Tomorrow's Doom A.1/C.2 - In Your Dreams

Chapter 1: http://pastebin.com/KjGiG9zU
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Chapter 2 – In Your Dreams

“Where are you going, Aiko?”

The question comes from far away, almost too far to hear. I feel like I should answer, but only for a moment. The sun's irradiating glow has heated the planks, and they burn my bare feet as I run. Ignoring the sensation, I realize it won't matter soon.

“Aiko, don't go!”

This time the voice is even further away. The sound barely catching in my ears, and quickly leaving my memory as the thud of feet on wood fills my ears. I can hear my heart quicken as I continue running with abandon, not even caring where I'm running to – I simply run. Overwhelmed by the rushing wind, quickened pulse and shining sun, I run free; unhindered and without cares. No more tears, no more worry. No more expressionless expressions or cold stares. It's just me, the wind in my ears, the sun's warmth and the dock under my feet.

And then it's not.

Stopping unnaturally -as though frozen in time- I turn, trying to remember why I was running. The memories rush over me, but I can't catch them; slipping through my fingers like a cold wind, all I feel is the chill. My bones grind to a halt and my teeth begin to chatter, the rest of my body rocks and shakes as the chill fills me with dread. My chest tightens and I feel my lungs screaming for air they can't catch. The world that was bright and warm has turned cold and dark, and I long for that voice calling me.

Straining my ears to hear anything, I try to ignore my screaming lungs, but I can't hear anything anymore; no wind, no patting feet, not even a whisper. This place is a vacuum, and its emptiness begins to devour me. Even as it thuds against my ribcage, terrified and erratic, I can't hear my own heartbeat. The world has left me in a soundless, airless winter, and I begin to cry. Tears rolling across my face, I sink to my knees and roll into a ball, sobbing into my hands.

Everything is nothingness.

Terror overwhelms me, intensifying the sobs and making my voice crack as I let out a guttural cry – a wail caught and silenced by the pervasive nothing creeping from below. I shudder as a freezing dampness begins to envelope me. As it rises, I can feel my body twitching weirdly, and growing numb. My stifled cries are a cursing protest, but I know it's in vain.

As the numbness ascends, my terrified heart and mind beg me to open my eyes, but I refuse. I can't open my eyes. I don't want to watch the world crushing in on itself. Crushing me. I don't want to see the suffocating waves overwhelming me, or see the emotionless faces feigning concern. I don't want to see any of it anymore. I just want it to end.

But it doesn't.

I have to open my eyes, I have to see it happen. I have to see my reflection in the waves, the reflection of a child, as I fall in slow-motion. I have to look back and see my dad trying to reach out for me as I slip away from his grasp; like a ghost recalled to the realm of the dead. I whimper and steel my gaze, trying not to feel the rush of fear and doubt as the icy water cascades over me and the world turns black. The numbness fills me completely and I'm beyond fear.

I touch madness as the world begins to go dark, and my mind fights the inevitability. I see people I've loved and people I've hated staring at me with their expressionless expressions – cold and emotionless. I try to scream again, but the wasted effort is caught in my throat as the icy water rushes in to drown me in darkness. As my eyes freeze and my heart slows to a stop, I try to think about something -anything- other than this numbing darkness. Everything I know and everything I've done escapes my lips as a final choked gasp and I drift into the eternal blackness, defeated.

~^~

Waking with a start, I feel the wetness on my cheeks and I try to forget the dream. The same dream, again. Each time I try to deny the power it holds over me, but each time I find myself curled up on my side whimpering as quietly as I can. It's a terror I have to face on my own. Nobody can do anything about it, I know. If I told Amaya, she'd just worry. If I told my parents, they'd probably put me in therapy.

I don't have time for that.

After I choke back the tears enough to open my eyes, I roll over and look at my alarm clock. Having fallen asleep so early, I'm not surprised to see it's only three in the morning. All the missing sleep over the past two weeks seemed to catch up all at once, knocking me out earlier than I'd slept in months. Wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, I sniffle the tears away and slowly calm down. I'm not being swallowed by freezing cold water, I'm alone in my dorm room and it's the middle of the night.

It's also really dark still.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I grab my glasses, haphazardly tossed on the floor as I shuffled into bed, then leap onto my knees and turn to take a look outside. The night sky is lit by a three-quarter moon and a full field of stars. The lazy forest outside my window extends off into the darkness, but there's a mist in the air limiting the view. Leaning against the window sill, I try not to think about the cold water trying to choke me in my dream.

