There had been no one there, just now, and now there is, but not in a way where anyone could've noticed. It could well have been that this person had walked there from somewhere, everyone else too distracted to see it happen. That's not what actually went on here, of course, but it's an important part of understanding what did happen that that explanation is one that could have been true.

So now here's this boy. You would be forgiven for thinking otherwise, with the anime schoolgirl outfit, crop top, skirt going almost two-thirds of the way down his thighs and thigh high stockings with a proper zettai ryouiki and all that, the not-quite-shoulder length pink hair, and skin that looks so soft it almost glitters in the sun. And as he appears there and opens his eyes to see where, exactly, he is, he does not have good enough reflexes to avoid the imminent collision.

(Well, he kind of does, except that it's narratively appropriate for him to not, right this second.)

The Dean tumbles. It's fortunate that he wasn't carrying any papers; even his spectacles stay perched on his nose. Still, he's bruised, and at his age his bones can't be happy with him.

"Hellfire!" he grumbles. "Young l-" He pauses and squints. "Young m-" He squints harder, then gives it up as a bad job. "Young individual, you must be more careful where... you..."

A longer pause. A long enough pause that a young individual might be forgiven for wondering what was going on inside his head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaims. "Are you alright?"

The Dean retrieves himself from the pavement and brushes himself off in a manner that might be characterized as manic. "Of course, of course! It's no trouble at all, it couldn't have been less your fault - I should ask the same of you, I hope your journey wasn't too stressful? It's been years since we had a Transfer student - I'm being terribly rude. Welcome to the Valentine School, we've been expecting you!"

"—oh, uh, thank you? My journey was alright, but how did you know I was a transfer student?" Does he know the faces of every student by heart or something?

"Well, you're not wearing our uniform, but you're clearly wearing a school uniform, and a Japanese one at that. You could be some kind of cosplayer who snuck onto school grounds, but it would be quite a lot of effort and we do check once a Transfer student is admitted, so you wouldn't stay long. - if you are just a cosplayer, do let me know now so I can have you gently escorted off campus, rather than less gently escorted off campus by police in a few days, they take Transfer fraud quite seriously."

"I am not a cosplayer," he says, nodding. Not in the normal sense of the word, anyway; he is in a strong sense cosplaying Astolfo, but also in another just as strong sense he just is Astolfo, for the moment.

"Good, good. Shall I take you to the office and get you officially admitted, then? It won't take too long but we'll both likely miss the induction ceremony, which will be a terrible shame, I do so love Headmaster Andrews' speeches, but one must make certain sacrifices?" A frankly pleading look.

He can read a room.

"Can't we go to induction ceremony before doing the formalities, since they're just formalities anyway?"

That does not mean he is going to do what the room is telling him to.

A sigh. "It's so nice to see young persons respecting our traditions," he complains as he leads the young person towards the green.

He wonders what genre he's in. And why the heck the Spirit put him in it. He's pretty sure that guy was implying something magical? Maybe the school occasionally gets supernatural visitors? Maybe there'll be werewolves or vampires? Oh the irony might kill him if so.

He follows.

The green contains a small outdoor amphitheater, the center of which contains several official-looking persons, whom the Dean reluctantly joins after seating his duckling among other students. Some of the students are wearing the school's uniform, in purple and gold; others are wearing casual clothes or well-tailored suits. None are wearing seifuku. More than a few confused looks, and some confused ogles, are sent in his direction.

Confused ogles can get the occasional wink and blown kiss.

Most wink and/or kiss recipients blush and look away.

One is so bold as to catch the kiss and put it in his pocket, and wink back.

Oh and he's gorgeous, too. Peter is absolutely into it. He grins at the boy but then turns to watch whatever event is about to happen.

The induction speech is extremely typical. Anyone who has attended an English public school, or a sufficiently pretentious American private school, has heard it. You are the future of blah blah this institution blah we have high expectations but we are confident you will meet them; if we were not, you would not be here. It's not even that long, by the standards of the breed. Maybe half an hour. Then they're let loose to settle into dormitories, and the Dean comes to collect Peter.

"Well, that's accomplished. I assume you don't have anything to move into your room; shall we do that admissions paperwork now? It actually does have some non-formality elements."

"Certainly. I do have some clothes and a laptop but you don't need to worry about them, I'll get them myself later."

"Oh, excellent, that's rare."

The Dean leads him towards one of the more modern buildings.

(Very few people are paying attention to this.)

(Most people are idiots.)

(One person isn't.)

Well, Peter will finger wave with his right hand at gorgeous boy before following the Dean.

Peter is led to an office, with several sub-offices off the main room with the reception desk; the Dean heads for one of these, with the plaque reading Dean Abrams, and sits down behind a desk with a brushed-chrome PC tower hooked up to what looks, to all appearances, like an iMac G3 cathode display. A nearby printer emits a single-page form, which he hands over, still warm. The form bears some resemblance to a normal school application; it wants to know name, age, gender (out of several choices or write-in), educational history ("Note: you will not benefit from falsifying this information. We cannot access your prior records, but you will fail classes you are not qualified for."), and any medical concerns of note. It also requests that he select "optionals" (electives, apparently) from a truly staggering array of them, and priority-list more if his educational history turns out to place him out of a core subject or two.

"Why don't you fill this out, and I'll explain a bit more of the context around Transfers while you do?"

"Sounds good to me. Can I check every gender box?"

"I should warn you, it'll just be entered as a write-in of checked every box. If you still want to even if it doesn't cause exciting data entry problems, feel free."

Yeah he'll do that and then for the write-in he'll write "he/him right now but like don't worry about it".

Now as for the actual classes... wow. Wow. There are, uh. Many. Like lots. Like a fuckton. Does this place even have that many students or is it meant to pacify Transfers or...?

No matter. It seems that he's going to be a ?freshman? so he probably will in fact not be taking the standard curriculum classes but there are some electives optionals that look pretty sexy here. Lots of languages, and he decides he'll take Japanese, why not, he's Astolfo and more generically a weeb, and German if he can because again why not, he likes languages. There's a thing called Design Technology? Which includes home ec but also has other stuff like woodworking and, again, why not.

And oh all the electives he didn't take but wanted to, music and drama and, hell, even creative writing. And history! It's boring generally but he wants to know how this world differs from his.

Maybe this'll be fun.

And the Dean will begin to commit exposition.

"So - we, as a planet, are given to understand that we are relatively unusual, out of all the worlds that can exist. For as long as anyone can recall, we've had... visitors. Sometimes, somewhere else, people die suddenly and accidentally, and they arrive here. Or sometimes they step into a ring of mushrooms, or a door standing on its own in a field, or they step off the edge of the world. However it happens, they arrive somewhere on this planet, near someone or some institution with the resources to help them acclimate to life in our society and help them do what they want or need. They can speak the language most relevant to their needs. And, often, there's some reason they're here - it might just be superstition, or the tendency for out-of-context problems to shake things up, but they do shake things up a good amount of the time.

"Naturally this has had certain effects on our society. The actual timeline seems to be pegged to 'Earth standard', from what we've gathered; we've been lucky enough to dodge a number of alarming-sounding historical atrocities via timely Transfers, but somehow things usually bend approximately back into shape. But we do have a few notable cultural differences. We have more institutions constructed around the concept that they might need to suddenly integrate a visitor from nowhere, for one thing. And, after a few unusual historical atrocities, we have something of a cultural taboo around spreading too widely the knowledge that someone is a Transfer. The first person to meet them knows; the two or five or ten people who need to do the paperwork to get them situated where they need to be know; if they want to marry someday, presumably their spouse knows. Anything too far outside that space, and people begin to get very nervous.

