Up, Up, and Allay!

Ah, senior year.

High school.

Do we all remember high school? 

What dreamy. . . dreamy years. That senior year.

Love. . . romance. . . the future. . . jobs. . . employment. . . financial freedoms. . . 

**LOUD BUZZER!**

WRONG!

Did you know the last year of high school is the most disastrous point of most human lives?

It's a period of turmoil, of misery, and most of all, the period where most people are kissing! And missing out on kissing! And doing more than kissing! It's miserable! 

Senior year romances are doomed to fail in heartbreak, or go on to last several years. 

It's a cardinal rule in the world we live in. . . 

THAT IS WHY!

OUR TWO PROTAGONISTS MUST NOT FALL IN LOVE!

SAVE THEM FROM THIS HEARTBREAK!

. . .

The wind cut through the blocky dusk.

This is the tale of two girls.

One: a girl with stars in her eyes- a dreamer, a ditz, a disaster. Ahorō. 

The other: a girl with hearts in hers- sharp, guarded, and quietly dangerous. Lacy Mora.

One of them was afraid to love. The other was afraid to be loved.

Together? Incompatible. Inseparable.

When the portal opened, they stepped through like fools chasing a new beginning. They believed in "fresh starts," in "simple answers," in the most dangerous illusion of all: a world without consequences.

But no matter how far you run, the past always loads just behind the render distance.

This is not a story about love.

. . . But love might happen anyway.

. . .

Welcome to the Academy!

This place is rather renowned. . . as all slice of life highschools are. 

Or rather, they fall into one of two categories.

A slice of life highschool is either nameless and unremarkable!

Or, extremely well-renowned, and used to teach assassins, or demon hunters, or nobles, or gambling addicts!

This academy. . . was both!

As most magical worlds go, this place was filthy rich!

But also. . . rather bland. In the olden days, this was a warrior school, a place for great fighters and diplomats to learn in the wake of war!

Nowadays, it's a shell of that. Simply a place for the rich, wealthy, and strange to dump off their strange, wealthy, and rich children.

Undoubtedly, the people here would be just as strange as this place's history!

Not to mention, spankin' hot!

The academy's outer gate was closed by the time our two girls caught up with Blasa. Their steps echoed across the cobblestone- rhythmic, and tense. Chop chop, ladies!

Blasa waited by the metal door, a hand in her coat pocket, the other casually holding the gate open with the lean of a high school jock. Her hand left little burn marks on the metal gate. 

Blasa was a strange girl. She wore her jacket around her waist, and her uniform itself was long and fiery-orange, and gave her the air of someone too cool to care about anything. The morning light skimmed across her freckles and caught in her eyes, making her look either incredibly dangerous or just very bored.

Ahoro whispered, her starry eyes twinkling in the moonlight,

"She's so tall…"

"She's average height," Lacy responded, flatly.

"She's taller than me…,"murmured the dreamy ditzy girl.

Two seconds. That's a new record on the "crush" speedrun charts. 

"You two are late," Blasa said, alerting them out of their stupor.

Ahorō straightened her skirt, nerves twitching like antennae. "Are we really late-late, or, like, first-day late?"

"First-day late still counts," Blasa said, already turning to lead them in. "Come on. I'll show you to your homeroom."

Lacy raised a brow. "But there were still people at the store. Are they late too?"

Blasa smirked. "Dorky transfers should get here early."

Discrimination? How crude! 

The academy loomed above them: that place somewhere between a magical fortress and a state-funded fever dream. The halls shimmered with enchanted glass, stained glass of various past heroes and noble kings. I wonder who the monarchy here was! Floating lanterns bobbed lazily overhead. 

Ahorō spun in place trying to take it all in. "It's so. . . big here."

What an acute observation, Ahorō! Yes, my friends, this place, was massive! Truly, there's nothing like it. 

"Don't bother memorizing anything," Blasa chuckled. "Just follow the signs."