Trying not to think about something usually has the opposite effect, unfortunately. Having had that dream when I was little, not long after the accident, it's disturbingly familiar. Several times over the years, I awoke in my bed late at night filled with terror, the images echoing in my mind, but it was different from this new incarnation. I don't remember being nearly as frightened by it as I seem to be now. Maybe it's because I have other worries for the dream to project, but I try not to think about it too much. It's just a dream. There isn't a tsunami coming after me in the real world.

Tsunami are rare this far inland.

Realizing that I actually slept eight consecutive hours, I decide that I probably won't be getting back to sleep. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I drop my chin against my uplifted palm, trying to think of something to do. I look back through the previous day's events and recall the morning review for calculus – something I really didn't need. There was the English assignment, but I'm pretty hopeless where that's concerned. The rest of classes were a blur; I hadn't paid much attention, but I had also been distracted.

The new guy.

He has a name, so I ought to stop calling him that. Hisao Nakai; tall, sullen and mysterious. Intrigued by his plight before I even met him, he seemed even more of a mystery now, and I can't resist a good mystery. That's probably why I practically threw myself at him.

Is that what I was doing?

Nobody was more surprised than myself when I invited him to lunch, and the little wave he offered seemed genuine. I really hope he wasn't just being polite. I mean, I'd understand if he was just waving to try and get rid of me -people do that sometimes- but I think he was expressing a real interest in...

In what? In me? Dream along with me.

All I said is that I'd help show him around. Having offered my services as a tour guide, something he probably doesn't even need, he waved, he smiled, and I'll never talk to him again.

Dammit.

Falling back on my bed, I feel a wave of dizziness as I hit the pillow. Damn my useless ear, and damn Hisao Nakai; he can act coy and mysterious all he wants; I'm not interested anymore. I'm done playing games and arguing with myself about things I can't even control.

Breathing out a long exasperated sigh, I look at the clock. “Three-o-five?” I whisper, vocalizing my frustration. Grabbing another pillow, I slam it on my face, trying to block out the world.

All this thought and worry and it only wasted five minutes?

Rolling on my side again, I pull the covers up until they cover me completely and I try closing my eyes to force myself to sleep – like a bird with a sheet over its cage. My brain betrays me, having no intention of letting me drift the hours away in unconsciousness. Putting up quite the fight, I stay motionless under the covers with my eyes closed for an amazing ten minutes. Heaving a resigned sigh, i toss the blankets aside and stand up out of bed.

Insomnia I can deal with, but, being up this early, feeling rested and refreshed, with nobody around and nothing to do but think is pure torture. Reaching over, I snap on my desk lamp and sit down, opening my laptop and hearing its wake-up chime. For a moment, I consider reviewing some class work, but I'm not in my right mind now. I need something to distract me from school, not act as a reminder.

Looking over my desktop, I notice a program icon that I haven't checked out in a while. Amaya 'acquired' and ostentatiously recommended an as yet unreleased beta a few weeks ago, thinking it would be something I'd enjoy. Saying there was some kind of complex physics engine involved, and something about alternate dimensions or something like that, she had sparked my interest. After installing it, though, I never actually gave it a try. Glancing at the clock, I figure I have plenty of time to give Portal a try.

Nearly three hours of hopping through the pirated beta went by faster than expected. Still full of bugs and glitches, the game is rough to keep stable and crashes often, but I don't care. The strange wormhole-gun -portal gun, they call it- and how you interacted with the environment through its use, left me with a sense of wonderment. The sense that I'm playing a game I shouldn't legally have access to is also exciting.

The physics engine and the math behind it kept me intrigued for hours; even as the game continually blue-screens and crashes. Spending hours pushing the limits of the game's physics engine, I'm continually surprised by the effect using the portals has on the game universe. Wondering whether it might be possible such a thing could ever actually work, I imagine being able to walk across the room in a single step, or maybe even across the planet – or the universe.

My musings are interrupted by a sound outside my door. Metallic springing noises that I quickly recognize as Emi's prosthetic running spikes. Not even thinking, I stand and head for my door, reaching for the knob with the idea to stop her and ask about-

What, exactly?

