.

He hums affirmatively, respecting her commitment to remaining in one place for so long. If there’s one thing he can get behind, it’s sticktoitiveness. 

In the quiet distance between him, they utilize the time and space to size each other up. Rohan jots down the surface details– self-conscious (with that particularly teenage flavor of anxiety), analytical, guarded – and files that information away for later scrutiny. For now, though, he’s content with existing in the present tense.

“Looks to be that way, though I can’t say I’m exactly a fan of the arrangement,” Rohan says, tucking the key card to the dorm in his breast pocket (embroidered with  露伴 on the front). The statement here is less of an ‘I don’t like my present company’ so much as an ‘I don’t like being told what to do and where to go and nearly slept on the side of the road instead out of spite’. 

The girl– May– isn’t altogether unpleasant. Her being a teenager and all, he expected far worse. So far the only debit in her column is just being there, but he finds her respectable because she seems to be showing respect for him. And that will get you everywhere.

“Likewise.” 

“Kishibe Rohan,” he offers in response, still standing beside the table, having not committed to the idea of staying or going. “Though I don’t know whether the name will be familiar to you or not. I’m famous, but probably not between dimensions.”

Secretly he’s really hoping that Pink Dark Boy is being read in another universe. 

“I suppose it’ll be good to figure out if there’s some commonality between them, though. Does Morioh, Japan ring any bells?”

May didn’t take offense to the man’s words. Really, in some ways she agreed with it. None of them had signed up for this.

“I can’t say I recognize the name,” May responded. “Or Morioh. Japan, yes. I’ve spent much of my life around Tokyo.” Famous, had he said? She believed him. Though, she didn’t think that would help him much here. He’d have to build himself back up to something worthwhile, if that’s what he wanted.

Something told her that Rohan had the tenacity to achieve it all over again. He’d be a good ally, if that type of relationship was possible with someone like him.

“If you don’t mind,” she continued, leaving her seat, “I’m going to resume moving in. If anyone else arrives tell them I’ll speak with them later.”

As she closed the door to her room, she paused, her hand resting on the handle.

The list of strange things that have happened to Rohan Kishibe could– and have filled– several books, and yet there’s a box right in front of “world-hopping" that’s somehow gone unchecked for 27 years. So really he counts himself lucky that he can finally tick that one off, even if it does mean getting away from all the strange phenomena occurring on the home-front. The trade-off is absolutely worth it, this is fascinating stuff. He has always wanted to go to space.

…But there’s always at least one catch. Usually he can roll with that, because it’s rare for it to be a long-standing inconvenience to him, and he’s notoriously a fan of the challenge. The fact of the matter is, though, he hasn’t lived with another person since the summer of 1996 and, back then, his roommates were his grandmother and a thousand-year-old ghostly projection of his ancestor. So the idea of communal living feels like a bit of a thorn in his side, in the present moment.

It’ll be fine, he thinks as he stares down the doorknob to his new arrangements. Annoying, sure, but fine. No one’s probably home, anyway, and even if they were he can just keep his head down and not be bothered. This can be worked with– Rohan can find alternate arrangements if need be. Maybe this will be a good thing, anyway. If everyone’s an anomaly, maybe it won’t be so bad to be in close quarters with them. A front-row seat to see the freaks, now that’s a novel idea.

Rohan realizes, then, that he’s getting caught up in the details. Thinking too much. So he sweeps it from his mind. Slowly, he eases the door open and steps right on in. 

It doesn’t look so bad, just a bit– Oh. Hm. Just a bit occupied, it seems.

Rohan frowns at the girl waiting for him at the table. She’s clearly younger than him so he’s not put off, really, but it’s still annoying. He feels a bit like a teenager who got caught sneaking back into the house, with the adult mind to just feel inconvenienced by it rather than scrutinized. 

“… How long have you been sitting there?” 

Meet Roommate #2.

“About an hour.” May replied, keeping her gaze on the visitor. His personality was palpable - strong, confident, and … well, at the moment, he seemed irritated. 

May felt just a bit nervous with the man’s entry - on the colony, she wasn’t sure what others were capable of. And she was unarmed, with no information on where her own strengths placed her compared to others in combat. 

“Are you also slated to room here? I’ve just moved in.” May extended her hand, holding eye contact. “My name is May. It’s nice to meet you.” 

As she leaned back into her chair, May made sure to adjust the position of the seat out just slightly, trying to remain casual in demeanor. If she needed to get up to attack in a hurry, she wanted to be ready; but, she didn’t want to provoke, either.

Another world, another new start.

May had taken the news in stride. EL-Diver were known to be unstable to begin with. Hearing that her existence not only threatened the Gundam Build Nexus, but also Earth, made sense. 

Still, all this world hopping was exhausting.

Sitting down on the company-provided bed, May began to take stock of what she could be grateful for. Examining her hands, she felt similar to her form in GBN - though there was a wholly unfamiliar layer of fatigue weighing down on her. But everything was “to scale;” she wouldn’t have to fight with the at-times absurd reality of being half as tall as a ruler, like she had to deal with on Earth. Her room and board were being paid for, and it sounded as if she might even be able to make some type of “difference” here. 

There were downsides, of course. Eldora, Magee...all of these things that had given her small sources of comfort were no longer in her life. And her teammates-

Standing up, May shoved these thoughts out of her mind as she began to craft a simple name tag with the basic supplies left in each room. She attached it to her door - the room next to the right-hand side of the living room - and moved out to the kitchen. 