The group toured the halls with the blaze girl taking the lead. Giving our protagonists ample time for some interesting character interactions!

Blasa stopped at a high-arched door.

And so, these interactions died.

"What's your homeroom? Same or split?" the fiery girl asked.

Ahorō checked her schedule. "2-C. Both of us."

Blasa raised a brow. "Homeroom's through here. 2-C. 

Ahorō's fingers curled around her schedule. "Are there other transfers?"

"Nope," Blasa said. "We don't get transfers. You're the first two we've ever had." She shrugged. "I'm in 2-C too. So's my sister."

I wonder if she's as hot as the first! Wink wink! 

Lacy adjusted her collar. "I already hate this."

"I think it's gonna be great!" Ahorō replied, optimism dangerously unearned.

And so, armed with that magnanimous interest, Ahorō gently opened the door.

Ohoho~! 

In any school- nay, in any society- there is one unshakable law: 

The closer your desk is to the window, the more protagonist energy you possess. 

It is a sacred throne. The more protagonist energy means more fanarts. . . more fanfictions. . . and more discussions on your character.

A spot for brooding… for meaningful glances into the middle distance… for the occasional sad lunch while snow falls gently outside. 

And now, in Class 2-C of this Academy… that throne… is under siege. 

Desks gleamed. 

Sunlight filtered in through the vines of the classroom windows. Motes of dust danced like diamonds in the air. 

The bell hadn't rung, but soon, students would be bustling in, staking their claims on empty desks like land-hungry colonizers in a fantasy land.

At the very back of the room, five desks lined the windows. 

Predator Ahorō saw them first. Her eyes sparkled. Her mouth opened in a perfect circle of wonder.

 "Ohhhh- window seats~!" 

She zipped down the aisle like a rocket, tripping once over something, catching herself on a chair, and then launching into the furthest-back window seat like she was sliding into home plate. She beamed. Her little side-buns bounced with glee. 

"This is it! This is my main character arc moment. I've peaked." 

Right behind her, having been practicing her nonchalant toss of the hair. Lacy Mora entered the classroom, slow. Elegant. Her twintails shimmered with every step, leaving a trail of particles behind her. Her eyes scanned the seats. The window. The light. The perfect melancholic ambience- 

Already taken! By her. The fool. The traitor. The best friend. Ahorō had taken the window seat. She had no idea what she had done. In that moment, her actions shattered Lacy Mora's heart. Not that Lacy would admit it. Not that she'd ever, ever say it aloud. But deep in her chest, a little voice whispered: "How dare she. . ." 

Lacy is a girl we would consider 'untrue to her own heart.'

She is also 'untrue to her own mind.'

This means that Lacy internally and externally, is a completely different girl!

Let's check what's currently going on under those fluffy twintails!

Lacy (internally, arms crossed, full dere) 'Tch. It's not like I wanted that seat. It's not like it's the most photogenic lighting in the classroom. It's not like I practiced my "looking away dramatically" pose last night for twenty minutes. She can have it. She can burn in it. I'll sit by the trash can.' 

Ohhhh boy. What a handful we've got here, folks!

Lacy: (externally) "Hmph. I see you've already claimed a seat. Like a goblin." 

Ahorō, on the other hand, had no idea the sorts of schemes Lacy was cooking up, and seemed genuinely confused. "Wait… are you mad?" 

"What? Mad? No. I'm simply observing." 

Lacy turned her head away, a single vein pulsing on her forehead. "I hope you enjoy your sunlight. May your skin crisp like pork belly." 

Ahorō stammered, waving her arms around. "Wait, do you want it? You can have it!"She stood up, smiling, already moving. 

This move was a standard book move. It was the perfect ploy to have someone deny the seat.

Of course, Lacy knew that.

And so, Lacy thought to herself. . . perhaps I'll take the offer and take the seat! She won't expect that!

