OW: Pre-Tourney Stories

When signups for the tournament were announced, Rose didn't exactly believe any of his friends would go for it. Maybe he was just trying to push such a possibility out of his mind. Back when he had joined - halfway in September, three terms before - the previous tournament had been close to the end; Rose himself had been too much of a freshman to even acknowledge the possibility of attending the final battles. Still, he had been there to experience the wave of dramatic feelings afterwards, the after-terror of the bloodbath, and to hear people swear they would never sign up again. Even now, the walls remembered very well, and especially throughout the latest term, the memories were exceptionally alive...

...and now he had to watch his partner rush to the bulletin board with a pen.

"Come on, come on, come ooon!," Zee whined, pulling the upir forward into the sun; Rose managed to open his shadow parasol only miraculously.
"Hold your horses, Zee. I promise the sheet won't escape if you come a minute later," he answered, a little amused, but too worried to actually smile. He had been gotten by surprise; he had been spending the night in Zee's room, cuddled by his partner to no end and finally relaxed after a stressful school day, when suddenly, he had heard a "by the way, I want to partake in the tournament"... He hadn't really forgiven that wile yet.

As expected, the bulletin board kept on luring many a students that day. Some were signing up, no questions asked; some kept staring at the sheet with writing tools in their hands, trying to convince themselves it was a good idea. The others would just come, checking for any updates in names, and then leave, whispering nervously to one another.

The list was impressively long already; to be expected during the very first day of signups of course, however, it stoned Rose, how many people actually looked forward to the bloodbath. What they were even so interested in? The prizes, from what he knew, were indeed tempting - from the champion's title, through goods to assignment passes even - but all that pain... So... Unnecessary. And standing against your own friends in deadly competitions... And for what? Where were they, in ancient Rome?

Zee, however, had a different view on that.

"Sooo many asses to scare the shit out of!," he said excitedly and leaned forward to leave his autograph as well. Rose looked at the paper and scanned it for familiar names.

The first one that captured his attention was the crossed out number seven, Lace Jabot. The upir knew the student for one particular reason, namely, he was gone from the campus already. Sitka had been quite devastated because of that, much to Rose's cognitive shock. That was the first time he'd seen the human miss someone other than his family (and that only had been putting him in a mild state of melancholy), let alone be hurt. Well... At least Lace wasn't partaking in the tournament anymore. Despite the circumstances, that meant one worry less, didn't it?

Involuntarily, he thought Lace had been illiterate. Someone had had to write the name for him... Further scanning of penmanships didn't, however, reveal the helper. Instead, Rose noticed something else. Number sixteen, a name written in purple ink. Big, feminine handwriting, a humble heart above the lone 'i'... The letters somewhat shaky. She must have been very nervous...

"What is it, Rose?," Zee asked, surprised by his partner's sudden silence. "Hey... Come on, we talked about it, didn't we? You don't have to worry, I'll be fine!" Rose shook his head.
"It's not that," he answered and pointed at where he was just looking. "Number sixteen, check it out."

The youkai squinted a little to read the name and then raised brows, surprised.

"Yasmine...? Wow. I didn't know she was back," he said. Rose could only nod at that. All they knew about the girl's sudden disappearance was Sitka's brief "she went home to see her family"... And now, this was the first trace of her return?
"I wonder if Sitka knows about it..."
"I haven't seen him whine lately, so probably not."

Rose chuckled against his will at this remark and continued reading. Most of the names rang a bell somewhere, but still, all the faces he tried to recollect were mixing crazily in front of his eyes. Was that the short person with an unsettling smile? Didn't they take Linguistics together at some point? Wasn't he passing them every day in the Grave dorm corridors...? So many people he had no idea who they were, and yet... He felt strangely sorry for all of them.

"Tishna Bluebell... I think I know her from Shadowmancy classes...?"
"Oh, look! Dion. My friend."
"Renalds... Renalds? Sounds familiar." Sitka had been complaining about a Renalds troughout this term, Rose was, however, pretty sure that one was a male... "And..."

And suddenly, the upir's heart stopped.

In the last taken position, Zee's name was written, probably with a pen stolen from another student. Maybe from him, even... Written in clumsy, energetic letters Rose knew so well... So contrasting with the small, elegant penmanship right above. That, he also knew very well.

"No..."
"What is- - Oh," Zee stopped halfway in the sentence and looked, worried, at his partner. "Did you know that...?"
"Is he crazy?" This reaction gave Zee all the answers. "The previous tournament left him- - He has a little daughter, for god's sake!"

Above Zee's name, there was Chrono's written, with his own very hand.

Two beloved names Rose was supposed to watch fighting.