"So I will request your general discretion, and I will smooth the way for you to do so without too much trouble. And if you choose to upset the status quo, it would be difficult for me to actually stop you, but I will request that you do it outside these walls."

"Oh I'm in some isekai hotspot? That's actually really clever, as a thing to exist. ...given the givens of how I got here I expect I will unfortunately end up having more people than that knowing about me but also given some other givens I expect it'll work out fine anyway.

"Is there a special history class for 'Transfers', then? Or, like, a book or a website?"

"Anonymous online classes are offered; one of the best is conducted by this very institution, though you wouldn't be taking it on the record for obvious reasons. As far as your normal history requirements, I can adjust your schedule as necessary to account for any points of friction. I would love to know more about how you got here and why you expect it to be difficult to keep secret. Though I understand if you wish to keep that secret; these things are often very personal."

"It's less that it's secret and more that it's... awkward?" He hums, swaying his legs back and forth. "I expect things are going to happen that will cause me to become entangled with other people in... narratively interesting ways? And I would find it an awful story if my arrival here caused anything like unprecedented horrors so that's not going to happen, probably, and instead whatever problems would come up because of a couple too many people knowing about me will just happen to not come up."

Unless it'd be funny. Or insert long list of caveats here. But he thinks those would be worrying and overall he expects it'll be fine anyway.

"...hah. If that's how it works for you, then that's how it works for you, I suppose. That kind of thing isn't unheard of, but it's much rarer than a simple isekai, as you say. Still, do try not to spread your secret too widely. It's not just the people upholding the status quo who get nervous about an unusually open Transfer."

"Oh don't worry about that I have reasons of my own to not want to spread it too widely. I know we've just met so it's a big ask to say 'trust me' but trust me I'm pretty sure it just won't be a problem."

"Well. I can't necessarily trust, but I can have faith, and I suppose I will."

He takes the admission form. "I'll get this all entered in. Why don't you go to the dormitories? You'll be in Bradley Hall, room 17. I hope you don't mind that you'll have a roommate, not that I can do anything about it if you do."

"I don't mind at all." He pauses then takes a metaphorical step back to consider whether and how to ask... okay no particular intuitions. "Are there any, ah, fraternization rules?"

"This is an English public school, child," Dean Abrams says with an air of faint exhaustion. "There is nothing you can do within these walls that has not been done a thousand times before you. -but don't be too loud after lights out and don't scandalize your more timid peers."

Somehow he thinks that won't be a problem.

"What, ah, other actual rules are there? Is the uniform mandatory, for example? I'm from my Earth's America so I don't really know much about English schools."

"The uniform is mandatory, yes, and you're entitled to a boy's uniform, a girl's uniform, or any bizarre hybrid of both that you prefer. - speaking of which I've put you in a boys' dormitory because you said male pronouns and not to worry about it, if I was wrong about that it's a quick enough fix. The other rules are relatively straightforward, no violence no stealing no swearing where a teacher can hear you - if you're American then you should be aware that chapel and prayers are optional even though unlike American schools we have them - generally don't make an ass of yourself. That kind of thing. You'll get a handbook."

"A handbook, excellent." He's not going to be blatantly supernatural and change into the rapidly coalescing version of the uniform in his head but he's feeling tempted by it.

Dean Abrams hands over a campus map. "If there's nothing else, I'm happy to help you with any problems that come up but I do also have a job."

"I think I have no more questions, but thank you!" So off he can go, map in hand, to find his dorm.

Show of hands, who wants to bet his roommate will be cute and/or hot? Peter actually thinks it's not that likely to be the gorgeous boy from earlier just because that'd make the cast too small but on the other hand maybe the story is about the gorgeous boy—well, about Peter with the gorgeous boy—so he'll be there. Who knows! An exciting mystery.

(Being Astolfo is kind of turning him into a bit of a manic pixie dream girl. He, like, kind of expected it would, but it's still taking him a little bit by surprise just how enthusiastic he seems to be about playing this role.)

If anyone wanted to bet: well, the bet has been resolved.

"Cheers!" says the atrociously handsome young man who is currently lounging in the room to which Peter was directed, before he looks up, takes in Peter's general vibe, and grins in bafflement. "I'm not going to insult you by implying you've got the wrong dormitory, but I will say I've had quite a few roomies over the years and you are by far the pinkest."

"I do strive to be very pink, it's true. I'm Peter! Nice to meet you!"

"Oh, that won't do at all. Can't you be an Alex or a Sam, maybe a Blue? It just seems like such a waste to put all that energy into confusing people and then give the game away the second you introduce yourself. Plus we've got a Peter, he's three years ahead. I give your name two out of five. I'm Howell, actually I'm Hywel but English don't bother to say it right and you sound American so the odds are worse still, Howell Jenkins."

"I am offended. It's a pleasure to meet you, Hywel. I may be American but I'm not uncultured."

"Hah. Well, you've gotten points for trying. And an extra point for not fucking it up. So that's three points already. I do hope you're keeping track, you don't get to redeem points for valuable prizes if you forget you had them."

Hywel rolls off the furniture item he'd been lounging on, crashes to the floor, and hops to his feet. "Are you moving anything in? You don't seem to have anything but the clothes at-best-technically on your back. If you've got a steamer trunk somewhere out there I'll lift it, though, I'm hench."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about them, they'll be here when I need them. Except for the uniforms, I need to figure something out for those—I mean, I know they're providing me with those, but I need to look hot in them."

"Is that going to be a particular challenge? You look like some kind of succubus in a Sailor Moon outfit, and I've never found a well-fitting school uniform to detract from someone's appeal."

"Careful, Hywel, you keep saying things like that to a boy and he might think you're flirting."

"I am a committed pervert, relentless flirt, serial monogamist at large - et cetera. I don't do serious with roomies, though, I'll say that up front."

"It does sound like a recipe for social disaster," he agrees. "I'm sufficiently full of myself to hold the firm belief that negative consequences will never happen to me but I understand that others are not so privileged."

"Yeah, no matter how full of myself I am, I've tried it enough to know I'm not that kind of special. So if you want to share some fascinating magazines, or you sprain your wrist and need a gentleman's touch, or something, I'm open, but no penetration literal or emotional."

The Peter of the before-times would have snorted at this. The present Peter giggles, instead, sounding adorable even to his ears. He always thought he was kind of cute, don't get him wrong, but now he's downright smoochable, if he can say so himself.

"Surely there'll be some emotional penetration; if nothing else I'd like to at least try to be friends!"

But he's been standing there doing nothing for too long now so he decides he'll start exploring the actual room, see how much space he has, etc etc etc.

"Friendship is on the table, but don't touch my heart and my prick at the same time."

It's a spacious room, for a school dormitory. Lofted beds, desks underneath; some abstract art on the walls; window with a decent view of a garden. There's a little furniture item somewhere between an ottoman and a chaise-longue.

"Yes, sir!" No bathroom?

Nope, it's a communal situation.

Sounds like shenanigans.

"So, is showing me around a part of your roommately duties or am I going to need to go explore the grounds myself? I won't feel hurt if it's the latter."

"Oh, it's absolutely part of my duties! That's why I'm shirking it. Go bother Other Peter over in 25, he's a good lad who cares about all that nonsense. Also if possible get a picture of his face when he sees your outfit, I have a feeling it'll be fun."

"Oh, but that would be so mean, I don't even know him yet to know how much he enjoys boys being mean to him! I'll just have to memorize it and draw it for you latter."

"I assure you there's nothing he loves more - but that should do fine."

With that, Hywel collapses onto the chaise-longue and retrieves a slim volume of what, at a glance, seems to be lovingly illustrated Victorian erotica.

Peter is starting to think this is going to be a large ensemble cast kind of show. Book? Game? Who even knows.

