Fate Sarutobi's Story

Fate entered the kitchen still half asleep. His aunt was already up making breakfast. The smell of bacon made Fate even hungrier than he already was. "Good morning." Fate said to his aunt. She said the same thing back as she handed him a plate of food. They talked as they ate. She was one of the few people Fate could open up to, and the only person words came easily around. "Are you excited for your first day at Uta?" Fate's aunt asked. The boy nodded as an answer. "Excited and nervous." He finished eating and left, after saying goodbye to his aunt. The house was only about a half mile from the house, so he decided to walk it.

As he walked, he hummed his favorite song of all time. Daia no Hana, the opening to his favorite anime of all time Black Cat. He was ready to sing his heart out as he walked up to the fancy school gates. It was going to an incredible school that's for sure.

Fate entered the gates to Uta. Having no idea where to go from here he looked around a little. There was a crowd gather at what seemed to be a pool. "I'll be avoiding that." He decided to go inside, see if he could find someone who knew what they were doing. Adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder, he took off.

Going inside hadn't gotten him away from the crowd, there were still a lot of people inside. It was a school after all, there would be way to avoid people completely. Fate did his best to put on a non-hostile look, people usually judged him from his appearance, not bother to get to know him before writing him off as a bully. Somehow he found his way to a cafeteria, there were a few people inside, but not many. Which was good in Fate's eyes. Looking around he saw a very foreign looking man. His hair was white and his eyes were blue. Guessing that he knew English better than Japanese, Fate approached the stranger and spoke to him in broken, heavily accented English. "Do you know where registration is?" His voice was quiet and unconfident, showing both his lack of knowledge in the English language and his shyness.

Tristan Aeol

He had just manage to carve the entire peel off in one piece when he heard a voice:

"Do you know where registration is?"

It was quiet, the Asian accent heavy. Clearly this guy(?) wasn't entirely fluently. If at all. And even though he sounded shy, he was still talking to him. For some reason.

Tristan debated not even acknowledging him. The orange was tempting....but he didn't want to be too rude. He nearly sighed.

Without looking up, Tristan pointed in the direction of the long, if not almost blatantly obvious line of new students. You could almost see them out the cafeteria window. How did this guy miss it?

Arm still up, he peeled off an orange slice with his other hand and stuffed it in his mouth. Yay, citrus! He hoped the guy would leave soon...if he was a lingerer, there would be problems.

Fate sighed at the man's rather rude response, or lack of. He looked in to the direction that the man was pointing toward, and saw a line out the window. In his haste to avoid people he hadn't even thought that the crowd WAS the registration line. "Thank you." He said to the man. Though it sounded more like. "Sankyu." He walked away from the man and back out of the cafeteria. Fate got in the registration line, cringing as someone walked up behind him. He was surrounded by people right now, not something that he liked. The person tapped Fate's shoulder, causing him to jump. "Is this the registration line?" they asked in Japanese. Fate turned to answer them. "I think so." Fate answered honestly. The person's expression changed when they saw Fate's hairstyle, it went from friendly to wary in an instant. Great, more people judging him by his looks. They muttered their thanks and did their best to ignore Fate. Once again the singer sighed. The school was incredible, but the people were the same jerks as everywhere else. Fate's first goal at Uta, find someone who didn't judge him by his looks and actually tried getting to know him first.

People.

Saki had wandered for nearly 20 minutes now, the halls seeming as endless as they did identical. But it wasn't entirely fruitless; she had found people. A long line made it's way into what looked to be a cafeteria, various ages and sizes, some clutching instruments and some not. She made her way to the stream of what looked to be students, passing by two boys, one dour and one shy. She looked at the exchange, which struck her as a little odd. She had been wandering for too long though, and she needed to know. The shy one walked away.

"That's registration, correct?" She asked the one remaning sharply while looking annoyed.

She was no good at this. She forgot how long it had been since she had communicated with someone her age. Had it been a year already? It was 11th grade, as she remembered it, and in english class, but to whom?

It didn't matter. She wasn't here to make friends anyway. No, it was to uphold the family name, or rather, their family name. She didn't figure it to be a big deal anyway, or at least, she wasn't too concerned with how people saw her...

Except she was.

"I mean..." she started, glaring at the floor as if to direct her self-frustration at something else "Would you please tell me if that's indeed the line for registration."

She sighed. Being cordial was harder than she thought.

Tristan Aeol

No sooner had the guy left was he replaced by someone else, this time a girl, asking Tristan for directions. Did this school not put up any signs for this? Why could two students be oblivious to something, he thought, was very obvious?

He finished up his orange as he pondered the girl's questions. Again, he didn't look up or make eye contact. She had asked him two questions. Were people determined to talk to him? What exactly was it about him that looked inviting? Because he wanted to change it, pronto.

Would he please tell her? No...well, he could. But he didn't want to talk. Deciding to go along with his previous solution, he swallowed down the last orange slice and pointed towards the registration line, hoping she would get the hint.

