r/DeltaruneYellow_

Author's Note: This is based off a small dream I've had, and I wanted to make this come true and see what you guys think of it. None of this is going to be canon in DRY, obviously. But regardless, enjoy the first part.

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The ceiling fan had a rhythmic, metallic click that sounded like a clock counting down to zero. It was the only thing filling the silence of the room until the sunlight decided to aggressively pierce through the gap in the curtains.

Kanako shifted under her pink sheets, trying to burrow deeper into the mattress to escape the intrusive gold of the morning. The click of the fan continued its steady, mechanical heartbeat, a sound that usually anchored her but today felt like a warning. She didn't want to open her eyes; the dreamless void of sleep was the only place where the weight in her chest felt light, almost nonexistent.

"Kanako! Don't be late for school now. It's time to get up!"

Kanako elicits a groan that is less of a vocalization and more of a vibration in her throat. Her mother’s voice, though warm, carries that unmistakable edge of parental urgency. For a moment, Kanako considers pretending to be asleep—or perhaps pretending to be a very convincing piece of furniture—but she knew she had to get up.

She finally rolled over, her dark brown fur messy and static-charged, looking like a startled kitten as she faced the day. The room was a sanctuary of soft colors and sketches, but the air felt heavy. It was going to be another boring day at school. She knew that. But at least she can look forward to seeing Cole again.

The brown fox girl goes through her normal morning routines: she dressed in her usual clothing and jacket, brushes her teeth, and descends the stairs. The scent of tea and something toasted wafts through the hallway, a domestic comfort that usually soothes her, but today it feels like a backdrop to her anxiety. In the kitchen, Ceroba is already a whirlwind of organized energy, her orange ponytail bouncing as she plates breakfast.

"Morning, sweetie," Ceroba beamed, sliding a plate of eggs and toast toward the table. Her eyes flicked toward the clock, then back to her daughter.

"Morning, Mom," Kanako murmured, her voice still thick with the remnants of sleep. She slid into the chair, the wooden legs scraping against the floor with a sound that seemed far too loud for the quiet morning.

Across the table, Chujin was preoccupied with a handheld device, his green-tinted goggles pushed up onto his forehead. He didn’t look up immediately, but the soft, rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the plastic casing slowed as Kanako sat. He offered a small, tentative smile—the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes but carried a world of protective affection.

"Eat up, Kanako. You'll need your energy for the presentations," Chujin said, finally setting the device aside. His voice was soft, carrying that familiar blend of caution and care. He reached out to pat her hand, his touch lingering for a second longer than necessary, as if checking to see if she was truly there, present and whole.

Kanako raises an eyebrow at the mention of presentations.

"...Presentations?" she repeated, the word feeling like a stone in her mouth.

"Career Day, remember?" Ceroba chimed in, her voice bright with an enthusiasm that felt slightly overwhelming for eight in the morning. "The school sent the flyers home two weeks ago. You’re supposed to research a profession and present it to the class. It’s a wonderful way to think about your future!"

Kanako stared at her toast, the bread suddenly feeling like a heavy weight in her stomach. The concept of a "future" was a dizzying, abstract thing that usually felt more like a threat than a promise. While other students were daydreaming about becoming doctors, engineers, or artists, Kanako spent most of her time trying to navigate the jagged edges of her own mind. The idea of standing in front of a classroom, under the clinical hum of fluorescent lights, explaining what she wanted to be when she grew up felt like an impossible demand.

"...Oh. Right. I... forgot about that," Kanako lied, her voice barely a whisper. In reality, she hadn't forgotten; she had spent the last two weeks meticulously ignoring the flyer, pushing it deeper into the recesses of her backpack until it became one with the crumbs and old assignments.

"Forgot? Kanako, you've been staring at the ceiling for three hours every night this week. I assumed you were drafting a masterpiece of a speech," Ceroba teased, though her eyes held a flicker of maternal concern. She knew the signs—the way Kanako’s shoulders hunched, the way she retreated into herself like a folding screen.

She had told her parents two weeks ago that she and Cole were doing a "group project." But in reality, they were trying to seal more Dark Worlds and save both universes. The irony of pretending to be a studious teenager while actively fighting for the existence of all things was not lost on her.

"Heheh, yep, that's me. Studying for professions, and... jobs, and... stuff..." Kanako’s voice trailed off as she tried to mirror the confidence of someone who actually knew what they were doing.

