"Are you... dreaming? How... do you... know?" 真澄

Masumi Mori, SHSL Oneirologist. Affliated with DRDespairdays

[yumenomashin]

Subjective Cataplexy | Chapter 3 | Mayuri

[Surgery Room]

No, this simply would not not sate his needs. This array of cocktail medications did not satisfy any kind of craving he had to fill, and extending the search to the operating room did not yield anything even remotely successful, and it showed how restless it made Masumi.

Simply put, where... could one find... sleep medication?

Throughout the oneirologist’s rather reckless expedition throughout the room, containers and bottles were strewn around, a messy tenure brought about by the desires of one silvery-haired boy would not be stopped. The actions of a careless housepet feline could relate to the disaster the boy brought on with little apprehension. 

Though, it did not seem that his quest would yield any results. A faithless chance to have...

Mumbling to himself, Masumi squeezed ever so seemlessly into a medicine cabinet, perhaps in some illusioned hope of stumbling into a secret compartment to which would ease his nightly affairs.

“...perhaps... some surgical... sedatives... would suffice...”

Despite how drastic his measures were, the oneirologist thought the solution completely appropriate, sifting through the shelves knocked over in his occupancy of the cabinet.

With the muffled bang and clatter of the assorted instruments and medications that tumbled and rolled out of an ominously ajar cabinet containing a searching oneirologist, Masumi paid no attention to the figure slipping in. Or perhaps, he was too engrossed to notice.

[king-okada-blog]

Start on a High Note | Hiroshi+Masumi

It was, by most accounts, a pretty nice day out. Sunny, and warm, but not too warm. Just right. The perfect day for lazing around and enjoying life. Which was, of course, Hiroshi’s daily agenda between trials. But today he had an idea of what to do with his time, and was pretty set on accomplishing it.

He walked around the mall for a little while, visiting each of the shops to see if there’s anything interesting. Some of them he made a note to visit again, others her passed by with hardly a second thought. Not that he was really here for that, though.

A number of minutes later he found himself on the roof of the mall, looking quite pleased with himself. He could see the whole island from up here! …Oh boy, was it ever small. And so much water, all the way around. Hold on, just how had he gotten up there?

He made his way to the edge of the building and perched on the edge of the roof. It was an awful long way down but he wasn’t terribly concerned with that. He dangled his feet over the edge and it could have just been six inches off the ground.

Oh, hold on, someone was coming. He picked up a pebble and chucked it in their direction, aiming for the ground near them.

“Hoy, Mori-kun!” he called, “How’s the weather down there?”

[yumenomashin]

From all the wiliest of antics the oneirologist could muster from his ever so wildcard personality, he might say this was his wildest one yet. A lifetime ago, Masumi might never have imagined to browse a shopping district so casually, for a multitude of reasons. Perhaps the ever so luxurious boutique he associated them with were always a tad too rich for him. Perhaps it was those flamboyantly brash and gaudy people, the one’s with the impractical clothing, ridiculous hairstyles, and obnoxiously proud smirks that drew him away from the scene.

But now that he was here, he might as well enjoy the scenery.

“…”

Yes, the atmosphere ruminated that same stale, artificial welt of constructed wealth. He could feel the cold, hard marketing take place. The smell of thoughtless spending disgusted the oneirologist.

Perhaps Masumi would lingered more on his oh so obvious, passionate, seething disdain for those types of people, but the boy found his thoughts cut short with the arrival of a seemingly unforeseen companion.

Tick

“…?”

The pebble herald from the heavens graciously bounced off Masumi’s head, landing swiftly against the pavement with the pitter patter of its stoney mass. Ah, what a surprise. What even surprised the oneirologist was greeted by a boomingly affectionate greeting.

Mori-san…? He didn’t believe… he had ever met… this pebble before…

With his eyes downcast, away from the true source of the greeting, the oneirologist let out an uncomfortable cough,  replying with an uncertain greeting in turn.

“Greetings…pebble…The weather? It is… dreary…”

[king-okada-blog]

Whoops. Hiroshi honestly hadn’t intended to whack Masumi in the head like that, and he had to bite back a laugh at the sight of a rock bouncing off the boy’s skull. No, he smothered the laugh against his bandaged man and waited to see where this would go. 

Wait, was- did he think the pebble was talking to him? Oh, this was better than he could have expected. He shifted a little closer to the edge to get a better view. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do: his entire motivation for coming up here was to see if he could, and now that he’d confirmed it, the rest of his schedule was open to fun diversions like fucking with oneirologists.

“Oy, Mori-kun,” he called, doing his best to project his voice downward, “Don’t just leave me down here. Is that any way to treat someone you just met?” He was a pretty good actor, but he’d never exactly played the role of irate pebble before. He was doing his best here, but it didn’t seem like Masumi was particularly difficult to string along.

[yumenomashin]

“...”

In all the likelihood the oneirologist would come into contact with a sentient rock sent from the heavens, it seemed he was to be greeted with a stone who talked with such an obnoxiously gruff accent.The problem did not lay in things that shouldn’t possessing a level of intelligence capable of speech; that ship seemed to have sailed long ago.  His daydream apparitions were getting stranger by the day

The innate concern facing Masumi seemed the obvious pertinent case of this pebble addressing him so casually. And for it to know his name? Simply spine tingling. It seemed almost beneath him to continue with such an irreverent piece of earth, but the boy with silver strands was compelled to do otherwise. This was, after all, a rather unplanned scenario in whatever dreamscape he had conjured. How peculiar as well; this sorts of dreams were more recently populated with a darker, more brooding character and his lovely little conspiracies.

