”Come on Miz’, hurry!” Kaori’s voice boomed from the end of the hallway, “We shouldn’t even be here; We’ll be late!”

Standing at her locker, Mizuho let out a loud groan, throwing her best friend a glance. “I’m nearly done, I promise! This blasted device wont open!” Frowning and looking back down at her lock, Mizuho ran her thumb around the metal surface for the fourth time. She’d had it and it’s combination since her first year of junior high and quite liked it, but lately it had been… Well, rather busted. She’d been unable to open it first try for the past few weeks.

“Four, eight… Fifteen…” Mumbling to herself, Mizuho closed her eyes as she input the last number, giving the lock a rather forceful yank.

Click!

It slid out of place, Mizuho mouthing an excited ‘yes!’ as her door flew open.

“Are you done?” Kaori’s tone was laced with frustration.

“…” Quickly, Mizuho reached inside her locker, grabbing at the manga titled ‘Forgotten Warrior Kaiyo’. “… Yep!” She laughed, slamming her door shut, flicking her body around and running to her friend.

As she reached Kaori, the sullen girl let off a frown, glancing down at the book. “I hope that was worth it.”

“Oh, it is.” Mizuho nodded in agreement with herself, slumping her bag over her shoulder. “Now let us get a move on, otherwise we’ll miss our ride!”

“That’s what I’ve been saying the whole time.”

“Oh Lorela.” Mizuho laughed as her friend rolled her eyes, picking up her own bag.

Turning around, the girls ran down the hallway, lockers and classrooms flying past them as they reached the front office, exiting from the school’s front entrance. As they stepped outside, both girls stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the school bus looming over them from the curb.

“W-wow.” The word slipped out of Mizuho’s mouth without much thought. The class trip had been in the students’ minds for weeks; months, even. It was so surreal for it to finally have come together. “It’s… It’s really happening.” Kaori nodded silently in response, taking a step towards the bus’ entrance, where Mr. Hayashida stood.

“Ah, girls. Glad you could make it!” Their teacher grinned, checking their names off on the class list. “We’ve been waiting for you. You wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of Mitsuko and her friends, would you?”

“No, sorry.” Mizuho responded half-heartedly, shaking her head as she moved past Hayashida and onto the bus with Kaori. Students were spread out all over the joint, chatting, laughing, some even hanging from the ceiling. Mizuho’s eyes widened as she looked around, before she smiled at the sight of Megumi sitting all alone near the back. Moving down the isle, her lips widened as her friend waved.

“Greetings, Megumi!” Voice filled with cheer, Mizuho sat herself in one the seats at Megumi’s front as Kaori took the seat to her side. “Thank the lord we had a few minutes spare before this vessel departed!”

“Um… Yeah.” Megumi tittered, covering her mouth with her hands. “Any later and it would’ve left without you!”

Mizuho laughed in response before turning to face the front of the bus –or, perhaps more literally, the back of Yumiko Kusaka’s head (the tall girl was seated directly in front of her). Sighing pleasantly, she glanced down at her lap, eyes focusing on the Manga she’d retrieved earlier. Flicking a few pages into the book, she felt herself cock an eyebrow at an image of the main character, Kaiyo, smashing a boulder with her bare fists.

It was… quite pretty, actually. She hadn’t read the book yet, so the page was new to her. New, and, well, very exciting! Powerful female protagonists were her favourite type of character because she felt she could relate them to herself, or what she wanted to be.

Giggling, she span around, shoving the page beneath Megumi’s nose. “Look!” She shook it a little, grinning. “It’s me –It’s definitely me! Can you see the resemblance between our forms?”

Megumi made what sounded like a meek yelp, jumping in her seat a little, before she offered a polite simper. Nodding her head, the poet’s eyes closed happily. “Oh, yes… Very much like you.”

Mizuho squealed in excitement before the sound of a loud, boyish scoff interrupted her. “Keep dreaming, she ‘got bigger tits than you!”

Such a strong disregard for common courtesy and basic Japanese could only have come from one boy. Glancing upwards, Mizuho glared at the towering Kazushi Niida (standing alongside Hatagami), making a sharp hissing sound as she snapped back at him. “Mind your tongue, mortal.”

The boys shared a glance, then a laugh, before they moved down to their seats at the back of the bus. Reaching for her pendant, a slightly flustered Mizuho returned to facing Kusaka’s head, glancing back down at her book as she frowned.

“I’ll show you.” She whispered, anger getting the better of her. “I could be a warrior…”

…

And as one who dreams of something harmful,
Wishes in his dream that he was dreaming,
And so desires what is, as if it were not,

So did I, nor I was not able to speak;
I wanted to excuse myself, and was doing so
All the time, and did not think that I was.

'A lesser shame would erase a greater fault,'
The master said, 'than which you have been guilty of;
Therefore let fall any unhappiness,

And take account of the fact that I am here,
If it so happen that fortune should bring you
Where there are people in the like disputes:

To want to hear them is an inferior wish.'

[Inferno: Canto XXX: 136-148]

She was lying there, and her eyes was red, but she wasn't crying, she wasn't crying or doing anything else any more... she was looking over his shoulder, at a little point behind him, her gaze hadn't changed the entire time he was there... he moved into her line of vision because she couldn't be gone, not her, and she would focus those eyes in a moment and at least do something

Anything at all. But she didn't even move, and her body was cooling, and she had gone so stiff; he tried to shut her eyes but even the eyelids were locked in place and here eyes looked so dry because she hadn't blinked in so long... she hadn't cried in so long even the tears had dried away leaving the skin underneath blotched but pale... a milky colour like really bad tea or something or something he felt ashamed for looking at because when he did it reminded him of how he could have saved her, and how he felt so ashamed to see her in a state like this

Because there was a torrent of blood congealed down her school shirt. There were two bullet wounds, each one covered by a matt of dried red now, cotton fabric fused to flesh; he wanted to pull them apart but it had clotted, and there was a faint cracking sound as the bond was ripped in two. And here she was, she was dead, and without her, there was nothing left for him in this world, was there? He was going to die, just like her, wasn't he? He was going to spend his last few hours feeling sorry for himself, because some sick shit thought they had more of a right to live than she did. And he was feeling cold but he didn’t care because he wanted to trade places with her, he wanted her to have the chance to live again and he would die, because she had always been better than he had and this was all the wrong way round... and he didn't even hear the report announce her name because the world was dead to him now, and so were all the others. He didn't pay any attention to her name being read out as he sat there alone in the dark:


Girl number four... Keiko Onuki....