Off to go pester Other Peter.

Other Peter's door is slightly open. He looks a few years older, senior to Hywel's freshman or sophomore, and he's currently putting away some tidily folded dress shirts. He looks up as Peter approaches. "Hullo, are you -"

bfxwhuh?

"Are you. Do you - can I help you??"

"Oh, Hywel was right, your face was delightful. Hi, I'm Peter! I'm a transfer student."

"I'm Peter as well, Peter Pevensie. Is Jenkins your roommate? God in Heaven, that'll be a nightmare... do you want a general tour, introduction to the other boys, um, directions to where you can pick up your uniform..."

"Yes to all of those! Hywel seemed charming enough on five minutes' acquaintance, though. Oh, and I'll go by Pete, people already called me that back home and I wouldn't want to make our audience too confused."

Pevensie, Pevensie, where has he heard this name before, it must be plot-relevant...

"Considerate of you - nobody calls me Pete because I'm the eldest of my brood, so it's a good solution. If anyone gets confused anyway I can start putting on diminutives like hats - Petrushka, maybe? Pedrinho? I'll workshop."

He starts rummaging for a map of the grounds.

"I think you are far too tall to be a Petrushka. Then again, I am far too fem to be a Peter, and yet here we are."

Pevensie, Pevensie, why does the name ring a bell, come on if he's in some fictional universe he knows about he wants to know what it is...

"First Lucy and Edmund, now complete strangers tell me I'm too tall. What's this world coming to."

The map is secured. Peter begins explaining the basic layout of the school, with particular attention to parts where things like food, or appropriate clothing, can be acquired.

IT'S THE KIDS FROM NARNIA HOLY SHIT

"Don't get me wrong, I don't think you're too tall in any objective sense, and certainly not too tall for me."

He's flirting? With Peter Pevensie???? One of the kings of Narnia?????? Is he an adult in a kid's body—well, not a kid, but still, weren't they, like, he doesn't even know, forty? Or something? When they left Narnia? And now he's, what late teens? Pete is really really not sure how to proceed, here, "run into the Narnia kids as young adults" was not something he particularly prepared for!!

"-and Lukas Hall's mostly for events, you might have a class there but generally it'll be some performance or another. Did you retain all that? After studying here almost a decade I think I know this place too well to remember what's confusing about the layout."

His brain catches up to what Pete said about his height. "That's good, as long as you don't get a crick in your neck looking at me."

How does he even bring the topic up??? "Hey, by the way, I know that you're one of the kings of Narnia." "Run into any interesting wardrobes lately?" "You know what this place is missing? A talking lion, is what." Especially, especially given that incredibly badly-concealed once-over Peter gave him, like, it had never occurred to him to wonder about the sexuality of Peter Pevensie of Narnia but that was not the kind of look a boy gives you if he's not at least a little bit attracted to you. Like, like, Peter Pevensie thinks he's hot and Peter Pevensie is like forty or maybe fifty, does that make him kind of sus, but on the other hand he's in the body of a much younger person, and on the most important hand this is fiction so Pete doesn't need to worry about the thorny issues of age gaps and power differentials and all that shit especially given that objectively speaking Pete is probably the most powerful person around.

Now that he's paying attention, it feels like Peter should look more like the actor than he does. Pete's not entirely sure, he doesn't remember the movies well enough and he thinks that actor was a lot less broad and the nose is definitely different, and maybe his memory is playing tricks on him, but he does think there's a resemblance.

And why did he start thinking about how well-built Peter is, now he is starting to have, what did Vivian call it, pants feelings, and he is not wearing pants. Thankfully getting an erection right now would count as an uninvited jiggle so he doesn't—it had not occurred to him as an application of the power but he'll take it—but it doesn't change the fact that now his brain has gone down a much more object-level road of being attracted to someone.

The part of his brain that is managing to keep track of social reality notes that Peter has given him such an opportunity to—he doesn't think it counts as "flirt", actually, the response that comes to mind is a lot closer to "proposition"—and he is not taking it because he doesn't want to ruin first impressions and because even though this is fiction it is also real life and actually if you shamelessly proposition cute boys that will most of the time kind of alienate you.

So what he says instead is, "I'm having a lot of trouble finding a way to reply to that that isn't at least a little bit flirtatious so please pretend I did anyway."

...okay in retrospect that was still kind of flirting but!!! He was running out of time to come up with something to say!!!!!!!!

"Thanks for the effort," Peter laughs. "You're not going to scare me off, I've got a maximum terror threshold and you hit it already with the miniskirt."

(Why did he say that now he's thinking about that goddamned miniskirt. And what's under it, he caught a glimpse of that too, and now he's blushing visibly.)

"Noted," he says with an undisguised smirk.

"On that note you are actually going to have to wear a uniform when classes start. And something under it, if you keep going with the skirt."

"I've been informed of the uniform rule, yes. Not of the other one, though."

"Ah, the sure sign of someone who hasn't had to follow uniform rules before: thinking that something isn't specified. Technically you're supposed to stick to a whitelist even under trousers, but nobody can see those and issue you demerits for them. But if an updraft hits you and everyone gets a look at your, uh..." Observing that he is once again in dangerous territory, Peter back-pedals. "You'd better hope your knickers are regulation, is all I'm saying. But non-regulation is better than nonexistent."

"This skirt is updraft-proof," he says with confidence. "But fair enough, I shall follow the rules."

He is so confused, here, is this or is this not the guy from Narnia?? Did he get it mixed up? This boy is totally interested in him back, right, it's not just his imagination??? How does he bring it uuuuuppppppppp!

Peter smiles and claps Pete firmly on the shoulder. "Then I'm sure we'll get along. Though I think we'd have got along anyway. -anyway, I should introduce you to the boys on the hall. The ones in your year, I mean. My roomie and I are sixth-formers, stationed here in our capacity as responsible young men to make sure none of you are playing polka at midnight or whatever it is the youth get up to."

"You must be doing this on purpose," Pete grumbles.

Also, that "my roomie" there sure seemed to have some layer of meaning he's not quite catching. Not in the way Peter is saying it, though; it just feels like foreshadowing. Maybe the narration informed the audience of something important? He wishes he could read/hear it.

Well, no matter, he'll find out soon enough he's sure.

"Pevensie," someone says from the doorway. "And exciting mystery student! Don't tell me they're on our hall?"

"He is," Peter says somewhat woodenly. "Pete, this is Tom. My roommate. Also a... responsible young man."

He turns around and beams widely. "Oh, so that was what was being foreshadowed! Quick payoff, I'm glad. It's a pleasure to meet you, Tom, I'm also Peter, but Tarleton not Pevensie, and you can call me Pete instead."

Tom extends a hand. "It'll be my pleasure, I'm sure. I'm Tom Riddle, and if anyone shows up with my name I hope they're as amenable to changing it as you are, because I really don't share."

??????????????????????????????????????

Boy he sure is glad he took that Friends In Places series of perks because he is not sure he'd have been able to keep the horror from his face as he shakes Tom's hand if dealing with rich people weren't "intuitive and natural" to him.

Tom Riddle?????????????? Riddle??????????????????????????????????????

What the fuck.

Okay, okay. Okay. Okay.

Okay.

That is too many okays.

He doesn't have another word to think. He is sure he should be thinking of other words. He needs to think. And he can't think right here, right now.

Why is Tom Riddle drop-dead gorgeous. Why is everyone in this goddamn school drop-dead gorgeous, he should amend.

"That's an interesting last name. A lot cooler than mine."

Safe topic????? Maybe???? "Intuitive and natural" doesn't seem to cover being able to use any extra brainpower to try to not come off as a dimwit while his brain is still throwing error messages at an alarming rate. Good thing he is Mysteriously Alluring, he guesses, that oughta smooth over some of the kinks of meeting someone.