Stopping myself, I step back, listening to the springing sounds disappear around the corner.

What was I going to ask her, exactly?

“Hey y'know that new guy you're crushing on, what's wrong with him?”

That would go over well.

If he did tell her, she takes stuff like that as seriously as a doctor. Even if I had the courage to ask, there's no way she'd give me a straight answer. At most, she'd giggle and wonder why I was so interested; and then I'd be blushing and slamming my door before she could blink. “She probably doesn't know, anyway,” I tell myself.

Sitting back down in front of the computer, I suddenly don't feel like messing with the buggy game. Noticing I'm also a lot hungrier than I thought, I decide now is a good time for breakfast. Six o'clock seems early, but I've been up for three hours, and I haven't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. With that in mind, I decide to head down to the common room.

As I approach, I notice the lights are on in the little kitchen area and I frown at seeing Amaya laying face-down on the floor. Her blue nightgown is twisted around her legs and I can see a puddle of drool under her mouth. Ignoring my hunger pains, I quickly slide down and turn her over, checking her pulse. She's just sleeping now, but I'm still worried.

Epileptic seizures are nothing to scoff at, and I've found her like this before - many times. Quietly berating myself for not taking a look around the dorms in the past three hours, I wonder how long she's been down here on the cold floor. Had Emi seen her here, she would have stopped, I'm sure. With that thought in mind, I surmise she hasn't been here terribly long and my breathing calms.

Shaking Amaya's tiny shoulders, I wince as she stirs. Her eyes flickering open, she sputters into a coughing fit. lifting her head off the floor, I rest her on my knee while she reaches for my hand, trying to find support.

“Hey there, you feel okay?” I ask, stroking her short, straight hair and trying to stay calm.

She lets out a whine as she curls up against my leg and starts to cry. As I rub her head, I make a point to check for blood – like Nurse told me. She feels what I'm doing and calms her self enough to say, “I'm f-fine,” she stutters, “I'll be fine. I just-”

I pull my hand away, not wanting to frustrate her further. “Do you want me to bring you to Nurse?” I ask, trying to keep the concern out of my voice – and probably failing.

Honestly, at this point, I'm glad I'm not panicking.

She rolls away and shakes her head, holding a frown on her little round face. The state she's in, I don't think I should leave her, so I stay beside her. After a short while, she calms down and sits up, feeling around for her glasses. Noticing they were apparently thrown into the kitchen when she fell over, I get up and retrieve them. “C'mon," I say, handing them over, "I'll walk you back to your dorm. You're sure you don't wanna see-”

She shakes her head emphatically as I pull her to her feet. Placing an arm under hers as we walk, I can feel her stumbling against me groggily. Luckily she's lighter than I am, and I have no trouble holding her upright.

As we make our way back toward her room -which is right across from mine- I consider walking her to the Nurse's office instead. She probably wouldn't even notice the change of direction, but I settle on checking in with him later.

Amaya's medications won't completely prevent her seizures, he told me, but, without them, she practically couldn't leave her room. He was surprisingly candid with me, but I think it had more to do with helping protect Amaya than it did sating my curiosity. Nurse is fond of recruiting students to help their fellow classmates – like a buddy system.

The way he recruited Emi to run with Hisao?

Pushing that question away as we reach Amaya's room, i find her door unlocked, so I open it and enter cautiously. Without any protests, I lay her down on her bed, and look over her tired form. Nothing looks injured, so I guess she got lucky this time; that wasn't always the case.

It's terrifying to think what could have happened had she gotten closer to the more dangerous parts of the kitchen, or hit something as she fell, or smacked her head as she flopped around on the ground like a fish out of water. She once told me about a gash on the back of her head that took fifteen stitches. She laughed it off, but I was attached to her hip for weeks afterward like a mother hen.

Now, sitting in the darkness of her room, stroking her arm as she drifts between sleep and wakefulness, I find myself exhausted by the whole ordeal. When I'm sure she's unconscious, I send the Nurse a text message explaining the situation. Telling him she didn't want to bother him, I offer an apology, but he doesn't seem to mind. “Don't worry about it," his reply assures, "stop by and fill me in later, okay?”

Not bothering to reply further, I know he knows I would end up down there anyway. For now, I sit, and contemplate, and wonder, and try not to be lulled to sleep by the quiet. After about thirty minutes, I feel my eyelids sinking and, letting out a yawn, I stretch and try to push away the fatigue. Nodding off for a few minutes, I snap awake and quickly stand.

