(Prologue: ?)

When we're far enough away from the clearing, far enough away that the guilt stops clinging to our feet, we collapse down for a wretched night of sleep. After a few hours, the experience is reduced to a mere blemish in our dull routine, and Wednesday morning rises like a fearsome predator, but we rise with it, purpose in our minds. We remain empty of food and water, so the mood is low as we continue to walk.

I can't remember what day it was when we escaped the carriages. All of that has disappeared now, the sole focus shifting to mere survival, and griping. Everyone is constantly whinging, complaining to one another about anything and everything. According to this unjust crowd, everyone who tries to lead us is terrible, and every move we make is wrong.

"We shouldn't be too far away from Onett," I say, speaking for the first time in a while. We've been in the forest for four days now, a long time to go without food, and my stomach rumbles in protest at the thought of another day of heavy walking.

"What will we do when we get there?" Elmore asks, her arms folded in her typical manner. She looks more weathered than she'd like to admit. "I see you haven't bothered to make a plan."

"How about you make one?" Reggie suggests irritably. It's unusual for him to take my side, but I welcome it with open arms.

"Me? I don't see you thinking of anything," Elmore says, raising her eyebrows. "You'd probably be happy living wild, you and your filthy teepee."

"Don't make this personal. We're only stuck together for the sake of survival," Reggie says, his tone hardening in a dangerous way. "And, as a matter of fact, I do have a plan. When we arrive, we can find an empty house, one whose owners have gone to fight in the war. It can be our place of refuge in the short term. We can make money for food by selling their possessions."

"And then what?" Elmore asks. "I refuse to be housed with lowlifes like Duster for any longer than a day. He stinks."

"Then you can live on the street," Reggie snaps.

"How dare you!"

"Look," I say, forcing calmness into my voice. This has been the constant pattern for the last few hours. "After we've settled down, we can form new identities. We can get jobs, and once we have enough money, we can go our separate ways."

"But, as usual, this plan is flawed," Elmore says, kicking at a pile of pine needles as we pass them. "Men are legally required to fight in the war, and women aren't allowed to get jobs."

"Except for key workers," I point out. "Onett is a mining city. They won't send the coal miners to war, because the coal makes up most of their economy. The men amongst us can work there, and that will provide a steady income for everyone else."

"But I'm a mayor!" Pusher exclaims. "I cannot be demoted to a senseless miner. I should be in my Town Hall, with my butler serving grapes and honey! I refuse to live like a peasant."

"Steven is right, Father," Ollie says before I can make a scathing comment. "It's the best hope we have of surviving."

"And what would you know?" Pusher glares across at his son. "You're just a boy. Don't talk back to me."

"Sorry..."

Secretly, I don't think we'll make it to the city, not like this. Porky's plan will be too far ahead by then, and Onett's slim chance of surviving could well have vanished. Not only that, but anything could happen to us before we even reach the gates; wild animals, another attack, starvation.

"If we want to get to Onett in one piece, we need to think about food," I say. "Does anyone know how to get it?"

"We'll have to hunt," Ollie says grimly.

"Oh sure, let's get all muddy and covered in blood," Elmore says, rolling her eyes. "Men, always so violent with their solutions-"

"Mother-"

"Your father was right, Ollie! You are just a child, you've never learnt your place-"

"Elmore!" Caroline exclaims, aghast, breaking her long-standing silence. Often, she'll let the fights defuse by themselves. "He's just a boy. How could you say such a thing?"

"With ease," Elmore sneers, rounding on her. "Don't tell me how to be a parent, you insufferable woman. Do you think I don't hear you and Tessie whining about me in the inn? My hair is going grey, is it? You can count the wrinkles on my cheeks? Good to know!"

"We would never! And I will tell you how to be a bloody parent if you're going to treat your son like this. He's been a valuable member of our group, far more valuable than yourself. He found the river, remember?"

"He found the river?" Elmore scoffs. She's getting angry now, her hair sticking out like a broomstick. "So what? We'd have found it anyway."

"He's your son!" Caroline shouts now, equally irritable on an empty stomach. "You should be nicer to him!"

"Should I?" Elmore asks, her eyes flaring. "Did being nice to Angie help her? Is that why she's so pathetic?"

Caroline gasps with outrage. "How dare you say that about my daughter! You miserable old cow! That's it - I've had it with you!"

"Stop fighting!" Roy yells, before Caroline can launch at Elmore with her satchel. "Ollie and Reggie are right. We need to hunt for food. But thanks to you lot, we've probably just scared off every animal in these woods."

The pair reluctantly come apart, but not without shooting each other a filthy glare. Ollie looks miserable, and Angie pats him on the shoulder.

"So, how do we hunt?" Tessie asks, awkwardly breaking the tension.

"We can make spears using sticks and a sharp stone," I say. "I learnt it in Boy Scouts."

"Nobody cares about Boy Scouts," Elmore grumbles.

"Have peace," Roy says, raising a hand with remarkable patience. "I know how to hunt. When I was at school, there was something called the Wilderness Survival Week. We would be placed in the forest with nothing, and then we'd be told to live on the elements."

"Is that what Onett's schools are like?" Tessie asks. "That sounds inhumane."

"It's surprisingly well-managed," Roy says. "But my point is, we can hunt if you all follow my lead. So let's stop fighting, and let's work together, hm? Doesn't that sound nice?"


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~~o00o~~

Chapter 29: Measures

(Ness)

~~o00o~~

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I get about two more hours of sleep before morning comes and the clocktower chimes for breakfast, but to my surprise, we're not killed in our beds, and everything's okay when I wake. It's to the point that I don't think I've moved a muscle since falling asleep in Lucas's arms, though that thought suddenly makes me hyper-aware that we're sharing a bed, even though we've done this many, many times before. But the sunshine dapples the floor, small beams of light illuminating the tumbling dust, and my mood is calmed.

"Hey," I say, once Lucas notices that I'm awake. He yawns, looking fresher than usual, despite our interrupted night.

"Hey," Lucas says, rubbing his eyes, and there's an awkward pause. I know the argument is fresh in both of our minds, but I don't know what the right thing to say is.

"You feeling okay?" I ask.

"No," Lucas says.

"Better than last night, though?"

"Yeah."

Silently, I hug him. He hugs back as if it's automatic. Even so, it still feels just as good as when I first hugged him, so long ago. He'd tried to jump away on that occasion, but he eventually let me clumsily put my arms around his body. After a few weeks, he started to hug back.

"Should we go to breakfast?" I ask tentatively.

"In a bit," Lucas says, staring up at the ceiling. "In a little bit."

"That's okay. Would you prefer to be alone?"

"No," Lucas says, reaching out and carefully holding onto my wrist. "Please stay."

I stay.

I know he's hurting still. I knew it last night, and I know it again. All he's been through is crashing down around him, everything coming to the forefront at the same time. It must be an emotional overload, and I have no idea what to do, especially when I still haven't resolved my own issues. Buttercup is lingering, homosexuality is still illegal, and so is magic. We lie in silence for a little while longer, and I find my eyes following the path of a spider as it crawls effortlessly across the ceiling. I'd love to be a spider. Everything would be so peaceful. Or maybe a sheep. I could stay with my flock, be looked after by a farmer. I wouldn't have any worries at all.