WAIT HE BETS IT'S BECAUSE HE PICKED "I CAN FIX THEM" GOD FUCKING DAMNIT

Does that mean he gets to fuck and redeem Tom Riddle well yeah probably but WHAT THE FUCK.

Tom chuckles. "I can't really take too much credit; it was my father's."

YEAH HE KNOWS HE IS AWARE OF MORE DETAILS OF YOUR BACKSTORY THAN YOU PROBALY WOULD FEEL COMFORTABLE SHARING ON SUCH SHORT ACQUAINTANCE

Well, maybe not. Pevensie and Riddle, he's probably in some weird fanfiction? ......wait is this some "seduce fictional boys from various media" kind of fic? He's here for it, obviously, but God who else is he going to be meeting. Wait, was Hywel meant to be from some other fictional series? He does not recognize the name, at all.

"Peter mentioned you were also here in a capacity as a responsible young man to supervise the young'uns, does that mean I'll have both of your lovely selves to accompany me on this little tour he's promised me?"

"No."

"Tom prefers to only do his job when it's absolutely necessary."

"If I'm always kissing their scraped knees I can't discipline them as effectively, now can I. You can play Mother, I know how you like it."

Teeth: gritting.

"Now, now, boys, don't fight, I'm sure Tom will have plenty of opportunities to need to discipline me and there's more than enough of me for both of you."

"Oh, you're one of those, of course you are. I'll be sure to keep it in mind, but for now, Peter should really give you that tour, shouldn't he?" Tom tosses a bag down on his side of the room and begins extracting clothing from it.

"Yes, I should."

Peter doesn't push Pete out of the room, but he makes his body language very clear.

One of those? What, a hoe?

Yeah. Yeah he is.

"Lead the way," says Pete, stepping aside.

Peter leads the way, in silence. He leads the way, in fact, to the communal restroom, where he checks under stalls to ensure they're alone. This being established:

"Flirting with me is harmless," he says, quiet but intense. "It'll raise my blood pressure, but I'll live, and so will you. Flirting with Riddle is not a good idea."

"I don't know how to communicate this in a way you will believe, but... I have a better idea of how bad an idea it is to flirt with him than you do, I'm pretty sure. It is a horrible, terrible, absolutely awful idea that is going to cause me a ton of pain and suffering."

"I'm going to do it anyway for reasons."

"I can't stop you. Obviously. And. I can't really blame someone else for choosing to suffer. But... the best advice I can give you, if you really think you know what you're doing, is... no matter how far you've gone, you can stop. If you end up thinking I'll hate you for whatever you've done, whatever he's had you do, that's him talking, not me. I've seen it happen too many times already, I know what Tom looks like even when he's wearing someone else, and I don't hate anyone for being his costume. And I'll cut him out of you if you need me to."

Pete closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, looks within himself...

...then opens his eyes again and says, "I know you're not gonna date me until I've completed all of your loyalty sidequests and unlocked friendship level 4 but that might have been the bravest, kindest, coolest thing a boy has ever said to me and I am absolutely doing all of your sidequests."

Peter chokes a bit on a laugh, which softens into a smile.

"You really have a way of saying things. But I'm... glad what I said hit home, and if you want to be friends and do all my quests I'm happy to take you up on it."

He looks around. "Possibly we should leave the toilets for any further heartfelt friendship conversation, though. Bit of an odd vibe."

"And I really need to pull my mind off its current track because objectively speaking that was not a great sentence to use to once again veer in the direction of hitting on you and yet that's what my brain was doing. Let us, in fact, continue on our tour."

"Oh, come on, even if you do seduce me you're not going to be blowing me in the gents'. Have some romance in your heart."

With that he ushers Pete back out.

"No, no, I'm not into that either, the direction I was going in was something like, I don't know, 'you can always come back to my room if you want to have more intimate conversations with me', except my room is not a great place because of Hywel, is it, hmm, I guess that wouldn't really have worked."

"5 of 9. Needs work."

He knocks on a nearby door. "Ed! New student, make yourself presentable, get your trousers on, et cetera, ad nauseam, in -"

The door is yanked open. "Have you been possessed by some sort of -"

bfxwhuh???

"New student, you say."

"You know I really feel like we could've done without the putting trousers on part, here, given all of the givens. Hello! Edmund, Peter's brother? Your face just now was just as good as your brother's, must run in the family. Nice to meet you, I'm Peter Tarleton, going by Pete for obvious reasons."

He is absolutely in some kind of BL, right? Or something? It is not actually possible that so many attractive boys just randomly happened to be here together at the same time.

"Someone has to represent the last bastion of Trousers, here, with you flying in the wind and Peter to all appearences keeping his brain in his instead of wearing them properly -"

Flick to the forehead. Distinctly audible.

"Oi! That's authoritarian, is what that is. Just because he's in charge he thinks he can brutalize me."

"I do not think it can be blamed on authority," comments the roommate peering over his shoulder. "I would be lying to claim you have never inspired me to similar violence. - hello, Pete, I am Tintin. Also a relatively recent transfer."

(His accent is fine. Mostly.)

"If you all want me to be able to understand more than every fifth word, I'd rather we speak the lingua franca. ...ironic though that phrase may be."

"Oh, sure, I'm just establishing the character, here, so that in the future I have an in with Tintin."

Fucking. Tintin!!! Literally Tintin!!!!!!!! He has no idea who decided to go with these specific pieces of media to draw hot boys from or what criteria they used but if they're willing to grab Tintin Pete has no hope of knowing all of the canons. He barely knows Tintin as-is, and only because he took French class in high school.

"Your ambitions are entirely too low. I like everyone; there is no need to get an in with me."

"Would it be too crass to say that it's more romantic to flirt in French, I don't actually know whether that's even true when it's one's native language..."

"Christ above, preserve me from anglos. The language of love. Spend one week in Charleroi! It is the language of love, for sure, and it is also the language of elderly racists, and it is the language of women who talk on their cellphones and do not pick up their dog's shit, and it is the language of little boys singing dirty words to the tunes of nursery rhymes - that is to say, it is a language, and people love with it, and they also talk."

This is not said with more than mild irritation - it's certainly a bit of a rant, but he's not very put out to have the chance to rant about it.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Very well, I'll flirt with you in English, then."

"Now, I did not say that. Flirt with me how you like. But find a better excuse."

"How about 'other people around are less likely to understand what we're saying so I can fluster you in public'?" he asks, nodding in Peter's direction. "I suppose Edmund might be made privy to the contents of these conversations but hopefully he is more exception than norm?"

"Mm. Peter and I are both outliers; I soak up languages, and he can barely hold onto his un-deux-trois. I remember when he tried Latin for a year - it was a dark time. But outliers aside, a Valentine student is really expected to be able to hold a conversation in their language of choice, and French is popular."

"I give up, then, I'll just do whatever I want and trust the narrative powers that be to ensure it works out anyway."

"I haven't yet seen you do anything but."

"And speaking of the narrative powers that be I think there are a few more people you need to introduce me to, right? We should probably do that before I slip up and accidentally flirt with your brother in front of you, I'm sure that will be very unpleasant for all parties involved except me."

Also who knows how many more characters he'll meet, he doesn't want to overwhelm the audience when he's sure there'll be a lot more opportunity for one-on-one interaction with each individual here. Especially given that he has Time Enough For Love.

"Sorry?"

"Yes, that sounds like a fantastic idea. Bye Ed, bye Tintin."

Peter introduces him to the other sixteen students in this hall.

While all of them are possessed of the inimitable spark of the divine housed within each and every human being, none of them actually seem particularly relevant.

