
[On waking up, Souji originally found himself in the staff room of Yasogami High School in Inaba. He's disoriented for a moment while the teacher he was talking to, Sofue-sensei, continues to talk about good universities and how to approach studying for entrance exams. Souji interrupts to ask her the date, and surprised, she replies that it's Friday, April 20, 2012.
Souji excuses himself and hurries to the bathroom near the stairs. He feels a little nauseous with uncertainty, as though he had been climbing the stairs in the dark and thought that there was one last step, only to bring his foot down on empty air. It's that lurching, stomach-turning feeling that something is wrong with the reality he has found himself in.
He splashes water on his face and then, with his hands braced against the edge of the sink, notices the roman numeral III on the collar of his uniform jacket.
That isn't right...is it?
Leaving the bathroom, he runs into Ebihara Ai at the shoe lockers. When she notices him heading for the front doors, she asks is he's skipping afternoon classes and offers to join him. They can be back in time for practice afterward, she promises, if they leave now. Souji mutters some excuse--not feeling well, need to get home--and although Ai huffs and sulks, she doesn't insist.
He changes his shoes in a hurry and doesn't return to the classroom to retrieve his things. Instead he half-jogs away from the school, along the road that flanks the Samegawa. There's the man from Souzai Daigaku beneath the tree, the older woman taking a walk like normal, the old man he'd caught the Guardian Fish for down at the riverbank, and further up, the middle-aged man who liked to walk in the fog. They all greet him, recognizing him not as a visitor but as a part of the town. He's more curt than normal as he passes them, his mind whirling with what he's sure wasn't a dream, still certain that this is all wrong somehow.
The Dojima home is empty when he gets there and he doesn't even bother to check the fridge, sitting down at the table in the living room. He turns on the news, just to check the date, then turns it back off again quickly when he hears them remarking about the sudden lack of fog in the region since the end of March.
He sits there while the sun filtering in through the back door stretches across the floor. His phone chimes with messages from Yousuke, Chie, Yukiko, all of them wondering why he wasn't in class, if he's okay. He doesn't answer right away, wondering the same thing himself.
It isn't until Nanako comes in the door and is surprised to see him that he begins to relax into the role he's found himself in. Once he's assured her that he's feeling fine, she joins him at the table, and as the sun recoils back across the floor like a cat preparing for a nap, he helps her with her homework and then with making dinner, and by the time his uncle returns and they sit down to eat, he feels happiness swelling inside him, edging out the uncertainty and uneasiness. They act as though he's been here all along, like this is home. If this is an event, a dream, whatever it wants to be called this time, it can't hurt to play along. And if it's real, then it's exactly what he wanted.
When he wakes up on Saturday, and he's still there, listening to the neighbor's dog bark, feeling the familiar lumps in his futon and the way the light slants through the curtains he can't ever quite get to meet in order to shut it out, he smiles and almost laughs. It doesn't matter if it's real, does it? It doesn't matter if it seems a little off, a little wrong. He should be allowed to feel this way, right? Just for a little longer.
The feeling doesn't last long enough. It's only with difficulty that he ignores the five voices in his head, reminding him that he searched too hard for the truth to give in to a lie now. More troubling, harder to disregard, is the silence from Izanagi. With a sinking feeling, he gets up and goes to school anyway.
It doesn't get better. Sitting in class, things seem less natural. The faces around him, even the three he knows like he knows himself, seem more like masks, too smooth, too plastic when their expressions change. He tries to go along with them and their insistence that nothing is amiss, their friendly teasing with he can't shake the unsettling feeling that's draped over his shoulders.]
[TL;DR: Souji thinks he didn't leave Inaba to go live in Tokyo again, and although he can tell something's not right, he's trying to go along with it because he wants to. Anyone can come in and talk to him, but saving him rights are reserved for Naoto and Amaterasu.]
Souji excuses himself and hurries to the bathroom near the stairs. He feels a little nauseous with uncertainty, as though he had been climbing the stairs in the dark and thought that there was one last step, only to bring his foot down on empty air. It's that lurching, stomach-turning feeling that something is wrong with the reality he has found himself in.