"...Kanako... we talked about this yesterday," Chujin intervened softly, his voice cutting through her feigned confidence. He leaned forward, the green lenses of his goggles catching the morning light. "You can't just 'stuff' a presentation. You need structure and sustainability. Something that'll help provide for you. I know your drawings and stories are wonderful, but... they aren't careers."

Kanako felt a familiar prickle of irritation bubble up in her chest. It wasn’t that Chujin was wrong—he was rarely wrong about the practicalities of life—but his insistence on "sustainability" felt like a suffocating blanket. To her, a career wasn’t a set of credentials or a steady paycheck; it was a way to exist without feeling like she was constantly fighting a losing battle against her own mind.

The silence that followed Chujin’s remark felt heavy, pressing against Kanako’s ribs. She wanted to explain that her "stuff" was the only thing keeping her anchored, that the sketches in her notebook were the only maps she had for a world that felt perpetually unstable. But the words felt too large for her throat, and the frustration was starting to taste like copper.

"I just don't see why it has to be a *career*," Kanako finally snapped, her voice cracking slightly. "Why can't it just be about... something we actually like? Why does everything have to be a 'sustainable' path to a paycheck? Isn't it better to have a job that you enjoy, even if it's not... a traditional one?"

Ceroba sighed, the sound a mixture of patience and weary resignation. She reached across the table to squeeze Kanako’s hand, though the girl instinctively pulled away, her chair screeching against the linoleum once more.

"It's not about the paycheck, honey. It's about stability. Your father just wants to know you'll be okay," Ceroba said, her voice softening.

"...Stability," Kanako muttered, the word sounding foreign and cold. She didn't want stability; she wanted to breathe without feeling like she was underwater. The conversation continued to loop in circles—practicality versus passion—until the harsh chime of the wall clock signaled the end of their debate.

With a final, lingering look of worry from Chujin and a supportive beam from Ceroba, Kanako grabbed her backpack and bolted out the door, the sudden rush of fresh air hitting her face like a physical reset.

"Wait, Kanako, your breakfast! You didn't finish..." Ceroba’s voice trailed off, swallowed by the heavy thud of the front door echoing through the hallway.

Once outside, Kanako didn't slow down until she reached the edge of the sidewalk, where the morning humidity clung to her fur like a damp veil. She leaned against a fence post, breathing hard, the echo of her father's voice still looping in her head.

*Sustainability.*

It was a word for bridges and ecosystems, not for fifteen-year-old girls who felt like they were dissolving into the background of their own lives. She gripped the straps of her backpack, feeling the familiar weight of her sketchbook—the only "career" she actually cared about, even if it didn't pay for a house.

"You look like you're planning a heist, or maybe just contemplating the void. Which one is it today?"

Kanako's ears twitching, she didn't need to turn around to recognize that voice. She let out a long, theatrical sigh, the tension in her shoulders dropping just a fraction as Cole stepped into view. He was leaning against a mailbox with a casual, easy-going grace that Kanako secretly envied. With his brown vest and a friendly grin, he looked like the only person in Eastwood who wasn't perpetually stressed about the upcoming semester.

"Hey, g'morning, Cole. I was gonna come pick you up, y'know," Kanako lied, shifting her weight and trying to look less like she had just spent five minutes hyperventilating against a fence. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log," Cole replied, pushing off the mailbox with a lighthearted spring in his step. He adjusted the collar of his vest, his eyes scanning Kanako’s face with a perceptive softness. He didn't ask why her breathing was shallow or why her ponytail looked slightly frayed; he just knew how to occupy the space around her without making it feel crowded. "Though I did have a dream that we were fighting a giant toaster. Pretty sure that’s a sign I shouldn't have had that late-night snack."

"Heh... after our last Dark World adventure fighting that toaster guy, I wouldn't want to, either," Kanako murmured, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her facade.

"Right? Though, to be fair, the toaster in my dream had a very compelling argument about the importance of a golden-brown crust," Cole joked, nudging her shoulder with his own. "Anyway, you ready for the gauntlet?"

Kanako’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine dread.

"The gauntlet. Right. Career Day," she sighed, the words feeling heavy. "My dad spent the entire morning lecturing me about 'sustainability' and 'traditional paths.' He basically told me that drawing in a notebook isn't a career, it's a hobby that doesn't pay for electricity."

Cole didn’t laugh, and he didn’t offer a platitude about how "art is a valid pursuit." Instead, he slowed his pace, matching her stride as they turned the corner toward the school.