Yeah, he's getting that impression; no one after Edmund and Tintin really felt right. He wonders if that got elided over with one paragraph, it felt like the kind of time that would've.

Anyway, next on the agenda is a more general tour, he thinks?

Peter shows him around the campus. It seems like a nice enough place, if somewhat overburdened with statuary and gardens named after alumni.

They are hailed across one such garden by a girl with a fairly strong family resemblance to Edmund. "Peter! You have some kind of pixie with you! Introduce us, please, and may I have a picture with you, strange elfin being, before you are cruelly forced into our uniform. That outfit is a delight."

"Oh is that Susan?" Wait shit Peter never actually said Susan's name, only Lucy's and Edmund's. Uh, but surely Peter won't have such a good memory for the exact things he said to remember that he definitely didn't? Well, here's to hoping, Pete is not going to give the game away by acting guilty.

(Also oh my god. Oh my god. Of course she'd be gorgeous, too, there's no way Peter and Edmund are that pretty and Susan wouldn't be no matter how gay this BL may be, but WHY is everyone SO HOT.)

"It's excellent to meet you, I share a first name with your brother but I've been going by Pete! I would love to take a picture with you."

Peter, indeed, just looks mildly confused, not suspicious.

"Oh, he's been telling tales about me, hasn't he - it was all legal in the countries I did it, and that's what counts."

Susan reaches them, withdraws her phone from her skirt pocket, and stretches her arm out for a picture. "Peter, get in here, you awful giant. Get on your knees if you must."

"What d'you want with me in your picture?"

"You're my brother and I love you, idiot. Get in here."

Peter is summarily wrangled, and a picture is taken. Susan shows it around. "I didn't put any filters on it but I think you might be actually sparkling, Pete, that's a talent."

"My skin care routine is unfortunately a secret guarded by the very laws binding the universe, but I could—"

"—oh, I should not finish that sentence."

"Oh, you can't dangle a secret in front of me. Tell me this instant."

"She really won't let you get away with that. Even if it was just a silly innuendo, it's best to give up the game now."

"What I was going to say was that I could be convinced to share by the right girl if she did the right things but I was trying not to flirt with your siblings in front of you."

"I don't actually want to bar access to your main avenue of communication whenever my siblings are in the room, and I already know your type. You may unchain your tongue."

"And I would do some pretty unholy things for those secrets."

"I didn't say you could unchain your tongue! Augh!"

"Oh, I see, so I'm allowed to use my honeyed tongue on your siblings so long as they don't respond to it."

"I'm re-barring you from your main avenue of communication."

He mimes zipping his mouth. "I suppose you will unfortunately never be able to learn the secrets to perfect, sparkly skin," he tells Susan.

"Oh, he can't actually stop me. I'll just sneak through your window in the dead of night."

"Make sure to dodge Mrs. Norris, she's crafty as—"

Wait shit Harry Potter isn't a thing here he can't reference it.

"—never mind, that reference will not land."

"You are an odd duck, but I will admit you have a mysterious allure. I will return - right, the actual reason I was hunting you down! Peter, Sophie wants you to tell your Jenkins boy to leave her alone or she's going to tell all the beasts of the forest to rend him, and that'll be hell on the carpet."

"You know as well as she does that I don't have any actual power. I'll have another stern fatherly chat with him, much good may it do her."

Okay, author(s), har de har har, he sees what you're doing here and he is not amused.

He is also a filthy liar.

"Hywel Jenkins? My roommate Jenkins?"

"Yes, God have mercy on you. He's insufferable. Falls in love with a new girl every week, whines to everyone in earshot 'til she falls for him, then has a whirlwind romance complete with flying houses until she's heartbroken and he's bored. Sophie has resisted his dubious charms since Christmas and through the summer holidays, and he's getting increasingly desperate."

"Oh, that sounds like a sidequest, I'll see what I can do."

"Please. Anything that causes Sophie to stop ranting about her bottomless loathing for that twit every night."

"Anyway. I will see you later, that's a promise. Peter, email Mum, she misses you."

"We got back yesterday!"

"Be that as it may."

Susan trots off.

"Your entire family is excellent," Pete diagnoses.

"They are, aren't they."

"Yes, you are," he says, firmly. "Now I believe the last item on our itinerary was finding me some uniforms so I can stop looking as attractive as I do right now, to the great dismay of the people."

"Yes! That'll be in Wyatt -"

He gets Pete over to Wyatt Hall. Would Pete like to be measured for a uniform or get one off the rack. Or get one off the rack for now and get measured for a better-fitting one that they make later.

Oh he doesn't need to be measured don't worry he can just get this stuff off the rack and then he'll perform hideous experiments on it in his basement until something he feels comfortable wearing comes out.

Acceptable!

"Do you sew? Susan does a bit - more the embroidery hoop kind than the practical stitching, but."

Oh God he walked right into that one didn't he. He should've figured out a different excuse.

"Not as such, no. That's why they'll be experiments."

"Might want a few sets, then, so if your experimentation goes awry you'll still have something to wear. ...something regulation, I mean."

"Yes, several sets indeed, where can I find these regulations I am going to rules lawyer the shit out of them to wear something cute."

"They're in your handbook. Didn't you get one? I've got mine on me but you'll have to promise to be nice to her." He retrieves and hands over a copy of the student handbook.

"I've been informed I am meant to get one but I have not been informed of where and when and how," he says, accepting said handbook. "I solemnly swear in this specific matter I am up to only good th—that reference won't land either," he sighs.

"You'll get the hang of the local referents. And you can stick to referencing only Enid Blyton and the Wind in the Willows in the meanwhile."

"I have no idea who or what those are," he says cheerfully.

"Truly ancient children's literature. Quintessentially English. Enid Blyton is generally loathed these days; the Wind in the Willows is actually fairly good at least as of when I read it, but I was in short trousers and can't swear to my literary taste at the time."

"'I was in short trousers', that cannot be a real expression real people use."

"What? It's traditional! You keep boys in short trousers 'til they're eight or ten or so and can be trusted not to tromp through mud puddles, and it's a rite of passage - well, alright, the rite of passage when you get your long trousers is mostly obsolete at this point, but Dad was very firm on the shorts. I was in mine longer than Ed because Ed has never in his life been tempted to tromp through a mud puddle, but he did sometimes impulsively go blackberrying."

"That's adorable. You're adorable," he accuses. "So you were the type to tromp through mud puddles? I was more of a climber, myself."

"Honestly I was mostly the type for impulse swimming, but I didn't mind detouring through any mud shallower than my armpits. Really, the shorts were not sufficient, but they're more symbolic than anything in the first place."

"Oh I used to detest stuff clinging to my skin like wet clothes or mud. ...still do, honestly. Of course that only meant I used to just strip naked before jumping into anywhere I could swim in until my mom succeeded at impressing the need for clothes upon me.

"Evidently she didn't do it well enough though."

"Well, I haven't seen you outright strip yet. So you're still in the safe zone."

"Yet; growth mindset."

Peter laughs. "Sure, growth mindset. I'll keep my fingers crossed, why don't I."

And they can get the uniforms (the clerk promises to bill Pete's account) and head back to the dormitory.

Where Pete supposes they'll need to part ways, for now. "It has been truly a pleasure, Peter. I'll see you later."

"You too, Pete. Door's open if you need anything."

And with that, Pete is released from the tutorial Peter's guidance, and free to do what he likes.

Once Peter is sufficiently not looking his way, Pete opens the door that leads into his dorm room, walks through it, then closes it behind himself.

About a second later Hywel will see Pete opening their door dragging in with him a luggage bag with wheels and carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. Both of them are pink and white with black accents, matching his outfit almost well enough one would think they were designed together.

"I have returned from the war," he declares.