The bottom floor corridor in Bone dorm looked like a peculiar mixture of 1944's Omaha beach, bombarded Hiroshima and a trip to the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland during rush hour. The owner of this whole mess, doctor Franzisca Stein - or more accurately, her weaponized wheelchair with her human self on it, stood in the very center. Neither seemed bothered by that the corridor became completely blocked and uncrossable. To be honest... They cared about very little in general.

"CHAIR?"
"Yes, doctor Stein," CHAIR answered in its computerized voice. It sounded disturbingly similar to Stephen Hawking, although some people claimed this was how Death Star would talk like, had it had anything to say.
"Report, please."
"Certainly," it said and took a second to proceed the command. Too slow, Franzi thought, she needed to work on this sometime later. "All your posessions listed in my database are packed. Fragile posessions - secured. There is a 4.091% chance for damage. The room has been sterilized. Fingerprints cleaned off, hair and dead skin cells burnt with my laser. There is a 2.57% chance of the next inhabitants finding your DNA, 0.000006% chance for them using it against you."
"Excellent," the girl summed up. She didn't really expect any half brain to know what to do with hair found in a carpet, let alone how to extract skin cells from dust, but better be careful than careless. "If we are ready, begin the departure proced- -"
"Wow wow wow, what the hell?"

Franzi rolled her eyes and lazily turned her head to the left; the voice which interrupted her so rudely was simply too well known to her - to the point she wished she could open her skull and cut out the part of her brain responsible for remembering it. Blair the Leprechaun, the thorn in her eye and - out of lack of better options - her annoying, cheerful, stinking with morals nemesis on the school ground.

While she was busy covering face with both palms over his stupidity, the green man decided to try and thrust himself through the pile of goods. His host of fairies, hyperactive and engaged in his actions wholeheartedly as usual, flew forward in various directions, trying to find him an optimal path. Apparently, his goal of getting to the other end of the corridor was far more important than Franzisca's valuable equipment - whatever the reason that bloomed under the ginger mess he called hair was.

"Fragile posessions in danger," CHAIR annouced. Franzi abruptly raised her head. "Chances for damage escalated to 96.731%..."
"STOP!!!," the girl yelled. Blair froze in place in a grotesque ballerina pose. If there was any way he could look more ridiculous, she was interested in knowing it - for scientifical purposes. "What do you think you're doing?!"
"And whaddya think I'm doin'?!," he brilliantly yelled back at her, balancing his body over the boxes. Franzi's eyes opened wide in fear. "I'm friggin' tryin' to get through yar shit, cuz ya friggin' blocked the whole friggin' corridor!"
"Excuse me for trying to move out!"

Blair huffed. From such an organized person this wheelchaired bitch was, one would have expected to move out days earlier - right when year twos had started migrating to the Grave dorm. Blair himself had called dibs on Sitka's ex room right away; it was placed on the top floor of the Blood building, and that meant no disabled mad scientists appearing there unexpectedly. Ever since Blair had discovered the cross-shaped scar on his forearm was her crazy job, self-protection became his top priority...

...plus if there were any disgusting, unwashed socks left behind, at least he knew they were his friend's disgusting, unwashed socks.

"I'm puttin' a lock on my door," he announced with a firm shade of self-satisfaction, somehow managing a way through all the luggage. "So ya won't come in ever again."
"Save your pathetic magical capabilities," Franzi answered, "and your fake Leprechaun money, too. I'm moving out of the school."

The fairies, all twenty to thirty of them, let out asurprised squeal in unison. Blair himself was too shocked to react so instantly. With this blank expression, he looked even dumber than usual... Wait, were his eyes golden? She had always thought green... Wait, what?

"But why?," he asked finally before she managed to scold herself. "Where ya're goin'?"
"I received a science grant," someone started explaining and Franzi, horrified, realized it was her own voice. "And a very interesting proposal, far more rewarding than a degree in this academy. Why do you even care?," she asked aggresively to make up for that he caught her off guard. The Leprechaun rubbed the back of his head, unsure what to say.
"I don't know... Uh. I... Though we were rivals. Or somethin'." The girl snorted.
"You'd need a transplant of Albert Einstein's brain to ever reach my league," she scoffed, and then added: "You will be way happier without me around anyway." Blair nodded awkwardly.
"Yeah... Maybe I will." Hesitantly, he shoved his hand forward. "Goodbye then."

The girl was so shocked she forgot to be disgusted. For a while, they just looked at each other in silence, both of them with weird, undreadable expressions on their faces.

"Yes...," she answered in a silent voice, shaking his hand, "goodbye."

A moment passed before their limbs parted.

"Very well. CHAIR, resume the departure procedure, please."
"Immediately, doctor Stein."

And so they quitted, leaving Blair behind, confused and alone.