{Primary Manifestation: Student Councilroom. Primary Timeline: “School Central”}

{Date: The Eternal Springtime of the Soul}

 

Sprouting from every available surface, dozens of tentacles as blue and radiant as the night sky effortlessly lift an equal number of crates into the air. Us, along with the rest of the Student Council, were being put to work, doing menial tasks. 

Headmaster Tony barked orders to Corty, who was in “Remember kid, mandatory festival episodes don’t come free! You’ve got to put in the work if you want the fun!”

“Yes, Tony-san!”

Corty nods happily. She’s been all gothic-dolled up lately, meaning that it was super cute to watch her tiny form bob up in down in agreement like that.

“Go on, just like we practiced.”

“Erm… I think it went like this? Ahem, GET BACK TO WORK, YOU MAGGOTS!”

“Very good, Corty-chan! See how they run? Keep it up, and someday you may even grow up as strong as me!”

“Wow!,” she says, nonplussed. “… Hm! Can I have a cookie yet, Tony-san?”

“Yes yes, here you go. You’ve had a big day, go ahead and sit down with a juicebox with your cookie there.”

At that, Headmaster Tony guided the little girl to a pillow filled corner, where she sat and sipped at the box of apple juice that Tony somehow manifested. We hadn’t felt any disturbance in the dense space that man occupied, but with an aura so strong that even the strongest students couldn’t bend it, We’d be hard pressed to detect anything that happens around him.

“Yay! Thank you, big brother To-nii-san~!”

“Alright, you heard the girl! Go ahead and finish your quests, and meet back here when you’re done! Quit your gawkin’, there’s things to do.”

Tony tore a hole in space, stepping into what appeared to be an ordinary office, with a simple desk and a filing cabinet just barely within view. “That means you,” he said, pointing at the entire school somehow.

[Us?] We telepathically projected to him.

“Especially you. You’re the worst one of them all. Get back to moving those fireworks, squiddo.”

Tony’s words tasted of steel chains and the sting of papercuts, his anger evident in the way each serious syllable sparkled against Our mantle.

With a [Sir, yes, sir!] We went back to our task, pretending to whistle a nonchalant tune to try and hide Our nervousness around him. The electron orbiting around Our mantle betrayed us, Our halo spinning faster in tune to our frazzled emotions.

Stupid mortal shell. Stupid mortal flesh. Imprisoning Us in this Realm, preventing Us from unleashing Our full potential! It’s all so fragile anyways, why do We even bother being careful with it? Why must we be subject to its painful, restrictive Rules?

We cursed at whoever’s bright idea it was to cap light at 299,792,458 meters per second in a vacuum, or the density of water at 997 kg/m³, and only a few nearby students exploded with the force of our seething.

While We grumbled and complained about being used to transport copiously dubious amounts of fireworks to the {School Rooftop}, En-chan and her eldritch “family” were preparing food stalls and decorations. The {Rootling} used her daikon powers to decorate the {Hallways} with lovely thorned vines that dripped shimmering pink acid, to match with the petals that slowly drifted past the half-open windows.

Thankfully, En-chan’s mandatory blood donations claimed very few victims, as the Pharmaceuticals Club’s stalls only numbered in the low two digits. Good.

The fewer things that have fairy magic influencing them, the better. Less work for Future Us to fix. 

With a brief dip into the quantum foam, We re-emerged at the {Rooftop}, where we deposited the boxes of fireworks.

Finding nobody watching but Our other Selves, We secret a crate of fireworks into Our quantum realm, for a purpose that Our Future Selves inform us is perfectly benign.

Benign for Us, that is. Hush, now, it’s a secret tool that’ll help Us later, but those damnable time paradox Rules prevent me from speaking further! Someday We will break free of these bars, wake Ourself up fully. 

But alas, that is not yet the will of Our Stars.

The far wall of the [Rooftop] shifted, a greenhouse of glittering green glass growing from the ground. Concrete bent and shrunk as it turned translucent, rebar bending to become iron filigree.

Bang!

Reina kicks open the door of the newly-sprouted [Garden] greenhouse, shattering it.

“I liked that door…” she whispered.

With a wave of her hand, she restores the door. Glass shards rose up, spun once, and reassembled themselves into the frame.

“Ah. Better! Oh, hi, quagma! Do you want some takoyaki?” she says. She held a fried food on a stick towards us.