"I'm ready now," Lucas decides, bringing me back down to earth. "Come on. Let's face the day."

"That's the spirit," I say, smiling.

But he takes another few minutes to haul himself out of bed and put on his dayclothes. I'm slow also, thanks to my injuries, but it seems that the swelling has finally decided to rescind; I no longer look like I've stuffed a load of balloons under my shirt. Lucas takes my hand when he's done, and I try to give him my warmest expression. I don't know how much good it does.

"If I get too depressing, don't let me drag you down," Lucas says as we head down the stairs. "It's not your fault that I suddenly feel terrible. Promise me you'll put yourself first."

"Okay," I say, since he looks like he's going to die if I decide otherwise. "I'm still going to look out for you, though. I want to make up for what I said."

"You don't have to make it up to me," Lucas says, but he's looking straight ahead.

I nod, my throat dry. Secretly, I'm still going to be extra soft with him, and I try to push back the rising conflict that notion has with my having-a-crush-on-Lucas-is-bad side. Last night was an absolute mess for us both, and the quicker that's atoned for, the better.

"I keep thinking about it," he says, tense. "I keep thinking about last night, how everything is going to get worse, and about the streets. Ever since mentioning them to you, I keep remembering everything."

"I'm sorry," I say, to show I'm listening.

"I just hope Headmaster Hand's announcement will be good," Lucas says, but his voice is weak. "Ness, tell me a joke. Your awful jokes always make me laugh."

"They're not that bad," I protest.

"I strongly disagree."

"Alrighty then." I give him my best toothy grin. "Today's mission: make you laugh as much as possible."

"Good luck with that," Lucas says dryly, but there's a wry smile on his face that I count as a victory.

We turn the corner, our eyes meeting the strangely altered graffiti in the main corridor. Another thing I don't understand. Why would anyone just change it to Villager's name? But speak of the devil, Villager himself comes down the stairs, looking surprisingly exhausted.

"Good morning," he says, but he falls short when he sees what we're staring at. His face displays multiple emotions at once. "Oh dear."

"It's weird," I say, grimacing. "It appeared last night."

"Last night?"

I explain how we were taken to the Headmaster's office, and how we discovered his magical abilities. Villager raises his eyebrows, but before he can comment, a girl walks past, laughing. Lucas gives her a remarkably fierce glare as she disappears.

"Excellent," Villager sighs. "I think that's going to keep happening, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say, saddened. "Is there anyone with a grudge against you? I don't know why someone would go to the trouble of changing the graffiti when they could've just painted some more."

"Well," Villager begins, but he's interrupted by Toon Link appearing, trailed by Pit. There are concerning dark circles around both of their eyes, and I wonder vaguely if they slept for even a minute last night. Perhaps they were talking.

Toon Link takes one look at the graffiti, and his forehead creases. "What's all this about?"

"We're not sure who changed it, but someone did," Villager says lightly, and Toon Link's eyes flare.

"They better change it back, then! Nobody gets to mess with my friends!"

"At least you're in the clear," I say, shrugging.

"Who cares about me?" Toon Link asks, surprisingly tense, his hand in his hair. "I don't want Villager getting dragged into these rumours. It's not fair on him."

Villager shrugs. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure most people don't know who I am."

"Only if you're sure," Toon Link grumbles. "If anyone teases you, you let me know, and I'll show them who to mess with, okay?"

"Okay," Villager laughs. "If you say so."

Pit and Toon Link head towards the canteen, and Villager brings his paint-covered hands out of his pockets.

Wait...

Oh!

"Villager?" I ask cautiously.

"Hm?"

"Was it you who changed the graffiti?"

"What? No!" Villager quickly looks away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It was not me, definitely not m.! I have most definitely never graffiti-cised before."

"Your hands are covered in paint," I say. Villager brings them out, and he curses loudly.

"Okay, fine. Yeah, it was me."

"But why?" I ask, curious.

"I... don't know, really." A pink tinge appears on his cheeks. "I saw how bad Toon Link was feeling about it, so I decided to change it to my name instead. To save him the abuse. Don't tell him," he adds hurriedly.

"Villager?" A grin lingers on my face.

"Yeah?"

"That's a really nice thing to do for him."

"Oh - thanks." He blushes. "I just felt like doing it, I guess."

I smile. But I have to wonder, who sneaks around at night to do something they felt like doing? It's weird, but perhaps weird in a good way. Weird in a way that definitely favours Toon Link.

"Late at night?" Lucas asks, frowning, as if he's read my mind. "Did you see anything strange while you were doing it?"

"Well, Bowser was snooping around…" Villager frowns as if that isn't a perfectly ordinary thing. "There was a lot of noise, too, but nothing much else."

Lucas and I exchange a hasty glance.

"You're doing that thing," Villager says, narrowing his eyes. "When you know something the rest of us don't."

"We found Bowser unconscious in the hall," Lucas explains. "There was a big rock nearby."

"Wow," Villager says, giving a low whistle. "Was he okay?"

"Not sure, we were sent to bed."

"Oh, great. Why does that always happen?"

"It also turns out that Headmaster Hand's twin brother is a psycho," Lucas says. "It's Crazy Hand, that maniac who got imprisoned for blowing up the library, ages ago."

"And Headmaster Hand is bringing in some new measures for the disappearances," I add, noticing Villager's eyebrows raise. "He'll announce them at breakfast."

"Breakfast started five minutes ago," Lucas realises. He's right, so we hurry past the strange sketch of the burning school, grabbing hasty bowls of cornflakes, just in time to see Headmaster Hand standing up.

"What kept you?" Toon Link whispers.

"Quiet," Red hisses as Headmaster Hand takes the front. We turn, and Lucas surreptitiously shifts closer.

"Students," Headmaster Hand enunciates loudly, and there's a mass of noise as everyone turns around. He waits until quiet falls. "I have some information to tell you, important information that concerns your safety. This may come as a shock to many of you, but it has transpired that some of your peers are going missing."

There's a collective gasp, and the noise breaks out again, but Headmaster Hand claps once and there's silence.

"Now, we believe that there is somebody, or something, behind these disappearances. Therefore, new measures are being put in place that you must adhere to for your safety. Ordinarily, we would immediately close the school and send everyone home, but this has not been possible due to the virus in Onett City."

"Have you appealed to the Onett government?" Bayonetta asks.

"I have, thank you," Headmaster Hand says. I grip Lucas's hand tighter, and he winces, so I release him. The others watch the Headmaster with bated breath.

"Everyone must be in their dormitories by 8 p.m. There will be no exceptions. As you know, each dorm corridor has a professor's bedroom in it to keep you safe, but a patrol rota will be added to this, meaning there will always be a professor nearby to ensure your safety. Additionally, nobody is to leave the building without express permission from a member of staff, and nobody is to ever be unaccompanied in the halls. If you are found to be on your own, detentions will have to be issued. Now, I would also like to reassure you that the we are doing our best to understand what is going on. Please do not worry, but if you have any concerns about the situation, Professor Rosalina has very kindly volunteered to offer support to anyone who needs it. Furthermore, the play of Robin Hood is still going ahead on Friday, and a reminder that if you would like to have a role in the production, you must come to me by the end of tomorrow. Thank you, and enjoy your day."