And he stayed with her body as it got colder and colder, and no less stiff. He didn't think rigor mortis was this fast acting, but apparently it was. He didn't notice, though. He didn't really notice anything now. He just wanted to stay with her until someone finally put that bullet in his head.

And when he finally heard footsteps, he didn't even look round, he just wanted it to be an easy kill, and let them get on with it without fuss, because they wouldn't understand how important Keiko had been. None of them—not even her own family—gave her the respect she truly deserved, and he wished he hadn't made her upset all the damned time, and he had no way of saying sorry to her.

An apology carried in the air. A trembling, nervous apology.

"Kawada? I... I'm so sorry... I am really so very, very sorry..."

He couldn't help but pin the voice of the speaker, because it's just natural to know who your killer was, isn't it? The voice was male, and slightly sophisticated... and Kawada's eyes snapped open to meet those of Yuushiro Kadai.



"Boy three, Yuushiro Kadai."

A tall student in the desk next to Shogo's made to stand. This was the chance.

"Tell Keiko to wait," he hissed sideways out of his mouth.

Yuushiro shrugged, grunted under his breath and ambled forwards. Shogo wanted to yell at the bastard, but a warning glare from the soldier stopped him. The boy took his kit and he was gone.



The one boy in the whole class who could have told Keiko to wait for him, didn't fulfil this one request. The bastard as good as killed Keiko himself, because if she and Shogo had been together from the start, this wouldn't have happened, right? She would still be alive, and he...

It didn't take much effort to rationalise the next move. Shogo let loose a bellow, grabbed the Kel-Tec that had once belonged to Yuri Fukuuchi, and—screaming—emptied the entire clip into Yuushiro's belly.

The boy fell, although "fall" wasn't really the right word. It was more as if he had collapsed, or had folded. And Shogo was still screaming and yelling incomprehensible gibberish as the fresh body bled out, and Shogo had ended his third life.

The first two had been different. Yuri had been the one who helped cause the clinic group to collapse, and Shogo felt some sick enjoyment watching her die. She had calculated that tactic with Eisuke, and they were caught out. Too bad. And the other kill—Yuigo Matsuzaki—was purely self-defence. He took out the first two kills of the game, put an arrow through Kyoji's head, and laughed because he got first blood, and... this was just justice. Shogo took him and smashed his head in with a rock. Revenge, and anger... the two feelings Shogo felt brewing in him as he realised how ugly mankind was.

But Keiko saw this, and she ran away. There was God's sick sense of humour again.

The third kill... Shogo did it because it made him feel better, and everything made sense. He would fight to win now.

But he had no interest in doing so for revenge. Not yet.

He just wanted to take down every other motherfucker on this island, because it was the only sure way to be sure the shit who slaughtered Keiko Onuki got exactly what they deserved.

Finally, he walked away. And he would never truly remember what life had been life before.

11 students remaining

He was sat at Keiko's place, as her parents had gone out for the evening, and left her to babysit their pets. The animals were extremely well-behaved anyway, so it really just gave Shogo and her some privacy.

They had been together for nearly four months now. It was a March evening, and they were sat in her lounge, watching Tonight, at the Same Place, which aired every Thursday night at nine. Shogo had never really been one for dramas such as this, but he made the effort because Keiko loved it, and he just wanted to spend some time with her.

The episode in question showed Mizue—the best friend of the main female lead—listening to her love interest tell her he had a serious kidney infection. Shogo already knew they were going to kill the character off, because the actor had famously quit the show to follow a singing career, and they had been building up this storyline steadily for weeks.

"What was the doctor's name again?" Shogo said wearily during a commercial break.

"Tadamasa Nozoe," Keiko said. "He's a pretty minor character."

"But he's somehow related to Ai Nozoe, right?"

"Father and daughter," Keiko nodded, before re-explaining the complicated love heptagon that involved Ai, Mizue, the guy with the illness and a few other characters. Shogo heard his girlfriend make sounds, but the sounds weren't forming into any coherent sentence, as far as he could tell, finally catching the closing sentence: "But now Shinichiro has this illness, he needs to choose between the two girls, because either his cousin gets hurt by losing the chance to be with Mizue, or Mizue discovers what Ai has been doing behind her back all this time."

Shogo stared blankly at the screen, before shaking his head. "Seriously, I cannot figure out how you women keep track of all these things. My head would explode."

Keiko laughed. "Tsch, that's men for you! This guy has to choose between the two girls. The other will lose out anyway, and no matter which one he picks, there's gonna be problems."

"Can't he just go without?" Shogo suggested.

"That's real romantic, Sho," Keiko said with a roll of her eyes. "No, he can't. I don't think the girls want to be ignored."

"Damn well hope not," Shogo said, sipping a drink. "They're both hot."

"..." Keiko pursed her lips together, disapproving of her boyfriend's comment about the actresses; one of the two looked a little like an older version of Honami, Shogo's ex-girlfriend, and even he had commented on the matter once.

"The one wants him more, but the other is probably the better person? There's no real good outcome here, is there? "

"No... not any more."

"So we've got... damage limitation, right? Thinking on his toes?"

"Yeah... but he's going to keep putting the decision off. That's just what Shinichiro does. He's too much of a playboy."

"Right..." Shogo said, still only half-understanding. "So he was planning to string the two girls along for as long as he could, and now he's getting the wrong sort of ending, he doesn't know what to do with himself?"

"Yup. But if you were in that situation, what would you do?"

Keiko had turned to look squarely at Shogo's face. He realised she had asked him one of those questions, to see how he would behave in certain situations within a relationship. And naturally, Shogo didn't have a damn clue what answer the girl expected.