When his father's alarm clock began sounding off its repetitive, annoying-beyond-all-reason BEEP BEEP BEEP, he almost snapped his pencil in half in his surprise. Once he'd recovered from the initial shock, he sighed irritably, eye twitching in visual annoyance. His dad was the only one out of the two of them to suffer from jet lag, though it seemed to Dameon that he was the only one paying the price. This wasn't like his dad at all. Usually, his dad would've been up at the crack of dawn, coffee in hand, watching the sun rise. Nope. Not today. Not in Japan. When jet lag hit the man, it had hit him hard; this was the third day in a row that the man had slept in, and Dameon was downright sick of it by that point. He was not a patient lad. At least, from that point on, he'd be living in a dormitory, and his father would (hopefully) hop on the first flight home.

Again, he sighed, sliding his pencil between the rings of his spiral notebook and slipping it into his bag. Damn the time! He'd been writing a random story that had come to his mind, and he'd been on a roll, too! Of course, the main character was in the process of being horribly killed, but he'd still been on a roll nonetheless! Shit happened, in the real world or otherwise, he told himself. The real world is just a bunch of rubbish.

Stretching luxuriously as he stood, Dameon then walked over to his still-snoring dad. He lifted up his leg and gave the man a rough, well-placed kick to the side, which almost ended up knocking him off the bed. At least it roused him, or started to, at least. His father grunted and rubbed his eyes, but his lack of sitting up or showing any other signs of moving irked his son further. I've had enough of this... If the old man wants to say goodbye, he'd better do it! "Wake up yeh boggin' old gobshite!" he yelled. On the inside, he was yelling at himself shortly after, however, for letting his carefully-constructed normal accent slip, and the Irish shine right through. Swearing all sorts of unseemly things in his head, he prepared to attempt to wake up his dad again, when the man suddenly shot up in his bed.

"Dameon, boy! Yer leavin' today, ain't yeh?"

"Yes, Dad!" he replied, exasperated.

Surprisingly, his dad chuckled before pulling him into a tight hug, one only a father could give to his son. When he let the boy go, he pushed him away playfully. "Well, away an' pull yer wire, then! Got yer, eh, Jap language down, do ya?"

To spite the man, he responded entirely in Japanese. "Yeah, Dad, now shut up! If I get any more of your Irish stuck in my brain, everyone will think I'm some invalid!" Smirking in triumph at the blatant confusion upon his father's face, Dameon switched to Irish one last time, hand clutching the doorknob and bag slung over his shoulder. "Bye, Dad," he said with a smile before opening the door and leaving.



After what had to have been the longest ride on any public transportation vehicle Dameon had ever been on (and ever wanted to be on), and a short walk, he found himself at what, according to his map, was Uta. He stood just in front of the gate for a minute to collect himself, although he really was only thinking one thing. Aliliú! This school is fockin' huge! And it was. It was at least twice as big as any school he'd ever been to. He almost got pushed over a few times by students milling about as he stood there and just... looked at it. It took a lot of effort to get a move on. Get your arse in gear, Louis! You look like a peasant! That was one thing his pride wouldn't allow.

It was when he was almost inside the school itself that he realized that he had absolutely no idea where the hell he was going.

He stepped over to the side to stay out of the way of others, and took a good look around. A whole lot of people seemed to be outside. Did that mean that he was supposed to stay outside, then? Was there something he was supposed to be doing? Japanese schools were weird. So damn weird. He began to feel a bit nervous, and paled slightly. Where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to do? On the verge of frantic, his gaze found a crowd of students doing... something. It looked rather organized, though, for a crowd. Hello, dumbass, it's a line. Oh.

What the line was for, he could only guess, but he forced his feet into motion and began to wander towards it. The kids in the line looked pretty lost, too. That was a good thing. That meant that he wasn't the only one, thank God. He entered the line, although due its crowd-esque nature, he ended up farther in than he'd thought he'd be able to, though not of his own volition. He was being pushed by people shifting and shuffling this way and that. It was really starting to get on his nerves, but what took the cake was when he was knocked into hard enough to bump (quite roughly, unfortunately) into someone else- that someone else, he found when he turned to gruffly apologize, was an... emo kid?

Dameon blinked at the person he'd been pushed into. His hair pretty much covered an entire side of his face. It was tough work keeping his face from morphing into an expression of 'What-the-hell-am-I-looking-at-here?'. He quickly convinced himself that it was probably a cultural difference, something he just wasn't used to. Maybe the Japanese were fond of peek-a-boo bangs.

"Uh..." Wow, it was harder than he'd have thought to keep from staring. "Sorry?" It came out like more of a question than a statement, and for that, he started kicking himself on the inside. Hooray for starting off the day on the right foot.





"Rise and shine, Princess! School today, remember?"

Anaïs groaned loudly into her pillow, signalling to the other person to leave. But, he didn't. Soon, she felt herself being shaken, and she, on reflex, jumped out of bed immediately, going into a sort of mediocre combat position. She exclaimed in surprise as she did so, and the Japanese man who'd awoken her just stood there and laughed. Soon, she started laughing, too, a lazy, tired, good-humored laugh. They stayed like this for a minute or two, before her mother's friend, Tadashi was his name, told her to get ready to leave. With a sluggish "Aye aye, cap'n", she set about doing so, dressing in something appropriate (er, in the most appropriate clothing this French girl owned, at least). Things went relatively quick after that; a quick debate about her clothes, an equally quick breakfast, and then, the pair climbed into the elder's car and sped off, in the direction of Uta Academy. Time seemed to fly by, and the teenage girl amused herself in the car by watching the scenery pass. It was all very pretty, but nothing like home. Maybe that was what made it so enticing. Sadly, the next thing she knew, they were at the school.