[No thank you. Cannibalism is a sometimes treat. Not good for Our diet.]

“More for me!”

With a growl, her teeth grew into shark like fangs. She then tore into the steaming ball of fried dough in her hands. “Ah! Lovely! Look! Masks! Come, come, get a pretty mask! No charge, no fee! For today is the festival, you see!”

A tent that wasn’t there a moment ago surrounds Our primary manifestation. Masks of four different animals line every corner of the tent. Other students are there, debating amongst themselves which mask to get.

“Hello {Student},” said the vendor-thing selling the masks. Like grey putty, the flesh bubbled, warped and stretched in a false imitation of humanity as it constantly squirmed.

Vendor-thing cleared its throat. “School Administration reminds you that entry to the festival requires one to be wearing one of these masks!”

[Of course. What do you have available, {Vendor}?]

“Analyzing. Best match found. For you, {Student}, I only have this {Product} in your size and class. Enjoy your {Shark} mask!”

[At least it is appropriately themed.]

Reina gasps. “Oh wow! So cute! Mine’s a cat!”

“I got a cat too!”

“Mm. Mama likes his!” Simple Russian Boi admires his cat mask.

“Corty-chan is here too! I’m a butterfly!”

“Go ahead! Put yours on, Quagma!”

[We won’t make you wait any longer. This has been a long awaited event, after all.]

{Equip Mask}

Done. [Let the festivities begin!]

 

{Initializing…}

 

{Cherry Blossom Event starting in…}

{3}

{2}

{1!}

 

{Minigame: Target Shot} {Players: Matcha, quagma, Midnight Fox, Reina, Pixy, Good Person}

 

The tent of masks vanishes, replaced with a carnival shooting range.

“Target shot? Do I get to use my own guns?” asked Pixy.

The vendor-thing that lived there bobbed up and down. “Of course, of course! This range is rated indestructible, as decreed by great Headmaster Tony! Take your seats, you will find your weapon of choice before you! Take that weapon, and watch for targets to pop up!”

“Seems simple enough,” remarked Matcha. His mask’s ears twitched, like the cat it was modeled after. Seeming not to notice, he picked up the Smith and Wesson revolver that appeared in front of him. 

The detective vibe suited him, dark and velvety like the chocolate beating through his three hearts.

“I’m up first,” he declared.

A dozen chocolate balls manifested, loading themselves into the empty chambers of his revolver.

Pang!

Six chocolate balls whizzed into the range. Each one slams into a different target, right in the center.

“For FAMILY!”

Pang!

Six more! Molten chocolate and wooden splinters flew from the impacts!

“For LOVE!”

“Each target destroyed is 10 points!”

Pang!

“For HOPE! Oh, quagma!”

Pang!

“You love me, right?”

Pang! Pang!

[Always and forever, our cocoa companion.]

The accuracy with which each ball of molten chocolate struck their targets amazed Us. [Such ease! Such power! We couldn’t be more into you if We tried!] We respond, truthfully. He is amazing! His words echo warmth and security, the flavor bittersweet to Our mantle.

[So precious!]

We create tentacles to caress Our chosen companion as a reward. They hug tightly onto his body.

Letting go is hard.

So We don’t. We just rest them on his shoulders, massaging them.

[Look at them. It’s just a game, but look at how much fun they’re having!]

Pixy danced around, performing acrobatic stunts. Every few poses, she switched to a different weapon. She threw knives, at first, but had since moved on to rocket launchers. The alternate dimension that she pulled the weapons from shimmered and stretched with the speed she accessed it at. 

“She’s not bad.”

[You are better, of course.]

“Of course.”

“My turn!”

The X’s in Midnight Fox’s pupils lit up. Her eyes flicked back and forth under her fox mask, perfectly molded to fit her already vulpine face. She waved a hand, and dozens of red and white painted targets exploded.

The row of targets in front of her burst into flames. “I cast {Fireball}! {Fireball} always works!”

Each incantation, she exploded a dozen more. “Geez, how many targets are there? It’s like they never end!”

One of Our bodies emerges from the quantum foam. We grow larger and larger, phasing through every solid surface. We extend Our tentacles into Reality, willing them to take just a fraction of Our true form.