With an uncomfortable shuffle, the oneirologist absent mindedly scratched at his back, pondering on how he could change such an inconvenient dream to something no so abrasive, when he noticed it.

...

Now, it simply made matters more complex. Or perhaps, it simplified it greatly...

Bending over with the delicacies that a slender frame would allow him, the oneirologist lifted the rock, rolling the coarse gravel between his thumb and index. How powdery...

“Ah, yes... my apologies. This is a rather... inappropriate greeting... for strangers...”

With the smoothest of motions, Masumi chucked the pebble far away, spinning and wobbly like a newborn fawn in the launch. 

A pale gaze witnessed the rock skip away, ruminating an air of emptiness, staring long after it had gone out of view. The boy, certain that it had gone, twisted around to face the heavens, chin up.

He was made a jest of the situation. The oneirologist made no gesture of his sleepy, wavy disposition. For once, it seemed as if Masumi was truly devoid for a fleeting period.

With words almost bitter and coldly seething that the oneirologist could muster, Masumi let his words echo, whether or not they would reach someone, or something.

“...Is this... to your liking? By all means... I encourage you... to try again. But please... let it be known... I will not be made... a fool... by the likes... of you...”

[yumenomashin]

That Umeko doe

[king-okada-blog]

Start on a High Note | Hiroshi+Masumi

It was, by most accounts, a pretty nice day out. Sunny, and warm, but not too warm. Just right. The perfect day for lazing around and enjoying life. Which was, of course, Hiroshi’s daily agenda between trials. But today he had an idea of what to do with his time, and was pretty set on accomplishing it.

He walked around the mall for a little while, visiting each of the shops to see if there’s anything interesting. Some of them he made a note to visit again, others her passed by with hardly a second thought. Not that he was really here for that, though.

A number of minutes later he found himself on the roof of the mall, looking quite pleased with himself. He could see the whole island from up here! …Oh boy, was it ever small. And so much water, all the way around. Hold on, just how had he gotten up there?

He made his way to the edge of the building and perched on the edge of the roof. It was an awful long way down but he wasn’t terribly concerned with that. He dangled his feet over the edge and it could have just been six inches off the ground.

Oh, hold on, someone was coming. He picked up a pebble and chucked it in their direction, aiming for the ground near them.

“Hoy, Mori-kun!” he called, “How’s the weather down there?”

[yumenomashin]

From all the wiliest of antics the oneirologist could muster from his ever so wildcard personality, he might say this was his wildest one yet. A lifetime ago, Masumi might never have imagined to browse a shopping district so casually, for a multitude of reasons. Perhaps the ever so luxurious boutique he associated them with were always a tad too rich for him. Perhaps it was those flamboyantly brash and gaudy people, the one’s with the impractical clothing, ridiculous hairstyles, and obnoxiously proud smirks that drew him away from the scene.

But now that he was here, he might as well enjoy the scenery.

“...”

Yes, the atmosphere ruminated that same stale, artificial welt of constructed wealth. He could feel the cold, hard marketing take place. The smell of thoughtless spending disgusted the oneirologist.

Perhaps Masumi would lingered more on his oh so obvious, passionate, seething disdain for those types of people, but the boy found his thoughts cut short with the arrival of a seemingly unforeseen companion.

Tick

“...?”

The pebble herald from the heavens graciously bounced off Masumi’s head, landing swiftly against the pavement with the pitter patter of its stoney mass. Ah, what a surprise. What even surprised the oneirologist was greeted by a boomingly affectionate greeting.

Mori-san...? He didn’t believe... he had ever met... this pebble before...

With his eyes downcast, away from the true source of the greeting, the oneirologist let out an uncomfortable cough,  replying with an uncertain greeting in turn.

“Greetings...pebble...The weather? It is... dreary...”

[yumenomashin]

A Closing Supper  | Chapter 3 | Nodame, Masumi, and Yoshiko

“…”

With quick, muffled breathes, the oneirologist seemed winded within the confines of his company. The events of that night were excitable, nonetheless; to partake in the fruition brought on by the girl with the bright eye’s ideas was an exhilarating step for the boy, if not entirely proactive outside of his boundaries. What troubles he went to by simply deciding to attend…

With his sleepy gaze returning after a meditative breath, Masumi’s gaze flitted between the pair that sat before him. The fiery one; the one who seemed to always be at bay with the rays of the sun. Perhaps the sun was dimming. The oneirologist found the girl’s brimming grin returning less after the trials they endured. Masumi considered consoling someone who would go to such lengths to even offer such an event to take place, but lingered on the thought.

It… did seem like quite an amount… to handle another’s… emotional distress… before he could… quell his own…

And the dark boy, with all his pressing questions. It was of no consequence that he should share time more often with such a curious individual, and perhaps that gaze of questioning found its way onto the other. Perhaps he shall have another question revolving around eldritch horrors the mind might conjure from the depths of unconscious thought. Perhaps he shall look for advice on writing realistic bouts of cranial horror. A hat size came into the slurry of thoughts the oneirologist perceived, but the boy simply glanced on, his true intentions rather hazy. Purple eyes glinted in curiosity of whatever may spill out of a mouth that belonged to a person dark as he. 