"If I was dyin'," Shogo said, "I'd just go for the one who made me happiest. To hell with what other people thought; can’t make everybody happy, can you? Once I'm dead, it's not my problem any more, right?"

Keiko didn't speak to him again until the show had finished.

Shogo resigned himself to watching the ending in silence, ignoring the sulk, really not understanding why nobody on this planet— especially women— could give him a straight answer.

"The one wants him more, but the other is probably the better person? There's no real good outcome here, is there? "

"No... not any more."

"So we've got... damage limitation, right?

”Forgive my lateness, sir!”

Breathing heavily, Mizuho fumbled her books before slapping a late pass on the teacher’s desk. Looking up at her, Mr. Hayashida nodded, rather used to students being late for the morning classes (With people like Mitsuru and Yahagi in the class, Mizuho couldn’t really blame him).

“Thank you Mizuho. We’re working on Chapter 4, take a seat.” He gestured to the desks.

“Okay.” Making a smile in response, Mizuho felt it quickly fade away as she glanced over the class. Kaori and Megumi were seated at a two-person desk on the far left side of the classroom, not a spare chair nearby. The closest one was on the other end of the room, beside Motobuchi.

Letting off a long sigh, she slowly made her way in-between the desks, frowning as she walked past Mitsuko’s table, the delinquent’s gang bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Why me…” She mumbled to herself, placing her books on the class representative’s desk. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Kyouichi groaned a rushed response, head buried in his workbook, pencil wobbling furiously.

Sitting herself down, Mizuho smiled at the boy. She’d never really spoken to Kyouichi, but he didn’t seem all that bad. Perhaps a bit pernickety, but nothing awful. “So… How are you faring?”

“Please.” The boy shuddered beneath hunched shoulders, his hair gleaming under the classroom’s fluorescent lights. “I’m trying to work.”

“Oh… Okay.” Furrowing her brows, Mizuho sighed, propping her chin on her hand and glancing across the front of the room. Everyone was doing something. She could see Utsumi’s clique laughing over one of Yuka’s jokes, the deliriously gorgeous Shinji helping Yutaka with his work. Heck, even Yoshio was enjoying a conversation with Yuichirou and Keita.

Yep, everyone was working happily. Everyone but herself. No one had even bothered to look at Mizuho, not even the person she was sitting next to! It didn’t make sense that people always wondered and asked her why she never socialized, yet when she wanted to no one care for her. No one wanted to so much as speak to her.

Glancing across the room to her friends’ table, Mizuho felt herself jump a little in excitement, eyes widening as she noticed Megumi and Kaori were looking straight at her.

‘Sorry.’ Megumi mouthed as Kaori offered an empathetic smile, both girls waving girlishly.

Mizuho couldn’t help but grin back, laughing a little (and causing Motobuchi to grunt in the process). Recess began in only an hour, and in an hour she’d be able to hang out with the only people she knew how to socialize with –the only people that liked her enough to socialize back.

Then she wouldn’t need to care what the other kids thought.

The computer chair squeaked as Hibiki sat down, the light of the monitor causing her to squint a little. Exhaling, she placed her hand on the mouse and moved it to the small icon labelled ‘email’ on the left of the screen.

After a five-second wait, the window popped up, completely empty. Glancing down at the bottom of the screen, Hibiki groaned as she read the words ‘completed 1 of 111 items’.

“Damn it!” She slouched back on the chair, folding her arms. “She’s done it again.”

“What have I done?”

Hibiki nearly fell off her seat as a young voice sounded from the doorway behind her. Swirling her chair around, she frowned as she looked her daughter in the eyes, folding her arms.

“You know exactly what you’ve done, Mizuho. You’ve wasted all our downloads for the month! The internet is as slow as a doorknob for the next ten days.”

“Whaaaat,” Standing in her Pikachu-print pajamas, Mizuho scratched the back of her head, expression gravely serious. “How will I get on my Warcraft serve-“

“Your Warcraft server? Seriously, Mizuho? Do you understand how mad I am!” Hibiki felt her temper flare, her daughter shrinking back from the doorway a little. “You spend all day on the computer unless you have school. You do nothing else but play your games, and then when I need to get on, I can’t. You’ve wasted our internet.”

“Oh?” Mizuho tilted her head to the side, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I need to get on, though. I can’t keep my clan waiting.”

“Your clan? What about my work?! Who pays for this internet, Mizuho? I work fourteen hours a day to pay for it and I don’t even get to use it! I’m very lenient, you know. Most parents would have banned their children by now.” She glanced back at the screen. ‘completed 25 of 111 items’. Letting out an even louder groan than before, she stood up off her chair. “In fact, you know what? You are banned. You’re banned.”

“What?!” Mizuho’s eyes began to water. The girl clutched the glass trinket around her neck, biting her bottom lip. “B-but that’s not fair! You’re always so mean to me! You don’t care about anything I do, do you? You don’t understand!”

“You know what?” Hibiki fumed with rage. She hated that her child was so oblivious to how difficult her life was. She hated how no matter how much she tried to stop Mizuho from doing the weird things she did, no matter how hard she wanted it… The girl just wouldn’t change. You’d try to get her to stop and she’d cry and go even more introverted than before. She was absolutely sick of it. “You’re right. I don’t care, not anymore. You do what you want, Mizuho.”

She marched out of the room, past Mizuho, down the hallway and into her bedroom, tears building up beneath her eyes. She remembered when Mizuho was born –back when she and her husband were together. She was so happy she had a girl. Boys were lovely and all, but nothing like a daughter. Mizuho Inada was going to grow up to be a nice girl. Hibiki and her were supposed to talk about boys and gossip and television, not… Not Warcraft clans. Mizuho was meant to be a good-natured, popular girl!

Not the social mess she’d become.

Sighing rather longingly, Hibiki sat on her bed in silence, deep in thought, before the sound of fingers tapping at a keyboard sounded through the wall. She couldn’t help but begin to cry.

After the fire had roared a little while,
After its fashion, the sharp tip moved
To and fro, and then breathed out these words:

'If I thought I was making my reply
To anyone who would ever go back to the world,
This flame would stay absolutely still;

But since no one ever came back alive
From this deep place, if what I hear is true,
I answer you without fear of infamy.'

