The City of Rakuen

As you all crowd onto the platform with your new and still bizarre mix of faces, expressions, clothing and wild theories, you are met by a girl and three boys, one of whom is a troll. All four are in uniforms that would match if not for the colour differences - skirts and trousers, waistcoats, and light summer shirts that seem totally inappropriate for the thin layer of melting slush coating the station platform. Each has a beret with a crest - one girl's shows a sword, the other three have a shield.

At the first lull in the chatter, the girl speaks up, cutting through your conversations rudely.

"Hey morons,"

She explains, sounding annoyed, that the four of them are prefects, representing the two schools in Rakuen. Santana of Conquest, pointing to herself, and Yuri, Lelouch and Gamzee of Fortitude.

"When your name gets called go to the person who called it. Actually, fuck it. You're all in Fortitude, screw name calling. I'm leaving."

She walks off leaving the three boys on their own. The one introduced as Yuri speaks first.

You're falling, and you can't remember why. It's a sickening feeling that makes your insides lurch; the darkness and the vertigo combine, and all you can think of is a story you heard once, somewhere.

Ah, I remember now. It's... a simple story that everyone knows. A legend of a Princess, the Demon Lord who kidnapped her, and the Knight who fought to save her. The Demon Lord had kidnapped the Princess countless times, but every time the Knight bested his challenges and rescued the Princess. No matter what tricks and ploys the Demon Lord used, the Knight would always triumph in the end. This was because--

The world tilts on its axis one last time, and the dream slips from your mind as easily as it arrived. A new voice intrudes on your sleep. Mechanical, monotonous.

"Next stop: Rakuen City. This train terminates here. The next stop is Rakuen. All change." The train rocks steadily as it winds its way through white drifts of snow. Sunlight streams through the window, heating the air and making the seats almost uncomfortably warm. A puff of steam from the train winds its way lazily past the windows when the wind is right.

It's strangely difficult to shake off the sleep; the rhythm of the train seems to lull you back into slumber and the air is warm and heavy, making it hard to keep hold of a thought. Finally, though, the nausea settles, the last of the dream fades and you can take in your surroundings. And, perhaps more importantly, those around you in a similar state.

"We have arrived at Rakuen City. All passengers must leave the train. This train is terminating here. This is Rakuen."