The night envelops each of you as you spend it in your rooms, either asleep or otherwise occupied. You expect those fitful nightmares, but they don't come. Their absence is almost more disturbing, setting your subconscious on edge while it waits for the creatures in the shadows to emerge.
There is tension.
Akinari: In your fitful sleep, you suddenly feel a wave of peace wash over you. The dreamless blackness of your mind is suddenly lit in the brightest white, and even without corneas to burn from the exposure, you cringe and have to shield yourself from it. When it fades enough for you to absorb the detail, you find yourself standing across from a woman in a meadow. She's tall, and graceful. Exotic and yet familiar. You see odd antlers that sprout from her head--upon looking closer, you see that they're branches. The flora that surround her are so perfectly placed around her frame that it appears that nature grew to complement her, just while she stood in that spot. She regards you with affection purer than your own mother's--a goodness and wholesomeness that encompasses the World.
It is the most beautiful thing that you've ever seen in your life.
Kumiko: You dream as though you're sitting in an empty classroom. It's void of people, but filled with expensive gifts: purses, jewelry, perfumes. None of these things bring you any happiness. Their shallow beauty nearly makes you sick. You wonder where all of your friends are but the more you sit alone in the room you slowly realize that you're here because you're considered the same as the objects. A skin-deep, superficial shell covering an emptiness. The feeling of worthlessness makes you want to cry. It's unfair of others to see you this way--when you only try to be yourself. You are not helpless.
As you sink into your seat, you hear the soft chuckle of a male. It makes you bolt upright. A foreign man with strong features and hair the sort of golden blond you've never seen a color to match in nature. When he looks at you, it isn't
through you, but
into you. He leans down and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It is unadulterated with thoughts of greed.
Isoroku: You've never felt this helpless before. The lack of proper sleep and the insecurities of a failed plan that should've gotten you all the way to graduation eat away at your subconscious. It's a miracle you've managed to fall asleep at all. It must be the soothing rocking of your ship on the high waters.
What?
You jump out of bed--but it isn't your bed, it's a ratty hammock, clumsily slung between two wooden beams and beneath a low ceiling. This is not Akaito campus. You wonder how the fuck you even got here.
As you run up the stairs and onto the open deck, you realize that the rocking is not subtle or soothing, it's violently random. A grand storm throws the ship about on the waves. You almost can't make it up the staircase without being slammed into either wall. When you come out on the deck, your suspicions about the ferocity of the storm are correct. For the most part. A monolithic serpent has wrapped itself around the galleon with length to spare, its enormous head hovering high above you. You are awed by its presence and its mastery of the tempest. It opens its jaw wide and its hiss is like a peal of thunder. It lunges down swiftly to swallow you whole. You are not scared. You feel... Exhilarated.
Yukimura: In your dreams, you see numbers. This is not unusual. The rigorous lessons drilled into you both in Akaito and at cram school, followed by keeping up with your family's business, then the strict discipline of sojutsu--they are all evaluated and quantified. The rigidity at times disturbs you, but you view it as necessary to your success. And you do so badly want success.
Therefore, it's a shock to you to find yourself in a forest, on the bank of a turbulent river. It's hot and humid--uncomfortably so. Across from you, on the opposite bank, you see a young man hunched over the water, drinking from it by the use of his hands. He looks up at you. He is at once wild and fierce, but also wise. Intimidating. Clever. Spiteful. His raw, blatant emotions startle you. They play across his face; emotions as dangerous as the water at your feet. You feel as though you've seen him before, caught glimpses of him in passing. After a moment you realize those glimpses where when you caught reflections of yourself. He beckons you over. You want to go, but you know you'll get swept away. You can't bring yourself to move.
Rin: Your sleep is calm once you sink into it; you're warm and comfortable in your bed. After a time, though, the quiet stillness seems oppressive. This is how it is every night. You sleep, you wake, you study, you sleep, you wake... Will this monotony continue until you die? Are you missing something important? Or are you skipping what isn't?
You sip a cup of tea in a small shop in your subconscious. There is an overturned bowl of uncooked rice in front of you. As you ponder the symbolism of such an image, as you realize that this is, of course, a dream, you see a woman sit across from you, feet tucked under herself. Or himself. You can't be sure beneath the makeup and wry smile. With a long-fingered hand, the creature divides the grains. This is justice. But it's more than that. When one takes justice into her own hands, it becomes mischief. One makes her own luck. One makes her own prosperity. It encourages you to stand. And leave the shop.
Chase the foxes instead.
Kojiro: Your dreams are less peaceful. You toss and turn in your small, school-issued bed, kept from calmly resting by the sound of incessant drums. Deep, pounding drums of war. When you open your eyes, you can hardly believe how bright it is when you know your room should be dark. You're even more surprised to find yourself a million miles above solid earth, above gilded temples that reflect the midday sun. The wind rushes past you and makes it difficult to breathe. Your lungs burn, but the sensation is invigorating. Your mount is a winged serpent--a dragon. It spirals endlessly upward into the air. Without being told you know why you're traveling upward. You'll leave everything behind. All of the people below you can't even see you now.
You'll become the sun.
Takuya: You are not asleep. You wouldn't allow yourself to waste so much time. You go about your night as you'd intended. But even you will admit to yourself that your brain is on the verge of frying. A cold shower would startle your senses to full coherence. After you start the water, you strip off your clothing and kick it aside to a corner. The sound of the water beating against the tile fades into the background as unnecessary noise. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and your heart skips a beat.
There is a beast in the glass. It's female, you can tell that much. Female but repulsive. That isn't your face. Its dead eyes not your eyes. You covet the knowledge they appear to contain. You slowly reach out a hand to the mirror and your hand comes in contact not with glass but with flesh: cold, clammy, and it seems to writhe under your fingers, to shift across the planes of Its face. You snatch your hand back in surprise. You are afraid. And you have
never felt fear before in your life.
And you know It knows.
The way it looks at you with such disinterest and condescension makes you bitterly angry. Your teeth bare themselves without a thought to how useless the expression must seem. You take your well-trained fist and punch the glass, shattering it. The sound overpowers everything. And then you're alone in the bathroom again, standing over a sink full of broken shards.
Within what feels like moments, six o'clock approaches.
Code:
[b]THURSDAY: AUGUST 18th, 2016[/b]