With the memory of the dream still hovering around the edges of my conscious mind, I look down at Amaya sleeping peacefully. The thought of risking the return of that dream makes me shake my head in frustration. Feeling a little jealous of her restful pose, I sigh inwardly, but she's not to be blamed - she doesn't even know about them.

Instead of wallowing, I head across the hall and grab my laptop before returning to keep vigil over my friend. As the morning wears on, I notice it's nearly time to start getting ready for school. Though I hate to disturb her, I feel I should at least ask, “Amaya, you awake?” Groaning, she rolls away from me, clearly understanding the question.

I continue, inquiring, “do you want me to tell Ito you're taking a day off?” She rolls back toward me and scoffs, but the look in her eyes is pleading for me to answer for her.

“I'll tell him you're not feeling well. He doesn't have to know about-” I end the statement there, seeing her darkened expression. Ito will probably see through that lie, but that I'd at least try it makes her smile a little. “I will be telling Nurse, though,” I state; she doesn't need to know I already did.

She rolls back over and sighs with resignation, “fine.”

Amaya is childish about her condition sometimes. Sometimes, I wonder if I was ever like that after the accident, but I don't really remember. Mostly, I remember the aftermath; ice cream, balloons and being terrified of water for a whole year.

Creaking loudly as I leave, the door lets in light from the hallway which Amaya blocks out with a pillow stuffed against the exposed side of her head. It seems like her episode left her with more then just exhaustion - a light-sensitive headache, perhaps. After showering and changing, I head out of the dorm toward the main building, ready to drone through another day of boredom.

Like zombies, groaning and shuffling their way through the halls, my classmates filter in slowly; followed by Ito, who walks in sweaty and frustrated just like yesterday. Telling him about Amaya's 'illness', he nods knowingly. Taking my desk, Tadao taps my shoulder and asks for the real story.

Deciding Amaya wouldn't really mind him knowing, I relate the whole story. His face sinks as I explain how I found her, but, when I explain she was mostly fine, he looks relieved. Poor Tadao looks so bewildered by the news, I doubt he'll be able to pay attention all day. Just one more concerned message I'm stuck holding in my head, held to a promise not to deliver.

I'm a little tired of being their secret confidant.

The morning passes by like any other day; any other day when twenty people each have twenty questions to ask. Keeping a notebook for all their lodged complaints and grievances, I have it out on my desk in case anyone has a request. Only Amaya and I are privy to its contents.

Each complaint is itemized and rated based on the severity of the issue. As I sift through the pages, I find most of the complaints are perpetually the same – often from the same students. Unfortunately, there's little I can do about the vast majority of their grievances, but most of them understand - all I can do is relay their queries, really.

It's frustrating.

Working individually on textbook assignments, the class is hushed by a renewed desire to understand the material – or at least they're not snoring loudly. I breeze through the calculus assignment, and beg Tadao for help with English. He complies willfully, still looking distraught, but I don't think it's possible for me to learn that backwards language. Heaving a final frustrated sigh as the bell rings signifying lunch, I turn my gaze toward the door. Staring for a few minutes at the motionless portal, I sigh again and shrug.

I didn't really expect him, anyway.

Digging my lunch out, I start nibbling at it while looking through my English book with a disdainful frown on my face that Tadao chooses to ignore. Being somewhat of a literary genius, he's never happy to see anyone look so distastefully at literature.

The headache I feel throbbing in my temples reminds me that I never did eat breakfast while keeping vigil over Amaya, so I decide to forgo the impossible and close my book, attacking my lunch like a shark. So engrossed with digging through the rice and bits of beef, I don't notice a figure looming over my desk.

Politely tapping my shoulder, i turn to see Tadao grinning up toward the looming figure. Following his eyes, I see our guest's smiling visage looming over me with a befuddled expression, one hand in his jacket pocket and a packed lunch in the other.

The new guy. The new guy!?

Nearly choking on the rice, I take a sharp breath and gag. Wiping my hands together, I absently attempt to distract him from my deplorable eating habits, smiling sheepishly and likely looking like Naoko. “N-Nakai?” I sputter.