Anaïs rather slowly and (as it would appear) unexcitedly slipped out of her "Uncle's" car, lazily waving goodbye to her mother's Japanese friend once she had. Tadashi smiled and waved back to her, and, after she closed the door, he sped off, leaving her in front of the gate of the school.

Ah yes, the school. She blinked, slowly, and turned around to face it in the same manner. Oh wow, she thought, and a smile came to her face. What a nice place! Gosh, I wonder if I'll make any friends here. I think I will. I hope I will! It'd suck if I didn't... Maybe there'll be kids from France here, too! Maybe I'll become friends with them! Maybe best friends! Gosh, that'd be just awesome! I hope they're not jerks... that wouldn't be awesome. That'd suck. It'd suck a lot. Beaucoup de suckage.

Slowly, lackadaisically, she began to move towards the gate. It was here that someone caught her eye: a girl, a girl with a mask. But it wasn't a cool mask, like in that movie Anaïs really liked, Friday the Thirteenth. It was like a... surgical mask. Why the heck was she wearing a surgical mask? Was she a doctor? But if she was a doctor, what was she doing at a school for singing? It didn't make much sense to Anaïs. She narrowed her eyes in her puzzlement, and, without even realizing, began to walk towards this girl in the surgical mask.

Once she was standing right behind the girl, Anaïs tapped her on the arm to make sure she had her attention. "Hey," she said, in that tired voice of hers. "Heeeey," she repeated, just in case the girl still wasn't paying attention. "Heya, are you... are you a doctor? Because, if you are, that's cool. Like, eh, really cool. Reeeeaaaally cool. Hey, do you have a... oh gosh... uh... forgot what they're called... uh..." She clapped her hands together suddenly. "Oh! Ohhhh! Yeah. Yeah, do you have a scalp...el? Scalpel? Yeah, do you have one of those? If you do, can I see it? I think those are cool. Heeeeeey, what're you doing at a singing school if you're a doctor?" Anaïs tilted her head to one side curiously. "Don't you have... doctor things to do?"

Saki watched the interaction as she took place in the line behind the shy boy and what looked to be a foreigner. The look on his face was incredulous, though she couldn't figure out why. The shy boy didn't look all that strange, did he? He said something, though she didn't quite pick it up.

Irish?

She couldn't recognize the accent, but that was what first popped into her head. It was as good a guess as any, she supposed, and so she shrugged the thought off. Between the albino boy she met just a second earlier, the shy one, and this foreigner, the student body was already reflecting the multiculturalism her 'mother' had bragged about. She didn't care either way; she knew that she was fairly strange as well, all things considered.

"Whatever, I won't judge." She said to herself quietly.

She disliked lines, more so than most could claim to. They reminded her of her time in the child welfare office when she would stand around for hours, people about their business, ignoring her presence. A waste of her time. She massaged her temples a bit, feeling the onset of a headache coming on. It didn't help thinking about the past, but she certainly couldn't help it sometimes. It just came naturally.

Twiddling her thumbs, she looked up at the boys. She knew better to say anything, as it would be assuredly rude, but she couldn't help observing people that were roughly her age. She rarely had friends, and as such, current trends and fads often escaped her.

She only wondered how much of a liability that would be. Social Pariah wasn't how she wanted to be described in the yearbook, after all.

Someone got knocked into Fate rather roughly. Using his surprising strength he was able to stay on his feet. He examined the person. It was another foreign man. This one had blonde hair. He turned to apologize, then got a look at Fate's hair. Like most people his expression changed to something less than friendly. "Sorry?" he said, but it was more of a question than an actual apology. He spoke with an accent, but Fate couldn't tell what it was. There were more people now than there had been before, Fate was starting to get a little claustraphobic and wished the line would move faster. "Its alright." He said in a soft, nervous tone. Getting irritated by the foreigner's staring he added, "Its usually less distracting than what's underneath." Then went silent. Eyes nervously watching the people around him.

The sweatshirt was green.

The fall of the soft fabric momentarily distracted Esme, who caught it reflexively. When she saw that it was a sweatshirt, she tilted her head back to see if she could find whoever had dropped it. It was to no avail, however, for she barely managed to see a door closing on a balcony before it clicked shut.

With a sigh, she turned her gaze down to the congregation of people around her. "Nice to meet'cha Jun!" she said, flashing him a silly grin. She scowled when he ruffled her hair, pouting at the way that he treated her as a child. When he suddenly left, she glared. "Fine then, just leave!" she called after him with an eye-roll.

Returning her attention to the remaining people, she offered them all a bright smile, for she already was feeling better. She tugged the sweatshirt over her head, not wanting whoever it was that gave it to her to feel as if she were ungrateful for it - if they were watching.

"I'm fine, really ... Really, I'm okay ... C'mon, mates, we can all have a great cheer now that I'm recovered ..." She repeated several of these phrases over and over, obviously becoming annoyed by the second. Finally, the crowd began to disperse, people's attentions turning to registration and readying themselves for the Newcomer's Ceremony.

