>>173167 Alas. I regret it too, considering I had a great idea for it but had forgotten when it came to be writing time.
[X] Go to your next class.
– [X] Journalism.
You're standing there, atop the school building, trying your best to remember just what your next class is.
Try as you might, you haven't got a clue. And you didn't keep a copy of your schedule on you- you've never been one for 'plans' or 'actually going to class'. But you can think of one person who might know what your class is. So you pull out your phone and dial Unzan.
The phone rings, and he picks up. “Sup?” You can hear the bustle of students around him.
“Hey Unzan, what's my next class?”
“How the hell should I know?”
He's got a point. “Well, what's
your next class?”
“Science, or something, I think.”
You smile. “I think you'll be in for a good time.”
“Eh. Maybe I can get a nap in before boxing club.” Right. He's one of the head members of the school's boxing club. Which shouldn't be a surprise, considering the man's built like a refrigerator made entirely out of muscle.
“Yeah. Good luck with that.”
“Thanks,” he grunts. “We cool?”
“We cool.” You hang up. Shit. You still don't know what your next class is. Then your phone rings.
deep in the night, I'm looking for some fun, deep in the night, I'm looking for some love- and then you pick up, again regretting your decision to let Unzan pick your ringtone. At least he didn't go with Bananaphone.
“Sup?”
“Your next class is Journalism,” a female voice answers.
“Awesome. Now who are you?”
“A friend.”
“Great. As friends, you have to tell me what kind of underwear you're wearing.” This elicits a laugh from the other end of the line. “Or at least the brassiere. I mean, you can only change so much with school uniforms, how else am I going to recognize you?” More laughter, and she hangs up.
Well, fuck it. Journalism class it is.
You march down from the rooftop, to the literary department, which you think was an odd place to put the Journalism class, but...
In any case, you open the door, and it's a very small class. One girl, with short black hair, is splayed out across three chairs, spinning a pen expertly. Another girl, this one with white hair and... dog ears? Goddamn, does ANYONE enforce the dress code?
...well. You're wearing a hoodie and a male uniform, so, no, no they don't.
Two girls are chilling in the back, one with pink hair, a piercing gaze, and some weird-ass eyeball and hearts hair ornament, and the other, a kind of... well, you hate to put it this way, dopey-looking girl with long black hair and an extremely oversized brooch to match her extremely oversized chest. It's like she thinks she's Flava Flav or something.
Sleeping on one of the desks is a small girl, and in contrast to the dopey-looking one, her chest is flat as a board. She's got some horns on. Huge-ass horns. To the point where she'd have to go through the door sideways.
Finally, there's one girl, sitting atop the professor's desk (who hasn't arrived yet, apparently,) kicking her legs back and forth, brown twintails swinging with the rhythm, who looks up when you arrive. Her eyes sparkle and she hops up to greet you. “Ah, hello! I was hoping you'd believe my phone call!”
You shrug. “I can't remember what my actual class is supposed to be. So this'll do.”
She walks up to you, and takes your hand. “Well, I'm glad we have another class member, then! You will be joining the Journalism club too, right?”
You scratch your head. “Well, maybe,” you extemporize, “but I still want to know what kind of underwear you're wearing.”
She blushes and giggles. “My, you're forward. I'm Hatate Himekaidou. You must be Ichirin Kumoi. I've been working on a school roster, so, uh, I promise I'm not trying to be a creeper!”
You wave it off. “Ah, no worries. All are welcome to bask in my glory.”
What do?
[ ] Talk to Hatate more.
[ ] Go talk to the weird pink-haired girl and the dopey, busty chick.
[ ] Go wake up the horned girl. Flat is justice!
[ ] Talk to the bored looking pen-spinner.
[ ] Dog ears are cool, right?
[ ] Suggest a topic of conversation. (Write-in, I can pick one if you don't, don't worry.)
[ ] Bored now. Doing something else. (Write-in.)