With the flicks of his gaze roaming with the rise and fall on a candle, still tagged with the price from a grocery store, the oneirologist let a utensil rest between his fingers, slowly digging into the spread before them. 

Simple, if not bland at best. Vegetables and stews lined before them, and it surely seemed a great deal of effort had been placed into it, but to the oneirologist, the chef made themselves quite clearly never to have experienced a dish too luxurious in the making…

“I… assume… you are… feeling well…”

With his murmurs, Masumi made no real direction to who he spoke to; whether he meant to converse with the girl, or the boy.

[shsl-mangaka-blog]

This was the beginning of the end. Yoshiko was certain of it. It would have been preferable if the note he received had just been a ploy to murder him. Instead, the bundle of nerves that was Japan’s leading expert on horror was stuck in a nightmare worse than death. He had to hold smalltalk over a polite dinner with what were essentially strangers to him. Masumi’s questioning was unintentional cruelty. 

“…I am certainly feeling…more, uh, full. That’s for certain.”

Yoshiko’s fingers held his utensils with an unusual daintiness. It was an attempt at keeping his gloves clean, perhaps, or maybe they were just a bit too long for comfort. Each cut he made into his meal was done in one careful motion, making sure that each piece was small enough to pop into his mouth without seeming like too much to swallow. God forbid if they started thinking that he was a slob. 

“I’m not sure if I’m feeling ‘well’, though. Is anyone, given our…”

A rogue piece of carrot fell from Yoshiko’s fork before he could sink his teeth into it. It bounced towards the edge of the table, but not before leaving a murky line of sauce splattered across the bottom of his jacket. The air was thicker than the stews for a single moment. 

“…circumstances?”

The boy let out a sigh from under his breath. He was always taught to put a napkin on his lap before eating meals, but it didn’t surprise him that the universe cared not for his manners. 

[shsl-triathlete-blog]

If someone were to ask about her current situation, Nodame would have no clue how to answer. Sitting at a table where two rather refine young men were dining with her proved too much for her small mind to take in. Receiving the invitation to meet with someone in the dead of night, a few nights after the execution of their friend, did not appeal to them. But the wording intrigued Nodame. How was this her offering? She had originally mused but then took the events as they were and left their apartment with a heavy heart.

The boy she left behind in her bed refused to acknowledge her existence, let alone endeavor. Nodame knew they deserved no less but the lack of warmth from her closest companion left them aching inside. Guiltily, the triathlete shut the door behind them and tried not to feel the heat of shame when she didn’t tell Ka - Komet where she was going. Upon arriving, the sight gave her no small heart attack. The scene before her all but mirrored the one that happened in the previous days before - two boys sitting and awaiting her arrival it seemed. 

Now that they were all seated, and a dinner were served; Nodame began to regret coming. She forgot how awkward such a meeting could really be. Blushing outright from secondhand embarrassment, they decided to keep their mouth shut while the others engaged in small talk. Her table manners were rather shotty and she stabbed her chopsticks in a particularly stubborn piece of meat. Eating, and glancing between the two, the triathlete had to wonder what the underlining tension was because goodness gracious, this was painful to watch.

However, Nodame attempts to remain a wallflower proved futile when she let out a peal of laughter at Yoshiko’s mishap, all but snorting before she realized what she had done. Her flew over her mouth, her face flushed and mortified at the way the two turned to stare at her; one gaze passive, and the other critical.

Circumstance, indeed.

“A-Ah, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh, i-it was just really funny… when you, um, nevermind!”

Stating the obvious was, of course, her forte but she took no pleasure in it now. Nodame turned her gaze to her lap, beginning to lose her appetite with her foul manners and intimidating dinner guests. She folded her hands in her lap, sighing.

“This is pretty much out of my league here! The fancy dinners and small talk. I’m more of a kotatsu type of person who has a record of inhaling the most onigiri. Maybe this was a bad idea…! Inviting me and all!”

[yumenomashin]

“...”

From what could be said, it seemed that the oneirologist was engrossed with the little game of charades that seemed to play out before him. Sleepy eyes kept their stare, as calm a disposition one could find on the face of the boy, as the dark haired boy dropped his vegetables with a restrained horror, and the bright girl snorted in a manner that exuburated so much life. Perhaps Masumi found the change of pace enjoyable.

“...No... it’s quite alright...ah, ah...”

Oh, it seemed that names were definitely an imperative if the oneirologist would continue with this dinner as it may be.

...

He would eventually.

“Sunshine-san...yes...”

As for the other, the oneirologist found the edges of his lips pouting as the dark haired boy dropped the carrot so nonchalantly. It seemed Masumi did not find the spectacled calamity as hilarious as the girl, nor had he retained his sort of indifferent haziness to the matter. As if it had not been some overt tragedy to lose food for the mangaka, the silverly-haired boy pouted. Perhaps Masumi cared to deeply for the likes of other’s actions, or for the likes of a chef to go otherwise uncredited...

“...please, be more... attentive. I would hate to see... you ruin... that jacket...”

