I apologize for the late update, I've been rewriting this shick over and over. I'm just posting this as a prelude. The actual fight will be posted sooner. I rushed this because I'm tired of this scene.

'To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable"

-Beethoven.

I'm still trying to go off from relying too heavily on character's getting mad. Since I feel it's easy. And i still actually need to give them personalities in the meanwhile. Charlotte ALSO HAS HER LAST NAME is DUNOIS. Not Dubois. But i'm keeping it because it's more satisfying to say in the head. Whatever, this is free practice.

Through the L shaped corridors, by the second exit door and not past but close to the water fountain. Laura would've stepped through them all with a stone in her sole keeping an eye on the map. She is going to be confused, double checking, her first thought being that her guide is wrong and that she isn't before slowly but surely realizing she is.

It'd be an escalation of a bad mood, she'd probably do something she always did. Hands in pockets or a scowl. God forbid someone somehow manages to look at her in those empty hallways, she'd find a way to make her looks kill. At best to an outsider it's a girl having a bad day at worst they notice the faint bruises and wonder something else.

Her trek ends in the cubiculum's entrance. Needful questing ending in the reaching of her idol. An exchange of salutes and a beckoning to sit next to her, leading to a conversation over her life, how are her studies, was she alright here, news of the people back home, the one's she cares about and misses so deeply. The one's she never talks about. Wouldn't that be such a nice thing?

Eventually all those conversations would lead into one thing. Him. Ichika Orimura. How is he handling his situation, is there anything suspicious about him. How would she react? Lying by omission? She's already done that, but how would she dance around the topic at hand that distracts his sister by the sheer skill and elegance of the movement?

It'd be exhausting, she needed a break from the fibbing. From the person who causes her to fib, they needed a break.

Who was he kidding? Not himself. He only took a glance at the map, and only knew her for a few months in an on and off relationship. His brain wasn't sharp, it couldn't calculate problems and positions on chessboards as if flexing his fingers.

He was given an open ended problem, win the tournament. He couldn't just regurgitate an answer at it from prior knowledge, no he had to think on it, but there was a better idea in the way he came about this.

How would someone else do it? Mrs. Angie was the smartest person she ever met. York coming in second, how would the leader of an organization of warriors want him to win?

Quick, brutal, effective. That's how he did it the first time in the first bout. Brought down the hammer and made the clock tick to midnight. But now, if she were in his position she would expect him to win with stealth, a mask can only come off once. He did stealth, he was quiet. Even if he would operate in broad daylight with hundreds of eyes, winning by skill but not overwhelming force.

The request was to win the tournament, not win the tournament at all costs correct? Was he overthinking this? Was he playing dangerously with the safety? Two pilots already knew his skill to a degree, hell they've already seen him fight.

They knew he couldn't just wipe, but clean out. If not they knew he was capable to a highly trained degree. He'd be dancing in the air with every dodge. So many things to consider, so many questions flooding the brain overloading him. What if they didn't believe his acting? Were they wondering why he wanted to win? Why were they even letting him fight?

He started breathing in and out. In and out. He had a blob of a plan. He needed Charlotte so it would seem as if he required help to win. Not in the she would carry him to victory, more in the she would synchronize her attacks with his. A rigged fight trying it's best to seem equal.

There was an attempt to coagulate details into the plan, but it was as if his mind turned cloudy, as if it was fighting for him to not think. There was only fog and ethereal-ism. Just like his memories that hurt Laura.

He was walking through a haze and knew it. Forgetting blackmail, inflicting a surprise negotiation, spitting in her face with that stupid attempt to be funny because he thought that was a quality that at least endeared people to him. Giggles escaped from his mouth with him noticing in his conscious subconscious quickly ignoring their usual reappearance. Haha.

Why was he so thick headed? The group always said that in their quiet moments of looking at one another as if they were thinking that he wasn't really being serious right? At least they would still like him no matter what, and he could make up with them when he saw them the next second or day.

Laura was a band aid, if he ripped it off there was nothing leaving him from bleeding out the entire operation. He just needed even a slight conversation where he didn't have to worry too much about anything, please. Even just a simple entertained response was enough to ride him over for a while now.

He was heaving now, from a familiar awareness of solitude his mind hid. Breathing in and out in a disorganized fit. Remember where he was. Not in this stupid place, just a locker room. He had to do something other than THINK. If he didn't talk or do, there was thinking. Solo pensando. Je pense seulement.

They cared for him. They missed him. They wanted to talk to him. He needed to make sure the weak link didn't break yet for their sake. Do something. Get his head back in the game.

Ichika stood up, and walked over looking at anything he could do in this room. He noticed a water machine and finicked it until he managed to get some small water cups, reveling in the process of his full focus being diverted, the cold water pouring through his heart calming him and reassuring the fact that it was simple dehydration.

This was a small thing he tried to do when the tremors were released, everyone went through them. A cup of water with a small reassurance of their well being. Waterboy Orimura. Shellshock is not something he assumed anyone was fond of.