Headmaster Hand sits back down, and we all turn to face each other.

"It's finally public information," Pit says ominously. "No mention of those creatures, though. Makes you wonder what other information he missed out..."

"He wouldn't want to cause a mass panic," I reason, looking around at my friends' worried faces. I'm not sure I'd quite noticed it before, but they're terrified. Sunken eyes, slight tremors, lack of sleep, paleness… it's taking a toll. A real toll. I shiver, coming to a realisation. We have to tell them everything.

"A mass panic wouldn't do anyone any good," Toon Link mutters, and I clear my throat.

"I have something to tell you," I say, gripping my spoon. "I think you guys deserve to be on the same page as me and Lucas. No holds barred. We've been trying to solve this ourselves, but it's not working out... and I think we've realised that we can't face all this without our friends."

"Oh my God." Toon Link breathes a sigh of relief, suddenly looking about a year younger. "You have no idea how long I've been hoping you'll say that."

"Same," Villager says, nodding.

I look down at my cereal. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

"We've got Sport next," I offer. "We can bunk off and we can tell you everything. If that's alright with Lucas?"

"It's alright with me," Lucas says, and so, when breakfast ends, the six of us make our way to our lounge. I breathe in, and Lucas breathes in too, standing up. This is a big deal - what if they don't believe us? But they will. They're clever. They're all clever in their own ways.

"Whenever you're ready," Toon Link says kindly, "You can tell us that we're doomed."

"Should we go from the beginning?" Lucas asks, with a sidewise glance at me.

I gulp.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

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What feels like decades later, my vocal cords are strained, and my throat is dry. I've spoken about ten thousand words that I didn't know the meaning of before thid term, but we've told them everything about the mystery. The others don't interrupt us except to cough or nod at something particularly surprising, and Red takes notes as we speak, writing hurriedly when I bring up the golden egg. The only thing we leave out is the fact that Dark Pit's been converted, since that knowledge wouldn't help anyone.

"That's a lot of stuff," Villager notes, after a long pause. "A hell of a lot."

"Yeah," I say, shrugging.

"Look," Toon Link begins carefully. "I don't pretend to understand how any of this is possible, but I'd like to say that we're all in this nightmare together. Us six, we're a team, yeah? So, Lucas, Ness, we'll help you bring down whoever is behind this."

"For sure," Villager says, and Pit and Red nod their agreement.

"Thanks," Lucas says, his face surprisingly warm. Toon Link beams back at him, but his expression turns serious.

"We should get to work, then. Who are the biggest suspects?"

"We think it's Wario," I say, and the others nod their approval.

"Definitely!"

"That slimy, sneaking git!"

"It can't logically be anyone else-"

"But," I interrupt. "We've got a lot of other things we need to sort out before doing any proper investigating-"

Suddenly, the door swings open and Headmaster Hand steps in, but he instantly breathes a sigh of relief. "There you are. Wii Fit Trainer said that none of you turned up to Sport, and I assumed the worst."

"Ah," I say weakly. "Sorry about that. We were trying to figure out who's behind the disappearances."

"I see. Please leave that to the professors," Headmaster Hand says, his gaze narrowing. "You are just students, do not put yourselves in danger-"

"What were you doing in the forest?" Lucas asks, interrupting. "That night we saw you. You were running."

"Oh, that," he says, and he rolls his eyes. "Professor Wario told me he'd seen a missing student heading into the forest. I was out searching, but of course, you were the only ones there."

"We think Wario is the one who's doing this," Red says, stepping forward with his clipboard in hand. He looks like a vigilante. "I have catalogued all the evidence against him, and it seems there are no other options."

"That is a shame," Headmaster Hand sighs. "I was beginning to reach that rather unfortunate conclusion myself."

We all start talking at once, and Headmaster Hand has to silence us.

"Look here, that's not an invitation to start hounding him. I'm going to ask him some questions, and then I'll put him on probation. But, please, keep your noses where they belong, and stay safe, okay?"

"But you think it's Wario?" I press.

"Yes." Headmaster Hand says. "I do."

We look excitedly around at each other. This is surprisingly promising news.

"However," Headmaster Hand says, raising his voice slightly. "Until anything is concrete, please don't spread it around. There's every chance that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Indeed," Red says.

"Oh, and, please do not skip your lessons. I'll let you off this time, but it's dangerous, and it had us in a bit of a panic."

"Sorry," I say again. "One more thing, Headmaster," I add, as he turns to leave.

"Yes, Ness?"

I rub my neck, feeling kind of sheepish. "Are you... doing okay? Like, with the magic stuff, and everything?"

"Oh, Ness." His expression softens, and he forces a smile. "That is very kind of you to ask. I am coming to terms with it, I suppose. It is... a difficult thing to comprehend."

"You're telling me," Toon Link mutters.

"But I will be fine," Headmaster Hand says. "I will do my duty to the school. I... will not be like my brother." He smiles. "Worry about yourselves, though, Ness. After all, you're in the thick of it, too."

"We will," I say. "Thanks, Headmaster."

"Farewell," he says, waving as he leaves.

There's a small pause once he's gone, the rest of us tentatively looking around at one another.

"The big question I still have," Pit begins, his voice a little smaller than before, and also more casual than I can believe. "Do you think Dark Pit has been converted into one of these - whatever you call them - Future Humans?"

I catch Lucas's uneasy glance, and I clear my throat, aware that this is the second time he's asked that question.

"I… hope not," I say, completely failing to mask the truth. "He might've fought back."

"He has, hasn't he?" Pit looks sick, all pretence of calm vanishing in an instant. "He has!"

"Sorry," Lucas says, barely whispering, and Pit flies from his seat, his eyes suddenly wild.

"I'll - I'm-"

He bolts.

"Shit," Toon Link says, hastily standing. "I'll - I'll go and check..."

He doesn't need to finish his sentence, dashing from the room. An uncomfortable silence falls while Red fiddles nervously with his shirt, and Villager alters his shorts. I'm not sure what to say. Neither is Lucas, who curls up against my shoulder like a cat.

"Bad weather today," Red says. I look towards the window, which is coated with streaming raindrops.

"Yeah," I say, when nobody else replies.

I curl an arm around Lucas's waist, and he makes a self-deprecative noise. I don't know what he's thinking right now, but I have very little trouble doubting that it's good. I'm reminded explicably of how I feel about him, the fact that it doesn't seem to be going away. The fact that I don't know how to make it go away.

"it's bullshit," Villager says with some force, surprising me. He doesn't often use profanity. "All of this. Utter, total bullshit."

"Yeah," Lucas says into my sleeve, and Villager looks concerned.

"Are you okay?"

"Didn't sleep well," Lucas mumbles, and I pull him a little closer, wondering again about those clashing feelings in my chest. The fight between comforting him and avoiding him.

"Did you find out what was in your bedroom last night?" Red asks, back to holding his clipboard.

"No," I say, because I haven't even considered it since this morning. Getting all my thoughts down helped, but it does mean I've not been thinking about them as much as I should.