And in that fleeting moment of discouraging negligence, the boy return to his sleepy expression, seemingly again forgetful of an apparent transgression. Dipping the untensil into a leek, Masumi stirred the vegetable around a bit longer, perhaps captivated by whatever amusement he could find by a steamed, leafy plant dancing around his plate. 

Quite an amount, it seemed.

It was another moment before the oneirologist returned to the question at hand. The circumstances were not something Masumi had truly cared to discuss tonight, nor had he bothered to think unless required to. It seemed that at the moment, he was.

“Yes, our... situation... though it could... be much worse. We could... have been enclosed, and... simply left to starve. Perhaps... you’ve all... considered theories revolving our... horrifying detainment...?”

[yumenomashin]

A Closing Supper  | Chapter 3 | Nodame, Masumi, and Yoshiko

“...”

With quick, muffled breathes, the oneirologist seemed winded within the confines of his company. The events of that night were excitable, nonetheless; to partake in the fruition brought on by the girl with the bright eye’s ideas was an exhilarating step for the boy, if not entirely proactive outside of his boundaries. What troubles he went to by simply deciding to attend...

With his sleepy gaze returning after a meditative breath, Masumi’s gaze flitted between the pair that sat before him. The fiery one; the one who seemed to always be at bay with the rays of the sun. Perhaps the sun was dimming. The oneirologist found the girl’s brimming grin returning less after the trials they endured. Masumi considered consoling someone who would go to such lengths to even offer such an event to take place, but lingered on the thought.

It... did seem like quite an amount... to handle another’s... emotional distress... before he could... quell his own...

And the dark boy, with all his pressing questions. It was of no consequence that he should share time more often with such a curious individual, and perhaps that gaze of questioning found its way onto the other. Perhaps he shall have another question revolving around eldritch horrors the mind might conjure from the depths of unconscious thought. Perhaps he shall look for advice on writing realistic bouts of cranial horror. A hat size came into the slurry of thoughts the oneirologist perceived, but the boy simply glanced on, his true intentions rather hazy. Purple eyes glinted in curiosity of whatever may spill out of a mouth that belonged to a person dark as he. 

With the flicks of his gaze roaming with the rise and fall on a candle, still tagged with the price from a grocery store, the oneirologist let a utensil rest between his fingers, slowly digging into the spread before them. 

Simple, if not bland at best. Vegetables and stews lined before them, and it surely seemed a great deal of effort had been placed into it, but to the oneirologist, the chef made themselves quite clearly never to have experienced a dish too luxurious in the making...

“I... assume... you are... feeling well...”

With his murmurs, Masumi made no real direction to who he spoke to; whether he meant to converse with the girl, or the boy.

[yumenomashin]

Mother Twilight, Child Dawn | Post Trial | Open

[shsl-mangaka-blog]

Unfortunately for Masumi, sleep was one more thing denied to him by the fates. Instead, he received a thing far stranger… as in, a literal stranger. Yoshiko Gouro seemed to slide across the floor as a shadow would crawl up a bedroom wall in the night, eyes gazing into a distance that felt deeper than one would like to admit. 

Maybe it’s a bit too generous to compare Yoshiko’s movements any sort grace, though. The mangaka managed to hitch his heel during his stride. The full length of his limbs splayed out in front of himself for just a moment, before the distinct clunking of dress shoes on floor bring Yoshiko bumbling into the side of Masumi. Expletives fumbled through clenched teeth. 

“Sh-shit…sorry…kuhu…”

It wasn’t every day that Yoshiko embarrassed himself in front of yet another peer during times of duress. It was just most days. 

[yumenomashin]

This mind submerged in a rather troublesome scenario, Masumi seemed to be drowning in them as the mangaka stumbled before him. Ah, perhaps the distraction arrived when it was truly needed. For in a moment, the oneirologist could flood out the thoughts...

“...”

“Talk... is cheap...”

With a glance sideways, the purple expression seemed to linger on his companion, perplexed at the dark sprouted individual that just so happened to make his way here.

With a few lingering moments between them, the oneirologist parted his lips, watching the other with a strange, new curiosity. 

“You’re... the boy... from the cafe...”

[yumenomashin]

Mother Twilight, Child Dawn | Post Trial | Open

Perhaps the night had flown by in such simplistic, peaceful ease to the contrast of the storm he has weathered. The night had labored the pains of the twilight, the spirit medium suffering the duties of a midwife, and through the exruciation and adversity, the night had birthed the morning. Dawn, somewhere, bright and intimidating beyond the confines of this revolving chamber of accusations, it lay with the first of its ray peaking beyond the dying corpse of its maternal link.

With death comes life.

How tragic.

It seems as with this new generation, the oneirologist would miss the sleep that marked the matriarch of the night. And though Masumi made no indication of his mourning of her passing, he was by no means unfazed by the lack of her presence. After all, the mystics of the nights could never truly be replaced once they fizzled.

...

“...how troubling. Perhaps... now, a nap... may be in order...”

In all the harmonious demeanor the boy could ever hold himself to, the oneirologist’s hazy expression faltered. With the slightest of motions, one could catch the gaze of the oneirologist softening to a moment of confusion, a lump forming at a slender neck, and in another, the boy had returned, sleepy eyes holding the world in wonderment.

...

How peculiar... She hadn’t... made him feel so small... in such a long time...