[Inferno: Canto XXVII: 58-66]

The only reason Shogo bothered to turn up for classes like Home Economics was down to the occasional opportunity to make themselves food which could be taken home with them. Mrs Sato, the home economics teacher, was particularly keen on classes like these; she showed the kids what to do, they spent the next lesson trying to copy what she did, and she walked around at the end, eating what they made, and giving them all Bs. It was an easy lesson plan, and nobody really cared.

One of the main issues the class had with her, though, was her complete ignorance about who worked well together, and who didn't. Shogo had a feeling that she just paired people up at random, or pulled their names out of a hat. Or threw darts or something.

"Akamatsu and Oda. Iijima and Tanizawa." She reeled the names off crisply, like a military roll call. "Ooki and Nakagawa. Oda and… no, we've had him… which Nakagawa? Oh, that one. Sure, why not? Okay… Kawada and…"

Shogo's ears perked up.

"Kawada and Seto."

Shogo turned just in time to catch the colour drain out of Yutaka Seto's tiny face. Mrs Sato had not noticed (or cared) and continued reading the names out: Kiriyama and Shimizu (much to Hirono's displeasure)… Kuninobu and Inada (Kaori made a strange noise)… Kuramoto and Yamamoto (both seemed pretty awkward)…

As the list went on,. Shogo gathered his belongings together, and shuffled his chair sideward to get a little nearer to Yutaka, who still looked like he was going to knife the runt (or worse, fall on him).

The task was to make some sort of vegetable bake. Fry down the chewier vegetables, put them in a sauce, cover with potatoes and grill. As there were no meat or eggs involved, the chances of this class poisoning itself were minimal. Regardless, Shogo didn't feel reassured about being paired with Yutaka, whose very existence seemed to defy Darwin. The smaller boy was washing his hands compulsively under the sink, whilst Shogo tied one of the small school aprons to his chest.

"Lookin' good, Kawada," Hirono said with a small wink. She had re-styled her hair over the weekend; it was now a pale red, with occasional blonde streaks in it. There was something about the style that resembled Chigusa's dyed streaks, though Hirono pulled it off with casual rebellion.

"I always look my best," he said back with a small smile, rolling his sleeves up to the biceps.

"I'd suggest you take the shirt off and cook in just the apron," she teased, "but you're paired with Yutaka, and I wouldn't want to be near Yutaka when he's got a pan of hot oil."

The smaller kid resembled a rodent as he scuttled away from the two of them, and busied himself with some pots and pans.

It was easy enough to prepare. Shogo put Yutaka in charge of the pan, and chopped the vegetables up himself. The meal was supposed to serve four, but as long as Yutaka didn't burn the vegetables, they could split it equally between them, and Shogo could make it last two days.

"Seto, put these onions into the pan, please."

Yutaka, who was in the process of frying carrots, made a squeak as the onions entered the pan, and rose in a billow of steam.

"Reckon you might want to take over from him, before he blows something up," Hirono was no longer cooking her own meal, leaving the whole thing for Kazuo to prepare. She was now providing a running commentary of Yutaka, as though she were building up toward the inevitable catastrophe.

"Hirono, could you lay off him for a bit?" Shogo eventually said. "I'd quite like to eat this food at the end, and I don't want it on the end up over the floor."

"You're sticking up for Yutaka?" Hirono said, before something caught her eye. "Shogo, are you crying?"

He was indeed blinking away water. "Onions."

"We've got onions. I'm not crying," said Hirono, only for Kazuo to interrupt.

"There is a way to cut onions without releasing the relevant chemical," he explained. "I simply cut mine that way."

Kawada wanted to make a comment, but at that moment Yutaka screamed and clutched his own hand. It looked like he had burned himself on the fire. Shogo turned the heat down, then grabbed Yutaka's hand. "Lemme have a look at it."

Shogo ran his eyes over Yutaka's palm, concentrating on it as though trying to read it. "It's a bit nasty, but no lasting damage. Run it under cold water, and I'll get the teacher."

He looked round, only to notice that Mrs Sato was no longer in the room (she was the sort of teacher to vanish for twenty minutes at a time without warning). Sighing, he walked to the back of the room to where the first-aid kit is, and took it off the hook.

"Promise not to tell teacher?" Shogo said with a small smile, helping himself to the pack. It probably only needed a plaster and some gel, but the plasters all seemed way too small. "I'll put on some of this dressing on. Keep still."

Instinctively, he knew that Hirono was watching, but he paid her no further attention; Yutaka's eyes were looking deep into his own. "You… you know first aid?"

"Just enough," Shogo said with a modest, cheeky grin. "That feel better?"

"A lot, thanks," Yutaka replied, and Shogo noticed his eyes were watering for a reason that was probably not just onions. "I… you're not a bad guy, after all."

Shogo thought about replying, but he realised that, no matter what answer he gave, it would only be a half-truth. "Keep it dry, and leave it on overnight. Oh, and if it blisters, try not to pick at it, okay?"

Yutaka looked ashamed, eyeing the pans. "I'm sorry…. I think the sauce is bad."

"Huh?"

"I didn't prepare the sauce properly, and it's gonna taste bad."

The short boy's voice was barely a whisper, but Shogo understood. He grinned.

"It's good I made some of my own last night," he said, pulling out a sealed pot from his bag. "Call it preparation."

"Isn’t that…"

"What?"

"Cheating?"

Shogo laughed a bark. "Promise not to tell teacher about that, either?"

Yutaka grinned, and they poured the contents of the ruined sauce away. Shogo replenished it himself, and with that, the two of them were back on track, though Yutaka kept away from the hot surfaces. Hirono was watching Shogo suspiciously.

"Why did you do that?"

"Like I say, I want to take the food back with me. That's all."

"The hell that's all," Hirono said. "I'm gonna start think you're going soft on me, Kawada."

"You can think what you like."

"I do," she said, eyeing up Kawada's apron. "Guess you're kinda talented. More than a pretty face, huh?"

Shogo did his half-grin again. "From you, that's a hell of a compliment."