"Sustainability is a fancy word for 'not panicking about rent,'" he said thoughtfully. "But your dad’s just worried, Kanako. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just... a guy who really likes spreadsheets and goggles."

"I know that! I know he cares and loves me," Kanako replied, her voice gaining a sharp edge that she immediately regretted. She slumped her shoulders, the pink fabric of her jacket feeling suddenly too tight. "It's just... it feels like he's talking to a version of me that doesn't exist. Or a version he *wants* to exist. I'm *trying* to be myself again, Cole, but it's hard to do that when the blueprint for my life is already drawn by someone else."

Cole stayed silent for a few paces, letting her words settle. He didn't try to fix it with a joke this time; he knew the difference between a bad mood and a heavy heart.

"Blueprints are just suggestions, Kanako. Besides, you've always been better at improvising than following a map. Just look at how we handled that toaster," Cole said, his voice grounding her. He didn't push for a deep confession; he just walked beside her, his presence a steady, uncomplicated constant in a morning that felt far too complex.

"Well, at least we can use the time after school to find those Dark Worlds. The Warden said there was two left in town, right?" Kanako asked, her voice regaining some of its natural cadence.

"Two left, exactly," Cole confirmed, his expression turning serious as the red-brick facade of Eastwood High came into view. "The Warden said they're smaller, more concentrated. If we can close them before the weekend, maybe we can actually get some sleep for once."

The school bells didn't just ring; they shrieked, a jagged sound that tore through the morning air and signaled the start of the daily grind. Kanako felt the noise vibrate in her teeth. As they navigated the crowded hallway, the sea of students seemed to move in fast-forward—a blur of neon backpacks, frantic whispers about forgotten posters, and the oppressive scent of floor wax and old gym lockers.

Students hustle and bustle as they arrange things in their lockers or head to their first-period classes, oblivious to the cosmic weight resting on the shoulders of the two teenagers walking side-by-side. Kanako kept her head down, her ponytail swaying with every step. She felt like a ghost haunting a building made of brick and boredom. Every laugh from a nearby group of friends sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel, distant and slightly distorted.

Not only was she mentally tired, but she is hungry despite not wanting to eat. The scent of the school cafeteria—a mix of industrial-grade cleaner and lukewarm tater tots—began to drift through the vents, reminding her that her breakfast had been a casualty of her father's "sustainability" lecture.

Cole and Kanako enter the class. After every student sits down, Dalv goes over the attendance sheet. Sadie is on the top left desk, Violetta at the top middle, and Gizmo on the top right. Mocha the blue koala monster sat on the middle left, Cole smack in the middle, and Kanako next to him on the middle right. Melody, who surprisingly came to class, is on the bottom left desk, Britz the green bug monster on the bottom middle, and Connor the ice cone monster on the bottom right desk.

"...Okay, that should be everyone. Good morning, class," Dalv announced, his voice smooth and measured. He adjusted his reading glasses, the lenses catching the sterile glow of the overhead fluorescents. "As you are all painfully aware, today is Career Day. While the school board views this as an exercise in professional exploration, I prefer to view it as an exercise in self-reflection. Who are you, and more importantly, who do you *want* to be?"

Kanako felt the air in the room thicken. Dalv’s question was meant to be philosophical, perhaps even inspiring, but to her, it felt like a trap. *Who do you want to be?* The question looped in her mind, colliding with her father’s voice and the crushing weight of the "incident" from five years ago. She didn't want to be a professional; she just wanted to be okay.

"To start off with today's assignment, I will be handing out the rubrics for your presentations," Dalv continued, gliding between the rows of desks with a grace that only a vampire of his tenure could possess. "Please review the grading criteria carefully. I am looking for depth of research and a clear articulation of the role's responsibilities. I do not want a mere list of tasks; I want to see that you have contemplated the *impact* of the profession on society."

Kanako stared at the rubric as if it were written in a dead language. *Impact on society.* The words blurred together, transforming into a smudge of ink that mirrored the static in her brain. Beside her, Cole was humming a low, tuneless melody, leaning back in his chair with an expression of mild curiosity. He didn't seem intimidated by the rubric; to him, this was just another quest with a set of clear objectives.

"If you need time to think about what profession is perfect for you, that's okay. I will allow plenty of time for you to research and plan your presentations," Dalv added, his voice drifting back toward the chalkboard.