Unfortunately for Lacy, her pink cheeks and soft and supple heart did not agree with this plan. She was a smart girl, but also a complete moron.

In her grand plan, she furiously blushed, yelling out, "No!! I- I don't need your pity seat!" 

Ahorō, of course, responded with "It's not pity. It's love~!" 

. . . Which led to Lacy yelling back, "Shut up!" 

And thus… the battle ended in mutual loss. Ahorō sat back down awkwardly. Lacy plopped into the seat next to her, fuming. 

Two hearts, equally defeated. 

Blasa, with a confused, but somewhat interested look, sat down somewhere else in the room.

. . .

It wasn't long before the rest of the class entered. . . 

"Good morning, everyone."

"Homeroom begins. . . now." 

Who is this guy? 

"Everyone seems to be seated already. . . so I'll take attendance."

The little blue man looked down, hovering above his desk, miserably. Who does he think he is–?

The teacher-?

". . ."

Oh. He is the teacher.

"There's a lot missing.. . ."

Under his breath, he muttered, 

"This is what I say on most of my dates."

He spoke clear again.

"It seems being a student is a difficult profession. . . half of my class is absent today."

"Why did I even bother coming in today. . ."

The sight of 17 empty desks was terribly depressing.

The teacher shriveled up, taking out his light blue jacket and zipping it up slowly, pulling the hood over his head.

"I'm. . . not really confident about this year."

Blasa stood up.

"Teach?"

But, it was too late. The teacher was already on the ground, curled up into a ball, mumbling under his breath as he rolled back and forth.

*Ahem!*

The name 

Mr. Gorgeous was written on the board by a black dry-erase marker. 

Right above it,

Kenneth Kennedy Gorgeous. 

A light-blue skinned gentleman with darker cyan hair and sprouts growing from his head. Sprouts wasn't the correct word. More accurately, it was like his skull had grown small strands of ice and they had grown upwards, like water frozen mid-air. He had thin wings like snowflakes that sprouted from his back, and over this entire look, this man. . . had only managed to wear a grey suit for today's class. 

He looked good~!

Unfortunately, he had tossed a jacket over that suit, and was now huddled behind his desk, rolling around. 

Not quite so good looking. . . covered in dust. And on the floor.

A loss, in the book of teaching.

An ocean-tempest-chic with suspicious leaf physics, a fern-scented menace in a school uniform stood before the class, dry-erase marker in hand.

This, was Breza, Blasa's twin.

She twirls on the teacher's podium like a magical girl. Visible coils at her ankles, and leaves drift around her like she's permanently in a Studio Ghibli opening. She smiles, wide and unbothered, tossing her long blue hair behind her. 

Breza's uniform was a cool timberwolf blue, her skirt, a nice shade of navy.

It matched the two different colors of her hair, that messy and yet rather cleanly mess of mop.

Behind her. . . the actual teacher is still curled up in the fetal position.

Breza clears her throat.

"Hi~ya~! I'll be taking over for Mister Gorgeous until he stops sobbing. Don't mind him. It happens."

This was a turn unexpected! Lacy grimaced. Ahorō swooned. Right now, Breza was making direct eye contact with both protagonists.

And smiling. *GASP!*

"We have a couple transfer students here today," Breza said, calling forth our protagonists.

Ahorō, unfortunately. . . was sleeping? How did this girl do it! What a majestic display of boredom!

Lacy gave her a good whack on the head, and decided. . . today, she would be the first one to walk up there.

Lacy Mosa became the first girl on stage. 

Lacy stood before the class, her gaze neutral and dismayed. 

She seemed disinterested. . . and rather irritated by the world.

Of course, inside, her heart was buzzing at a million miles an hour. As much as she pretended to be confident. . . the real Lacy Mosa was a timid and shy little butterfly. 

*AHEM!*

Yes, Lacy, we hear you loud and clear. We see you standing before that room of roughly 8 unnamed and undescribed people! 