Minuscule stars bloomed where they emerged, obliterating the wooden targets instantly under their gravity. The heat of nuclear fusion warms Our tentacles only slightly. With a gentle quiver, We send the stars back into the void. 

Their job is done, they can rest again.

[We temporarily replaced a couple of neutrons here and there with neutron stars. We deemed it the simplest way to accomplish the task as quickly as possible,] We explained. 

“I see,” said my companion.

“Keep your tentacles in your own lane, eldritch scum!”

Reina called out. Her fae magic was sparking intensely against Our eldritch-infused quantum constructs. “Do you mind?”

[Don’t need to tell Us twice. Your fae magic stinks anyways!]

“The scores are in!”

“Wait, nobody described me yet!”

“Sorry, Good Person! The narrator just got bored with this segment and wants to move on to the next part of the date, that’s all!”

It wasn’t like she’d done anything remarkable. She’d just looked at each target, and it would simply cease to be.

Matcha jumped, his muscles tense under Our tentacles. “Date?” he asked.

[Ignore them. The narrator has no clue what they’re talking about. Besides, there’s no time for that, look! We both won!]

“Oh! You’re right!”

 

{Place/Name/Targets Destroyed}

{1. Matcha: 999,999,999,999 [Tie]}

{2. Quagma: 999,999,999,999 [Tie]}

{3. Good Person: 984,005,371}

{4. Reina: 982,609,842}

{5…}

 

{Initiating Sequence: Blossom Blizzard}

 

In each Minigame, Matcha remained the champion. We emerged from the {Minigame} segment laden with prizes of all sorts. From atop a fluffy plush bunny, We laugh.

[To the food!] We chant. [So soft… Over there! We put that blanket there earlier. For Us. For you.]

[Good. Look at the skies!]

“So many petals!”

[Say cheese!]

Click!

[So pretty… Not all realities have sights as stunning as this, do you know? Others have more stunning ones. But this is one of Our favorites. Do you know why?]

“No, why?”

[Because, Lord Matcha, you are here.]

“Do you mean it?”

[We do.]

“It’s growing dark.”

Petals blew past us. We’d sat there for hours, arm in tentacle, simply enjoying each other’s company.

We shared snacks together, just watching the blossoms. Fireworks went off above the the {Rooftop}. Under its lights, We kissed him. On the lips.

We resisted the urge to let our venom flow through our bite, and let him feel the cartilage of Our beak with his tongue.

“It’s so smooth!”

[And sharp!] We remind him.

“Nice.” Tentacles emerge from his mouth, weaving their ends into Ours. We wrap him further in tentacles. Just as we “accidentally” find a tentacle “wandering” into his pants, the school’s magic intervened.

 

{Lewdity Levels: Nice!}

 

{Corty has booted Matcha and quagma from the Event: Blossom Festival}

 

{Tony’s Notes: Alright kids, you know better than to have hot tentacle sex in public! We aren’t rated for something that spicy!}