As he began to write on the board, the silence of the classroom was punctured by the sharp, rhythmic tapping of Gizmo’s fingers on his desk. The green cat monster was vibrating with a kind of manic energy, his eyes darting between the rubric and a handheld console hidden beneath the lip of his desk. He leaned over toward Cole, his whisper carrying a surprising amount of volume.

"Psst, hey, Cole," Gizmo hissed, his voice a frantic, high-pitched rasp. "I’ve got it. The perfect career. Game Critic. Or maybe Professional Speedrunner. Imagine the *impact on society*—I could teach people how to beat the Final Boss in under three minutes! Dalv would have to give me an A+ for efficiency."

Cole chuckled, leaning in to keep their conversation under the radar of Dalv’s keen ears.

"Pretty sure 'efficiency' isn't what he means by societal impact, Gizmo. But hey, a speedrun of the curriculum might actually get us out of here by noon," Cole whispered back, a playful glint in his eyes.

Kanako didn't join in the laughter. She stared at the blank white page of her notebook, the graphite of her pencil hovering just millimeters above the paper. To Gizmo, a career was a high-score screen; to her father, it was a fortified wall against poverty. To her, it felt like a costume she was being forced to wear—one that didn't fit and itched in all the wrong places. She began to doodle, not a profession, but a series of jagged, interlocking shapes that looked like a city collapsing into a sea of ink.

"Kanako?"

The voice was soft, but it startled her enough that her pencil skidded across the page, leaving a long, jagged streak of graphite through her ink-city. She blinked, refocusing on Cole. He wasn’t looking at her with judgment or curiosity, but with that quiet, steady patience that usually managed to pierce through her fog.

"Hm?" Kanako blinked, her ears twitching as she looked up at him. "What is it?"

"You're doing that thing again," Cole said softly, tilting his head toward her sketchbook. "The thing where you try to disappear into the paper. You okay?"

Kanako looked down at the graphite smear, her expression flattening. For a second, the irritation flared—a sharp, sudden heat that made her want to rip the page out and crumble it into a ball. But the heat died down as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a hollow kind of exhaustion. She didn't look at him, instead focusing on the way the fluorescent light flickered above their heads, a rhythmic pulse that felt like it was trying to synchronize with her heartbeat.

"Sigh... I just don't understand why we have to do this," Kanako murmured, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the classroom's air conditioning. She stared at the smudge on her page, the graphite streak looking like a scar across her drawing. "I don't have a 'professional' bone in my body, Cole. How am I supposed to research a life I can't even imagine having?"

Cole didn't offer a platitude. Instead, he reached over and gently tapped the edge of her sketchbook with his finger.

"Who says you have to imagine a life you don't want? Maybe the assignment is just a cover. Research something you actually like, and then we can figure out how to frame it so Dalv gives you the A," Cole whispered, his tone conspiratorial. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Like, if you love drawing, you're not just 'drawing'—you're an architectural conceptualist. Or a visual historian. You just have to use the big words. That's the secret to 'sustainability' and all that."

Kanako looked at him, a small, skeptical crease forming between her eyes.

"Architectural conceptualist? Cole, that sounds like something a robot would say to convince a human it has a soul," the fox girl whispered, though the corners of her mouth twitched. It was the first time all morning she felt the air in her lungs instead of the weight of her father’s expectations.

"Exactly," Cole grinned, leaning back into his chair with a satisfied thud. "The more syllables you use, the less likely people are to realize you're just drawing cool buildings and monsters in a notebook. It’s the ultimate academic loophole."

Kanako couldn’t help it; a quiet, genuine laugh escaped her, a sound that felt foreign and refreshing in the sterile atmosphere of the classroom. For a moment, the crushing pressure of "sustainability" felt lighter, replaced by the absurd image of herself presenting a series of monster sketches as "conceptual architectural studies."

"Ahem," Dalv’s voice cut through the chatter, sharp as a razor and twice as clean. He hadn't moved from the board, yet he somehow knew exactly who had been conspiring. He turned, his gaze sweeping over the room with a clinical precision that made several students instantly straighten their spines. "While I appreciate the spirit of collaboration, this is still a solo project. Please refrain from 'loopholed' academic strategies until you have actually produced a thesis."

Kanako stiffened, her laughter instantly evaporating into a blush that crept up through her brown fur. Beside her, Cole didn’t even flinch; he just gave a small, sheepish wave of his hand, his expression one of innocent curiosity.