"Whatever. I just want this to lesson to be over already."

Within twenty minutes, the class was drawing to a close, and Mrs Sato had told the students to take their food out of the ovens to be tasted and graded. She walked around the tables, sampling the various dishes, and saying a couple of things to the makers. She passed off from Haruka and Yumiko's minor disaster, and stepped to Shogo's table.

With a combination of perseverance, teamwork, and forward planning, Yutaka and Shogo had managed to pull together a half-decent meal, and were rewarded with a B grade.

Yutaka and Shogo gave one another a small grin. Once somebody broke the ice, Shogo found it hard to stay frosty.

All the more so when the teacher passed over to Hirono's table, took a taste of Kazuo's meal, and coughed it up over the table. The class converged on the table, astonished, and held their breath as Mrs Sato pulled out most of a cigarette from the bottom of the tray.

"I don't smoke," Kazuo said. "It must have been Shimizu who put those in there."

Shogo noticed the look of outrage on Hirono's face as she was forced to choose between grassing someone up to a teacher or failing a class. In the end, she stalked off without warning. Shogo wondered at what point Kazuo threw her cigarettes into the mixture, and why exactly he did so. But it didn't matter, as Kazuo now swallowed a spoonful of the mix. It was surely revolting, but Kazuo didn't seem to care.

Kiriyama didn't seem to care about a lot of things.

"So? What do you think?"

Finally, they had explained the plan to him.

Well, they had given him a rough outline. From just a handful of these informal meetings, there was no point in trying to get explicit, lengthy specifics from anybody, because none of them knew more than Shogo himself. It was hard to believe this was any sort of organisation at all. In many respects, somebody pointed out to him, it wasn't an organisation at all. They were simply a group of people who happened to meet together once in a while for a casual chat. There were no secret handshakes, no banners, no protests, and-- oddly enough-- no huge ambition to do anything. Generally, the biggest thing people discussed was the sports matches, or pop music, or similar trivial stuff.

Maybe it was because they didn't want to talk about the hard stuff. Maybe it was because Shogo was present. Maybe they were just aware that a nation cannot be toppled with a snap of the fingers.

But this was the first time anybody had said anything to him about the actual intentions, about sending him into a class that had already been scheduled for the Battle Royale some point the next year.

Either way, the plan sounded completely absurd.

"Shiroiwa?" Shogo grumbled. "what, 'Castle Rock'? Sounds a bit of a lousy place."

"You understand that you'll need to stay there for good, right?" The man who had explained this to him seemed to have some air of a teacher about him; late thirties, and fidgeted like he wanted to sit down all the time. "And the thing is... you'll probably die."

"Yeah, I figured that," Shogo shrugged. He had assumed he was going to die some point in the near future, anyway, why not use it to prove a point? That the kids churned through that slaughterhouse do matter? That they aren't just cattle?

Shogo leaned forward. "So what do I need to do?"

"Just attend classes, be a student, same as normal," said the man. Shogo knew this guy was not the leader (if there was a leader; it felt impossible someone could manage this much chaos and lack of material strategy), but he was holding some air of knowledge anyway. "We're gonna register you under the name Shugo Kuwata. Just for the time being... is that okay?"

"Why?"

"This class is being tracked. I don't want any fireworks to go off when the Government check on the new kid," said the man, whose name Shogo still didn't know; they were huge on aliases round here, and Kawada appreciated he never would know this guy's name. "But get the school to change it once you've settled in. There's nothing against a Program survivor re-joining the school system. It's a huge coincidence, but someone could get picked twice. And the alias is close enough to your real name to pass off as a mistake."

Shogo realised what was making him feel uneasy. "I... I don't like the idea that we're going to sit round and let these kids die. Why can't we intervene?"

"Those aren't our instructions."

Shogo closed his eyes. He knew he wasn't going to get a better reply. "It's fucked up, but... this is that shit about making a small sacrifice for the greater good, right?"

"You can't make an omlette without breaking a few eggs."

"Fuck you," Kawada growled. The man seemed to realise what he had said, but was interrupted before he could apologise. "Forget it. Is there anything I need to know?"

"Yeah, one big thing," the man said, passing Shogo a sheet. "There's a kid in the class, called Kazuo Kiriyama. He's... well. Put bluntly, early preliminary data puts him as the most likely winner. He is a huge danger."

Shogo looked at the paper in question: this Kiriyama had been marked with an esitmated 28% chance of victory; one or two were presented as having between 7% and 4%, with the vast majority of the remaining thirty-five or so pupils hovering at about one percent apiece.

"Make no mistake, this guy is the one to look out for," repeated the man. "We'll work on figuring out what his weaknesses are, but he is a huge danger. If you see him, kill him on sight."

Shogo mumbled under his breath in reply, but he was transfixed by the pupil's school photograph. His face, so calm, gelled hair like some sort of yakuza wannabe, but with an expression of total apathy... there was something disturbing about him from that photograph alone.

Something... missing.

And those eyes. They were what kept Shogo from looking away. Even on the poor print quality, it was like looking into the jaws of oblivion. There was something fundamentally wrong about this student.

"Make your plans from the outset, Kawada. And pray that somebody else gets to him first."

That was it. The curtain between the two students had been set before they even met. Shogo had a task to do, which would probably cost him his life.

And he had to beat him, no matter what.

It was lunchtime at school and the sky was tinted a dull shade of grey, wind blowing strong in every direction. Most of the students were indoors, but for Mizuho and Kaori, the weather had given them the perfect opportunity to use the popular playground equipment -the stuff only the cooler kids could use on good days.

Sitting on either side of the swing set, Mizuho forced her swinging to a halt as Kaori let out a sigh, pushing her glasses up her nose and looking down at the floor.

"Everything okay, Lorela?" Mizuho cocked an eyebrow. She loved Kaori to death; the girl was a beautiful friend and one of the greatest beings Mizuho had ever encountered in her life. It was just…sometimes, she’d switch. Like a lightbulb, or a laser sword. The girl would come to school depressed and spend her day looking down at the floor, ready to cry or scream or shout at the drop of a hat.

“I think I'm agnostic.” It just so happened to be one of those days.

