Imagine my shock to hear that people were still reading this story (and see it, too. There's been a few thousand hits since I've been gone, and also - somehow - 59 alerts).

So, I feel obligated to say something; and I'll keep it short, 'cause I hear ffnet isn't a fan of these not-really-a-chapter chapters.

As I told someone who had asked about this story (and indeed, is the reason this is being written);

"I wanted to send distinct messages and themes throughout Tactility, and my current rendition of it wasn't going to achieve that. So, amongst other things, I've been doing research and analysis with my beta both on canon, my own story, and explosions.

Yes, you heard that correctly."

Our conversations probably exceed the length of this story by now, but they've helped me get a great idea of where I want to take this story. So I've been working on making really detailed outlines and character files like an actual writer does.

I want to present an excellent and polished product to all of you, but that will take some time. I ask that you bear with me until then.

Thank you. Oh, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them.

Now, since I should present SOME kind of writing to make your venture here worthwhile, here's the edits-pending prologue to Tactility (V3).

It's a bright Sunday afternoon.

In a sleepy teahouse, two girls discuss a report on an incoming transfer student. Not a single word is spoken between them.

Another studies a chessboard intently, crosslegged on her bed. Holding the white queen in her hand thoughtfully, she hesitates before sending it across the board.

Across the hall, a tall girl frowns as she reads an odd letter, her hand passing over the same few bumps over and over again. Behind her, the clock ticks onwards.

Another runs across a track before tripping and falling to the ground. Cursing profusely, she pushes herself up with her arms.

On the bleachers, a red-haired girl watches her intently, her feet tapping out a rapid beat on the metal steps. The running girl calls out her name, and she dutifully gets up and follows.

A sharp screech cuts the tranquil air as a car skids out of control and into a nearby shop.

Miles away, a petite girl in an elaborate kimono glances up, staring out at the horizon.

"Hey, Hisao. Look." The girl points in front of her.

The boy standing next to her follows her gaze, noticing the smoke rising from one of the buildings.

"Fire?" He asks her.

She tilts her head. "Apparently so. That's the Hayashi family business…unusual for a flower shop to be on fire."

The boy turns to the smoke. "Indeed…" His gaze wanders down. He's never been very comfortable with heights, so the sight of the ground so far below him makes him tense up.

The girl steps closer to him, deliberately placing a hand on his shoulder. He glances back at her.

"It's good to see that the new medication is working." She smiles, pulling him closer to hug him. Hisao sighs as her lips quirk up.

"Put up with it. You know it makes me feel better." Leaning her head on his shoulder, a soft smile sets upon her lips when she sees, rather than feels, his arm around her shoulder.

"Mm. I'll never understand why you enjoy this. After all, you can't feel it either." He replies.

Rei laughs quietly. "You'll understand one day, I think."

"Hm." He says, unconvinced. She pulls him tighter.

"Are you ready for school tomorrow? You'll be entering pretty late into the trimester." She says. Hisao snorts.

"It's just school. It's never posed a problem to me before, and I doubt it'll become one now." He says confidently.

"Good. I'll make sure to see you once in a while, okay? And you'll have to eat three meals a day, too. And get some sleep."

He scowls. She pulls his cheek. "Hey, hey. You know I take my role as your older sister seriously."

Hisao resists a smile. A full head shorter than him, no one looking at the two of them would ever believe that claim.

"And you didn't let me take you shopping, either." She says, sounding disappointed.

"I told you, we have a uniform. There's no need for that."

"Do you never plan to go out?" She asks.

"I have a uniform." He replies again, blandly.

"That's not really…" The girl pauses. "I guess you can…but when your birthday rolls around again, you'll be getting clothes."

He shrugs.

Their companionable silence resumes, broken only by the sound of the alarms far below them.