OOC
Jikken-shi: the uncharted city of Japan, its name known to all, its activities shrouded in mystery. It worked like a well-oiled machine, and almost resembled a clock from the sky in the way its four districts were arranged into four precisely equal parts, all centred around the seat of government: Jikken Academy. Many wondered why the school was the most prominent building in the city, and why the government had chosen it as their headquarters, but such questions, when brought up, were soon forgotten, for the simple reason that there was no one to ask. The leader of the city never left the top floor of the complex, and few were able to access it; and the man who owned and developed the city as a physical entity refused to answer any questions.
It was over this enigma of a city that the sun now rose, its warm rays peaking over the high walls surrounding the collective of buildings in a perfect circle. It was autumn, and the parks that dotted the city featured trees with vibrant orange leaves; more notable, however, was the wall that separated the Shadow District from the rest of the city: the impenetrable barrier of trees seemed to be flaming, and the orange dawn light only served to accentuate the colours. Beyond the trees was another widely-speculated mystery, which had, like all the others, never been solved; for while people could occasionally be seen entering and exiting through the torii gates that connected the Shadow District to the rest of the city, few could claim to have talked to any of these people, and only a handful of outsiders had ever entered the district.
South-west of the Shadow District, on a packed block in the Residential District, there was an old squat apartment building. It was, quite frankly, unremarkable, resembling hundreds of other buildings in the vast metropolis that was Jikken-shi. In fact, if not for the sign on the front proclaiming its name in fading black kanji -- 拙宅 -- it might have been impossible to identify among the numerous other old buildings in the area. But despite its lack of distinction, this building was different from the rest: different not necessarily in appearance, but in the way it operated. Many residents of the building -- its name was Settaku -- were unsure of why certain things were they way they were, while others were quite certain; but one thing they all shared in common was their knowledge that the building was unnatural at some fundamental level.
In the common room, an old woman sat in an armchair facing the brick fireplace, snoring softly. Her name was Mrs. Brownie, but many of the residents elected instead to refer to her as Obaa-sama. As the sun lanced through the windows, she stirred, and turned away from the light as the blinds snapped closed -- as if of their own volition --, blocking the sun out and once again darkening the room.
It wasn't long before the rest of the house began stirring. Some of the residents were undoubtedly up by now, and a few may have already left for someplace or another. Perhaps a few hadn't even returned last night. Mrs. Brownie couldn't be sure while she was still in the clutches of sleep, but she would know once she was awake. She always knew. How she knew was a mystery to all save herself and a select few (OOC: none of the PCs know), but it was a universally-recognised fact among the residents that to sneak in or out of Settaku without her knowledge was impossible.
Upstairs in one of the many bedrooms, a 17-year-old girl with long, straight dark brown hair stirred in her bed. The room was decorated in excess with butterflies. There were butterfly drawings on every wall; a painted wooden butterfly model hung from the ceiling; books about insects and butterflies cluttered the bookshelf and desk shoved in the corner. Even the blanket on the bed was decorated with butterflies, and the girl wore faded and worn butterfly pyjamas (which were much too small for her).
Squirming again as sunlight shone through her open window and a chill breeze wafted in, she squirmed, then slowly opened her eyes. She turned over, yawning, and swung her legs out of bed one by one. Alright, time to get up, she thought to herself tiredly, then lay at the edge of the bed with her feet out for a few more minutes, eyes slowly drifting open and closed until she snapped them wide open at the sight of a butterfly with a design of bright green spots on a black background on its wings. "Graphium agamemnon!" she gasped, snatching large square black-rimmed glasses from her bedside table and shoving them onto her face as she ran over to the insect and leaned over it in awe. The butterfly fluttered its wings, but remained where it was for a few more minutes before leaping off the windowsill and fluttering away.
Soon after the butterfly had gone, the girl dressed herself and opened her door, sighing while putting a smile on. It was the start of another day, full of madness, mayhem, and lessons about butterflies. So, squaring her thin shoulders, she stepped out and closed the door behind her, before heading downstairs.
