June 7th
I am to start writing a diary today in commemoration of starting my first day of school.
Well, to be true, I was supposed to start writing more than a week ago, but so much has happened that I hadn't found the time.
My first day at school had gone completely contrary to my expectations, though I suppose that leaves all the more to write about…
Now, where to start?
How about, when did I stop believing in the urban myth of Bloody Mary?
Yes, I know, this is a somewhat strange introduction, but do bear with me.
I don't think I ever believed that old folk tale. A spirit that appears in the mirror at midnight after saying her name three times? What a ridiculous concept. What happened when two people did it at the same time? Would the psychotic spirit have to split in two? A likely story.
Whenever I was presented with such an urban myth, it became a habit of mine to punch holes in its logic until all that was left was a disappointed storyteller.
But when it came to more intricate and interesting tales, such as ancient ghost stories, howling werewolves and disguised demons, I was a bit more open to such concepts. For a while, at least. Maybe I tired of my habit, and eventually started craving for a tale too bizarre to be true to actually be true.
Modern society is rather cruel, however, and as a respectable Englishman, I am expected to be righteous and rational. There is no room in society for anyone who believed in such 'childish fantasies'.
And so, I eventually was forced to abandon my hopes, and look forward to newer, less exciting, but more peaceful futures. All the world may be a stage, but the men and women that inhabit it are destined to be merely players. I can only follow the role which has been set for me by the playwright.
I was aspiring to become a writer, like Shakespeare or Homer. Yes, something nice and calm such as that. And so that was my simple goal for a while. That is, until the fateful day I met Emma Starbright.
Our first class started at 8:00 sharp, and we filed into the classroom as the church bells rang. There was a mix of emotions on everyone's faces. Fears of the future. Hopes of happiness. Preparations for the long journey of work ahead of us. The seating allotments were up on the chalk board, and I took my seat, as did everyone else. The teaching master walked in once the mild commotion had died down, and began his announcement.
"Good morning, class. I am Mr. Baker. You will refer to me only as 'sir', and speak only when told. If you fail to meet my expectations on any matter, appropriate action may be taken. Any comments?"
I don't know what to make of sir yet. On one hand, all teachers have to be that strict nowadays, but he doesn't seem that bad so far. Either way, the next statement made in the class was probably the one that changed the course of my life.
"Good day, everyone! I'm from West Essex, my name is Emma Starbright! If any of you are vampires, demons, witches, or ghosts, then come find me! That is all!"
I turned around at the voice behind me and stared. Much like Prince Hamlet gazing upon the spirit of his father, I observed this person with a mixture of fascination and horror.
She was actually very pretty, with long brown hair, and a fair, but daring face. Her green eyes glinted with determination, and her smooth lips were dead-set with a serious expression, which told me that this wasn't some sort of ill-contrived joke.
Sir, completely clueless as to how to react, sensibly chose to ignore this outburst and continued with things as normal. Looking back, perhaps that is what I should have done, too.
I remember our first conversation. It was first break All the sensible people stayed away from her after that proclamation, but I regret to say I chose to ignore the consensus and attempt to speak with her.
"Umm… your name is Emma, right? I was wondering what were your intentions when you spoke of vampires and such?"
She sat upright and looked me straight in the eye.
"Are you a vampire?"
"…No."
"Then go away!"
"Why?"
No response.
What a pleasant start to our unique relationship.
It was a bit later on that I was approached by one of my other classmates, a boy named Jacob.
"Hey, Smithy!" He said.
Smithy was what almost everyone called me. It sounds really stupid, but once more people start calling you that than your real name, there's no longer any use opposing it.
"I saw you trying to talk to Emma Starbright." He laughed. "Well, I should say give up now! She has never paid attention to any young gentleman whatsoever! May I recommend some more attainable targets?"
And so I was forced to pay attention to his detailed analysis of the school's female population. One girl he was particularly keen on was a young lady by the name of Mary Rose, who, according to him, was nice to everyone in class and also accomplished much in academic and athletic fields.
Mary Rose, huh … Jacob, I humbly decline. I doubt she'd ever have anything to do with me, anyway.
Back onto the topic of that peculiar female that seems to have dominated this diary entry, I had noticed more and more oddities to do with Emma Starbright over the next few days.
Every day, the number of ribbons in her hair changed. I had only been watching for a week, but she seemed to add a new one daily. In fact, just yesterday, I asked her about this. I shall refer back to this later.
She also momentarily joined and left every circle of friends in the school, from the cricket players to the bug collectors. From what I hear, it was quite a traumatising experience that involved her showing up and announcing that she'd join for a bit, participating in the group's activity (And, strangely, excelling in it), and leaving again without a word. By now, I'm sure almost everyone in school has heard of this singular girl.
And finally, her clothing. School uniform was to be worn during classes at all times, but Emma had found a loophole in this rule and proceeded to change into her plain home clothes during every break over five minutes, exposing her pale body to everyone and having to be pushed behind a curtain to do it by Mary Rose.
Strange indeed.
Back to the ribbons… yesterday I finally gathered the courage to make an inquiry into them.
"Those ribbons… are they for warding off demons or whatnot?"
She blinked and looked at me, surprised. Wait, you mean I was correct? That was a joke…
"How did you know?" She asked.
"Well, it seemed like… the rational explanation, I suppose." I quickly blurted out.
"I think that the strength of demons increases every day, until Sunday when the church resets it."
"So that's why you wear one more ribbon every day?"
"Yes."
"Why not tie all six of them together and just wear that all the time?"
"That would be boring."
And so our repartee had ended for the next day. Imagine my shock when today I entered class, and saw that her hair was devoid of any ribbons whatsoever!
"What did you do with the ribbons?" I had asked her.
"The fact that someone like you figured it out means they were much too obvious. So I am taking different measures against them now."
I looked at her from all angles, but failed to take notice of anything that could be remotely associated with a demon ward. However, we continued with a few mild conversations for the rest of the day. It seems Emma Starbright has finally deemed me as 'tolerable', which is probably not a good omen.
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I stare at the pages of the book, almost frozen in disbelief.
"Nagato… this is some kind of joke, isn't it? I mean… all these similarities… they can't really be…"
"Keep reading."
A/N: Well. Lots to say here, not all of it completely related to the story. First, my thanks for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it. Although so far I'm sticking closely to the story, this is only a starting point. Expect things to diverge more from the original as time goes on (I'm still going to keep all the counterparts' personalities the same, though. The characters are one of my favourite parts of the plotline, along with how the author managed to think up a good excuse for combining aliens, Time travellers and espers…)
Also, regarding 19th century England… I took quite a bit of poetic license with this. I'm trying to keep it as accurate as possible, but some occurrences you'll just have to accept. (For example, I'm not so sure if a group of 17-year oldish boys and girls of John and Emma's social status could even go to school together, but maybe that's just my stereotyped view of 19th century London.) Let's just say this is some sort of alternate universe London where some things are different.
Oh yeah, technically this isn't my first fanfic. I'm also currently collaborating with my old school friend, Kite Impulse in writing 'The Kyonness of Haruhi Suzumiya (And Vice-Versa)'. Read it if you liked this. It's on his account, so go search for it.