Yaba ‎⚝ Occult Club | A Yarichin ☆ Bitch Club Parody

0.1 Prologue

Poor, poor Toono.

Apparently this new private academy houses top athletes, students of the highest academics, and people with genuine, honest lives to lead. With his test scores? Well, his only option seems to be a conman; he remembers how, back in Tokyo, there would be locals who would try and scam tourists out of money - "You stepped on my painting, so now you have to pay for it!" It never worked. Maybe he would be luckier? Probably not, considering he was hoping he would get lucky when bubbling on his answer sheet.

He's not all-there for the rest of his lesson. How could he be, knowing he has just brought shame to his future children? 

Either way, the only other direction is up... The stairwell to his new club, that is. 

Not athletically inclined, as his decision to join the photography club shows (he could have selected to join a sport team or the band, but both required talent and walking, and he lacked the ability to do either), he is completely winded when he is at the door. Sliding it open, he just hopes that they had the budget for soft, cozy armchairs. He really doesn't want to walk around and take photos right now.

The first thing he notices is just how dark it is. The overhead light was shut off, not mentioning how well-covered the windows were - barricaded, even. Thank God they lit a couple of candles. How else would he be able to see the cryptic summoning circle ominously painted in red?

Toono quickly comes to the conclusion that he entered the wrong room. Or chose the wrong club. Either way, he could not be seen here. He's not into weird, occult things with dead rodents and deer skulls. Not that there are dead rodents in here. Well, he hopes, since he can't see anything outside of the candle-light, but it smells quite nice, like a woody cologne.

It doesn't matter how nice it smells though. He wouldn't go in here unless he was forced to.

Going to turn around, a pair of hands grip onto his vest, yanking him in and slamming the door behind him. Retrospectively, he was not pulled too hard since he was already in the doorway. He wishes he didn't acknowledge that fact. It only makes it more embarrassing that he fell face-first onto the floor.

Just as his cheek hits the plank, a light switch is turned on. His eyes shut from the change in light, but he can't keep them closed for long when he hears a cacophony of laughter ring out from all around him, like he's a clown performing at a birthday party.

He shoots up onto his elbows, staring pointedly at the people mocking him, only to discover that everyone is mocking him, and that he is a clown performing at a birthday party.

A boy with pink blocky highlights has also fallen out of his seat, laughing so close to the fire that the pom pom on his party hat has caught light. He has pink plastic sunglasses on that are shaped like the number "16" - a remarkable feat of design, truly. He wouldn't have been able to come up with that himself. If he had, he wouldn't feel so unworthy of attending this school. Still, it's pretty disgusting seeing how drool falls out of his open mouth. Maybe it's enough to put out the fire that will soon burn him along with his awesome glasses.

Across from him, there's a boy with messy hair dyed pale teal (with a desperate need to go back to the salon) and guy-liner who's performing the exact opposite pose. His head his back and his hand covers his mouth, but it's obvious he's laughing just as hard as his counterpart by how his chest heaves. He also has a party hat on, but no eccentric glasses nor pom-pom. To redeem it, it looks like he's trying to go for the rockstar look - or maybe Rodrick Heffley. 

Everyone else, typically consisting of black clothing, bright pink party hats, and leather are laughing with more restraint. Never enough to make him feel less embarrassed, but it is better than outright laughing in his face.