“What do you mean?” Mizuho offered a bemused chuckle, her expression faltering, hands clasped firmly around the chains holding her swing in the air. The concept of her friend’s comment was rather foreign to her. She didn’t speak of religion much at all outside the subject of Ahura Mazda, but at the same time she couldn't understand how a person could be so unsure of their faith. It didn't make sense to her.

“I mean… I just can’t be like you or, say, Sakaki.” Kaori reached for her Junya pendant, rubbing it with the end of her thumb. “We get bullied, Mizuho. People hate us. We’ll never be popular, and they’ll never let us be happy.” She sighed again. “I just… I just find it hard to believe any god would let that happen.” Her eyes glistened beneath her specs; Mizuho felt her own prickle.

“It’s... It's true, some of our classmates act like demons.” Mizuho felt her lips begin to form a pout, but she held them back. She couldn’t let Kaori feel hopeless, even if that was basically what their standing in the class was. “But… We’re still happy, aren’t we? I know I relish my time with you and Megumi, and I’m sure Yuko acts happy around her friends.”

“I guess…” Kaori looked up from her pendant.

“We just focus on the negatives a little too much, don’t we?” Letting go of her swing, Mizuho smiled as she held her hand out for Kaori to grab. “Times are tough, but times can be good, too! I don’t know about you, but I know my god would never want me or my friends to ever be truly hurt.”

"I... I guess." Nodding, Kaori offered a weak smile, reaching for Mizuho's hand.

Kazuo looked at Shogo, and Shogo looked back at Kazuo.  His expression was one of stunned surprise. 

"Shogo..."

Kazuo sank to the ground, letting his bag fall and bump against his knees.  The guns within it clattered.

"Kazuo." Shogo's gun was already out and pointed at Kazuo, for all the good that would do.  With his right hand a bloody mess he'd have a Hell of a time getting a shot off.

Would I enjoy being in Hell?  Pain forever... but I'd never go numb... maybe if I die I should ask God to at least let me try it out.  That is, if Yuko is right about the God thing.

Kazuo looked at Shogo's bloody hand.  Who had done that?  Probably Yoshitoki, when he'd showed up at the last minute.  He'd hit Kazuo too, actually.  Maybe.  It was blurry.  Shogo hadn't seen who'd hit himself, Kazuo was pretty sure of that, but then again even Kazuo wasn't sure who'd hit him.  Maybe elves.  Maybe Legolas was hiding somewhere nearby.  Though that was unlikely.

It didn't matter.  He wanted to attack Shogo -- get some more of that exhilaration.  That sense of power.  And maybe remorse and sadness once he'd killed the big student.  But first...

Wait.

Maybe he could talk to Shogo first.  Scare him.

That might make Kazuo feel something too.

***

"I'm telling you, Kazuo, this'll be so much fun!"

Ryuhei had come up with their weekend plans.  This was a first. No one ever let Ryuhei come up with any plans, largely because the boy was a total idiot.  So it was virgin territory.

Even Sho seemed apprenhensive.  "Kazuo-kun, is this a good idea?  Ryuhei's a great guy, but oh, he's just *so* inexperienced!"

"Shut it, fag-boy." Ryuhei smiled. "There's our mark."

They were piled into a back alley, looking out at a road in a slum.  Approaching them was some guy -- probably a drunkard.

"Watch and learn, yo." Ryuhei exited the alley and approached the man.

Kazuo watched as Ryuhei began talking to the man, eventually backing him up against a wall.

"What, is he muggin' the guy?" asked Mitsuru, who knew nothing as always.

Kazuo saw Ryuhei eventually get the guy to hand over his wallet.  The man was shaking, terrified. 

"He's bullying him.  As he does with Akamatsu and Sato." Kazuo stared at Ryuhei. "Continuing such sport, but outside the schoolyard grounds."

Hiroshi though, 'Huh?' and so he said, "Huh?"

Mitsuru thought, 'Huh?' But he said, "Deep, boss.  Totally on."

Shou thought, 'I think that man Ryuhei is mugging is sexy.' But he said, "Oh, little Ryuhei!  Your very first mugging, Shou-san is so proud!"

"You should not use 'san' on yourself," said Kazuo, as if he cared.

Ryuhei came back. "See him?  I had him pissin' his pants!"

"We didn't need to go all the way to Kyoto to mug someone," grumbled Mitsuru, who clearly wanted to perform muggings in the most efficient manner possible, so as to maximize the potential funds or terror generated.

"No, but now no one wil know us and we don't have to wear masks." Ryuhei grinned smugly. "And it's so much more fun!  Look 'em right in the eye... tell 'em you'll rip that eye out..."

"I will try one," said Kazuo.

The first man had fled.  A second man came.

Kazuo approached him. "Give me your money."

"What?  Like Hell, punk."

Kazuo suddenly grabbed the man, seized his hand, and snapped the wrist.

"Agh!"

"Give me your money."

"AAAGH!"

This wasn't working.  Kazuo grabbed the man's arm and his hand, gave a mighty heave, and snapped the wrist.

"OH LORD THE AGONY!   AGGGH!" The man did not take out his wallet, he was too busy screaming in pain.

Kazuo looked back at the gang members, who were staring at him. "It's not working," he said. He dropped the hand. "Ryuhei, this was a bad idea.  He still hasn’t given me his wallet--"

Hiroshi had dashed over to Kazuo, and now he was grabbing him. "Let's get outta here, man!"

As they left, Kazuo said to Ryuhei, "You are bad at picking activities."

Ryuhei seemed creeped out. "Uh... yeah.  Sorry boss."

***

Shogo's eyes were a little wild.  Understandable, since he'd just been shot. 

"Are you feeling different now too?" Kazuo asked in a tremulous voice.

"...huh?"

"Different -- unlike before.  Strange.  Altered.  Shifted."

"I know what it means," said Shogo, in a voice that was still a mix between 'scared' and 'surprised,' with a little 'ow, that hurts' thrown in. 

"'Cause I do..."

"Since when do you use slang?" Shogo shifted the gun to be aiming right at Kazuo's head. "Huh?"