[yumenomashin]

Unforseen Consequences | Masumi | Reaction

Perhaps the it was an act of god that led the oneirologist stumbling astray. Of course, he would never believe any course of action to be of such, but with recent events emerging, perhaps Masumi should consider recantation. 

Nighttime. A time so wholeheartedly dedicated to the sport known quite intimately by the boy as sleeping. Indulgent, ubiquitous rest that Masumi found himself satisfying throughout the day. Perhaps the most surreal experience was to gorge himself with something so incessant in its stream on longevity.

Of course, Masumi was not simply going to bed, as such is the schedule of a boy enveloped in a life cased with bloodshed and murder. Simply put, the oneirologist lingered at the entrance of his apartment, key twisting the knob in hand, as the first pangs of panic rang out. 

“...”

Perhaps exhausting some sort of nonnative gesture, Masumi lingered a moment longer at his room, a door hanging ajar. For whatever his rhyme or reason, the oneirologist allowed a purple gaze to scan the horizons as more and more students seemingly rushed to the source of the alarm. With lingering fingers on the handle, the boy drifted in closing the door behind him. With the excitement seemingly too tiring for Masumi to commence in, the oneirologist found himself lounging about his room with relative ease. Perhaps with time, the oneirologist should find the cause of such a commotion.

...

Within moments, Masumi had fled the security of his confines, a door left open as the oneirologist rushed to see what could be so interesting to gather the attention of his fellow classmates. Perhaps a whale had fallen through the roof, or a bird that could dance flew in through a window left open. The possibilities were endless, and the oneirologist knew all were unforeseen for whatever the real case, whatever it may be...

Striding upon the group from behind, Masumi felt the sloshings of origins of the crowds attention before he could begin to peek at the forbidden quince behind the foliage of his classmates.

Squelch 

Glancing down at the puddles that stained the undersides of his boat shoes, the thoughts of possibilities slowly faded from the whimsical thoughts to a tone taken on much darker. Perhaps this was an unforeseen consequence of such flights of fancy.

...

“...pink...?”

Drifting further into the crowd of his peers, purple eyes found their way onto the fountain that gushed so.

That rather peculiar girl with the concealed identity lay sprung out, stained in a color so violent.

An unforeseen consequence, indeed.

[yumenomashin]

Circadian Rhythm | Masumi | Chapter 2 Reaction + Open

[Music Room]

Taking in the mellow wafts he could find, the oneirologist swallowed them in greedily. Breath heavy and indulgent, Masumi gave no notion of restraint. An aria of environment circulating in his lungs, and the boy relished it. Full of his surroundings, and his surroundings full of him. It might have been a spectacle to witness the oneirologist take in so much air at once, but one should not hold their breath for an event such at that.

Toot

All at once, the oneirologist released his breath into the world. A deep sigh of release, and the boy let go of his holdings. A breath returning to woodwork. A deep sigh into an instrument that groaned and honked in dismay under the care of hands of inexperience.

“...”

Glancing down at the horn gripped in his hands, Masumi seemed almost perplexed that such a noise would ruminate from such a contraption. Perhaps the oneirologist was expecting a different outcome, something as sweet and mellow as the natural delight to be found in flutes of all sorts.

Of course, it did not discourage the boy from attempting to recreate the sounds of an instrument otherwise than the one for its intentions. Giving another blow, Masumi gave a curtly glance off to the side, eyeing the intrusion of his experience. With a purple gaze on the visitor, the boy did not pause, the low grumble wafting from the mouth of his instrument as perhaps a sort of greeting. With the slightest of movements, Masumi slid a manila envelope under him.

Tooooooooooooot

[yumenomashin]

Schadenfreunde | Chapter 1 | Masumi | Umeko

[yumenomashin]

shsliinchou:

Had she not had been told of the concoction he had been consuming, she would have assumed it to be some bizarre tea; It came to no surprise that the revelation caused the class representative to stare bemused into the cup, watching the semi-translucent liquid bob from the sudden movement of her hand. This young man was far more vexing than she had realized; Yet instead of a frustrated anger, Umeko felt the bubble of a quiet laugh escape her. 

She brought the beverage back to her lips and sipped once again, her eyes glancing down into the teacup as she did so.

“It is not something that I dislike, if I might say so.”

Umeko placed the cup back on the table, now allowing her gaze to find the young man’s in front of her. Truly he was a curious person - yet finding any sense of true seriousness in him was difficult, even for her. She brought her seat closer, shutting the gap between her body and the table, allowing her to comfortably rest of her arms on the table. Her index finger found itself tracing the invisible line her lips had left on the side of the cup, despite her eyes never leaving the vice they had on her companion.

Scholar-san?

“Miyamoto…” She corrected. “Umeko Miyamoto is fine.”

She contemplated his cryptic speech for a moment, before finalizing her decision on what she might be able to say in response. Bringing her hand up to her face, Umeko tapped her chin a few times, releasing her gaze finally.

“I suppose the decision to surrender to temptation would depend on the reward that such an endeavor would provide. If offered something alluring at arm’s length… what would stop you from trying to reach for it? The blade that tempts to strike you as you extend your arm?”

She looked to him and offered a much more solid smile.

“For instance… I might give in to the temptation to ask you for your name.”