"S-Sorry, sir," Kanako whispered, her gaze snapping back to the rubric. The warmth of the moment had evaporated, replaced by the familiar, cold prickle of anxiety. She felt the eyes of the classroom on her—or perhaps she just imagined them—and the sudden urge to shrink into her lavender shirt became overwhelming.

"...Right. Let us continue," Dalv said, his tone softening as he turned back to the chalkboard. "For those of you struggling to find a spark, remember that a career is not merely a destination, but a lens through which you view the world."

Kanako stared at the chalkboard, the white chalk scratching out definitions of "Professionalism" and "Civic Duty," but the words felt like static. She looked down at her sketchbook, the graphite streak now looking like a fissure in a frozen lake. The comfort Cole had provided was a temporary shield, and now that the teacher’s attention had shifted, the silence of the room felt loud again. She could feel Melody’s gaze from the bottom left of the room—a heavy, judgmental stare that usually smelled of old gym lockers and superiority.

Kanako shifted her weight, the plastic chair creaking under her. She could feel the invisible line of Melody’s stare, a cold current cutting through the classroom. Melody didn't just look; she scrutinized, searching for any crack in Kanako’s composure that could be exploited. Kanako tightened her grip on the pencil, her knuckles turning a pale, strained white. The urge to vanish, to become a smudge of graphite on a white page, was nearly irresistible.

Cole stood at the door to "Ketsukane Electronics"...it was 6:00 AM in the morning. The sun was barely coming up and he knew Chujin wouldn't wake up until at least 8:00 AM. Saturday was his day to sleep in while Ceroba didn't let something as trivial as a certain day interrupt her normal morning routine. It had been a month since the two friends...Cole and Kanako...had graduated from high school and now both of them were thinking of their futures. Chujin wanted Kanako to stay and learn the family business while Cole wasn't so certain of his future...all he knew was that he wanted to spend it with Kanako.

"Ah'm in over my head, ah'm in over my head..." Cole sweat profusely, standing outside.

"Cole?" A barely awake Ceroba opened the door. "Honey, it's too early..."

"I know, I actually wanted to see you."

"Well then, come in." Ceroba smiled, planting a small peck on Cole's forehead, always loving when the kid needed her help.

Taking his hat and placing on the coat rack, Ceroba and Cole sat down at the kotatsu next to one another, Ceroba offering Cole some tea which he happily accepted. Cole took a hold of the steaming mug, sipping down the rather warm liquid.

"Easy..." Ceroba reached out.

"Sorry...what I'm about to ask has been on mah mind all night." Cole admitted.

"Oh?" Ceroba sipped her tea casually.

Did she already know?

"Y-Yes..." Cole blushed.

"Well then, go on." Ceroba smiled.

"I--ah, I--" Cole took another long sip.

"Cole, just spit it out." Ceroba grinned. "I won't laugh! Mr. Ketsukane is dead as a doorknob upstairs as is Kanako...you know what heavy sleepers they are!"

"I was counting on that actually...Mrs. Ketsukane, I know this is usually reserved for the Dad but Mr. Ketsukane scares me...would you do me the honor of allowing me to propose to Kanako?" Cole clasped his hands together, dropping his head in shame.

Ceroba gently placed her tea back down on the table, shifting herself close to Cole and placing a gentle furred hand on his praying hands. Cole looked up, a red blush in Ceroba's face and tears streaking down her face as if she were witnessing a miracle.

"M-Mrs. Ketsukane?..." Cole asked in a whisper. "Did I..."

"Cole....I'm so proud of you." Ceroba took Cole into a gentle embrace. "Ever since Martlet took you into her home and showed you off to us, it felt like I had another child of my own...one I had to raise from afar. To see you come to me and ask such a question...I wish you two had more time to grow up but I guess it doesn't work that way. Of course Cole, I would be honored to have you be a member of our family...well, officially! But honey, no matter what happens...what Kanako says, or Chujin does...you're always a Ketsukane to me no matter what."

"T-Thank you." Cole tightened the hug. "I appreciate everything you do, Mrs. Ketsukane....always."

"Oh, you know how to get me!" Ceroba's hair naturally wrapped around the kid like a tail in a protective matter. "I don't know what'd I do without you or Kanako...I love you both lots. Always remember that."

"Well, guess ah better get back before Mom worries..."

"You didn't leave a note?" Ceroba asked in surprise.