"You're a doctor, right?"

"What?"

Shogo was starting to develop the same expression Hirono had, that odd one that indicated that he doubted his companion had all his eggs in his mental basket.

"It hurts... I feel pain... and happy, and sad, and I think girls are sexually exciting..."

This last was true, though he hadn't thought about it much, but it had occurred to him a couple of times -- though he hadn't told Hirono -- that Mitsuko really had been very pretty.  The kind of girl he'd found sexually stimulating, actually.  The kind with large breasts.

"What?  This some kind'a fucking joke?"

"No joke."

Kazuo looked at Shogo.

"But I think it's going away..."

He got up and grinned.  He upturned his bag.

Ryuhei got so much emotion out of scaring others.  Can I do the same?  Hee hee... gonna scare Shogo's socks off!

Guns fell out like candy.  The machine gun he'd gotten from Yuko, the shotgun and pistol from Hirono.  And his PPK. 

"Goddamn..." said Shogo. "How many, huh?  How many kills--"

"Kills?  Uh... Hiroshi, Yuichiro, Keita, Hirono... um... I think I stepped on a bird's nest a while back..."

"Stop playing the fuck around!" yelled Shogo.

Ryuhei had been right.  This was fun!

I'm feeling!  I'm still feeling!  Ha ha ha!  Neener neener!

Reassured, Kazuo smiled.  He was still feeling -- and he loved it.  He could continue to enjoy frolicing in the mud, or attempting to build hang gliders.  Which he'd never done but wanted to try.

But to continue!

"Your hand's injured, Shogo," said Kazuo brightly. "You can't fire your gun."

Shogo's eyes were wide, his breathing labored.

"But I can fire all of mine!  I can even juggle them while firing them!  Wheee!" Kazuo began tossing the machine gun and pistol back and forth in his hands.

Shogo kept staring.  It looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

And then, apparently, something clicked.  And not just the pistol that Kazuo had cocked while juggling it.

"You bastard.  Are you just messing with me?"

"Huh?" Kazuo stopped juggling.  The pistol fell to the ground.  The machine gun, higher up, fell and clipped him on the head. "Oww!"

Shogo ignored this. "You'd have shot me already if you wanted to, right?  Gettin' your kicks a new way now, huh?" He gestured at the guns and ammunition packages. "Hell of a lot of ammunition left for someone on a killing spree.  Let me guess -- one person attacked you, you got him, and found all these that he'd been stocking up."

Kazuo blinked.

"Waaaah!"

He'd been found out!  The game was over, and --

And maybe he wouldn't feel anything more.  That would be awful, and it would all be Shogo's fault, for all he knew this could be the very last moment ever that Kazuo Kiriyama would ever feel a single emotion, and he loved to feel now, for he still had the mind of a child in so many ways and children know no self discipline, they want what they like and cannot bear its loss. 

"Waaaaaah!"

Shogo, evidently, was thinking things over.  Then he said, "What if there was another way for you to get your kicks?  Something exciting?" He put down the shotgun that he probably couldn't fire one-handed anyway.

"Huh?" Kazuo looked over.

With his good hand, Shogo fished out a note, pressed it against a tree, and searched for his pencil. He found it and scribbled.

Kazuo read silently, 'Attack goverment.  I'll walk you through collar defusing.'

Kazuo paused.  It sounded fun enough.  But what if it wasn't?  What if it was the worst thing of all, boring?  And besides, he wanted to feel right that moment -- wanted to go swimming, or searching for butterflies, or something like that.

"...at least could you bandage this?" asked Shogo.  He waved his bloody hand. "Hurts like Hell."

***

Twenty minutes passed.

During this time, Kazuo mostly wrapped bandages and performed medical care.  Shogo had prevailed on Kazuo to bandage his hand. "You'll feel good, I guess, if you do it right.  People react positively when they do altruistic things."

Kazuo bound it expertly.  But he didn't feel good.  Maybe Shogo was just a big stinky liar, out to ruin his fun.

Kazuo's four guns still lay in the center of the clearing.  Kazuo made no move towards them.  He knew that he could get them before Shogo if he felt like it.

Shogo and Kazuo were sitting, leaning against trees.  Shogo seemed anxious to get up and start going, but hadn't done so yet.  For some reason.  He'd explained in written notes exactly what Kazuo would need to do, what wires to pull and were to unscrew, to get the collars off.  He said they should wait until they were recuperated, though.  Apparently dripping blood into the collars might result in negative side effects of some kind.

Why were they wearing collars, anyway?  It was odd.  Did someonewant to control them?

I wonder if we're supposed to be doing something?

As for Kazuo, he'd treated his own wounds.  Shogo had offered helpful advice, which he'd ignored.  Shogo was anti-fun, saying things like, "Might not want to drink the rubbing alochol." Which was odd.  Shogo had scrounged some up somewhere, and didn't even want to feel what it tasted like. (It was pretty good, actually, though Kazuo had heaved it back up shortly after trying it -- but he could try some more later, when Shogo wasn't whining about 'conserving medicine' or something stupid like that.)

Anyway.

"What do you think you'll do if you get out of here?" Shogo asked.

"Build hang gliders.  Hunt bugs.  Do nuclear fusion.  Eat candy."

"I... probably should have expected that." Shogo gave him a funny look.

More time passed. 

Shogo had managed to worm out a lot of information from Kazuo as they had healed during the past half hour.  He said, "So you feel now, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm." Kazuo was watching a bug.

"Well, can't tell you for sure if it'll stick.  But it might, though.  The brain does weird things."

"But it might not?"

Shogo shrugged.

That was a yes.  It might not stick.

Suddenly, the urgency of his situation flooded back to Kazuo.  Here he was, having only a little fun, feeling a minute amount, when he might be losing his emotions by the second.  By the millisecond!  By the nanosecond!

He had to feel.  Quickly.  Think of all the time he'd already wasted!

Wasted because of Shogo, who'd undoubtably sat there, contemplating, thinking of how to lure Kazuo into a feeling-less stupor!

The evil meanie!

Kazuo let out a cry and dove for the guns.