He gave out a snort and took out his right hand, extending the three middle fingers while holding his thumb and pinkie together, taping his chin with his index. Then he brought his fingers and thumb together and apart tapping his forehead. Moving back and forth switching between the signs up and down.

Waterboy. Waterboy. Waterboy.

More water, more motion. The foam of the rapid tides over the clearness of still water. After a while he finally noticed Fukuro's kuklos gaining a ring of frost. It almost burned on his skin as the frost condensed in the thin dark blue of the metal.

Well, at least she'd stick with him no matter where he'd go. He was being overdramatic. Tremors were being released and he was shaking, but they always parted. This was just a natural process.

Where was Charlotte? They had time to tick but it was running low. Ichika opted to just drink more water than ponder over the possibilities.

Suddenly the door banged open, for a mere second there was a silent pause as her extravagant entrance called the attention of the only other person in the room. At least she was here now.

Charlotte was still for a few moments more before addressing him.

"Forgive me for my-" She coughed and switched her tone back to her higher pitch. "I'll get ready." instantly deciding to rush to a changing stall without a further word.

Ichika decided to just focus heavily on palming the kukulos in between his fingers and on the back of his hand while waiting for her to finish. Often he just tugged at the bottom of the unnecessary tank top he wore, embittering himself a small degree further at its silliness.

Tank top that's what it's called right? He couldn't tell what it was exactly. But in general the exposed skin felt off.

Charlotte finished while he was in the middle of playing with the moisture that melted from Fukuro's kukluos as the frost dissolved, sitting down wordlessly, her right eye was twitching loudly. He focused on anything other than her.

Why did he decide to trust her? Because he had to? He saw glimmers of what the person felt. Not what they were. Who knows how well glimmers can be hidden by the shadows. What was the animal? An angler fish. Flashes of national geo mags from Sum went to his head.

Lies but for what actual purpose? He knew he could trust her that's why he decided to trust her, but not if he should trust her. Ugh, more complicated intricate meaningless words.

Charlotte was still as a statue, just bleeding out discontent and discomfort as if that was all she's known. Ichika opted to just get some water to split between them, her accepting wordlessly, him just sitting down to match.

"We've got time but remember that we're on the clock." He knew he should help, and in that he would by not forcing something.

More silence and waiting, he literally just started twiddling his thumbs to see if it would distract him as the saying went. (He already tried before, but he could never disprove it.)

This has happened before, if she needed help she would reach out to somebody who wasn't him. But could she?

She had common sense, they would leave on time. He was sure of it. Suddenly she let loose a whisper of words not even facing him, as if she expected them to come to him by themselves.

"I'm a good person." Well, he could argue against that. "No, I get why you wouldn't want to believe me." It's as if she read his mind.

"You haven't proven or even given too much to show your point." Let's see what she does. Then he could really tell what she was to him. Ally, Foe. If she tried to prove it by denying it she could in turn deny proving it. More words that he knew were his attempts at intellectualism. "You can lie to me if it makes it easier, anything as long as it paints me a picture."

"Would it be so simple" She started tracing her finger on the locker's outer edges, focusing her hardest on looking away from him, feeling out the grooves as if her life casually depended on it, slow and forceful. "Would it be so simple."

Ichika could play a cat and mouse game of stimuli, trying to find out what exactly were her reactions to certain things. Or he could just guess. He opted that the latter would make him look like less of a fool.

"You are being blackmailed or threatened by your father to protect a certain object or person, brought here to enact his plan of enriching the Dubois corporation in a very hefty way through the persona of the first male IS user, doing your best to maintain the veil of anonymity." Ichika just started speaking the generalistics, then he decided to just go wild to see what happens. Stealth and subtlety were different. "I am assuming that person in question is your mother? She has issues that only he can fix and that if you don't play his game she loses. Since IS compatibility is such a wildly ranging gene trait with an even large amount of varying degree of skill you were a convenience turned into a rush job. Meaning he forced you to do this from your previous life." He was out of breath at this point. Like he cared about repeating the same things over and over again. Charlotte was silent for a few moments and he picked up an embarrassed sweat at his stupid attempts at detective.

"You're very blunt. Like a hammer." Oh he was lucky then. She wasn't even facing him but her tone of voice gave it out, defeated and surprised with a crack.

"The rapier and the dagger." He didn't get his own metaphor but it sounded witty. "Now, I'll assume that's you, if it's right or not. Any disagreements?" He could think before he spoke, it's just that he hated doing so every waking day of his life now. She did as well.

"Making most of my issues sound so simple, first of all." Compared to his, she wasn't used to someone already tired of political maneuvering . "And there's a lot of details wrong."

"Alright, fine by me." He wanted to help, he could help. He shouldn't.

"If you need to talk I'm here, I'll pretend they're just as complicated as you want them to be." He stood correct(ing himself)ed. And literally stood up to get to the stairs so he could reach the gladiators gate.

He could tell Charlotte was following him by her footsteps, at this point he just needed to get it over with in a way that doesn't affect him or anyone else.

Up the stairs with posters of famous alumni in war heroes looking down upon them, he swore if he tried hard enough he could have a faint memory of at least one of them. But it was too hard to think about. So he wouldn't.