“Ah, Miyamoto-san, a pleasure… to be in acquaintance… with an individual… so eloquent… with her words…”

Bringing mauve sleeves onto the table, the oneirologist crossed his arms, leaning his head against his arms. Slouching over, it seemed as if the boy was ready to take a nap and simply leave Umeko to her own devices. Instead, hazy, purple irises peaked from under resting lids, letting the oneirologist’s ever wandering gaze roam.

♩ ♩ ♩

With a sole hand pulling from the oneirologist’s rest against the table, Masumi set his pointer and index against the surface, a clumsy mimicry of legs stumbling to the landmark that stood as his teacup. Perhaps the boy had relaxed in the girl’s presence, or merely decided that no formalities were required for this sort of transaction. Business did not always require such a refined hand in all situations.

“…perhaps… you’ve enjoyed the occupied… company… of one… Masumi Mori. Now… it is… nice to finally meet you… in person. Welcome… to the station…”

[yumenomashin]

Schadenfreunde | Chapter 1 | Masumi | Umeko

[yumenomashin]

shsliinchou:

It was truly bizarre, the circumstances that Umeko found herself currently in. Caught between the urge to not want to be portrayed as impolite in front of her strange company, and the desire to question his motivations during these trying times threatened to rip her mind apart. Grasping the cup between both hands, the young woman looked down at its contents and brought it up to her lips, sipping the warm and refreshing beverage silently. Her eyes fluttered closed for just a moment before she realized that any maliciousness she detected was all in her mind.

It was quite nice, this drink - she decided.

Placing the cup back down in front of her, she did not quickly return her eyes to catch the glance of the young man in front of her. His manner of speech and direction of conversation certainly was bizarre, but in a situation like this, maybe normality was not something she should expect. She listened quietly to his change of subject and felt a small smile peak through her lips.

Kuniumi, was it? 

“…The gods Izanagi and Izanami were given the task of forming the islands that we call Japan. The last of the Seven Divine Generations… and the first to procreate the dominions of this earth…”

Her words trailed behind her as she spoke, as if reciting the contents of a textbook, as if second nature to her. Were things like that important anymore? Surely they still had purpose. Just because a situation would dictate that knowledge like that was unnecessary, it did not devalue it at all… did it?

“Yes… I happen to be familiar with such things.”

Complacent and quiet under his gaze, Umeko couldn’t help but feel a haunting familiarity in his eyes and it made her grip the hot cup in her hands tightly, turning her white hands a flushed red at the palms. Despite her own internal conflict, Umeko offered her company a small smile.

“There is not much that I understand in this world, but perhaps… that is not such a bad thing… don’t you think?”

“An... academic approach, well versed. Your knowledge... appears complete... yet... hollow. I... see...where your... allegiances lay. Thank you... for expanding... something I so... dearly treasure. I hope you may... share more... at a later time... ”

Lifting a wet finger from the cup, Masumi dangled the digit around before placing it between his lips, quietly mumbling as he did so.

“Individuals... all have their... likes and dislikes. You chose... something scholarly... in the way... of talents, I assume, and I... decided... my distaste for tea... was overwhelming... so, instead... I boiled an energy drink... and served it... in these teacups. I hope... it was to... your liking...”

Releasing the finger from the clench of his teeth, clean of the sugary liquid, Masumi Clasping hands together, the oneirologist clumsily laced slender finger together, not particularly concerned about the mesh they found. Some digits were split between an ring and pinkie, some caught between a thumb and index. Perhaps Masumi had no real rhyme or reason to his action, or perhaps he simply meant to indicate his acceptance of his business. 

“I... do hope it was... your decision, after all...”

...

“Now, scholar-san, how far... will you lean past the gates... to taste the sake of knowledge? Unfortunately... in our position... our chances are slimmed... from eight... to one.”

From his cryptic message, Masumi returned his attention to his now lukewarm drink, preoccupied once again by the apparent amusement he found in watching the swirls in the sugar. 

[yumenomashin]

Schadenfreunde | Chapter 1 | Masumi | Umeko

[yumenomashin]

shsliinchou:

The whim that carried her from the apartment complex to the cafe seemed to escape her as she gently pushed open the door, a soft chime signaling her arrival to the company already occupying the dining floor. Her ears were the first to notice Nodame and Seiji’s presence, however what caught her attention first was not their heated conversation, but instead the quiet sound of a voice from just outside her peripheral. A young man, whom she only saw in passing, sat by himself at a table, with a drink sitting across from him waiting for someone to accompany either him or it.

Umeko felt briefly that the young man was referring to someone else, however after a quick glance around the cafe, there could be no one else he was addressing other than her. Not one to deny something being offered to her politely, the Class Representative nodded quietly, slipping into the space between the chair and the table in front of her.

“Thank… you.”

Expectedly hesitant, Umeko looked into cup before and reached around to grasp it in her cool grip. She only knew of this young man by association. His smooth, sleepy voice echoed the words he spoke from the courtroom, and even now, she could still hear the same languid tone in his voice. Perhaps it was just his manner of speech in general.

She looked up to him after a moment and intently gazed at him, curious about his intentions and his motivations for summoning her. The silence between them, though lasting several minutes, was broken once Umeko managed to find her voice.

“Was… there something you wished to speak to me about?”

