Kirara did not intend to get lost. That was a given. However, after having been dumped on the curb outside the station by her parents, it was a practical inevitability.

Misaki and Takeshi Yamauchi were not city people. Rather, they were allergic. Kirara was not sure to what. Furrowed brows had planted themselves upon her mother's face only minutes after their arrival in London. While Kirara looked wide-eyed upon the citizen's of the nation's capital, her father surveyed the crowds with a pointed gaze. A spare hand hovered over the pocket containing his wallet as if expecting a robbery at any moment. They had moved briskly, at Kira's dismay, through the city, to the inn for the night, and back to the train station come morning with equal disgust. If not for their protective instincts towards their youngest daughter neither Misaki nor Takeshi would have stepped foot into London's city center.

Hence, upon completing the task of depositing Kira at the curb for "boarding school," her parents made a hasty exit.

There Kira was left. Her eyes darted towards the entrance. That seemed correct. It wasn't as if magical schools offered directions. That would be ridiculous.

Perhaps it was some sort of entrance test. Kirara came to such a conclusion as she stepped through the doors into King's Cross Station. The young witch stopped in her tracks, blinking. So many people. An overwhelm of people. Was that the proper plural? Kira thought so. She could smell a man's cologne distinctly through his overcoat. A woman was on her phone, talking loudly about dinner parties and essential oil therapy. A group of seemingly non-magical kids ran in front of her path while engaged in a game of tag.

She shuffled forwards awkwardly. Cardiff, although large by her standards, was not like this. It was never like this. This was some sort of hellscape she had been tasked with escaping. As a witch, which she supposed she was, she ought to have special powers in situations like these. Yet, apparently, she was an incompetent one. She knew exactly zero spells— completely defenseless.

Kira reached into her pocket, adjusting the fit of her wool coat. Ah yes! The young witch pulled out a small collection of muggle coins. With this, she could arm herself with a gingerbread cake loaf. Did they even have those in the wizarding world? A quiet snort escaped the future Ravenclaw's mouth at the thought. Maybe talking animals made the food of the wizarding world. A deer could take her order, which would then be passed off to a group of rowdy chipmunks in the kitchen, then decorated by a very talented, wise beaver. Excellent.

She handed her money to the cashier with conviction. She ought to have conviction in situations like these. The wizarding folk expected someone strong to enter their school, not someone too shy to order a piece of cake. Were they watching? Kirara's head swiveled around before accepting her food.

"Thank you..." The witch's tone was soft, as expected. So much for conviction. Kirara took a seat at one of the front-facing cafe tables. Maybe, if she watched for long enough, an obvious witch would pass by. Then, she could follow them! Kira fiddled with her braid, retying the ribbon at the bottom. The scheme was perfect, seemingly, unless she waited too long and managed to miss the train.

What if she missed the train? She would be alone in London with no parents, no money, and no way to leave! She sprang up from her seat, brushed the crumbs from her coat, and grabbed her suitcase. She needed to go now. Where? Kira didn't remember. There was no such thing as a platform 9 and 3/4. She should have known that. Everyone knew that!

The young witch tore through the corridors without much direction. Had she been tricked? Her parents had been right. Hogwarts wasn't real.

Was that a wall ahead? Kira paid no mind. Her heartbeat was racing. She needed to find the place quickly, before the train left, before she got left out of the magical world forever. Her suitcase swung behind her, repeatedly bumping against her knee. She turned around, legs still speeding up on autopilot.

Kirara only recognized the wall after she was halfway through. Her feet flew out from under her as she landed with a crash, suitcase still in hand. She sat there for a minute, head full of absolutely nothing.

"Huh..." Kira remembered her surroundings. Platform 9 and 3/4... or so the sign said. She had... made it? Kira scanned her surroundings once more. Students filled the platform along with slightly-odd looking adults. This could be correct.

Several blinks. One minute she was alone, falling through a literal wall, because that was apparently normal here. Now there was a girl here speaking of who-knows-what. A typical, magical experience, perhaps? Kira did not know.

Kirara eyed the girl. Long, brown hair and expressive eyes were not particularly intimidating. She then eyed the hand. Ah. Right. The young witch was on the floor. Her fingers traced the shape of the tiles that made up the platform floor. How many people had stood there? Thousands, most likely. She did not know how long this particular train service had been in operation, nor how many people took it each year. Still, it was certainly dirty. She recoiled, taking her hands from the surface and brushing them against her skirt.

Kira accepted the handshake, allowing herself to be pulled up by the girl. What all had she said again? The Ravenclaw girl's connection with the world around her left something to be desired. Either way, she ought to introduce herself.

"Hi!" Kira put on a smile. She ought to be nice since this girl, Aline, seemed well-intentioned. "I'm Kira," she added, "Kirara Yamauchi." She noted how the other girl had taken care to include her full name and surname. Perhaps that was important in wizarding culture.

Was her outsider-ness obvious? Her voice was quiet but, in her skirt and wool coat, she did not seem unlike the other kids on the platform. "It is. I didn't know what it was until I received the letter-thingy," she admitted. Perhaps Aline could help her.

"Dark... arts?" Kira fiddled with her braid, head tilted. "Like drawing?" A confused expression crossed her face. Certainly not. Kirara could not attend a school that considered art as evil. She had a whole sketchbook in her bag! Perhaps wizarding folk really were weird...

Kira gave the girl a small nod. "We can be friends." She had barely met the girl but, then again, she knew no one else. The baseline was low.

What coins? The confused expression returned. Certainly, she had spent the money her parents had given her on the snack from earlier. However, a ten pence coin sat by her feet, having fallen out from when she was on the ground. Her parents had given her more than she expected, apparently. The young witch bent over, picking it up. "Here. You can have it." She offered it to Aline. "I don't think you can use it in wizarding shops though," Kira remembered. Wizarding people had their own currency: galleons, sickles, and knuts.

"But yeah! Kind of. My family is from Wales though." She hummed. Did it count? Kirara had never actually been to Japan nor did she have an accent. It was surprising, aside from her features, that Aline was able to guess.

@Aline Agreste