(He was right he was right he was right he is a special snowflake who can just make Milliways doors appear whenever he wants he was so right being a Mary Sue is AWESOME.)

"Welcome! Are you forever changed, hardened by scars both inside and out?"

"I guarantee you that if I were hardened you would have noticed."

Lengthy downward glance.

"Fair point."

"Anyway! I now need to figure out what I'll do with these uniforms to make myself look hot in them, because your compliments notwithstanding I have some standards. Are you prudish, should I avoid changing in front of you?"

Hywel looks around theatrically to see if there's someone behind him who Pete might be addressing. He takes a quick look under the ottoman.

"We have only just met, I shouldn't want to assume," he says, grinning. "...now what this place really needs is a mirror, though. I guess I'll have to make do with my phone's camera, for now, but I will acquire a mirror for later."

And now: what are the uniforms like, and what are the regulations he must follow?

The uniforms are quite stylish, and remarkably comfortable. They consist of a shirt, some trousers or a skirt, shoes and socks (length variable), and a jacket (with the trousers) or vest (with the skirt). There are additional accessories if desired; ties, hair clips and headbands, ribbons. It's all on that purple-and-gold color scheme.

The regulations are mostly "don't wear something we didn't give you", with some whitelisted exceptions. Undergarments can be any single-fabric garment which provides adequate coverage (no lace, no easy-access holes). Piercings can be filled with low-profile jewelry, solid metal or small gemstones only. Further jewelry or other accessories must be unobtrusive or specifically exempted. (A cross necklace or hamsa is permitted, for instance, but not a full crucifix pendant or rosary beads.)

Does the jacket have to go with the trousers and the vest with the skirt? Are tights referenced at all? How long are the skirt? Are there any rules on modifying the pieces of garment the school did give them?

The jacket-to-trousers and vest-to-skirt correspondence is not enforced. Tights are available. Skirts vary in length but must not end more than two inches from the knee.

Modifying the pieces is permissible within the following guidelines which appear, in keeping with the skirt length guideline, to be aimed at making sure nobody looks too slutty. Like how Pete wants.

Does he have to wear the shirt under the jacket/vest? Can he modify the shirt in any way? Can he wear a different shirt? Can he make the shirt become a crop top? Does he have to close the jacket and/or vest over the shirt?

Yes. Yes, within the following anti-sluttiness regulations. No. No. No, actually!

...also, sufficiently obsessive investigation reveals there is not actually a rule on how thoroughly buttoned the shirt must be, either. This might be exploitable.

He was going to ask that next, excellent! Are there no rules about buttons, then? And are there any rules about the ties, do they have to be tight or can they be worn loose?

Nope! Students are expected to be familiar with the operation of buttons based on their own world experience, apparently.

Now for the last question: when and where is the uniform mandated?

In class and at school events! Practically speaking, of course, this means that a student will remain in uniform the entire school day, because who has time to change in and out of uniform between classes?

Who indeed.

Okay he knows exactly what he is going to do. And he could do it by "taking a moment to himself" but he took They'll Know which means that if he does that Hywel will definitely notice and he doesn't want to be too blatantly supernatural so he will instead actually change using physics.

...well. Kind of using physics. The clothes are still metanarratively guaranteed to fit him perfectly and look good on him regardless of the fact that he got them off the rack, so.

Nevertheless, the shoes are unceremoniously kicked off, the thigh socks—well, you can't unceremoniously remove thigh socks, can you, but they get peeled off with just as much gusto. Then off with the top and, why not, off with the hair ties, too, he has ideas.

And finally, the skirt. Which... well, the actual only reason Hywel did not manage to get an eyeful, here, before, is because Pete is metanarratively guaranteed to not give anyone an eyeful who shouldn't get one. But that is in fact the whole of it; the skirt is in fact only barely long enough to cover him even while soft. He is circumcized, about three-fingers thick, somewhat but not overly veiny, entirely hairless (like the rest of him), and most of all pretty. Not even exactly in a feminine way; it is just a beautiful cock, the kind of cock you can respect, the kind of cock that you only really see in erotica or, well, porn.

"Jeeping fuck," Hywel comments once Pete's skirt is off. "You could give a man a complex with that thing. If you didn't put his eye out first."

"Why, thank you. You know what they say about skinny guys."

"They don't say that much about skinny guys. Or they haven't where I could hear. I feel like I should be contacting the International Bureau of Weights and Measures."

If Pete were less a Mary Sue, the thing he does right now could be called a "sporfle" or a "cackle". As it is, the best word to describe it is probably a "giggle", but do, if you will, imagine that it is not a small dainty giggle. It is the Mary Sue equivalent of cracking up.

"What," he says, between giggles, "would you be telling them?"

"'Come look at this shit, it's unreal!' Then I'd call that Ripley bastard. Then maybe the Pope."

He giggles some more and shakes his head. "I guarantee you that there are neither miracles nor demonic influences involved, here."

"Not in his professional capacity! I just think it'd be fun to see his face."

"If you say so. I don't actually know what he looks like." Because fucked if he knows if history here is anything like history back home, the Dean said that history tended to veer back towards Earth default but that could mean a lot of things.

"Shriveled and Italian. Past that, I've got no more idea than you."

"Fair enough. Now, uniform."

"Aw, and here I had the Vatican all dialed but the last number. Fine, dress yourself, ruin my fun."

Hywel collapses back into the chaise-longue with what looks to be an entirely different volume of Victorian erotica.

"We're roommates, you know, you can see me naked whenever you want."

"That a promise?" Hywel asks dangerously.

"If it were up to me I would literally strip naked as soon as I walked through these doors, I am actually not a fan of wearing clothes and the main reason I do is because other people get sad if I don't."

...as he says that he realizes that it's not... actually 100% true, anymore? He actually likes his clothes now?

That's. That's novel.

And here he thought he was done with epiphanies, how silly of him.

Hywel squints a bit as Pete has his epiphany, then shrugs. "Well, I won't demand that much. But I might have you strip for my amusement occasionally, if you're offering."

He's gonna just take that as permission to be naked whenever he wants to be, how about.

Now: uniform!

So it was obvious from the narration, right? He's sure it was. He is going to follow the rules perfectly. He is even going to wear underwear.

(...briefs. He used to strictly wear boxers because briefs and even boxer briefs used to uncomfortably squeeze him but even though he's bigger now he is also at least partly fictional and this should mean that it is no longer uncomfortable. And so it shall be, side dressing to the left.)

Then, his socks are the type that is so short it vanishes inside his shoes, and his trousers just happen to be the correct length for him to show a little bit of ankle when wearing said shoes. His shirt is entirely unbuttoned, as is his jacket, and the suit tie is worn around his neck but not tightened. He then tucks the bottoms of his shirt into his trousers and fnally, to close the loop, a small understated hairclip, purely decorative.

He looks at himself on his phone and nods, satisfied. "Perfectly to reg."

"Not sure those Y-fronts followed the laws of physics, but you won't find anything against them in the handbook," Hywel agrees. "The tits-out look might be controversial."

"Controversial, yes, but I look amazing."

"No argument here. You'll make me feel like a regular ugly duckling at this rate."

"You know, the word that came to my mind when I first saw you was 'gorgeous' so I actually don't think so."

"Aw. Now you'll make me blush, which is much ruder."

"If making you blush is rude I'm afraid I'm going to be offending you daily."

"Terrible. I'll have you exiled for this, see if I don't."

"But where will I find another roommate as charming and cute as you?"

"Siberia, I assume. Poll the bears and find the charmingest."

"Is this a reference to something or are you just shitposting?" Pete wonders aloud as he grabs the handbook and starts leafing through it for interesting plot things. He's sure there must be some kind of plot somewhere here that isn't just about seducing boys.