He clears his throat, trying to choke back a laugh at my reaction. “Hisao," he corrects. "You said I should stop by for lunch,” he says, raising an eyebrow with the half-question.

My eyes widen and I suddenly feel self-conscious. “I- Uh, yeah. I did-” my mouth can't seem to form words and I feel a blush streak across my face. Trying to hide it, I duck away, but that brings the rice back, causing me to hack and cough. Feeling his eyes on me, watching me, I try not to think about what he must be thinking.

Awesome, he already knows you have the table manners of a wolverine. Snik.

“I'd have been here sooner, but I didn't actually know where room 3-1 was,” he mentions, casting his wandering gaze around the room. Observing him share a nod with Ito, I suppose they've met. Ito offers a half-smile and looks back into his book.

“Oh, sorry. I should have-” I cut myself off and start pointing to the desk behind me, “you can take Ama- er, Yamamoto's seat. She's not in today.”

He fidgets nervously as he looks at the seat. “Is she alright?” he asks, concernedly.

I didn't expect that question. I should have expected that question. He's a human being, and humans naturally feel concern, right? Why am I second-guessing natural human concern? Yoshida sees me squirming and lets out a little chuckle. Seeing my glare, he quickly stifles it and goes back to his lunch.

Looking back up at Nakai, I frown. “She's not feeling well,” I say simply.

“Oh,” he says flatly, relaxing a little. The concerned look doesn't leave his face, but he moves to sit down. As he does so, I realize how awkward it might be for us to talk if we're facing opposite directions. Clumsily, I turn my desk around and sit back down, feeling uncomfortable. He sees the discomfort on my face and asks, “are you alright?”

Pointing to the left, toward the rest of the class, I lean in and remark, “remember how I said I can't hear on the left?”

“Ah,” he leans forward and whispers, “wanna switch places?”

Trying not to blush, I look down. After a second I decide looking down is probably even more telling, so I look up and nod. As we change chairs, there are a million questions racing through my mind. I can't answer any of them, and this mysterious new guy isn't helping relieve my curiosity.

Instead of asking him anything, I just sit there and dumbly eat my lunch. I do make an effort not to make myself look like a total slob, but I'm pretty sure that first impression is gone.

Maybe he'll think it's cute and quirky... Probably not.

After i make a comment on the weather at some point, he starts talking about meteorology for a few minutes, but it leads nowhere. After untold minutes of awkward, soul-crushing silence, I look over at the clock and realize there's only five minutes left to the lunch break. Having not worked up the courage to ask him a single question -at least nothing important- I feel down, but not defeated. Finally, deciding to seize what little time I have left, I lean forward and blurt out a question, “so, what are you doing for the festival?”

Great job, Kurai. Way to ask the eye-opening questions.

His response, however, catches me by surprise, “I dunno, really.”

My face twist in confusion, and my reaction makes him frown. Just when I thought I'd asked the dumbest question possible, he gives an answer like that. “What do you mean, you don't know?” I ask, sounding more annoyed than concerned.

He blinks and looks out the window, “I've barely been here a week and I'm already feeling tired. I might just stay in and catch up on some sleep.”

Sleep? Is he kidding? Games, prizes, gloriously unhealthy food, fireworks and a few hundred -maybe a thousand- smiling, laughing faces for one day of the year and he wants to sleep through it...?

I start shaking my head emphatically, holding my hands up and repeating, “No-no-no-no-no. You can't skip the festival! Are you crazy?" I feel myself standing, but I just go with it and continue, "the whole place is lit up with lanterns, there's a dozen silly games to play, prizes to be won and fireworks to watch." I gesture wildly as I describe the event, and he raises his eyebrows, looking around the room as much as he does me.

I start becoming more animated, flailing my arms around and pointing randomly – I think he looks frightened. "It's a one-day event filled with happiness and reverie, and you're thinking about spending it alone, in your dorm, under your covers," leaning close with a snarl on my lips, I add, "in dreamland.” Keeping my gaze on him, I realize may have overplayed my hand.

Overplayed would be an understatement.

My rising voice apparently caught the attention of the class, but I don't care. Everyone is staring at the crazy lady, but I let them. This is important. Celebrating life is important. His expression is somewhere between shock, confusion and amazement, but he isn't agreeing with me, still. “You can't just stay in bed while the world passes you by," I say, "I won't let you.” Flinching as I point at him, he watches my furious finish with wide eyes.

