Daichi: So I've been thinking. I've got one version that turned out relatively well adjusted. Then I decided to make a version that isn't so good at dealing with grief. I decided she needed a new best friend to help her with it. I'm not so sure how I came up with Joe Kido as the best solution.

Verity: We don't own anything here.

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"Ib, why don't you make a picture?" Red eyes stared at the blank page in front of her, wondering if she could even do as asked.

"Why?" She replied. Because she knew her answer. A week before, it would have been simple. She would have put her pencil to the paper without much thought, slapped paint on a canvas, enjoyed herself. But she couldn't, anymore.

"Ib, you love to draw. Just last Monday, you covered the floor in paper because there wasn't enough room in your bag to take it all home. What changed?" She didn't look at the teacher, frightened of telling the truth, what the obvious reaction would be.

How could she continue to find joy in something that had, however inadvertently, killed her best/only friend? Nobody else would believe her if she told them what happened, say she was dreaming or something. She'd thought that, too, but the physical evidence- a lighter and some candy- didn't lie.

She fled the room.

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It wasn't the first time that Joe hadn't done as well on a test as he'd hoped. His parents had high expectations from the beginning, and his personal goal in life was to exceed them. Not quite being nine yet, the fact that this might not be healthy never occurred to him.

Rather, he found he excelled in stressful situations, even if his slightly higher than average blood pressure said otherwise. Which only made his occasional failures to live up to his own expectations worse.

He was distracted from his own thoughts by the sounds of someone running past the classroom. Nobody else seemed to notice, except for the teacher, who had a situation to deal with inside the classroom. He didn't know why his classmates would go so far as to pick fights over grades, but it had been a while since he'd actually talked to someone his age.

"Joe? Could you go see what that was?" Putting his own thoughts to the side, he nodded. After all, that would be helpful, which meant he was achieving something, right?

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In hindsight, Ib realized that running off like that wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. Not the worst, either- her worst was kind of hard to top- but far from the best. The day wouldn't end for another fifteen minutes, which was a long time to curl up and cry in a corner, especially if she couldn't tell anyone why.

She hadn't expected anybody to approach. Everyone else seemed to live in their own little worlds where everything was as close to perfect as physically possible. Had things been even the slightest bit different, she could have done the same.

She didn't mind the surprise, though. The fact that there was anyone who actually cared was a nice thought. Not that she was any good at expressing it. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to help." She glanced at the speaker, a boy about her age with glasses that seemed rather large for him. He was slightly taller than her and his hair was a rather familiar shade of blue. She shoved that last detail away and focused on the glasses. At least those didn't bring up painful memories.

"I don't think you can. It's... well..." She didn't know the word to go with the situation. "Difficult," was what she finally settled for.

"Why?" She didn't blame him for asking. Had almost expected it. For a moment, she debated what lie she'd have to tell, before remembering that, even if he didn't believe her, nobody would listen to another kid telling adults there was something wrong with her, even if he might possibly be right.

But he could still turn against her, couldn't he? Just about everyone did at some point or another. Besides her parents, there was exactly one person she could thing of who hadn't. And he wasn't there anymore.

"Can I trust you?" The words were out before she even realized what she was considering. She didn't know him, but... maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

Ib didn't end up telling Joe the truth that day, but she felt that they'd become friends, and maybe, that was enough.

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That night, Ib's parents kept asking her what was wrong. She still couldn't quite answer. It hurt to think about, even now that she was entirely certain that it was real. And nobody would listen to her. Other worlds were things to be discovered by adults, not young girls who didn't understand what they were reading half of the time.

Well, adults wouldn't listen to her, at least. Perhaps another kid would, or they'd treat it as a game, which was much more likely. At least, in most cases.

She wasn't sure which of the two was more likely for Joe. He was hard to read, purely because nobody had ever approached her like that before. It was different. But not entirely unfamiliar.

She had, in fact, met someone like him once before. They weren't exactly alike, but still rather similar, although it took her that long to notice. She didn't know if Joe possessed the same hidden courage that Garry had when she was threatened, but...

"I'm not replacing him," She whispered to herself, not entirely believing it. "I'm not even sure I could."

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Daichi: See, the main difference between this Ib and the one of 'Rainbow' is simple. The latter has had time to cope, a willingness to move on, and some amount of remaining optimism. This one has had a week, tops, to deal, doesn't realize that her coping mechanisms aren't healthy, and has a new friend that is just as cynical as she is.