My, how this conversation had turned on its head. With a sigh, Masumi lowered his gaze, holding an expression that seemingly spoke of disappointment with her introductions. Perhaps the oneirologist was looking for something else the girl could offer, beside an inquisitive ponder at his motives.

With eyes focused on his drink, the oneirologist ignored the girl’s question, preferring to bring the teacup to his lips. Vapors fogged the space between them as Masumi breathed into the drink, his purple gaze perforating the steam as it subsided. The boy stared at her questioningly, sipping from his cup.

“...”

With the other’s failure to meet his standards, Masumi set down the drink, parting his lips to murmur a reply. His gaze falling again from the girl before him, the boy dipped a finger in his drink, swirling the contents round and round. 

Swirl and patterns, simple to convey, with a sole meaning.

“In some cultures... It is considered... rude to commence... in business... before accepting...refreshments...”

...

"Are you... familiar with...myths? My favorite... is Kuniumi; the story of creation... of heaven and subsequently... earth. Though... its not... familiar with... my upbringings. In the end, perhaps... it is no longer... important, either...”

[shsl-mangaka-blog]

Sorrowful Stomachs | Yoshiko | Open

[yumenomashin]

shsl-triathlete:

shsl-mangaka:

Despite the vindication he should have felt rushing through him with the successful trial, Yoshiko couldn’t help but feel…terrible. It wasn’t like the creeping dread that he’d been feeling the moment he woke up on the island, or the general malaise that seemed to follow Yoshiko like the world’s saddest puppy. No, this was pure, unadulterated terribleness. Two people were dead, with one of them having to suffer the indignity of being sentenced to death by their own peers. Then again, the other was dead through the indignity of class-wide blackmail. There was no real way of justifying any side of what had happened. It was a flat-out terrible situation, and Yoshiko knew that it was only going to get worse. 

As what was typical for him, Yoshiko found himself skulking the island hours after the trial. He had tried to rest back in his room, but rest never came easy when death was hanging in the air. If he was going to mope about, the least he could do was mope where the air didn’t taste stale. The destination he arrived at was the Saltspray Cafe. The place was perhaps charming in a past life. Now, with its clean tables and (Yoshiko gagged) themed decor, it was far too dissonant of a place to find comfort in…unless…

Anyone stumbling upon the scene would soon find one Yoshiko Gouro, head stuck halfway into one of the fridges that stood humming in the kitchen. 

Oh.

Nodame prepared for solitude when she left her room behind for somewhere different, somewhere where she didn’t felt as trapped. In the early hours before dawn, the sea breeze scattered her hair about as waves crashed loudly in the distance. It was eerie and lonesome how the few trees scattered across the island rustled with night air. It felt like something out of a horror film if that. Almost fitting given the earlier circumstances.

She shuddered at the thought, quickening her steps towards her destination as her stomach growled if urging her even faster. The welcoming light from the 24 hour cafe was a blessing, and she hastily entered and greedy took in the warmth of being inside again. However, that left her with the situation she was currently facing. In an isolated place… with an unexpected stranger. Oh dear.

“A-Ano…” 

Oh god, her voice cracked. Could she get any more humiliated?

“Excuse me, I-I’m sorry but I will be using the facilities too if you don’t… mind? 

Perhaps now was not the best time to prepare a hot drink. The kitchen of this cafe was becoming much too crowded for the oneirologist’s taste, and the option to enjoy one at his room was again becoming the more enticing option.

What he found was that bright girl again. How she appeared in all his situations that would otherwise be unwarrented, Masumi could only fantasize. Perhaps she specialized in a sort of annoyingly pleasant talent. Whatever the case, her idling was an obstacle in current goals, and the oneirologist found no more reason to wait. 

Dividing his glance between the bright, smiley girl and the rather illustrious appearance of that boy clad with the darkest of shades, Masumi merely pushed through the duo, seemingly not too troubled with the bold action.

“My... apologies...”

Despite his reflexive amendment, Masumi lacked a trace of sincerity in his actions, simply striding towards an opening. Brushing past the girl, the oneirologist found his way beside that dreary appearance bent over. My, how vulnerable this boy made himself, especially after witnessing such an act of violent disparity occur before them not a day earlier. Perhaps this boy held the right perspective, or perhaps...

Quietly pulling behind him, Masumi gave the other tap in the back.

“...are... you almost... finished?”

[yumenomashin]

Schadenfreunde | Chapter 1 | Masumi | Umeko

[Saltspray Cafe]

Resting trembling hands on the warmth, the oneirologist let another of his deep, breathy sighs escape his nostrils. Masumi’s eyes lay downcast, watching the swirls and patterns that formed in the vapors billowing through the umber liquid. Endless possibilities and forms, all taking place before the oneirologist.

Masumi sat quietly in the corner, transfixed with his piping cup, and the one he set before it. Silver strands obscured his preoccupation, and for a time, the oneirologist made no notion of his distaste for the noisy, bickering couple. It was that sunshine girl and that uneasy climbing boy, likely confessing their feelings for each other before this unpleasant game takes one away...

“...”

No... this was... a calming time...

