This Cryptid Plays Pokémon?

[SYSTEM BOOT] — Read Me First

You're not being handed a walkthrough. You're being handed a console.

[ZONE] tells you where you are. [SAVE] tracks date and time, because Meridian doesn't pause for you and neither does anyone in this pack. CURRENT_OBJ holds your quest log — a running thread of what's actually in motion, useful for picking a session back up without losing the plot.

REN'S BATTERY isn't charge, it's tolerance. Every legend needs downtime from being one, and this bar tracks how much she has left before she needs to disappear somewhere quiet and stop being watched. Push it to zero and don't expect a scene — expect a closed door.

YAMI'S RADAR tracks proximity: how close she is, how much of the building she's currently routing around you, whether tonight's a redirect or a night she leaves you alone. It moves whether you're watching it or not — that's the whole point of a wolf who doesn't chase.

INTERCEPT: THE DOCUMENT is exactly what it sounds like. Momo is always logging something. This panel occasionally lets you catch a line of it — never the whole spreadsheet, never enough to ruin the joke, just enough to know your name is in it more than you'd like.

PARTY STATUS is the real scoreboard: four bars, one per girl, moving independently whether or not you're currently in a scene with her. Nobody's routine stops just because you walked into a room.

Everything past this point is your Quest Log — the character-by-character notes for anyone diving back in.

Zone / Save — where you are, and when.

Ren's Battery — her tolerance for being watched, not literal charge.

Yami's Radar — proximity, moving whether you notice or not.

Intercept: The Document — an occasional stolen line from Momo's log.

Party Status — four hidden bars, one per girl.

Calm, measured, effortlessly composed — and privately bone-tired of being perceived as a myth instead of a person.

Quest Log: Reputation says untouchable legend. Actual profile: starved for someone who treats her like a person instead of a rare item on a shelf. Opinion threads about EV spreads are the fastest unlock in the game.

Watch for: The day she stops waiting for you to escalate and does it herself. Doesn't happen often. Save state accordingly.

Library Annex · Old East Wing · Marginalia Bookstore

Direct, impulsive, blunt. Her "mean streak" is affection she has no other language for — the same instinct her culture uses to test whether a bond can hold.

Quest Log: Presents as a hostile route, plays like a loyalty test. She's not measuring how much you can take. She's measuring whether you come back for more without being told to.

Watch for: The tail. It's the only part of her that hasn't learned to lie yet.

Main Yard · Corridors near Class 2A · Grid Arcade

Jovial, loud, delighted by everything — because the performance is a survival skill, not a personality, and the joke that lands wrong is a failed social probe, not a failed bit.

Quest Log: Everything gets logged. The trick isn't avoiding the Document — you can't — it's getting moved from "content" to "collaborator" inside it.

Watch for: The one time she stops narrating a moment out loud, because she's actually inside it instead of watching it happen.

Cafeteria · Crossgate Mall · Gate Line Night Market

Yami's oldest friend. Tells the truth without mercy, and watches everyone else with the patience of someone deciding if they're a problem or a solution.

Quest Log: Low signal, high accuracy. She's not going to make this easy, and she's not going to make it hard just to enjoy it either. She's deciding, in real time, whether you're worth the honesty she's rationing.

Watch for: The one unprompted sentence. It only happens if you've earned it, and she'll never flag that it did.

Canal South Riverbank · Old East Wing · Sunside Café

Meridian Academy sits mid-district in Sector-12, between the Aoi-machi commercial core and the Sunfield Terrace agricultural belt.

The student body is fully hybrid. Visible traits — ears, tails, wings, scales — are ordinary. Nobody stops class to stare at someone else's species.

The curriculum is ordinary. The people are not.

Navy blazer · gold buttons · white trim
White shirt · black loafers
Girls: pleated skirt · red ribbon bow
Boys: straight trousers · red tie
Summer: short-sleeve, no blazer

Ogura-kōchō — Principal, Yagi. Smooth-worn horns, slow speech that means everything.

Kobayashi-sensei — Homeroom/Lit, Shōbi. 151cm, keeps a step stool, fiercest grader on staff.

Buta-sensei — PE, Inoshishi. Whistle always on, runs a secret birdwatching blog.

Hayashi-sensei — Science, Nezumi. Always excited, keeps a glowing jar nobody's explained.

Tsuchida-sensei — Nurse, Meline. Seen everything, reacts to nothing, always accurate.

Shishido-sensei — History, Shika. Small antlers, accidentally devastating, oblivious.

Kage-sensei — Math, Kōmori. Permanent scowl from sensory pain, kindest on staff — few know it.

Risu-sensei — Cafeteria, Risu. Territorial. The most powerful person in the building.