And so, the twin-tailed girl described herself, and her life.

In. . . third person.

"Lacy Mosa is the daughter of Tsepeshi Kururu Mosa, who lives in a castle on the borders of the Vatican."

Breza interrupted her.

"That's nice- but this is about you."

"I'm Lacy Mosa!" she exclaimed.

"Oh. Uh, carry on then."

 "Harumpf! My mother is an heiress of her clan, and she's a terrifying woman, whom I love dearly. I learned fencing from her, as well as diplomacy, chess, and politics. I'm interested in gambling, as well as reading, music, and the arts, and being simply the best."

Lacy, is what we would call a frostbitten girl.. in other words? Stuck up.

Most of her backstory is accurate here, except she's omitting quite a great deal of politics. Tsepeshi Kururu Mosa, which I do not believe is her actual name, is not a very important noble. T.K Mosa is an offshoot of the Kururu clan, and more of a political stepping stone, in terms of the modern world. Her name was switched around due to a huge political protest and backlash under the. . . bla, bla, bla you get the point. Lacy is an egomaniac of a girl, and "nobility," sort of, if you think that way. 

 However, I suppose Lacy takes great pride in her class in life, and would remind others of their place around her.

As Lacy finishes and gives a curtsy to her class, earning a nice wink and a thumbs up from Blasa, and a very confused smile from Breza, it's now Ahorō's turn to present. 

It's hard to tell if she was really awake for any of Lacy's introduction, but she does manage to trudge her way up to the stage, but not before. . . tripping. On someone's backpack, she stumbles, and falls, earning. . . zero points in the first impressions category.

She tumbles forward, arms pinwheeling like a broken windmill, and lands in a half-bow.

Silence.

The classroom watches.

A single cough.

Ahorō lifts her head and beams. "Ta-daaa…!"

The respect in the room has. . . flattened at zero. Dignity, is critically low. Damage remains. . . highly emotional.

"U-Um… hi!" she chirps, like nothing happened. "I'm Ahorō! I just transferred here! Please treat me well!"

There is no winking. No curtsy. Just an immediate over-share:

"My moms say I talk too much when I'm nervous. Oh! I have two moms. They're very supportive and gave me a telescope! I love stars! And space! And aliens! They exist, you know."

A few students blink.

One person claps. Slowly.

Ahorō. . . was not born for politics. Or subtlety. 

Her backstory is not tragic. But it is extremely heartfelt.

She grew up in a third-floor apartment with a tiny balcony and a big view of the sky. Her second mom came into her life around age six, and together, the three of them turned a cramped flat into a warm universe. They gave her a telescope. She gave them emotional chaos and a piece of her astrology obsession. She used to live near a creek before her and her mom moved, and would spend the entire day outside looking for frogs and toads. Axolotls are her favorite amphibians, because they remind her of aliens, and also, she was named after one.

Ahorō's hobbies include:

Space documentaries.

Drawing tiny aliens on everything.

Crying at the moon sometimes.

Amphibians. Lots and lots of kidnapping poor amphibians.

She is awkward, easily excited, and may or may not believe she's destined to make first contact. 

As she stands there, smiling like she didn't just eat tile two minutes ago, it becomes very clear-

This is Ahorō.

She is a disaster.

And we love her for it!

Or well, most of us. From her seat, Lacy mutters obscenities under her breath, face down in the desk, commenting: "I can't believe she's real."

But, in all honesty, neither can we.

Ahorō bows, and waddles on back to her seat.

Thus concludes homeroom for today,

"W-wait!" Mister Gorgeous yells. "I didn't get enough screentime!"

We don't have time for this, Mister Gorgeous. 

"Look at my gems!" he exclaims, holding up blue orbs of shiny delight.

Various ooo's and ahh's are met with these gems.

Mister Gorgeous seems happier now.

NOW! Homeroom ends. 

And without any interruptions, class is dismissed!