"Wario or that Face, then," Red decides, noting this down. I sigh, rolling a little so that Lucas's head falls onto my chest.

"Probably. Unless it was someone else."

"How did they even get in?" Villager asks worriedly. "Isn't Shulk supposed to be guarding our corridor?"

"We found a trapdoor in our wardrobe," I say. "It leads to the passages."

"What?" Villager looks aghast. "How long has that been there?"

"I don't know - but could you bolt it down? So nobody can get in? I know you do that sort of thing in your Trades lessons."

"Of course," Villager says, though he still looks worried. I find my thoughts drifting back to Lucas for the third time, but I'm cut off by the clock chiming for the next lesson. It's unnerving how something as mundane as lessons can remain amidst all the madness, how some people get to worry about homework and essays while we have to worry about our lives. To my dismay, I've got Science, meaning I'll be separated from Lucas for the next hour. Worry starts prickling at me again, what if something happens in my absence?

"Promise me you'll be okay?" I whisper, hugging Lucas as he stands.

"It's just a lesson," Lucas says tightly, scrambling up, and I wonder again if he read my thoughts.

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Rosalina greets me, Red, and Villager as we're ushered into the classroom, having been overseen down the hallways by Professor Marth. I resolve to sit at the back and brood for a bit, because my head is still pounding and my chest is still searing, even though my walking is nearly back to normal. I realise faintly that this is my first proper lesson since waking up from my coma.

It feels like the first lesson since forever.

"Good morning, class," Rosalina says breezily, though the strain on her voice sticks out like a sore thumb. "Today, we have some exam practice." There's a collective groan, but she soldiers on. "I know things are suddenly a bit different, but exams are still happening at the end of term, and it will be vital to pass them for your university applications."

I lose focus when Rosalina begins scrawling practice questions on the blackboard. We've been focusing on biology so far this term, which I never learnt to get to grips with, so I'm massively falling behind.

"I'll be coming around to collect your homework," Rosalina continues, turning, and I internally die. Homework? Whatever it is, I haven't done it, but I can't bear another detention, another letter home to Father. Just because I'm over his anger doesn't mean I'm over the shame, and my eye trails Rosalina until she reaches me, but her expression softens right away.

"Don't worry if you haven't done it, Ness. Until this is over, don't worry about homework, okay?"

"Thanks, Professor," I say, thoroughly relieved.

She takes the front of the class, after reprimanding some giggling girls that claim to have forgotten their work. Villager and Red seem to be paying attention at least, so I figure I probably should as well, although my head is really starting to ache. The classroom is warm, stifling, and I find it becoming more difficult to breathe.

"Alright," Rosalina says. "There are several types of questions that shall feature in your exa- yes, Diddy Kong?"

"Professor," sniggers Diddy Kong, a student I don't recognise. "What's the science behind homosexuals, you know, like Villager over there?"

There's laughter, and Villager covers his face, redness creeping up his neck.

"Well," Rosalina says, looking a little disapproving. "Scientists don't understand the intricacies of love, yet."

"My Father says it's a 'sickness of the mind,'" Meta Knight calls out, and there's more laughter. Villager seems to be trying to control his breathing, and I feel faintly nauseous, trying not to think about my giant crush on Lucas.

"Alright, let's calm down now," Rosalina says. "I-"

"My father says that it's a curse of Satan."

The sick feeling increases. My father says that too. Villager appears to be shaking, and Red futilely tries to pat him on the back.

"That's quite enough of that," Rosalina says firmly, seeing this. "Now, in the exam, there will be multiple choice questions, long answer questions, essay questions..."

But her voice drones into monotony, and the sickness is too heavy. The pounding in my mind beats like a gong. It's hard to listen, especially when I know how pointless it is compared to everything else. I don't care about mark schemes. I've never thought much of standardised testing, either. I rest my head on my desk, feeling that throbbing sensation again, and then all of a sudden, it's massive, unbearable agony, a million knives, and I'm shouting out, my eyes streaming-

"Ness!" Rosalina exclaims, hurrying over through distant, warped laughter. Panic courses through me as I try to understand, my vision blurry, a shaky haze of colours. I attempt to pick myself up off the floor, even though I'm not sure how I got there - Rosalina is helping me, I think. Everything is dizzy, spinning around me like a top. I feel the scene wobbling as things start to return.

"Can you hear me?" Rosalina is asking, her hand on my shoulder. "Ness? Are you okay?"

"I - I think so," I manage, gasping, pushing myself back into my chair. "It's my head - it suddenly just -"

"Do you need to see Doctor Mario?" she asks, checking my temperature. I weakly try to swat away her hand.

"I'll be fine - sorry - it's okay -"

"If you're sure," Rosalina says worriedly, going back to the front, and there's some snickering as everyone turns back around. I curse everything, still trying to find my footing. Just when I think I'm better, I discover that I'm not.

The rest of the lesson melts away in a haze of exhaustion, and when the clocktower rings, I leave as fast as I can, but not without waiting for an exhausted-looking Villager. Diddy Kong mutters something snide to him as he leaves, and I notice his expression hardening.

"You okay?" I mutter, when Diddy Kong is out of earshot.

"Just some more nonsense about the graffiti," Villager says, stiffening his upper lip. "I won't let it get to me."

"It's okay to let it get to you," I say, worried.

"It's not." He kicks his heel against the wall. "It's really not, because you're a homosexual, and you had to listen to those assholes. All I've done is brought this upon myself."

"I never told you that I'm into guys," I say, my eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh, uh, Toon Link told me." Villager sounds a little sheepish. "It came up when we were outside. It's okay, by the way. I think it's okay to be gay."

"Thanks," I say, but I frown. "You say that like you aren't?"

"If that's a joke, it's not very funny."

"No, really." I rub my arm, feeling embarrassed. "I didn't know. What uh - what are you, then? What are you into?"

He sighs, looking downright miserable all of a sudden. It's unfamiliar. "I have no goddamn idea, Ness. I seriously don't."

"You'll figure it out," I say, at a loss.

"Thanks," he says.

I can't help but feel it's a rather flat exchange, but regardless, we make our way to the canteen, and we're soon caught up by Red and Pit.

"I never knew people had such an interest in homosexuality," Red says, surveying the menu. The classic bread and soup is back again, lukewarm and depressing.

"They were mocking me," Villager says, sighing, taking his plate and heading towards the table.

"They were?" Red looks genuinely confused. "It didn't sound like it."

"They all think I'm into guys because of the graffiti on the wall." He sits down, moodily shoving the spoon into his bowl. I've not seen him this riled up since Toon Link compared his mother to Lady Macbeth, and I find myself growing concerned.

"Oh," Red says. "Maybe they just wanted to know why you're into guys?"

"Red, I'm not-"

"I wonder who changed the graffiti?" Red continues obliviously. "I know Popo did it first, but-"

"Red, please, it was me," Villager says, exasperated. "I changed the graffiti so that Toon Link wouldn't have to go through all of this torment."

"But why? Toon Link-"

Villager cuts him off. "Whatever you're going to say, don't, okay? Toon Link is a good guy. I've done it now, so don't try to tell me I shouldn't."

Red falls short, looking hurt, and Toon Link arrives with his meal. I glance around for Lucas, but there's no sign of him yet.