Dazai tilted his head ever so slightly as he listened, considering the woman’s words while at the same time sizing her up. He still knew little about this city in which he had found himself unceremoniously deposited, as well as how much danger its inhabitants might pose, thus he figured it best to stay on his guard.

(Although, there was seldom a time when he was not. Old habits die hard, Dazai supposed.)

While perhaps a little hard to read, her words seemed earnest enough and she didn’t seem to pose any immediate threat at the moment. Dazai saw no harm in indulging in polite conversation with a beautiful lady for the time being. It wasn’t as if he were particularly busy, in any case.

“The clock, huh?” He mused, momentarily turning his attention back towards the item in his hands, “Hmm, I suppose you’re right! It’s a little too tacky for my tastes, though.” He smiled amicably and offered the clock to her, having concluded his own inspection of the object some time ago.

“Thank you.”

May held the clock with an air of responsibility, turning it in the dim light of the store to illuminate it’s interior. 

After some deliberation, May glanced back at the man. “Tacky, perhaps.” While May agreed, there was something about the object that felt special; the design had a touch that only a living creature could bring forth. 

Seeing the device gave May a moment of thrill; the unique nature of the clock brought forward memories of planning and designing customized Gunpla for GBN. She realized that, even though she had only been in this new world for a short period of time, she missed home. The routine of dreaming up plans before missions, making decisions to assist her companions mid-combat, practicing to keep her skills sharp for them...she had always been fighting, but it was her recently-formed team that gave her something to look forward to every day.

“This might seem sudden,” May found herself asking, “but is this your home? Where I’m from, I had only just begun to -” 

May was aware she was oversharing, but this stranger seemed kind enough. And now that she had started, it might be ruder to stop mid-thought.

“I had finally found some small joy in life, but it is no longer available to me. Have you always been here?”

Dazai had a bit of an affinity for frivolities; one could say that he considered most things as such. How he ended up in an antique store was perhaps a testament to that. He found it odd, albeit intriguing how others tended to hold on to such useless mementos of the past.

Dazai supposed useless things had their places, too.

Apparently that place was in a musty old antique store, beneath a layer of dust. Still, Dazai found himself gravitating towards a particularly intricate item towards the back corner- a clock. Arguably one of the most useless inventions known to mankind, in Dazai’s educated and always accurate opinion. Regardless, it looked awfully pretty with the way its gold surfaces reflected the light. He picked it up gingerly, turning it this way and that in his bandaged hands as he considered it.

While pretty and almost too ostentatious to ignore, it was still ultimately useless- just an artifact of an older time that now sat on a shelf gathering dust, its mechanisms continuing to tick away, unaware. It was clearly crafted with much care and precision, but that hardly mattered now. Its creator most likely dead, their thoughts dying with them, perhaps leaving behind nothing but a needlessly ornate instrument that, despite its complexities, the rest of the world remained apathetic to.

“Maybe I should take it home,” Dazai mumbled sardonically to himself with a bitter smile, before catching a glimpse of movement over his shoulder.

“Oh?” Dazai blinked at the woman standing behind him before turning fully to face her, all hints of pensive bitterness evaporating from his expression and replaced by an easygoing, friendly smile, “May I help you, miss?”

== While May barreled into the aisle, she noticed the man look over the clock, rotating the device around in his bandaged hands. For the briefest moment, she wondered if he had suffered some sort of accident - but it certainly didn’t seem due to reckless action. The motions were careful, the inspection full of thought. At a glance, this didn’t seem like the sort of man who would get into needless fights, or rush and trip over himself. 

Just as May was considering whether the bandages were perhaps a fashion choice of some sort - the people of the city were an odd bunch, after all -  the man turned, his expression cheerful. Her less-than-graceful entrance had caused too much commotion, and she had been caught. Though she had assumed he would eventually walk away, she hadn’t expected an initiation of conversation. His friendly nature caught her off guard.

“The clock - I came to get a closer look. The interior is incredible.”

May took a step closer to the device, still in the man’s hands. “One misalignment and the whole thing falls to ruin. Dependent on every piece...It’s an inefficient system, and yet…there’s something beautiful about the process, and how it all comes together.”

May had decided to take a stroll to clear her thoughts and consider her predicament. The Project already made her uneasy; even if it did allow for shelter in this strange place, she was on the fence about being a participant. 

But there was also the food issue: as far as her stomach could tell, eating was a priority here. The groceries stashed in her apartment were dwindling. She supposed grabbing breakfast every morning would be an option, but trying to sneak food out didn’t settle well with her and there was a chance it would get her in trouble…really, finding a job was her only option…

Without a plan, May found herself wandering the city. This eventually led her towards an antique shop. At first she was unsure about the place - the objects within, while pretty, seemed to be useless nonsense. But as she worked her way through the building, she realized that there was a sense of comfort that the worn furniture and trinkets could bring. With the care of the shopowner’s hands, a warmth had been crafted from the displays.

One object in particular - high on a shelf, barely within view and near the corner of the room - caught her attention. The actual device, an analog clock, had an unnecessary level of frivolity; all gold, with elaborate hands and etchings. But it’s casing was glass. Within were what must have been hundreds of cogs and gears, working together to track each moment as it passed.

May moved towards this shelf, eager to see it up close. However, as she turned one of the winding shelf corners and into the narrow walking space of the back aisle, an unexpected sight greeted her. A man was already standing there, inspecting the clock. She stopped her motion short, putting on the figurative breaks and making it difficult to hide the (however mild) level of enthusiasm she had displayed just moments before.