At that moment, however, two small boys ran up to her, peppering her with questions. She liked them immediately. With a silly smile on her face, she leaned over and patted them almost robotic ally on the heads. A blonde girl, who was surprisingly shorter then she was, appeared at that moment, offering to help her.

"No, I'm alright now, darling. I had a bit of trouble a moment ago, but everything is grand. No help is needed here!!" she exclaimed, in her outlandish way.

With that, she skipped off, her cheery self once more, to check-in at registration. Although, it wasn't really needed, for she had attended the school for the last two years. She hopped into line anyway, humming softly to herself, and began to poke and prod a tall, blonde boy in front of her, directly between the shoulder blades. She steered clear of the scary guy beside him - because he was really scary-looking - but poked at the blonde boy repeatedly. "Hey mister, you wanna lolly?" she asked, her British accent thick and obvious. She flashed him a grin and held up a sucker.

"H-Hey! Slow down! Can't you take some time to actually look at what's around you! I mean, come on! This place it huuuuge!" Ren exclaimed, pulling his younger brother by his hood which Sora paid no mind to while he kept on walking forward, being a bunch stronger than his weak older brother.

"Don't need to... We need to find our dorms. I don't like going through crowds and all these people..." Sora said, taking glanced at all the students around him. He put on a bit of a disgusted face, but that's mostly just because he hated crowds and felt uncomfortable around that at all times.

Even with being half brothers, Ren didn't seem to notice as he walked up towards a blonde haired young man, though he was a little short for his age if that was true, and another who had black hair which covered one of his eyes. The older brother immediately suspected he was either a kid walking around, while Sora predicted he was just a short student. We all know who was right in the end, but before he could be stopped, Ren ran up to him, dragging Sora behind him, and shouted, "Heyyyy, do you guys know where the instructions to the dorms are? We're new to this school so we have no clue where anything is unfortunately." He laughed.

Sora was right behind his brother, still listening to music, but had an annoyed look on his face, only taking a single look at the strangers and then ignoring them right afterwards, 'Damn it... why can't we just look on our own?' It was a bit obvious from his aura that he didn't like being around people.

A moment later, though, the two brothers also noticed a girl beside that blonde haired guy, and, as usual, Ren was the first to speak, "Oh, am I... interrupting something?" He asked innocently, not meaning to be offensive in any way, though it didn't sound like it anyways.

"Yes, you are." Sora stated to his brother before grumbling and walking off on his own, deciding to find his dorm by himself rather than stay with a group of strangers. Unlike his brother, Sora was antisocial and just couldn't stand the groups. Especially if he didn't know them.

While he walked towards the dorms, he saw a girl with an odd white and pink hair. He even stopped for a moment just to stare at her, not in one of those perverted, adoring, or romantic types of ways, but more like he was curious, or saw something different, "Strange..." He let the words slip from his tongue, but it wasn't in a bad way, or annoyed way. Sora was just... curious, you could put it, and his way of stating it out loud was saying something that sounded negative, but wasn't meant for that reason.

---

---

Wotamin spaced out while staring at the large building in front of her, not hearing the stranger calling out to her the first time until she repeated, "Heeeey."

"H-Hmm?" Wotamin turned around and saw a girl, who looked young, yet also a bit mature, like she was an adult in some way. Wotamin began her judging a little too early, so she told herself to snap out of it and only listened to what this girl had to say, or ask, of her.

"Heya, are you... are you a doctor? Because, if you are, that's cool. Like, eh, really cool. Reeeeaaaally cool. Hey, do you have a... oh gosh... uh... forgot what they're called... uh..."

"Doc...tor?" Wotamin asked, tilting her head a bit, though she didn't remove her mask still. She'd ran into the situation a couple of times really. Some people noticed she was sick and was alright with it, but others thought she was a roaming and young doctor or something. Yet each time she was asked the same question, she always reacted like she was surprised, even though she's heard it over and over again.

"Oh! Ohhhh!" Wotamin almost jumped at her sudden increase in volume, but still listened, never the less, just a little shaken from her balance was all, "Yeah. Yeah, do you have a scalp...el? Scalpel? Yeah, do you have one of those? If you do, can I see it? I think those are cool. Heeeeeey, what're you doing at a singing school if you're a doctor? Don't you have... doctor things to do?"

For a while, Wotamin just watched this girl in front of her before letting out a gentle laugh. Her voice rang with maturity, sounding very much like a fully grown woman, especially with that height of hers which resembled one as well. Not to mention she even talk calmly and sweetly like a mother would to a child, "I'm not a doctor actually, dear. I'm just really sick is all." She didn't notice she might have sounded like she was trying to warn her, and she knew that if she did that, it'd be hard for her to get along with people, so she continued talking, hoping she didn't sound threatening with her illness, or because of how she sounded and looked like an adult, "I-I don't have a scalpel, in fact, I don't even have anything sharp on me at the moment. Unless you mean something like cooking utensils, then... I suppose that would count." She let out a slight childish giggle.

Then Wotamin looked at this girl again and a thought occurred to her, 'W-what if she's a teenager? I-I'm terrified of them... Oh dear... what am I supposed to do now...' She almost went stone cold after thinking this, having trouble dealing with older people or teenagers.