"Oh fuck!" Shogo couldn't get to them in time, nor could he shoot his shotgun one-handed (he'd set it down near where he himself was sitting), so he threw his shotgun like he was in a bad action movie.  It bonked Kauzo on the head -- twice in one hour he'd been bonked by a gun -- but he ignored this. 

He reached for a gun.  He grabbed Hirono's shotgun.

He picked up the gun and turned to see Shogo.

"Don't do this, Kazuo!" yelled Shogo. "Fuck, we can get out of here!  You're probably healed enough, you can do the fucking plan--"

"No!  I'll feel!"

"You've lost it!"

Kazuo shot, Shogo threw his duffel, and Kazuo ended u and blew Shogo's bag to shreds.  While he pumped the shell Shogo leapt at him, good hand swinging.  Kazuo leapt backwards --

And his head felt woozy for a moment, perhaps an after-effect of the lightning strike or the tree he'd run into earlier.  He stumbled.

Shogo grabbed a gun that he could use -- Hirono's little pistol.  He fired at Kazuo, who jumped at a tree, rebounded, and soared over Shogo's head.

Kazuo fired down.  Shogo's cat-like reflexes saved his life as he dodged.  But then Kazuo was back on the ground.

Kazuo brought his gun around --

So did Shogo --

And they ended up pointing their guns at each other's faces.

"...killers feel something," said Kazuo. "I know that! From when I killed Hirono, who was a great friend even if she was a whore!"

"Fuck it, Kazuo." Shogo's eyes were darting all over the place, but weren't leaving Kazuo for quite enough time for Kazuo to shoot him without him shooting back. "You've lived your whole life being a hedonist, and now you've finally got a chance to do something good -- but of course you'll do this.  People like you always do."

"I have to, to feel as much as I can before I loose it!"

"Feel good, Kazuo--"

"It all feels good!"

They were silent a moment.

Then Kazuo laughed.

"I know!  I have the answer!  This is like the coin flip -- but there's no edge!"

"No edge?" Shogo's breaths were tight.  He was clearly preparing himself to pull the trigger.

Kazuo smiled and nodded. "This way even if you shoot me I'll feel good cause I died helping you!  And if I kill you I'll feel guilty!  And repetant!  And sad!  And maybe energized 'cause death can be so much fun!"

Shogo looked lost.

Kazuo adjusted his grip so that he was holding the shotgun with one hand.  Four fingers supported it, one rested on the trigger, and the gun's butt was on his shoulder.  This was the sort of thing that one had to be Kazuo Kiriyama to do, but he did it.  With his other hand he got out a pen from his pocket.

"Remember those things you told me earlier?  You can do them with the left hand too!" And then he laughed again, because Sho would have made a masturbation joke there that undoubtably would have been very funny.

Shogo clearly wanted to just shoot Kazuo.  But Kazuo's attention never wavered long enough for it to be a sure thing.

Kazuo flicked the cap off, and then began writing very carefully.  On Shogo's forehead.

"I'll just put the things you can reach with your left hand to get the exact same effects," he said as he scribbled. "Then you just need to find a mirror."

Shogo couldn't think of anything to say to this besides, "But... it'll be backwards."

"I'm writing it backwards!"

It took perhaps five lines to explain how to get the collar off with the left hand active instead of the right.  Most of the things were the same, it would just require rotating the collar some and adjusting the angle of the screwdriver (so it didn't bump anything sensative, which would also cause those uinpleasant side effects, according to Shogo.)

When he was done he smiled.

"...fuck it," said Shogo. "I'd ask you to think about it but you're not going to."

I've thought all my life.

Now I want to feel!

Kazuo began to pull the trigger.

OC:  Approved by Rob!
First part of FTD!

Yuko was early for school. That was her first mistake.

She had meant to come in to do her homework in peace, and maybe get a bit of help with her maths from Satomi, who was another early bird. If she had some time left over, she might read for a while, or just enjoy the classroom in its peacefully empty state, without all the noise and chaos of forty-three people, teacher included, who didn't want to be there.

Yuko did. School was okay.

It was only when she had made an elaborate effort to open and close the classroom door without making a sound that she realised she did not have the place to herself. Mitsuko, Hirono and Yoshimi had beaten her to it. By their smudged makeup, thrown-on uniforms and takeaway breakfast bits and pieces, she could tell they hadn't been home that night. No other reason to be at school so early.

She'd have to sit down. She couldn't just walk into the room, see them, and walk out again. They'd tease her about it later. But if she got her homework out, they'd tease her about that, and if she started reading - especially if she started reading her Bible... they might take it off her, read bits out in their stupid voices and maybe even tear a page, just because they could.

And then, she realised, she wasn't alone. Not just the voice in the back of her head calmly telling her to confront adversity and not to be afraid - there was someone really, actually there. At the front, absorbed in a book of her own... it was Mizuho Inada.

Yuko practically ran across the classroom to grab the seat next to her. The Souma gang, dazed from tiredness, gave her little more attention than a raised eyebrow.

She didn't know Mizuho that well, but at that moment, she was very glad she was there. Even if she was reading a book with a large picture of a demon on the cover. Yuko tried to ignore that, and said, tentatively, "Hi."

Mizuho said, "Oh, hey, Yuko. I didn't hear you come in."

That was the idea. Yuko hated noise and made none herself if she could help it. She responded with a helpless smile, and asked, quickly, "You came in to read?"

"Yes. It's quiet in here. Do you want a look?" She waved the demon book at Yuko.

"I'm all right. I have my own book." Yuko fished it out of her bag. If Mizuho was bothered by her choice of reading matter, she didn't show it. Yuko began to leaf through her book, but Mizuho's intense concentration was distracting her.

"70hp," muttered Mizuho, making a pencil note on one page.

"HP?" Yuko asked. The whole page looked like a maths problem.

"Hit points," Mizuho explained, looking half happy to have someone show an interest, half just please leave me alone now and let me read. "This fire elemental has seventy. That's quite good. Means it can take a lot of damage."

"...oh. Cool?"

"Pretty much."

Silent reading resumed. Yuko didn't think they ever spoke again, but demons and their worth in numbers seemed to stick in her mind.