Also he, uh, actually has no idea what one does at a boarding school when outside of classes? Do they just load up on ECs and clubs and shit like he used to? Do they have a robotics club he could join? He'll find out.

"Which part? Siberia's where Stalin sent all his friends when he got bored with them. There's bears there. Polar bears, I think. Polling bears was mostly just a brain noise from there."

There are many clubs and extracurriculars! Like the rugby club, and the school newspaper, and others which don't have obvious plot flags!

"I'm a rugby hooligan," Hywel contributes, blatantly reading over his shoulder. "Some just hang around the library in their free time, much joy may it bring them. And I think Other Peter tutors, you could try to get on that."

"The Stalin bit was the reference I was missing, yes, thank you." Also, Stalin existed on this timeline? He supposes not all atrocities have been averted and the Dean did say there were even some new ones added in there for flavor so it's not that surprising.

Anyway. "And you play rugby? I would not have pegged you as the type, that seems much more Other Peter's schtick." Oh whoops he accidentally audibly capitalized that, oh well.

"I'm certain I already told you I'm hench as fuck under this jacket, but maybe you're a visual learner."

He unbuttons rapidly, revealing some honestly very impressive teenage musculature. (Also, it seems like the tailoring of his jacket might be deemphasizing his shoulders, which are pretty broad.)

"Oh I see it's your turn to show your body off. Such a shame I won't ever be allowed to, okay no I think that may be Too Much even for me." Damn it he's capitalized it again get a grip Pete.

"Won't be allowed to huh?"

"You said you don't want me penetrating you physically and emotionally, and since I'm planning to become your friend that means the physical penetration is off the table."

"Oh, that. I don't know, stay on your best behavior and you might end up in a position to redeem some of those friendship points for one-time exceptions. I said all that without access to the full picture."

Hywel pats Pete's crotch in a decidedly friendly manner.

Friendly, huh. Sure. "Unfortunately I don't do good behavior, so I guess I failed step one."

Anyway, okay, so, journalism club is for Tintin because he knows the original canon, rugby is Hywel, tutoring is Peter, library is... either Edmund or Tom or Susan, then? He's gonna guess Edmund. Out of all of the plot hooks he's been presented with, that is. So no Tom or Susan? Or maybe their routes will be introduced later.

(Did he decide that this is some sort of dating sim, then? Probably, honestly. At least for now he'll operate under that assumption, he hasn't found anything plot-y other than seducing people. And while he's not totally sure why this place in particular was picked out of all starting places the Spirit could have chosen it's not, like, completely mysterious, either. Mary Sue hi-ho.)

What time even is it, the narration never said and he doesn't know what else he can do with the day. Actually what day is it? He's betting Saturday or Sunday, probably Sunday, which means tomorrow classes start. And how does he join these clubs and/or sports? That seems like a today kind of thing.

Hywel has a pinup calendar on the wall! It's Sunday. He also has

an absolutely despicable clock

on the wall, which if interpreted reveals the hour to be 4:30, from context PM.

"You can join up with a club by showing up to the first meeting, mostly, these things are pretty informal," he tells Pete in response to either a question or a confused look.

It was probably the confused look he was giving his handbook. "Does that mean I have nothing at all to do for the rest of today, but what if I want to get started on the plot already," he grumbles.

(Also he thinks the clock is charming tyvm narration.)

"Well, it isn't plot-relevant per se, but you could go for a swim? Strengthens the body, clarifies the mind, et cetera."

"The very fact that you brought it up makes it plot-relevant, though," he says, with a smile. "And it's not a bad idea, anyway," especially because he's pretty sure he was going to check that out anyway if he couldn't find anything else to do so, thank you author for validating his probably future choices.

So he grabs that backpack, unpacks his laptop and couple of books that were inside it, and gets to finding his swimming gear inside his luggage bag.

Hywel awaits the swimming gear with obvious delight.

"I don't know what you're expecting, here, I'm gonna get changed in the locker room," says Pete, grabbing a white Speedo. "Unless, that is, you have a request to make of me."

"I wouldn't dream of stretching your comfort zone the way you're going to stretch that poor, innocent fabric, let alone suggest you make the walk over already dressed for the occasion."

"My comfort zone," he says, half-disbelievingly. "My comfort zone stretches all the way from here to Argentina."

"As will the pouch of that bathing suit!"

"That I make no claims about." Everything he might need stuffed into his pink backpack, he slings it over his shoulder again, pauses at the door to take another good look at Hywel with his shirt unbuttoned and commit the image to memory, then off he goes to the pool.

Hywel moons him at the last second, sticking his tongue out.

Pete cackles giggles and goes on his way to find the pool.

The changing rooms are not full but they're by no means empty; apparently he's not the only one who's had the idea of a swim on the first day.

This idea was even shared, apparently, by Edmund! Who is currently nude, though in the process of pulling on a very European-looking swimsuit, with his back to Pete.

...huh! Is the pool Edmund's route, then? Whose is the library, Susan's? Tom's?

Hmm...

He steps off camera for a second to take a moment to himself, then...

"Hey, Edmund."

He turns. "Oh, heya P-

"Has anyone told you you look quite different without makeup. Wow. Uh."

He hurries to get his suit the rest of the way up.

"I've been told, yes," he says with a grin before dumping his backpack on the floor and proceeding to remove his carefully sexy implementation of the school uniform. "I'm kind of surprised to see this many people here on the first day just like because they wanted to."

(Edmund adjusts himself the second Pete's distracted. He's got it down to an art form.)

"Who doesn't like a nice swim? Probably plenty of people, actually, but I do and apparently so do you, so there you have it."

"And is it just for fun or are you on the swimming team? Or planning to be? —there is a swimming team, yes?"

He puts his swimsuit on and grabs his swimming goggles and cap then looks for a locker to put his backpack in.

"There is a swimming team, I'm not on it. I spend enough time on academics, I really don't need an extra sport on top."

Edmund's happy to share his locker, then follow Pete into the pool. (He feels oddly sad about the cap going on over Pete's hair. Brain why. He's just protecting the dye against chlorine??? Also why are you so invested in seeing his hair?????)

His swimming cap is the same shade of pink as his hair, if that helps?

"I'm planning on joining the swimming and rugby teams. I used to swim and play soccer back in America but I felt like having a change of pace here."

Ohh the worst part of swimming, having to actually get in the water. He needs to spend a few seconds psyching himself up before he can actually jump in.

"Lucy's the footballer in our family; Peter and I like fencing, Susan does archery, Lucy kicks a ball like a normal human being. And we all swim. Rugby, really, has Jenkins corrupted you already?"

He dips a toe into the water then crouches down to peer at it suspiciously. "I feel like it would be really funny to play rugby as a twink, you know? But also I'm not sure you're right about which direction the corruption is going to go in this particular case."

And they all swim? Is this an auxiliary activity in the routes of all Pevensies, then?

Edmund slips in, barely splashing, like some kind of river-spirit, then tosses a handful of water at Pete's crotch. "You came here to swim. Swim."

He jumps like a splashed cat. "Yes, fiiine, but let it be known that I'm doing this against my best judgement." It occurs to him for a moment that he should probably do stretches before jumping in and then it occurs to him that lol. lmao. So instead he lowers his goggles over his eyes then just steps in and immediately submerges himself fully to get the worst part over with. "Rrr," he says once he's back up.

Edmund's floating around lazily. "Is the violent breath of life in you not hot? Exhale the hot breath of the Flame Immortal!"

"We're in a pool," he points out. "Water beats fire."

"Where in the world did you even get that line?" Susan wonders as she surfaces. (She's in a one-piece, with some kind of intriguing chevron design running down it in semitransparent fabric.)