The guy looked less than pleased, but, no matter how hard Dameon was trying at that moment, that odd look on his face refused to vanish. He could still feel the expression on his face, taunting him, making a complete and utter ass out of him. There was no question; he would be friendless and alone for the whole damn year now. Oh well, he started telling himself in his dismay. better luck next year. Maybe, by then, I'd've stopped acting like a complete jackarse...

"Its alright," said the emo guy who was certainly a nice person and totally not an emo. His voice was rather quiet, Dameon noticed. It almost didn't match up with the way he looked. "Its usually less distracting than what's underneath." At this, Dameon narrowed his eyes. Not in judgement, but rather, in curiosity. Underneath? "What's un-" he cut off the question mid-word and shook his head. STOP BEING AN INSENSITIVE DICKHEAD! He looked away, having had more than enough of embarrassing himself. "I mean, shit, I'm sorry for staring," he mumbled. "It's just that, where I come from, no one does their hair like that, and it's never as dark as yours is and... Damn it... Hey, uh, sorry if my staring uh... unsettled you, alright?" Looking down still, he nudged a small rock with his foot. Sometimes, socializing was a giant thorn in his side. But if he didn't socialize, he wouldn't make friends, and if he didn't make friends, well, who would laugh at his jokes then?

A moment or so later, he felt someone prodding him on the back, trying to get his attention. Brow raised, he turned and saw a girl standing there, chipper as you please. She looked a bit... damp? Like she'd just gotten rained on. "Hey mister, you wanna lolly?" she asked, voice light with the accent of a bona fide Brit. She beamed up at him, and procured said lolly. He blinked. Two thoughts had run through his mind at the same time. Aces, she's from Britain! and I've got no idea where that candy has been.

A heartbeat later, he smiled. "Hey, uh, I just brushed my teeth, you know, and, well, wouldn't wanna spoil the flavor," he replied, letting the mask of normality over his voice slip in the slightest. "But, hey, ah, are you, by any chance, from England? 'Cause, well, that'd be the bee's knees!"

The foreigner started to ask what was underneath Fate's hair, but stopped. Instead, "I mean, shit, I'm sorry for staring," he mumbled. "It's just that, where I come from, no one does their hair like that, and it's never as dark as yours is and... Damn it... Hey, uh, sorry if my staring uh... unsettled you, alright?" Fate did his best to smile in a friendly way, but it was more awkward and unnatural than anything else. "I understand, really." Before the foreigner could say anything else, he was poked by a child-like girl with pink hair. Hey mister, you wanna lolly?" she asked. Her voice held yet another European accent. "I'm surprised by all the foreigners, I didn't know Uta was such a famous school." With the two strangers talking with each other, Fate turned his attention to the line. It seemed that it was almost their turns. Which was good because Fate did not like being around so many people. Fate and the two foreigners made quite the odd group so they were getting a bit of attention. He could literally feel the stares as they saw his hair. Maybe he should pin his hair back one day, give them something to really stare at. Maybe then they would leave him alone.

Her eyes widened as he turned and fixed his gaze on her. When he spoke, she let out a delighted laugh and threw her hand up in front of his face, the lolly no longer in hand. "All right, mate?" she asked, smiling brightly at him, her hand waving around in the air, seemingly without any course. "And you're an Irish ... No, Brit ... Hm, both!" she exclaimed, doing a twirl. "That's quite blinding!"

She threw her hand out in his direction. "Esmeralda Farcaley, at your service, my darling! And who might you be?" she asked, narrowing her eyes up at him. "Not a big moron, I hope. Are you a big moron? You don't look like one, but you might be! You have really pretty eyes, and I like them, a lot. Are they naturally that blue? Oh, wait, I shouldn't be asking that, when you're probably wondering if my hair and eyes are actually naturally pink ... Which they are! I'm a hypocrite, aren't I? Anyways, it's nice to meet'cha! I'm a junior, sixteen years. How old are you? Oh! I'd bite your arm off for a friend like you, a fellow Brit. Care to be mates?" she asked cheerily, waggling her fingers underneath his nose. "By the way, how tall do you happen to be? Your a short fellow, aren't'cha? Taller then me, though, and that's what I can say!"

Esme cast a glance at the dark boy beside the British-Irish one she was talking to, her eyes narrowed. "You're scary-looking, y'know that? Why're you so creepy? Stop being so scary!" she exclaimed. She darted behind the blonde, Brit-Irish boy, peeking around him at the black-haired one. "Are you a bully or just a big moron?"

If someone had told Robin Dumas two years ago that, after graduating his last year high school, he would find himself standing in line to register for Uta Academy, he would have laughed at you for a good minute before apologizing and walking away, still chuckling under his breath. There were just so many things wrong with that sentence that it couldn't have helped but draw a laugh out of the French boy. For one, Uta was the premiere academy for all things musically inclined and Robin was quite certain that even if he ever applied, he would never even stand a chance against applicants aided by money, family connections, and musically training that spanned their entire lifetimes. For another thing, it was all the way in Japan and why on Earth would Robin ever leave France, his family, his entire life to study in another country? Lastly, and most importantly, two years ago he firmly believed that he would be joining the family business after graduating. It was easier financially, he wouldn't have to leave home, and he was good at baking. So, thanks for the laugh, but Uta Academy was never going to happen.