"Good lesson?" Toon Link asks, and Villager groans.

"Have a guess."

"I swear, whoever changed that graffiti..." Toon Link cracks his knuckles. "I'll give them a pounding they won't forget."

"It was Villager," Red says.

"What?" Toon Link turns curiously towards Villager, who's now slowly going red. "Is that right?"

"It's true," Villager sighs. "Thanks a lot, Red. I wasn't planning on spreading that around."

"But why?" Toon Link frowns. "Why would you change it to your own name?"

"So that you wouldn't be bullied by all these people."

"But, Villager..." Toon Link blushes, fiddling with his spoon.

"Don't even say anything, or I'll change it straight back," Villager says, but there's the hint of a smile quirking at his mouth. Toon Link shakes his head, grinning.

"You're mad, you know. And you can bet I'll be changing the name back to mine."

"Your call," Villager says, laughing.

"What I don't get," Pit says through a mouthful of sandwich, "Is why you didn't change the name to someone like, say, Meta Knight."

"I don't want to stoop to Popo's level," Villager says. "Although, I am beginning to regret that decision."

"And why not just remove the name altogether?" I ask.

"I thought about that too, but people would remember Toon Link's name being there before. If they see someone else, they forget it."

"Smart," Toon Link says, nodding. "But, wow, you'd do all that, just for me?"

Someone I don't recognise walks past, and upon noticing Villager, they shove him into the table and laugh. Villager grits his teeth, surfacing from his soup.

"Somehow, Toon Link, I would."

We continue in silence, and I find myself subconsciously searching the canteen for Lucas. I notice him standing in the lunch queue, looking very worn down by Popo, who stands next to him, repeatedly poking him in the side. Lucas notices me and waves, wincing, but Popo spots me and mimes someone screaming - great. I suppose word spreads fast. I turn away quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment. What's everyone going to say? And what a stupid weakness to have; now even the Dreamlord is going to know, which can't be good.

"Villager, can I have a word?" Mega Man asks, appearing out of nowhere, and Villager looks up with surprise.

"Of course, uh, what is it?"

"Away from all the others - sorry guys -"

"No, no, it's okay, Mega Man," Toon Link assures him, though he looks strangely jealous. "See you later."

As Villager leaves, Lucas comes and sits down next to me.

"Hey," I say, weirdly relieved to see him again. "Tired still?"

"You bet," he says, yawning.

I lower my voice. "Feeling better about everything?"

"Kind of. I missed you, though."

A warm feeling spreads through me at his words, and I sling an arm around his shoulder. "I missed you too, you goof."

"So, Toon Link," Pit says, grinning mischievously. "I believe you still have to tell us what happened when you and Villager were by the lake."

"I knew you'd say that," Toon Link sighs. "Alright, so, I didn't ask him out in the end. We talked for a while, we chilled out, we discussed everything that's going on, then we got back in and the graffiti happened."

"That's all?" Pit asks, looking disappointed.

"That's all."

Villager returns, and Toon Link beams. "Have a good time making out with Mega Man?"

"Toon Link!" Villager yelps. "He's still here!"

"Hey," Mega Man says, stepping out from behind him, but he's grinning. Toon Link gapes like a deer in the headlights.

"I - didn't see you there - uh-"

Mega Man laughs. "It's alright, mate. Hey, Luca,! I hear you've abandoned me to the mercies of Wario?"

"Oh, yeah." Lucas rubs his arm. "I switched subjects. Sorry."

"It's okay!" Mega Man says, clapping him on the shoulder. "You don't gotta look so guilty. But anyway, I'll see you all around, have a good one, Villager."

"Thanks," Villager says awkwardly as Mega Man leaves. Villager takes the opportunity to hit Toon Link on the arm.

"Ow!" Toon Link complains.

"What did he want?" Red asks.

"He was asking if the rumours are true," Villager says, sighing. "It's getting a bit tiring. This ha-" He's interrupted by someone walking by and slapping him in the face. He winces, closing his eyes for a few seconds. "...This had better blow over soon."

The clocktower chimes for the end of lunch, and I bid a hasty farewell to the others. For me and Lucas, it's time for Art, which would be good news if I had the energy to paint. My chest is feeling sore again, and my mind feels a bit foggy from the incident in Science. Lucas looks sad, and all thoughts of Villager and Toon Link quickly vanish as we head towards the classroom.

"Are you doing alright?" I ask, for what feels like the millionth time. "You seemed really out of it at lunch."

"Oh." He looks down, shoving his hands into his pocket. "Sorry."

"No - no, it's okay, just, it's worrying. That's all."

"Sorry for worrying you, then."

I'm not sure how to reply, so we make our way into the art classroom. Professor Shulk looks uncharacteristically grim as we all sit down, and I feel much the same, especially when I see Nana giving Lucas a cheery smile. I try to send one back, but she ignores me, so I decide to sit as far away from her as possible, Lucas following me.

"Good afternoon," Shulk says, his stance betraying his cheery tone. "As you know, things are not looking so good at the moment, but take courage. Use the chaos as inspiration for your artworks. The newspapers are on the table, so... off you go."

"I can't wait to read some fresh propaganda," Lucas says as we walk towards the pile. I leaf through the papers until I spot an article that catches my eye.

Onett Army Member Murdered by a Tazmilian!

'On Tuesday, an Onett patrol group travelled into the Great Forest to fight the war effort against the evil village of Tazmily. However, only two archers returned, reporting that they encountered a rogue group of Tazmilians, one of whom impaled their knight with an arrow. This marks the first casualty for Onett's side in the Great War, denoting the brutality of the Tazmilian rogues. Residents of Onett are advised to take shelter in case of an invasion...'

"Lovely," Lucas says dryly, turning the page.

Conscription Mandate Lowered to Eighteen!

'On Monday, B.H. Pirkle passed a new law stating that males of eighteen or over are legally required to fight in the war against Tazmily. This excludes vital workers such as miners, government officials, and farmers. There are calls from some government officials to lower this to sixteen-year-olds-'

"That's us," I say, feeling the sickness return all at once. "If they lower it again, that's us! I don't want to go to war!"

"We're already in one," Lucas says darkly. "We'll be okay. If they send us to fight, we'll run away together."

The idea is strangely heartening, and I find my spirits lifting as we select our canvases and paints. If we ran away together, then we could do what we liked. We wouldn't have to worry about magic, laws, or homosexuality. We'd live out our lives, free from the government, building a house in the forest, planting fruits and vegetables. We could make money as circus boys with our powers, and Lucas could be the incredible ice wizard with me, his mighty fire mage. I fill my palette with blue and orange, grinning in earnest - I plan to paint something to do with the Onett army member, but I can't help but feel somewhat cheery about it.