"I thought it'd be quick and I'd be back...Mama doesn't usually mind me going out early. I go fishing before school sometimes." Cole shrugged as they broke their hug.

"Cole Cole Cole...guess I'm just gonna have to punish you." Ceroba waved a finger.

"W-What?" Cole trembled.

"You can help me go dress shopping later on. I'll call your Mom a bit later." Ceroba winked.

"But ma'am, you like to spend the day...."

"YEP!" Ceroba grinned. "Those kimonos won't dress themselves you know."

"A-Awww..." Cole drooped his head.

"Oh." A rather familiar Mr. Ketsukane stood at the foot of the stairs, bathrobe and all.

Cole and Ceroba turned their heads, seeing a rather unexpected Chujin Ketsukane make his appearance, sipping some coffee of his own.

"M-Mr. Ketsukane--I didn't expect you...up so soon, sir."

"Funny, I didn't expect you either." Chujin poked his nose in Cole's face, walking up.

"Chujin, back away!" Ceroba ordered, Chujin keeping his snout where it was.

"No, I don't think I will." Chujin staring down the now sweating Cole. "Cole made his way over here bright and early, after all. Was there something you wanted to get off your chest...hm?"

"I--I already did, sir, with Mrs. Ketsukane." Cole admitted, trying to back his face away eyeing Chujin's canine teeth.

"Y-Yes Chujin, it was nothing you--"

"Oh?" Chujin pulled away, giving Cole a momentary respite.

"SIR, I ASKED MRS. KETSUKANE FOR PERMISSION TO MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER." Cole quickly spoke, hoping Kanako didn't hear that. Ceroba's eyes went wide in disbelief that Cole said that.

Chujin went stiff, dropping his coffee mug to the ground and it shattering into a thousand pieces, just like his heart.

"I beg your pardon." Chujin took his glasses off, neatly folding them and placing them on the kotatsu. "Please tell me I didn't just hear what I thought you said."

"...You...You did sir." Cole stood up. "I love your daughter, you know that."

"C-Cole?" Mrs. Ketsukane reached out, Cole raising a hand waving his head at her knowing she'd want to step in.

"You're lucky my wife is here or I would..." Chujin began another in a series of insulting tirades against Cole.

"NO, you listen! I've put up with your unjustified behavior towards me for years and now I think it's time you got that stick out of your behind and...just...GOT OVER IT! Your daughter and Mrs. Ketsukane have no problem with me but you always seem to. Well SIR you might not love me but that's too bad!! I'm stickin' around as long as these two want me! Now, if you'll excuse me...I have to get home to Mama. I'll be back later for shopping, Mrs. Ketsukane."

"Bye honey." Ceroba waved as Cole quickly walked out of the shop, leaving his hat behind.

"I....I..." Chujin stood there in disbelief.

"Well, that was a long time coming." Ceroba smiled to herself, proud of her little cowpoke.

"Did you see how he just...talked back to me?!"

"Well, it's true Chujin! You treat him like he's Hitler when he's never done anything to you but exist. We've talked about this countless times so yeah...GET OVER IT! Now, if you'll excuse me...I got a shopping trip to plan."

With that, Ceroba made her way upstairs as Chujin sat down to the kotatsu, embarassed and ashamed. He looked at the abandoned cup of tea and thought of his past actions.

"I...I really am no better than that bastard who stole my work, aren't I?"

So far i know only two, Sadie (i think her) and Starlo (don’t know enough of him in dry to care). Is there anyone else? Like Melody? who would be interesting. Or Ceroba who i WANT to be cause i think it’s cool and interesting for the plot.

And i feel like any of these could be interesting cause the relationship to the gang, but could have something interesting for any of them of being a foil for Cole, who I think could reasonably still bring to justice for what they did, even if they’re his friend (or melody i guess) cause… they’re the outlaw

Theirs only the fact that they attacked monsters and killed at least a few (dusty skirt) and we’re told it was a gruesome, bleak day (chujin) , and something else from a book(please state it if it says something)

these don’t mean they INSTANTLY attacked EVERY monster, what if they stayed a while… maybe not even the ruins, but something, something big, either learning that… their friends, the other fallen humans(group photo on poster instead 5 separate), were killed… close ones… which broke them, or they just wanted to be alone… and they pushed away, and if they were blocked… got it out the way, seems more reasonable than anything else

Just a complaint i have cause a KID wouldn’t kill everyone ever for no reason