Except that it did. With his family and friends' insistence, he tried out for Uta Academy on a lark. Oh, he did try his best, preparing at least a month in advance, working his song until he was practically singing in his sleep, hands nervously twitching with the notes of his trumpet. And, yes, it had gone reasonably well, even if he thought that he'd completely flubbed it during the second chorus. However, he wasn't exactly waiting by the mailbox, waiting for the postman to come by with an acceptance letter. Uta Academy had hundreds of applicants each year, the best of the best, the creme de la creme, so to speak. It may have seemed pessimistic to others, but he was just being realistic about his chances. He wasn't going to come home one day to find an acceptance letter on the kitchen counter, hidden beneath bills and his sister's fashion magazines.

And then he did. He could hardly believe it at first, blinking owlishly as his sister ripped the letter from his hands, reading it aloud in her best "I told you so" voice for their ecstatic parents. It was all a blur after that, congratulations flooding over him from people he scarcely knew, bags being stuffed with anything that he might need or want while away from home, books and videos on speaking Japanese piled high on the little mahogany desk in his room. It was madness plain and simple, and even though he didn't start until a year after his schooling was finished, everything seemed to be going too fast until, quite suddenly, he was on the plane to Japan with only a backpack and a carry-on suitcase, instruments and other necessities shipped ahead to wait for him in his new dorm. He spent the plane ride silently, finally able to collect his thoughts as he gazed out the window, taking in the puffy white clouds covering the ocean below.

This was really happening. The thought didn't quite stick until he was inside the Tokyo airport, clutching his backpack strap tightly in one hand, the other clinging stubbornly to his suitcase as he weaved his way through the crowded area, dodging harried businesspeople, noisy families, and reuniting loved ones until he finally found a cab. His Japanese was hardly perfect, but it must have been clear enough as the cab driver dropped him off at a hotel near Uta. It was a day before registration, so he busied himself with other important things like checking in to make sure his other luggage had arrived(it had) and confirming a job offer that he'd been given by a small bakery only a few moments walk from Uta(Yume Bakery was delighted to hire him, his own experience working at his father's shop as well as previous phone conversations really paying off). After all of that, he finally gave into a jet-lag induced sleep, whisked away into a dreamland of music and school that he couldn't quite decide if it filled him with excitement or dread.

Then here he was now, backpack slung over his shoulder, suitcase set by his side as he finished registering. The line of people behind him was considerable now having grown drastically since he first got in line. There were all sorts of people otherwise milling about, a wave of pure noise washing over him, accents ranging from across the world and voices ranging from sweet and soft to brash and loud mingling together in the space.

"There we go, dear," the woman seated behind the table smiled at the French young man, handing him a folder of papers with information that ranged from his schedule and dorm assignment to a list of rules and regulations. "Have a wonderful school year."

Robin smiled in return, remembering to add a little bow before collecting his papers and stepping out of line for the person behind him. Except, well, that person seemed to be busy and they and the two people with them seemed to be drawing enough attention on their own. The one directly behind him was a slightly scary looking young man with long hair covering one side on his face and, my, he was certainly tall for someone who was Japanese. Then there was a blond boy and a shockingly pink-haired girl talking to one another, or, rather, the girl seemed to be doing most of the talking. Their accents were comfortingly familiar, the boy sounding Irish and the girl speaking a mile a minute distinctly British. He thought that the conversation would peter out on its own before, that is, the girl rounded on the taller boy and it took all of Robin's effort not to wince in sympathy. He'd not even met her yet and it was easy enough to see that she didn't have much of a censor. Well, time to step in before the people at the back of the line started riot(which sounded dramatic, but they were at a school for the musical arts; musicians on a whole tended to be terribly dramatic), and tapped the Japanese boy with the interesting hairstyle choice on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt," He said, Japanese stilted as he tried to recall the correct words, his French accent only slightly bleeding into the words. "But you can register now." He tossed in a polite smile there for good measure as he picked up his suitcase and moved out of the way.

"You're scary-looking, y'know that? Why're you so creepy? Stop being so scary!" Fate turned his attention back to the two foreigners just as the small pink haired one ducked behind the blonde one. "Are you a bully or just a big moron?" For a moment Fate was speechless. He had never met anyone who was so bold about his looks before. Then, he smiled, a real smile, not some fake trying to be friendly one. The girl's energy reminded him of the kids he worked with at the daycare. "I'm not a bully, or a big moron. I'm sorry for being scary, but what's underneath is scarier. Especially if you hear the story behind it. Fate noticed that he was using the same tone he used around the kids, but it worked for the situation.

Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt," There was a slight pause, "But you can register now." Fate turned around to see yet another foreigner, this one with orange hair, walking away. The woman at the desk was waiting for him to step forward. So he did. The woman handed him some paperwork to fill out. He did so in neat Japanese characters then handed it back to her. After looking in over the woman handed him a stack of paper. "You're all set, enjoy the school!" The woman said in English. Fate nodded his head in thanks, then started walking away. He stopped, suddenly wanting to wait for the two foreigners. He stepped off to the side and looked at the papers while waiting for them to finished. He liked the two foreigners for some reason, though he didn't know why.