I begin by painting the shaft of an arrow, a long line of black across the page. Nana is painting the outline of a cauliflower on the other side of the room, and Lucas is painting some sort of gathering of people. It's a good likeness, the paintbrush sweeps over the scene, somehow creating faces, creating personalities, creating life on the canvas, all these sprawling characters brought to reality. Colour comes next, outfits, swords, burlap sacks of apples, barrels of blue water, a fiery yellow sunset, bundles of purple tulips. My eyes move up the paintbrush, studying the way that Lucas twists it, shifting it with a flick of his wrist, dancing across the page. His fingers are so nimble, so precise, and I find myself watching him as he works, twisting the details onto the canvas. Birds manifest amongst green leaves, twigs coating the floor, gravel, puddles, glittery dewdrops, berries, smiles, laughter, fire. Piles of ribbons, flowing bunting, bales of hay, pies, violins - some kind of festival, I realise, where everything looks perfect, except for one thing. In the corner, there is a silhouette, empty of detail, hidden behind some sort of log. Something is wrapped around his neck, some sort of chain disappearing from the page. He's all alone.

"Nice metaphor," I say softly. "But you're not as isolated as you think."

"It's not supposed to be me," Lucas says, and then the clocktower rings. I'm not sure what he means. I look back at my painting, seeing my lack of progress, the one line across the page.

"It's nice, though," I say.

"You like watching me paint," Lucas states, and I find myself blushing.

"You're good at it. All the details, they just, like, appear." I don't mention that I think his hand is pretty, because that would be weird. "You've got skills. I want to steal them."

"I wish I could say the same about you," he says, and I elbow him, grinning, glad to see him smiling a little.

"I'm injured," I protest. "You can't be mean to me."

"Injured enough to skip English?" Lucas asks, looking at his timetable.

"I'll skip English whenever," I say, puffing out my chest like a blowfish. "Bowser can cane me all he wants, I'm sick and tired of his lessons."

"Then let's do it," Lucas says.

"What?" I'm caught aback. Lucas is a goody-two-shoes at the best of times, never one to disobey. "Didn't Headmaster hand say-"

"I don't care what he said," Lucas says, interrupting. "I need to start standing up for myself, right? So let's go, have a nap, and enjoy ourselves. Besides." A smirk creeps onto his face. "I fancy some alone time."


A/N

Reviews:

(For context, this was left on chapter 3)

'So far, spooky face is my fav. character. Bayo's admission about why she needs cash caught me unprepared, not gonna lie. Another good chapter, can't wait to get to the real meat of the story.

Wow, for such a prestigious school, some of these teachers are just plain awful at their job. Imagine telling your overbearing business father that your business teacher keeps giving you the business instead of instructing you on how to business? You're doing a great job at making this reader hate these jerks.

Also glad not to have lived in the 1800's. Whew.'

Glad you're still enjoying the fic! And, heh, well, as the rest of us Chapter-29 people know, Wario has a few more tricks up his sleeves...

Thank you everybody for reading!

~ ReadyForTeddy

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Ḯ̶̙̒̊ͅ'̸̘̠͔̒̚v̴̘̞̏̇͋e̵͍̭̋͜ ̴͇̌̍b̵̢̛̫̓̅ë̵̥ͅͅe̶͖̟̞͊n̴̘͕̋ ̴̢̻͋s̸͖͆͑t̸̠̭͛u̴͙̟͑̅̀ĉ̷̣̝̈́́k̵̼̖͇̔…̴̝̀̿ ̶̺͈͕͂̔S̷̹̑̎̉t̸̥̯̍͆̉ù̷̪͍͖́͌c̵͈̊͠k̸͇͋̀͌ ̴͎̰̿̅i̵̛̟̫̝̓n̴̟͍̋ ̸̧̪͐̑ǎ̸̡̞ ̶̖́̚s̴͚̥̔̎̈͜t̴̳̦̀̂͠r̵̢͓̭͝ą̶͋͘ͅn̵̤̣͗̓g̵̩͉̣͐̿͝e̶̥̜̊̈́̐ ̷̝͇͑͂̚w̶̘͓̓̈́o̶͈͐ř̶̡͚̎̕l̴̟̻͍͒ď̸͖̀͝.̶̢̩̱̿ ̷̨̼̑͒Ǐ̷̪̩̄ṫ̷̜͔̜'̸͚͠s̵͎̔͐ ̶͓̝̓̆̌a̸̰̭̱̒ ̸̡͓͔́̾p̷̬͓̣̓̊͠a̶̪̺̅̐͑i̵̫̦̤͠n̸̨̩̑̈́f̶̲̥̉̆ǘ̴̥͗l̵̗̖̃́͠ ̵̖̈ẅ̷̢̗o̶̼͓̔̑ṟ̸̨͓͂̂͠l̸͉̬͋͑̉d̷͔͖̿̊̚,̴̘̺̗͒ ̸̱̈́͝͠b̶̥͎̀û̵͔̾ť̴̥̘̰̀ ̶̳̟̆̓ͅI̵̩̞͖̒̃̍'̸̬͂͝m̸̹̀ ̸̡̤͕̒͛͑ṣ̵͇̈́e̶̛̤̾̍a̵͕͓̔̏̈́r̵̼̊̀c̷̠̽͌̏h̵͙̼̫̐̕ì̷̛̳̝̀n̷͈̎̐̂g̶̳͗̚̕…̷̳̀ ̴̡̲̖́͋I̵͉͚̓̎͘'̸̺̑͂̍m̷̥̘̈́̈́ ̷̧̻̼̑͋̀s̶̲̐̄é̴̮̼̒a̶͖̣̠̅r̶͙̭̜̔̓c̶̨̜̄́͌h̷̯͑į̸̝̝̇̈́n̸̘̈̊̚g̷͙͐…̵̢̛̗̋͆ ̴̨̼̭͋I̵̹̅̾̇ ̵̡̛͇͛̕g̸͇̲͂o̴͈̊t̶͍͈̝̉ ̸̡̤͓͐ą̷͙͓̊ẁ̴͔̼̪a̵̦̐y̴̧̹͈̌,̵̻̒̍ ̷͕̥̟͑͐a̵̙̤̐̓̑n̷̹̋̃̕ď̵̖̗̎ ̵̗̣̂͋͋I̷̧͕̒͜ ̴̚ͅͅk̴̟̊̈́̍n̶̝̦̭͐̚͝ỡ̷̯͕̩́w̸̺̘̘̆ ̸̱͗̚I̵̞͖͒ ̶̻̍̏̚h̴̺͚̭́̆͌ǎ̶͖ͅv̷̯̐ẽ̶͍̖̇̀ ̴̛̙̠͒͒t̸͉͖̝͆ô̷̫ ̵̨̰̩́̇ş̷̜̮̎́ë̴̢̘̰́ạ̶̰͐̓̕r̶̗̮͗̾c̶̗͕͆h̵̡̹̰̀̚…̴̹̰̈ ̵̨̮̑B̵̞̈́ǔ̶͖͍̤t̴̟̙̓ ̷̨̭̲̈́̈͠I̶̧̼̱̚'̴̣̼͈̆m̶̲̑ ̸̼̟̎ș̴̻͛ͅc̸̢̫̭̃̽a̵̮̮̒̑̐r̵̯̠̎̈́e̸̘̽d̵̗͑ͅ.̶̢̗̹̌͂ ̵͎̹͎̐͂̈Ỉ̸̥̰͇̔'̷̗̙̯̂́́m̵̰̫̺̀̋̈́ ̷̗͕̾̐̐f̶̖̹̍̎̋r̷̞̉í̴͈̱̔ģ̶̼̈́h̸̢̛̗̫͌̋t̷̟͈͚̓̎̌ẽ̸͔n̸͖̗͌ȩ̵̢͝d̵̜̫͝.̶̗̱̃̃̎ ̴̢̱͉̓Ḯ̶̼͙̍ ̴̪̳̿̅͜n̴͇͉̱͑e̶͈͎̠̋̅v̴̞́͗è̸̪r̵̝̄͂̋ ̴̦̙̦̋͝ủ̴̑͊͜s̵͓̯̤̑e̶̢̝̍̂͊d̷̦͉͘ ̸̨̟̜̐̓͘t̴̢̜̉͌ǒ̴̬̬̲̄͘ ̸̝͓̑͊b̵̨͋e̵͇͕̔͌̀ ̸̠͊f̷̢̈́̿̃r̵̳̫̉͘ͅĭ̷̎͜g̷̪̩̮͌h̵͎̋̇t̴̼̬͐̅͂e̷̞̫͋̈ͅn̴̦̫̜̍͗̈́e̴̦̳̯͒̽d̸̨̙̂́͠.̸̢͓̫̀ ̷͈͔̣̌̓B̵̧̜̓̀ų̷̠̯̾͊͝ţ̴͛̔ ̷̛̫͎ͅṇ̷̗͕̽̽͆ọ̶̙̗͗̀ŵ̷̤͚͘ ̸̢͙̀ͅI̴̓͜͠ ̶̭̫́̽̐a̷̤̽̄͘ṃ̵̭̘͐̈́.̵̩̰́̂̚ ̷̝̎̊