"Anime," Edmund admits.

"Nerd," the girl in Susan's wake diagnoses. "Is this that sparkly boy you're all being ridiculous about? I'm Lucy. You're very pretty but I don't think you're my type, sorry."

Oh they're going to be having conversations, okay. He pulls his goggles off and lowers them so they'll be around his neck. "It's honestly reassuring to know my charm knows bounds," he says, and means it. Also he's an eighteen-year-old in the body of a ?⁠⁠sixteen?-year-old so he's fine with dating Edmund but Lucy is in fact a bit too young for him. "If they've been talking about me then you'll know I'm Pete. Enchanted to meet you."

"Basest flattery."

"Oh, be nice," Edmund and

Susan say in unison.

"It may be flattery, but that does not make it false."

"You have no reason to feel more than slightly pleased to meet me! Enchanted is nothing. Tell me I'm delightful or whatever when we've actually met."

"I think I do, actually—if nothing else the past few seconds have been very character-revealing and you do seem delightful. How about I remain enchanted until I get to know you better and if it turns out I was wrong I will take it back, does that seem fair? But I want to claim Bayes points if later it turns out I was right."

"Bayes points," Lucy snorts. "You're all hopeless. Fine, be enchanted on credit. I'm going to swim, it seems setting-appropriate."

"An excellent idea," he says, putting his goggles back on.

He thinks this interaction was a success! Good to know that when Incomplete makes his Mysterious Allure fail to work he can still be charming on his own merits.

Now, swimming in this new body feels... weird. It feels weird. He pulls his arms too wide and his legs too far from each other to make up for muscles that now are a lot less defined and therefore don't need it, and he weighs less and his frame is more hydrodynamic but Hollow Leg means that he's still as strong/fit as he used to be so he also swims faster than he's used to while spending less effort. He has a ton of muscle memory and a lot of it is just awkward; this masc self may be slightly more buff and less twinky than the full Astolfo persona but it's still nowhere near the proper swimmer's build he used to have, and as noted in narration before he doesn't have immediate translation of body maps.

Still, he's quick enough to learn to compensate for it. His body awareness is pretty decent, and once he hits his stride he can soon get to a proper five-one bilateral breathing pattern and when he really wants to push himself he can get to seven-one. He still needs—or, at least, prefers—to take the occasional break to catch his breath, though, and he's not really trying to break any records, here. It is, in fact, just for fun, and the part of him that had been worried that he was too much of a Mary Sue to get that out of swimming has been thoroughly reassured.

At some point he may notice Edmund staring a bit.

May he. Well, good thing he has an appropriately-timed breathing break just then. He lifts his goggles up to his forehead—the area surrounding his eyes is remarkably uncreased, only enough to indicate that he did have goggles pressing against his skin there but not enough to make it red and puffy—and asks, "Do I have something," pant pant, "on my face?"

"Um! No, you're just - very good. At swimming. Fast."

Edmund shakes his head vigorously, getting water all over the place. "Sorry, brain stopped working for a bit. I've rebooted. D'you want to race?"

He grins. "Sure. Five laps," pant, "winner picks a forfeit?" Breathe. "Also give me," pant, "a minute to catch my," pant, "breath."

"Catch all the breath you need. I'll be here contemplating how much to fear the concept of forfeits, coming from you."

"We have spent," pant, "a total of some five minutes interacting," breathe, "today. Surely you can't have formed such a," breathe, "negative impression of me already?"

"'Negative'? No. So randy you might actually have a rabbit somewhere in your ancestry? Yes."

"You know what," breathe, "that's fair. You can always say no to the idea and we can just have the," breathe, "race for fun and bragging rights."

"No, no, I'll do it. I'll just be witheringly judgmental if you make me dive nude or something."

"Oh, that's nowhere near anything I'd considered, but also I don't actually have a good forfeit in mind that I'd be willing to actually ask for so maybe that'd do." Deep breath. "Yeah okay give me like thirty seconds and I'm good."

"Thirty seconds regretting giving you ideas, got it."

"Yup." And he counts to thirty because even though he's feeling mostly fine by fifteen he wants to give himself some more proper breathing and he also wants to draw Edmund's suffering out, but then: "Alright, ready. Who's going to be the referee and why is it going to be Lucy?"

"Susan!" Edmund calls in lieu of response.

"What's happening?" she asks once she draws near.

"Racing! Five laps! Forfeit for the loser! Judge us?"

"Constantly, and especially right now. Forfeits?"

"It was his idea!"

"It was absolutely my idea," he says shamelessly. Then he lowers and adjusts his swimming goggles again, turns his back to the edge of the pool with his right foot resting against the wall and both hands behind him holding the edge and says, "Ready."

"Oh, fine." Susan hops to sit on the edge.

"Lucy's scorn would be worse," Edmund explains as he takes his position.

"Stop gossiping, three two one and go."

The pool is semiolympic so if Pete's going absolutely no holds barred, full speed, for all five laps—which he is, five laps with no breaks is pushing his explosive endurance but not by that much—then he can do one lap in about forty-fiveish seconds, on average, the first one closer to forty and the last one closer to fifty.

Edmund is a good swimmer. His form is a bit better than Pete's, since he's had the same body for - well, not his whole life, but at least a few years, and he was in it the whole time it was changing. He paces himself well, too; his laps are clustered tighter around the mark. However, the mark in his case is closer to fifty seconds for each lap; he's fit, but he doesn't have a Hollow Leg.

Thus, he pulls up next to Pete after about twenty seconds, not quite gasping but certainly panting.

"Christ," he comments.

"Victory to Pete," Susan says drily. "Really neck-and-neck, there."

Pete had in fact been gasping when he finished his own laps twenty seconds ago, but now he is just panting. Still not, however, fit to speak full sentences. "Really needed," breathe, "that," breathe, "referee there," breathe. He's lowered his goggles down to his neck again.

"I'm bad on sprints!" That was several words it's panting time again.

"Yes, I know. You also know that."

"What you're," pant, "saying," breathe, "is that he," pant pant, "wanted to lose?"

"Well, not out loud I wasn't. But yes, he could at least have negotiated a contest that would have put him on a better footing."

Wordless V-salute.

Pete thinks about saying something but then he decides that actually what he is going to do is pull himself off the pool so that he can then lie down on the floor along the edge of the pool and rest there without having to use any of his breathing to stay afloat.

Ed does the same, weighing his options and eventually, irritably, putting his head in Susan's lap.

She smooths his hair. "There, there. Was your big sister mean to you."

"Yes!"

"I'm also an older sibling, you know," he comments, conversationally, now that he has so much more access to air. Deeeeep breath. "Being mean to your sibs is a time-honored tradition."

"You know, people say that, but I get it from Lucy too and I've never found any way to fight back that didn't make me feel like a bastard. I'm surrounded by vipers."

"Even having spent even less time around her than I did you," deep breath, "I am finding myself unsurprised."

"The way to effectively tease Lu is by being patient and understanding and incredibly condescending about whatever she's talking about. It doesn't matter if you agree with her, just nod and smile and fill your mind with thoughts of how adorable it is that she's so enthusiastic. She explodes, every time."

"Oh, but I would, too. I'm kinning her right now."

"Oh, is that one of those words you've picked up from the Internet? It's great how you can describe things no one would have bothered to think about twenty years ago, isn't it? It's so nice for -"

Handful of water, splash directly in Susan's face. "Don't torment him!"

Susan sputters delightedly. "It's how I show affection!"

He turns over to lie on his stomach and prop his head up on his elbows. "It's okay, it doesn't work when she calls attention to it. Besides, maybe I like being tormented sometimes."

"Too easy. What's Ed's forfeit, anyway?"