"All right, mate?" the girl inquired, and, raising a brow, Dameon nodded slightly. "And you're an Irish ... No, Brit ... Hm, both!" the lass exclaimed, and Dameon blinked in surprise. Spot on, she was. But for all the odd flattering feelings he got from being identified, a part of him was disappointed. What good was talking through damn near clenched teeth and busting his ass to keep a straight tone if everyone could tell where he was from anyway? All his hard effort? Out the window! "That's quite blinding!" His inner feminine side wanted to wave his hand all daintily and say something along the lines of "Oh stop it, you!", but that would have been weird, so the rational part of his brain shut that down pretty damn quick. Why did he even have an inner woman? Wasn't that... counter productive? Christ, he was fucking weird.

"Esmeralda Farcaley, at your service, my darling! And who might you be?" the gal asked him, but he hardly had any time to answer before she spoke again. She seemed to do that a lot, from what he could tell. "Not a big moron, I hope." Same here. "Are you a big moron?" Christ, I hope not. "You don't look like one..." Aw, I'm flattered. "...but you might be!" ...Thanks. "You have really pretty eyes, and I like them, a lot." Gosh, don't make me start giggling. "Are they naturally that blue? Oh, wait, I shouldn't be asking that, when you're probably wondering if my hair and eyes are actually naturally pink ... Which they are!" Holyshithowdoesthatevenhappen? "I'm a hypocrite, aren't I? Anyways, it's nice to meet'cha! I'm a junior, sixteen years. How old are you? Oh! I'd bite your arm off for a friend like you, a fellow Brit. Care to be mates?" Here, he nodded once again, figuring it was a bit futile to try and slip a word in edgewise for the flood of words pouring from her mouth. Lo and behold, she wasn't even done yet. She waggled her fingers right up under his nose, causing him to take a small step backwards in his surprise. "By the way, how tall do you happen to be? You're a short fellow, aren't'cha? Taller then me, though, and that's what I can say!" Ain't no doubt about it. He tried not to blush. He was still growing, dammit!

He sighed, but, once again, before he could say anything, Little Miss Fountain of Energy acted again. This time, though, she was looking right at the emo guy Dameon had encountered beforehand, her eyes narrowed in what could have been either apprehension or accusation. "You're scary-looking, y'know that? Why're you so creepy? Stop being so scary!" Well, damn. Esmerelda shifted to stand behind Dameon, and he turned his head around to look at her inquisitively. "Are you a bully or just a big moron?" Jeez. Harsh much?

He half expected the guy to flip out on her, for some reason, he wasn't sure what, exactly. But the guy only smiled. It didn't seem like a smile, though. It appears to be little more than superficial. "I'm not a bully, or a big moron. I'm sorry for being scary, but what's underneath is scarier. Especially if you hear the story behind it." God dammit. He was curious again. He wanted to know what was up with this guy! Dameon frowned, trying not to think about it. It was going to eat him up if he kept dwelling on it.

After that, though the emo guy was tapped on the shoulder. At this point, Dameon quit paying attention and as the emo guy moved ahead in the line, he moved ahead with it, turning around to look at his new acquaintance. Time for small talk? Time for small talk.

"So, eh, name's Dameon Louis. And, uh, you were damn well spot on about the nationality thing, you were. I'm an ungodly spawn of a Brit and an Irishman. Nice to meet yer- uh, you. Wasn't sure I was gonna meet a Brit out here. It's hella different from Europe, that's for fackin' sure."

It took him a few seconds to realize it was his turn to register. He stepped up to a real polite-looking lady, who handed him some papers and such. He stared at them for a minute, and his heartbeat took off. Fuck. Kanji. Fucking everywhere. In Japanese, Dameon had about the literacy level of a five-year-old. He understood about... three or four things on the papers each, give or take. So, he narrowed his eyes, put some epic battle music on in the back of his mind, and winged the hell out of those papers. He probably could've asked for help, but no. Pride and all.

In what seemed like no time, the forms were done, and he handed them back to the desk woman, cocky, confident grin bright upon his face. He bid her good day, and then, not wanting to hold up the line, turned quickly and tossed a friendly smile back at Esmerelda before shuffling off. He found himself stopping next to the emo guy. He looked up at Mr. Peek-A-Boo Bangs and put on his most charismatic, inviting smile. The more friends, the merrier. "Say," he said, casual as you please. "What's your name?"




"I'm not a doctor actually, dear. I'm just really sick is all." Anaïs frowned at the lady's answer. Her voice was nice and soothing, like the exact opposite of her maman's voice, cold and intimidating. This lady's was calm and warm, and Anaïs decided that she liked it. It was a shame that this lady was sick, though. A thought crossed her mind: What if it was contagious? Anaïs remembered the last time she was sick, and the mental image wasn't pretty in any sense of the word. But, she liked this lady, and really hoped that she wouldn't be sick for too long, or else, well, that'd suck.

"I-I don't have a scalpel, in fact, I don't even have anything sharp on me at the moment. Unless you mean something like cooking utensils, then... I suppose that would count." Anaïs blinked twice. Cooking... utensils? Her eyes brightened, yet her tone remained the same as she spoke immediately, hardly processing the words, just repeating thoughts.