̴̌͋͜͠

Help me.

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H̷̨̨̨̢̨̢̡̢̡̧̡̢̧̢̧̡̢̡̢̢̢̡̧̛̛̛̛̯̗͚̭͖̯͚̰̲͍̥̦̙͎͍̙̰̫̤̰̥̝͇̺̥̫̦̖̣̠͓͖̝̣͙͇͚͉͓̼͓͕̱̼̗͇̹̮̱̱̯͖̬̼͚̗̥͍͎̜̯͕͇͚͚̦͙͉͙͈̭͉͔̲̖̙̰̹̼͎̖̟͈͉̹̜̥̤͈͔̺̯̟̲͉̯͙̗̩͚͙̙͖̮̲͉̭̺̤̫̣͔̹̩̪̝̺͉̮̥̘͚̺̹͔̱̣̖̺̖̩̺͈͈̠̬̮̳͚͖̰͍̤̻̲̞̦̰͕͈̫͔͓͙͎̳̰̗̤͓̱̻̹̪̺̙̹̺̘̲̫̖͕̰̰̖͍̳̪̬̰̖̲̥̤̝̬̳͉̤̥̺̠̼̝̰͉̳̭̥̬̺̯̞͖̯̦͓̠͖̫̮̹͖̘͎̗̳̪̫̯̞̮̲̭̣̰̠̠͉͎̟̜̖͙̻̻͇̟̦̙̤͓̹̮̺̬̞̣̟̳͍̦̬̣̪̫͆̀̓͗̀͊͑̓́̐̇͒̏̃̔̈̌̀͋͌͗̾̊̏̑̓̏̊̃̔̌͂͆̔̋͒̎͗͆͛͊̿̃̌̀̀͋̑̐̈́̇̆̑̿̾̒̎͒̀͒̒̀̀̑̓̔̅̾͂̔̈́̾͗͐͊̉̔̄̐̃͂̉̈́̂͛̀͗͊̓̅̃̈́͌̐̅̀̓̔̎̏͒̄͗̄͗́̄̒̿̐̓̆̓̔̈́̿͛̋̽͌̽̂̃̿̉̓̊́̀͑̾̊͑̆̋̍̉̂̈͘̕͘͘̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅę̸̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̭̹̰̰̭̩̯̘͔̘͈̞̥̱̪̺͓̘̪͗͛̃͋̓̈́̏͊͒̾̐̾͌̑͗͑̓͗͛͊̀̿́͆̔̇̊̍̀̍̊̐͌̌̈́̈́̃̈͑̑͆̽̅̏̑͌̀̍̒̈́̈́̈͒̀̅̃͐̇͑̎́͐̅͑̃̓́̆̽̏̀̽͋̃͐́͗̃̀́̅̊͌̇̉̅̐̈́̄̑̎̅͌̆̏̓̔̇̒̽̒̈́̈́̃͐͋̃̏͋̓̂͒͗̓̉͗͗̆̂͂̎͒̆̈͂͆͊̍̆̕̚̚̕͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅľ̶̢̨̧̨̡̡̡̢̨̧̳̪̰͎̲͉͕͍͉̮̮̠͙̺͔͎͎͙͓͎̥̫͇̙͓͓͉̪͈͇̮̳͍̜̹̼͍̤̱̫͙̹̝͔̖̞͈̣̮̪̹̞͈̥̻̟͓̥̬͕̺̼͉̬̯̪̟̦͓̲̭̦̰̫̩͍̳͊̀̐͗̊̂̈͒̀̆̈͐͌͋̇̀͋̓͆̕͘͜͝͝ͅͅͅp̵̨̧̢̢̨̢̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̰̖̮͇̘͎͎̰͇̜͖͙̩̗̻̮̪̹͇̫͈͙̻͍͍͚͉̯̖̰̼͖͖̮̪̳̘͇̼̝͚̩̬͕̟̺̺͉̘̙̝͇̥͎̘̘͖̗̫̰̤̩̹͚͖̱͙͍̪̜̙͔͎̫̻̯͔̱̭͇̗̣̫͇͚̞͚̟̱͔̲̪͔̟͈̒́̉̾͋̄̉̉̽͂͆̀̏́̀̂͊̇͛̽͛̏͐̆̉̃̎̓͛̋̈̆̂̀̋̎̌̑̃́̈́̏̍̉̅́̋̌̐̿̓͑̌̑̓̈̂̌̿̄͋͑͌͒̏͆̔̔͆͌̌̾̇̽͂̅͛͒̅̂̌̍͛͌̀̅̔̿̀̆͆̎͛͑̿̾̆́̒̇̎̒́͐̋̍̀̽̓̌̆̅̈́͌̂̽̋̂̉̃͋́̈́̈́̀́̈́̿̀͌̆́̀̐͛̊̓̿̃͋̿̅͌͐̒͛̏̀͂̆̓̽́̍́͂̒̾͌̽̊̾̓̐̐̽̿̋̎̿̐̏̀́̅̐̈́̈́̒͑͆̐̌̒̓́̆̓̑̓́͗̃͑̊̇̒̽̊͊̉̂͂̓̌̈́̂̑͆̎́̇͌̑̂͑̈͑͛̐̔̿͒̾̎̽̚̚̚̕̕̕̕̕̕̚͘͘͘̕̕͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅ ̸̧̢̨̡̢̡̢̧̨̡̛̛̛̱̦̟͙̖̩̭̞͙̤̣͖̤̲̝͖̯̱̻͖͔̖̱̱̗͙̩̦̫͖̖͙͈̺̰̲͉̺͉̻̻̫͚͚̥̤͕̪̜̦̰̣͙͇̣̜̮͖̭͈͚͇̪̻̟͓͖̲̗̦͙̻̥̻̼͎̮͕͎͔̦͔͈͉̺̖̝̘͔͍̘̤̼͇̝̺̗̫̻̼̣̺̬͉͙̯̣̙̜͈͚̩̱̻͎͓͎̦̹̳̳̩̮̙̋̍̂̿̋̒͊̉̐̈́̐̾͆̈̌̏̃͋͐͑̑̈̉̉̋̊͂̓̿̈́̂̽͐́͋̒͑̌͐̄͒̿̈́̓̈̊̈̉̄͛̇̌̄̆̊̀̆