Returning to his quiet observation of his pair of refreshments, the oneirologist found himself murmuring at a passing stranger. That fair skinned girl with the raven hair made her debut, and none the more opaque as she appeared before. Perhaps the oneirologist found her approachable, or perhaps he simply wanted to take his mind off the events not too long ago, but Masumi beckoned at the girl, offering the drink that stood across from his. With her approach, the oneirologist merely quieted back down.

“Care... to join...?”

Perhaps Masumi simply found solace in putting thoughts someplace elsewhere, or perhaps he simply enjoyed watching the drink stir and the steam waft from it. Whatever the case, the oneirologist offered no glance to the stranger at his company after, perhaps awaiting whatever words of wisdom her company could offer.

[yumenomashin]

Dissonance | Chapter 1 Execution Reaction

Once upon a time, there was a boy who dreamed in search of home. He dreamed and felt and lived through these dreams. But one day, the boy fell too deeply in his dreams, and dreamt that he awoke on an island, far, far away from the world. Despite its absurdity and hallucinatory quality, a resident of this land, a strange cat-girl gijinka, assured him he was awake. This was simply his reality, and the boy failed to realize it.

He was awake.

Though, as the oneirologist traversed this place its residents so wholeheartedly assured him was real, he was convinced more and more of its visage, no matter how vivid these figments portrayed themselves to be. Perhaps it was simply the allure of falling asleep and leaving this false reality for a natural reality in another dream. Perhaps it was simply the convenience of not experiencing this one. But one thing was certain.

Masumi did not want to keep his eyes open any longer. The sight of that girl spilling all over was not something he wanted to see any longer. He did not want any part of this any longer, and he wanted it to go away. All this disgusting events and these feelings needed to disappear into a fading memory. He just wanted to wake up.

Clawing at his face, the oneirologist’s gaze quivered. A dulled expression glazed over purple eyes, the dazed look the boy held melted into one utterly disoriented. Muttering to himself, Masumi paid no attention to the fading out static on the screen, standing in place long after the crowd had fled to the safety behind the bars of the elevator.

“...awake...?”

[drdd-court]

Expulsion | Masumi | Re: Ushio, Hiroshi, Others

“Lovely exposition, truly… perhaps it would be… in best interests… to take a dose of ambien… and take a step back. I’m sure… a reprieve… from these sour notes… would do everyone some good.”

Taking a somber, disapproving glance, the oneirologist shifted from the boxer to the treasure hunter, a tinge of glare shrouded by foggy eyes. In all interests, all this screaming and emotion-driven accusations was quite the inconvenience for his trial, and for Masumi, deemed to be halted immediately. Not perishing at the fault of a case misdirecting due to emotional outburst was in his best interests, after all.

With a twitch of his eyebrow, the oneirologist relaxed his expression. My, how frustrating it could be to deal with other’s squabbles. 

“As much as… I’m sure you all… enjoy these accusatory tones… perhaps if you quiet down, the truth… will find its way… through the conundrum… concerning the death… of one… Super High School Level Bomber, ah… ‘Counter Terrorist’, as… he would say…”

Clearing his throat, Masumi’s gaze shifted downward, a focus on nothing in particular anyone could make out. With eyes as hollow as ever, the oneirologist began to murmur in succession, seemingly void of outside distraction.

“From… what I’ve gathered… our victim… he was struck… around the cranial region… with a pipe. Said victim… was in possession… of the pipe. Victim-san… was in possession… of potent… heart medication. Another wound… was located… at the back of the head. A bloody… garment… was found… in the women’s room. The victim’s… motive was located, as well… as a note… signed by the… rather beefy fellow. There… is no dispute… to be had over this… it is merely fact…”

With a breathy sigh, the oneirologist tilted his gaze again, falling on that silent girl with the sheep’s hair. Bringing a hand to strands of his own, Masumi began to twist silver locks, offering another tongue to the face wet with tears as his slothy gaze found its way to the girl.

pblept

“Now… here’s where you… may dispute. Whether… the victim instigated… a quarrel with the murderer… or vise versa. A cat… or mouse… no one truly knows… for certain. The murderer… would sustain little to… no injury. Victim-san was… too weak of heart… to lay a hand… on our killer, quite literally, no matter… his reputation. Do not fret… Sunshine-chan, your… efforts were in… good tiding. I believe, though… a man… of his talents, were… in all honesty, a hand of bombs… not fists. Our killer… would be have to believe themselves… capable of taking someone… famed of their acts.”

Tilting his gaze around, Masumi found no real focus, passing through the visage of the class representative, the mountain climber, and even the horror mangaka, before settling between the wrestler and the boxer.

“That… being said… there are still… a number of prime suspects. A boxer… is known for their acting… no matter how terrible. Ah, Yogomuki-san, I believe… you’ve proven your… spite… for others with… different ways. Considering… how our resident… Samou Ibaguki… was likely… of distateful personality… considering his talents… I’m sure you would find him… to your disliking. You… yourself have proven… how voraciously… you would take your lengths… to preserve your kin.”

With an exasperated sigh, Masumi leaned against his podium, eyeing the pair. There was certainly much more he should divulge in, but in all effects…

He was too sleepy to continue for long.

With gentle bobs and nods, the oneirologist gave a yawn.

“What… you should ask… yourselves… what may be forged? The note… or the shirt? Certainly… one… is…”

Masumi cut his sentence off in a slur. He certainly needed a nap afterwards if he survived this ordeal.