He splashes water on his face and then, with his hands braced against the edge of the sink, notices the roman numeral III on the collar of his uniform jacket.
That isn't right...is it?
Leaving the bathroom, he runs into Ebihara Ai at the shoe lockers. When she notices him heading for the front doors, she asks is he's skipping afternoon classes and offers to join him. They can be back in time for practice afterward, she promises, if they leave now. Souji mutters some excuse--not feeling well, need to get home--and although Ai huffs and sulks, she doesn't insist.
He changes his shoes in a hurry and doesn't return to the classroom to retrieve his things. Instead he half-jogs away from the school, along the road that flanks the Samegawa. There's the man from Souzai Daigaku beneath the tree, the older woman taking a walk like normal, the old man he'd caught the Guardian Fish for down at the riverbank, and further up, the middle-aged man who liked to walk in the fog. They all greet him, recognizing him not as a visitor but as a part of the town. He's more curt than normal as he passes them, his mind whirling with what he's sure wasn't a dream, still certain that this is all wrong somehow.
The Dojima home is empty when he gets there and he doesn't even bother to check the fridge, sitting down at the table in the living room. He turns on the news, just to check the date, then turns it back off again quickly when he hears them remarking about the sudden lack of fog in the region since the end of March.
He sits there while the sun filtering in through the back door stretches across the floor. His phone chimes with messages from Yousuke, Chie, Yukiko, all of them wondering why he wasn't in class, if he's okay. He doesn't answer right away, wondering the same thing himself.
It isn't until Nanako comes in the door and is surprised to see him that he begins to relax into the role he's found himself in. Once he's assured her that he's feeling fine, she joins him at the table, and as the sun recoils back across the floor like a cat preparing for a nap, he helps her with her homework and then with making dinner, and by the time his uncle returns and they sit down to eat, he feels happiness swelling inside him, edging out the uncertainty and uneasiness. They act as though he's been here all along, like this is home. If this is an event, a dream, whatever it wants to be called this time, it can't hurt to play along. And if it's real, then it's exactly what he wanted.
When he wakes up on Saturday, and he's still there, listening to the neighbor's dog bark, feeling the familiar lumps in his futon and the way the light slants through the curtains he can't ever quite get to meet in order to shut it out, he smiles and almost laughs. It doesn't matter if it's real, does it? It doesn't matter if it seems a little off, a little wrong. He should be allowed to feel this way, right? Just for a little longer.
The feeling doesn't last long enough. It's only with difficulty that he ignores the five voices in his head, reminding him that he searched too hard for the truth to give in to a lie now. More troubling, harder to disregard, is the silence from Izanagi. With a sinking feeling, he gets up and goes to school anyway.
It doesn't get better. Sitting in class, things seem less natural. The faces around him, even the three he knows like he knows himself, seem more like masks, too smooth, too plastic when their expressions change. He tries to go along with them and their insistence that nothing is amiss, their friendly teasing with he can't shake the unsettling feeling that's draped over his shoulders.]
[TL;DR: Souji thinks he didn't leave Inaba to go live in Tokyo again, and although he can tell something's not right, he's trying to go along with it because he wants to. Anyone can come in and talk to him, but saving him rights are reserved for Naoto and Amaterasu.]
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She's not entirely surprised to find herself in a facsimile of Yasogami High. She scans the corridors, eyes peeled for the one who may have brought this reality here]
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dream Naoto is in blue hurr hurr
Where are you going, Senpai?
[...Oh shit, dream Naoto, you are making this confusing.]
Fun times!
She approaches, focusing on Souji rather than her doppelgänger]
Senpai. We need to go.
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...What is this?
What do you mean, Senpai?
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It's a dream, I think. Definitely something of the mansion's doing. It's trying to trick us into thinking these versions of reality are true but they're not. We're still in Wonderland.
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He nods and steps toward the real Naoto. The one from the dream takes hold of the hem of his uniform jacket, but Souji disregards her and continues forward.]
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Out in the hallway finally, Souji offers Naoto and Ammy a small smile.]
Thank you.
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It's the least I could do, Senpai. You risked your life to save mine, once, I could hardly stand back and allow this place to potentially claim yours.