"Cooking utensils? Like... a spatula? Do you have a spatula? Like, for flipping? Or one of those prong thingies that they stab steaks with?" To illustrate, she made a jabbing motion with her hand, piercing an imaginary slab of meat. Just as suddenly, though, she stopped her motion, returning her hands to her sides. She started rocking back and forth on her feet, like a child, as she continued to talk to her new-found acquaintance. "Hey, so, you're sick and all, right? Can't you just take some medicine and make it better? Oh, if I stood really close to you, could I get it to? It's not contagious, is it? Is it terminal?" Her eyes widened. "Zut alors! I hope it's not! Ohmygosh that would suck, like, so bad." She smiled again, brighter this time. "But if it's not, that's awesome. Hey, my name's Anaïs. I'm from France and stuff. What's your name? You look Japanese. Are you Japanese? I think you're Japanese. Yeah. That's what I think."

Esmeralda went a pale white, completely blanching at what the scary-looking guy said in return to her question. It definitely wasn't what she expected him to use as a rebuttal. Nor was his smile. The smile he gave her was ... Kind. It was the kind that the nurses would often give her at the hospital, or what visiting parents would give her when they would learn of the fact that she often would entertain the other sick children there.

It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

She heard a muttered curse and, before she could reply, they were approached by a young man who had just registered for the school. It was apparently their turn, and she turned stoically, for once struck quiet by the words that were diced out to her. It wasn't often that she didn't know what to say to a person, so with those thoughts in mind, she moved forward, and newfound respect for the gothic boy inside of her.

Obviously her new friend was having troubles with his registering. Hs name was Dameon, right? As he was walking away, she stopped him by taking the wrist part of the sleeve of his uniform and tugging it a bit. "If it means anything to you, I fancy your mixture of accents, you bloody mixed breed," she said with a tiny smile.

Once she reached the table, she filled out her registration papers flawlessly and within a matter of moments. She was used to this process, after all, for she'd been doing it for nearly two and a half years. Once done, she asked for Dameon's papers, and although the woman hesitated, her recognition of Esme won out and she handed over the papers without a word.

Esmeralda stepped off to the side to fix the papers for her new friend. Brits have to stick together after all. By the time she as finished rewriting it for him - he had a few pieces of information switched around and in the wrong spots - her hand was aching. She returned the papers to the woman with a small bow, and then darted over to her new friend and the less-frightening-by-the-minute emo-boy.

"Yeah. If you aren't some scary, big moron, then what's your name?" She demanded, her lower lip out in a pout. "My name is Esmeralda, darling. By the way, Dameon; if you need help with your Japanese, I would be more then willing to assist," she offered, turning wide, pink eyes on him. "Just ask, mate, and I'll help you at any time," she said, patting his head as if he were a child, and not taker then her. She would easily switch from Japanese to English with him, in an efferent to make him feel for accustomed to the Academy, and with a bright grin, she rounded back to the emo-guy, easily switching to Japanese again.

"We'll? Let's have it. Your name, age, and nationality!" She demanded.

Tristan Aeol

(I have found an image of Tristan that matches! Finally!)

As soon as the girl was deposited in the sick room, Tristan left. Not exactly his favorite room of the bunch. Strolling down the hallway, he decided to chance near the registration line, just to see how it was getting along. Just nearing it, he could hear loud voices, especially one British one. Passing by, he noticed it belonged to a girl with pink hair, who looked like she was yelling at some blonde guy and the dude who asked him for directions earlier. Wait. Backtrack. Pink....hair? What?

Then again, his hair was white.

But, no, he had a condition! She just probably had lots of hair dye and free time. Shaking his head slightly, he kept walking, bored and hoping he could skip out on the welcoming assembly.

Deciding he could always practice, he headed to one of the many music rooms. Unlocked, he went towards his marimba, closing the door behind him. The last thing he needed was an audience. Well, technically it was the school's, but everyone really knew it was his. Pulling out the mallets and cover, he started off with a couple scales, arpeggios, and thirds, before setting off on a casual run of Andersen's The Typewriter (typically meant for a higher instrument, but it was a good exercise), deciding to play all the parts on the single instrument.

Fate didn't have to wait very long for the two foreigners. The blonde one was first and as he walked up, he asked for Fate's name. Shortly after the pink one did the exact same thing, only giving her name and the blonde ones in the process. "My name is Fate Sarutobi, seventeen, Japanese." he said, answering all of Esmeralda questions. "Your names are Esmeralda and Dameon right?" He didn't even butcher their names too badly.

Just then two Japanese guys walked up to Fate. "My friend here heard you say there was something underneath that stupid hair of yours. We want to know." Judging from the looks of these guys, they had thrown some punches before. His protective nature coming out, Fate moved ever so slightly so that he was between these two guys and his new friends. If any punches were thrown, he'd be the one to take them. "Its none of your business." Fate did his best to keep the shyness out of his voice, he actually sounded pretty confident. The other guy was obviously impatient and short tempered, because he punched upward into Fate's stomach, successfully knocking the wind out of him. Knowing that his new friends would have gotten hit if he had moved, Fate took the punch, he was used to the abuse anyway. The two ran away before they were caught by a teacher, and none of the other students cared about the creepy kid so they weren't going to say anything. Fate was doubled over, but impressively still on his feet, as he tried to get his breath back.