[BR]Roleplay

Shuuya Nanahara; G7-E6. [Save the buckshot and turn up the band]

2008-07-18T04:40:51Z

I don't know when I realized the dream was over
Well, there was no particular hour, no given day
You know, it didn't go down in flame
There was no final scene, no frozen frame
I just watched it slowly fade away
-The Eagles, Waiting in the Weeds

"So, guys, what do you think?"

It was 4:06 pm after school had ended for the day, and a majority of the boys of Shiroiwa Junior High School were now crowded around the bulletin board, the din of voices rising and swelling above their heads, filling the hallway with excited chatter. Pushing his way to the very front was Shuuya Nanahara, and his genial face was bright and elated. "Hey, let me get a look!" he said, grinning as a friend tugged him closer to the board.

The paper was printed out with large, solid block letters proclaiming the announcement everybody had been counting the days to.

Shiroiwa Junior High School Boys' Third Year Basketball Team Lineup

POINT GUARD .......................... Shuuya Nanahara
CENTER ................................... Shinji Mimura
OFF-GUARD ............................. Kenji Anzai
SHOOTING GUARD ................... Sazawa Yamagi
POWER FORWARD .................... Minoru Hoshikawa

Reserve Players

Masakage Miyazaki
Saito Suzuki
Soushi Miyashita

"All right!" Shuuya shouted, jumping back and thrusting his fists into the air, rock-star style. "Made it!" he added, almost as loudly, while his classmates around him whooped and cheered. It was as though Shuuya couldn't stop grinning as pats on the back went all around to those who had made it onto the team.

"As though you ever doubted it," came the soft chuckle from near him. Shuuya turned. There stood Yoshitoki Kuninobu, his best friend for almost all of his memory, with his hands in the pockets of his school coat and his eyebrows raised with humor.

Shuuya clapped his hand on Yoshitoki's shoulder. "C'mon, Yoshi! Don't want to get a swelled head now, huh?" He winked, raising a finger to tap at his skull. "Can't get ahead of myself. I'd rather just stay behind you." He gave Yoshi a playful shove. "Hey, where's Mimura?" Eagerly, he stood up on his tip-toes, though it wasn't neccessary to do so to spot the tall boy. He couldn't find him in the cluster of students.

"Figures he wouldn't even come to the postings," said Yoshi, rolling his eyes and giving a soft laugh. "He probably saw it coming even more than you did. That's the Third Man for you."

"Haha! Yeah!" Shuuya grinned and nodded. "Shinji already knew. He was center last year, too."

"And you were point guard last year," Yoshi pointed out. "Any new tricks up your sleeve, Wild Seven? Or is it just going to be the same-old, same-old?" The two boys began to move out of the crowd and into the hallway.

"Hey-!" Shuuya said indignantly. "I'll have you know that that 'same-old, same-old' got us the champion title last year. Along with Shinji's ace playing, that is." He rubbed his hands together in eagerness, his mind flooded with memories of their second year- the year he'd met Shinji Mimura. They'd both made it onto the basketball team, and combined, their skill was deadly on the court. A perfect rhythm and beat. Shuuya almost felt like he and Shinji were instruments perfectly tuned to each other. On the basketball court, they made the most rockin' music there was. They had single-handedly- actually, that would be double-handedly- led their team through to the finals and then onto victory. In that way, it made sense for Yoshitoki to say that Shuuya expected to wind up as the team's point guard again. A part of Shuuya had expected it, too.

"Well, everybody's expecting you to earn it again," said Yoshi passively. "And I'll be watching every game, as usual."

Shuuya's eyes filled with warm thoughts for this friend. "Aaw," he said, trying to stifle down his sudden rush of affection with a noogie. Yoshi shouted and flailed against him, grabbing his arms to get him off. Shuuya laughed and continued, rubbing his hand into Yoshitoki's head. "And you better be cheering! Promise you'll cheer!"

"I promise!" gasped Yoshi through his indignant shouts mixed with laughs. "I promise, Shuu, now just lay off-"

"Hey, kids."

There was that distinctly familiar voice. Shuuya released his friend and gave a shout of greeting. "Mimura!"

Shinji Mimura, basketball center crowned thrice, stood in front of them, one hand on his hip, the other twirling a basketball on his finger. A classic, confident image. Shinji Mimura exuded self-assurance. His grin was lopsided, crooked on the left side, and his eyebrows had an amused slant to them. Shinji looked as though he was always sharing a private joke on the rest of the world.

"Catch." With a resonating thud, Shinji popped the ball off of his finger and bounced it once towards Shuuya. Shuuya caught it expertly while Yoshi stood on, catching his breath. He grinned smugly, tossing the ball from hand to hand with loud smacks.

"Can't wait for practice to start, Mimura," he said, setting in right away. "Man, things are gonna be great this year. Our lineup's awesome. Anzai was on the baseball team last year, you know? He's fast as- he's fast as Eddie Van Halen's fingers!" To his side in his peripheral vision, he saw Yoshitoki roll his eyes, but ignored this. "It's going to be amazing. Straight-out amazing."

Shinji observed Shuuya's tirade with a slow grin and half-lidded eyes. "I know it," he said simply, and that was good enough: because Shinji did know. If Shinji said he knew that things were going to turn out awesome, then they were. Shuuya trusted that. He believed in it. Shinji was never wrong.

"Yeah," said Shuuya, nodding a few times appreciatively. He tossed the basketball back to Shinji, who caught it while looking in the other direction.