Glancing around the room at a few of the onlookers, I kick Tadao's foot seeing him start shaking his head. Looking back over at Nakai, I'm relieved to see he's genuinely grinning; a smile I'd only seen once yesterday that makes him look natural – happy. I want to smile back, but the embarrassment hits me like a truck and I fall down into my seat, trying to salvage my dignity.

Flipping my hair back, I settle into a pensive posture, arms folded in front of me. Offering a warm smile that he returns in kind, I try to ignore the murmuring. Whatever mocking I endure for that outburst, I think it was worth seeing that smile.

I still feel like a perfect fool.

He picks up his lunch bag and whispers, a gentle crack in his voice, “okay, fine, I'll go.” He stands and heads for the door, quickly, and I watch him leave feeling fifteen pairs of eyes focused directly on my face. I can't hold back the blush spreading over me, so I turn away letting my hair hide my shame, pretending to look out the window. Behind me, a chorus of childish voices sing together with an overzealous, “Ooooooh.”

If I could turn invisible right now, I would. Wishing I had a portal gun so I could escape back to my dorm, I instead have to stare out the window, looking at nothing important, until they stop staring long enough for me to turn my desk back around. Tadao gets a pair of swift kicks to the leg for winking at me as I make my way around with the chair.

Usually, I have more control than that. I'm not sure if it was frustration, infatuation or contempt driving me to yell at Hisao, but it's nothing I feel bad about. Well, I feel a little bit bad about yelling at the new guy, but I'd feel worse if he became a shut-in.

Not going to the festival? Does he want to end up like that Setou kid?

After that disaster, the second half of the day goes by almost as lazily and uneventful as the first. The outburst isn't the topic of discussion, though, rather my blushing cheeks and his quick retreat. I catch a few more glances at me, but the novelty wears off while Mutou tries to explain particle physics. Fortunately none of them have the courage to ask their burning questions, and I'm perfectly content to let them wonder.

Speaking of wonder, albeit small ones, Amaya walks in just before last period and looking a hundred times better than this-morning. As she walks by I shoot a glare at Tadao to gain his complicity about the incident with Nakai. He looks at me with a half-interested expression and just nods, knowing better than to disagree.

“Tadao, were you sitting at my desk?” she asks, giving his foot a swift kick as she sits down.

Yanking his foot away, Tadao winces and stutters, “N-, er.” he looks at me, not knowing what to say.

I raise my eyebrows and roll my hand, as if to say, "Go on."

“Yeah, my fault. I was...” he trails off, not having a lie ready.

Thinking up a quick excuse to cover, I offer a plausible lie, “he sat there to help me with English earlier.” She turns her analytical glare toward Tadao who grins and nods, though he's just accepting the answer rather than agreeing.

Amaya doesn't look convinced, but she shrugs. “Okay, whatever," she sighs, "next time don't leave my chair half-way across the room.”

Considering the whole class saw what happened, I don't know why I want to hide it from my best friend, but I know Amaya would bring down the full weight of the inquisition. Having had enough embarrassment for today -for the month- I'd like to avoid that fate, if only for a little while. Changing the subject, I ask her, "did you go see Nurse?”

Balking, she offers an insincere, “yes, mom.” The sarcasm in her tone is hard to miss.

Rolling my eyes, I turn around to look her in the eyes and frown. “Don't you lie to me, I know you too well,” I say, shaking an indignant finger at her.

She grumbles as she opens her book to find the chapter scrawled on the board. “Fine, I'll go see him after class,” she says with a sigh and adds, “it's no big deal.”

Sometimes she forces it out of me, even though I try not to act like her second mother. “It's because I care, okay,” I remark, watching her shrug. Turning back and shaking and I turn back to listen to another exciting history lecture.

The end of classes for a Friday is usually cause for some celebration, but this is festival week. There's no celebration during festival week; until the festival, of course.

Walking with Amaya down to see Nurse –more to make sure she's alright than to make sure she goes- he's somewhat surprised to see her actually show up, offering me a nod of appreciation. After that, we head back to the classroom to help finish the signage for our booth, and get the other details finished. We might actually be finished before the end of today, and I'll be glad to be able to relax. At least until the next disaster happens.

What should I wear to the festival?
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Chapter 3: http://pastebin.com/nY77rHjw