͛̂̓͛̆̑͊̍̌̎́̇̅́̉̋̒͋̽̃́̽̃͌̽̀̿̈́̍̓̅͋͐͋̂̀̽͒̃̔̈́̀͌̇̊͑̀͛́̑̈́̄̆̊̅͗̊̽̈́̍̀̋͐̇̽̓̀́͂̉̐͒͐̏̍̆͋̈́̐̓̽̉̉̀̎̈́̐́́̔̉̋̇͂͌̂̋̂̿́͆̈́̑͊̓̍̓̅̊͊̏̚̕͘̚͘͘̚̕̕̚̕͘͘̚͘̕͘͘͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅṁ̷̢̢̧̢̢̧̡̨̧̨̧̨̨̢̡̢̢̧̡̨̡̢̨̛̛̛̪͎̮͙̳̭̹̦̙̝̩̞̥̱͈̘̣̺͔̥̪̲̬̰̜̬̫̯̯͚̻̠̟͕̱͚̰̞̹̗̤̻̝̹̦͕̬̱̺̞̜̲͍̠̲͙͍̤̤̼͎̺̯͈̠̫̮̹̤̞̞̻̬̘̻̗̥͉̖̝̳̫͖̻̦̰̯̮͓̦̖͉̤̫̤̟̯̦̥͕͚̯̬̲̜̗̤̯̞̲̲͍̻̗͖̼͓̟̻̜͕͎̬̰̺͙̖͉̣̬̞̪̰̻̘̟͚͔͕͕̦͕̻̭̬̻̣̗̬̖̤̱̯͚̥̻̩͚̜̥̬̯̬̟̲̤̺͉͕̗͇̹̹̥̥̩̝͎͉̗͙̤̭̪̙̙͎̭̼͔̯̦̺͎͖͍̻̤͉͈̜̪̟͍͉͈̼̦̥̲̪̗̜̺̳̯̦͓̯̩̭͉̳͉̪̝̯̞͎̟͔̟͇̪͕̰͉͖͉͖͎̭͉͎̗̯͕̙̝͍͎̼͓͕͎͉͙͖͖̠̟̭͚̀̓͌̎̉̒̊̍̆̉͌̌̑́̊́̓͆̀̌̊̔̄́͑̋̇̈́̒́̀̅̊͋̿̑̈́̈̈́́̊́͂̇̅̀͌̆̍̆̏̓̾̊̈̍͑͌̈̍̈́͌̌͋͑̊̓͑̎̈͊̑̍̋̀̿́̆̍͛͐̒̇͛͂͒̏͒̿̋̅̇͑̃̓͌̋̾̎͆̑̊̌̏̐̎̎͌́͂͗̏̾͋̌͑͌͐̂̀́̋́́͐͗̃̐̏̃̏̌̆̀̈͐͑͋͂̑̄́͆̂̌̏̍̿̋̓͌̋͗̋͛̊̂̈́̎̈̐͑͒͗̓͌͒̔͗̒̋̒̔̃̾̾̈́̂̈́̅̆̐͂̊̒́̂̇̓͂̿͂͐͐͛̏̽͑̀͋̓̂̀̊̓̿̇̔͌̔̃͛̍̐̇̊͗́́̀̅̓̀̎̍̈̀̑̍̊̂̉͗͑̊̓͂̚̚͘̕̕̕̕̕͘̚̚̚̕͘͘̕̚̚̚͘̚͘̚̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅe̶̡̡̢̧̡̢̢̧̨̧̨̨̡̧̡̢̡̧̡̧̡̢̧̧̛̛̛̛̯̭͕͎̟̟̪̼̘̫͕̤̠̪̱̺̤̫̙͓͈͖̞̗̠͍̝͓̠͙͎͔̝̖̹̭͉̺̮͔̟̠̘̲̼̲̯̺̥͎͕̹̖͈͚̣̣̘͇̮͚̘̖̺͕̠͈̯̜̪̳͍͈͈̘̩͎͉̬͉͈͈͚̤̮̯̖̰͇͚̜͖͖̤̼̭͇̮̲̹̰̫͖̜͚̖̘̻̘̖͚̦͇̩̪̖̟̺̬̙͓̼̻͍̟̦̠̪̻̺̦̖̼̜͍̳͔̤͚̖̳̖̦͖̘̠͙̪̯̖̭̖̝͙̼̻̪̤̜̝̥̘̺̣̝̜̘̯͉̫̦̬̥̖̟̪̩̝͗̌̈́̽͆̃̆͒̊̎̇̈̌̒̿̇̈́̆͑̔̂͂́͗͋̔̇̑͆̍̑̎̀́̒̓̈́̒́̌̔͗͋̀́͗̏̃͌̉̓́̅͋̾̈́͒̐̂̍̀̓͑͛̊̑̎̀̈́̆̌̓̍̾̌͊̊͐̓́̈́̏̂̄̉́͆̊͂̀̓̓́̈͂͐̒̉̔̎̒̿̊̒͗̔̿́̇͂̔̈̐̄͆̏̐̎̊̍́̆̒̔̈̀́͋̆̍̿̃͋͊̀̆̕̚̚͘͘̚̕͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ!̷̨̨̧̛̛̛̖̩̺̘̗̜̬͈̯̗̻̹͚̭̗̺̲̣̺̦͍͆̀͌͆̎̀͋̽́́͛͊̀̈́̑̒̂̒̃͗̉̈͛̒͋̒̌̍̑̓͑̌̽͊̐͆̌͐͊̉̇̽̐̽̐͗̊̍͐̄͐̎̓̉́̈́̍̿́͒̈̇́̋̓̄̓̊̋̏̂́͐̓̀̈́̀͊͌͐͌͛̔̍̄̌̌̉͊͐̔͐̔̿̌̈́́̓̊̉͆͌͒̇̉̎̀́͒̆͋̔̾́̄͒̿͛͒͐͋͑̉̈͗̈́̓͋̓́̋͆̔̽̓̾͛̌͆͒͒͐̐͌̂͐̄̀̎̇̋͋̏͑͗͆̇̾̋̈́͌̏̿̿̐͑͆̓̍͑̏͛̎̎̎̾̓́̅̓͗̈́̈̋̽͆̃̿̅̎͗̈́͆̓͐̀̏̌̊͛̐̓̃͛̓̅̂̓́̇̃̈͐͗̑̅̂͒̑̓͆͗̄͌̍̕̚̕͘̚̚͘̚͘̕̚̚̚̕͘͘͘͘͘͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝!

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