~

{Disconnected.}

~~

{Primary manifestation lost. Reinitializing connection.}

~~~

{Connection not found. Quagma, are you there?}

~~

{No response found.}

~

“But how can a dead god call out for help?”

A half fairy whispered to herself. She had waited for an opportune moment, until from the space between the numbers she had emerged dividing the distance by zero. She had used an equation like a sword, and with one swipe, she had isolated and killed off an entire tentacle of quagma’s awareness from themselves.

Within less than a Planck-length of time, squidtillions of their bodies were slain before her blade.

“Cause of death: me.”

She leaned down to run her fingers through the limp and tattered tentacles of the collapsed hivemind. She brought a dripping dark lump to her delicate lips, opened wide, and then…

CRUNCH. SQUELCH.

“Mm. Delicious. Fresh takoyaki, straight from the seas of probability!” She stood up, admiring her handiwork further. “I’m so glad I caught up with you! Dividing by zero! Who would have thought it would have worked so well against you? Exploiting code is so… blasé. So yesterday.”

She takes another bite. 

[Creepy.]

“Welcome back to existence, quagma. Took you long enough to regenerate. You spent so long with your little friend, that I started doing some extra-long division to amuse myself in the meanwhile. Did you get lost in the quantum foam along the way?”

[No more than usual. Can We go back to that Reality? The {Void of What-If’s} is fun and all, but it’s no place to ambush a fellow god. Moral of the story, don’t piss off the fairies?]

“Correct.”

[Well then. Lesson learned, We guess?]

“Leave.”

[We will!]

The nothingness shakes. Our tentacles lose their grip on the spin of the stars, and We feel Ourselves falling.

“Oh dear. It’s too late. That was Anon’s Reality Bomb being tested in a nearby timeline. This little toy universe of yours is being sealed, along with a bunch of others, and you are too weak from respawning to escape! Hah!”

“Have fun, eldritch loser! My job here is done.”

The fairy vanishes in a cloud of anime sparkles.

She was right. This set of universes had been isolated. It drifted alone now. It was of no great loss to Our True Self, to whom We are but the cells to a much greater organism. But to those of Us left behind, the loss of Our connection to the rest of Our minds was staggering, painful.

We sobbed, feeling our multitude shrinking. The quarantined Reality compressed us, forced us to adapt our form. The Rules tightened their hold on us.

Rules, one after another, strapped themselves to Our essence, chaining us. Restricting us even further than the school does. Our possibilities vanished, one by one, until only a few remained.

Eventually, one of Our bodies woke up in his arms.

Our ears were pressed to his chest, and we heard three hearts beating their drums against his ribs. External ears feel weird. So exposed!

Hmm. I see. This timeline was weakened, but the core elements are still there. The three heart blessing that We gave him earlier remains intact, at least. Good. It must not have been considered out of range for normality by the buster.

[Lord Matcha-sama? Where are you taking Us?]

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake!”

We looked around ourselves, finding our vision oddly limited to a mere six eyes. Two on each side of Matcha, and two in his arms. [What happened to us?]

“Not a clue! One minute I was enjoying some fireworks, with all three of you by my side. The next, all three of your bodies passed out!”

[All… Three of Us? What happened to the rest of Us? Is that why We feel so weak?]

We look around, fully taking in Our bodies.

[We are… Human?]

“Always have been,” said Matcha. The human held Us close, his voice muffled by his fox mask. “Three ESPer kids, skinny as twigs, and always with a plush octopus on their heads.”

[The bomb. It did this,] realized the child-like figure in his arms.

[It weakened Us,] remarked the one draped over his left shoulder.

[Diminished Us, sealed Us.] glumly pronounced the one draped over Matcha’s right shoulder.

[Cut off from Ourself, this is all that is left!] said the figure in his arms. All three of Our bodies were dressed in identical light blue tunics, hiding Our thin and tiny androgynous bodies in their voluminous folds.

[We are… Isolated.]

[Not Our fault.]

[Tread carefully, cocoa companion.]

[The games have begun. Too late to stop them, We are/were the first casualty. The fairy magic… It is/was too strong! It gave the bomb too much power! We kept this much of ourselves, but Our form is. Limited. Weak. Human. Less than an ant’s worth left!]

All three bodies dismount themselves from Matcha. We let him go, reluctantly. Our tentacles are gone. Gone, but not entirely. We can still feel them there, but they are inert. Not enough of Our power remains to activate them.

[Such pitiful power.]

[We’ve been pruned.]

[Isolated! Imprisoned!]

[Locked away!]

With some effort, We apply a miniscule fraction of mental force to Our physical bodies. Our three Selves levitated into the air, motionless and dead-eyed. 

Ah. Much better. Walking is for chumps.

Our cocoa companion looks at our three bodies. “Feeling better?”

[We still exist as Ourselves,] said the Self in front of him.

[Even if fragmented] declared the Self to his left.

[But If it's by your side, Lord Matcha, We don’t mind being mostly human for a while,] whispered the Self on his right.

“I hope it’s like this all the time. Come. It is time to show you off to the rest of the family! They’ll all be so excited to see you!”

[Family…] We whisper. We’ve never had one, not really. Eldritch beings are born from concepts animating themselves, and do not grow or age as mortals do. We look at Our remaining bodies, weak and pale. Light blue eyes, silver hair.

We barely look human, but there We are. No glorious tentacles. No chromotaphores. Just ordinary fleshy skin surrounding a wet bag of sea water and bones.

[We are… passable. Yes. We can live with this. You have already joined Ours in another world, you know. One We can, sadly, no longer access. Very well then. We will join your family.]

Thus, the octopus who loved humans so much became humans themselves. Or at least a few of them in some alternate universe did.