"Want to toss some hoops back at my place?" Shinji flicked a thumb over his shoulder. "It can't hurt to warm up a little. I bet you're about as limber as an iron rod, lazing around all summer like you did."

"Hey!" Shuuya said, frowning. "I didn't laze." He suddenly looked to Yoshitoki, uneasily. "Did I laze?"

"Well," said Yoshitoki thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling. "You did nap in the sun with your guitar a lot. Sounds pretty lazy to me."

"You're a lot of help," groaned Shuuya as Shinji gave a laugh. "And I thought you were my friend."

"Coming?" said Shinji, when he'd recovered slightly.

"Yeah, of course!" said Shuuya, wanting to prove Shinji wrong about being lazy. He adjusted his coat, tossing it over an arm and striding up to Shinji. "Hey, Yoshi. You too?"

Yoshitoki slid his hands back into the pockets of his coat. "No, that's okay," he said, raising and lowering a shoulder. "Go on. You guys need to work on techniques and stuff."

"You sure?" Shuuya's eyebrows fell slightly with his small frown.

"Yep, I'm sure." Yoshi raised two fingers in a salute, and then smiled. "I'll see if I can't accompany Hiroki out tonight. He said he was doing some errands, and I might pick up some groceries for Ms Anno."

"Oh," said Shuuya, blinking. "Well... If you say so."

"Ta," said Shinji with a curt nod and his trademark half-smile.

"Catch you later, Yoshi?" said Shuuya with a lingering smile as Shinji began to walk down the hallway.

"Yeah, of course." Yoshitoki gave him a strange look.

"Right, okay," said Shuuya, unsure of why he felt so uncertain all of a sudden. "See you." He and Yoshitoki clapped each other on the back and Shuuya then turned to catch up to Shinji. He followed the Third Man's long strides, tossing one look back over his shoulder down the hallway, but Yoshi was already gone.

He focused on Shinji. "Let's do this," he said decisively.

A strong nod from Shinji. "That's it," he said. "We're going to do this right, all the way. You just try to keep up with me, bro."

Shuuya tried to concentrate wholly on Shinji- there was still a nagging feeling at the back of his head (what was that back there with Yoshi? Was he feeling... left out, maybe? Because I'm on the basketball team again this year?) which he tried to stifle. All he could do was make the best of things. Springsteen had once said that nothing came easy. You just had to make the best of it all.

Right now, what he needed to do was rely on Shinji- because he had the ace hook, the ball in the net. It was time to come up with a new rock song with original lyrics and a fresh new beat: Year Three Conquers.

He wondered briefly if he could sum up his friendship with Yoshitoki in a song, too. But they'd been together so long that Shuuya knew that it would never be just a single song- it'd be an entire album. But that would mean that the mood of it changed every now and then. Not every song could be upbeat.

But every song had a meaning. It all meant something- and lyrics could be interpreted in so many different ways. And, yeah, he'd listen to the good man Springsteen and make the best of it all.

Shuuya eased the crick out of his neck, tilting his head to one side and then the other. A couple of hours had passed since his departure, and he'd since been walking- and occasionally jogging or running to keep himself alert- around, finally exiting the school zone and heading northwards. He figured that his best chance was to keep moving if he wanted to run into anybody he knew.

His pack contained two bottles of water, and he sipped only a small amount from one of them when his throat grew dry from the walking. His pack had also contained his weapon, which he finally looked at... A knife. An army knife. (He'd seen one before in a book.) Not bad. But also not good. His head had been throbbing insistently with the pressure of wanting to meet someone- anyone, and he was beginning to seriously consider the idea of finding a high point on the island, cupping his hands around his mouth, and shouting for his classmates to join him.

Exactly what was his goal here? Did he even have one? Did he even have a plan? If Shuuya was told to answer, he'd have to force a 'no'. Well, he thought to himself blankly, I've just got to run into somebody.

But two hours had passed. His Hattori Hanzo watch, which hadn't been taken away from him when they were all brought here, told him so. And throughout these two hours, he hadn't run into anybody since his encounter with the class representative, Kyoichi Motobuchi. It was utterly bizarre. There are forty-two of us. I've got to find somebody. Anybody.

But it just wasn't meant to be. C'est la vie. (Hey, that rhymes. Gotta remember that one for-- no, stop it, Nanahara. Now's not the time. Probably never again.)

He ran over song lyrics underneath his breath to keep himself occupied, reciting well-worn-over lyrics and miming the guitar movements to go along with them. "Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger," he mouthed the English words. He used to have trouble with some of the pronounciation, but now when he sung them he was almost smooth. It impressed the Music Club hugely- and it had especially impressed Kazumi Shintani, who...

Shuuya shook his head, sadly. That ship had sailed. He could sing a thousand love songs, but... He blew out a long breath of air, suddenly distracted by thoughts of her. He'd once told Yoshitoki, 'I don't think I'll ever get over her'.

In this situation though- the Program- there would be a lot more to get over. His life. Unless he got out somehow--

No, no, no. The only way to get out of here was to win, wasn't it? Last man standing. (And there was a song like that, the lyrics of which went 'See those real, live, calloused fingers/Wrapped around those guitar strings/Kiss the lips where hurt has lingered/It breaks the heart to hear him sing'. Shuuya felt it was especially poignant even before he had wound up here.)

The forest-like area gave away to roads and some fields eventually. Reading his map, Shuuya realized that he was given a choice of heading to a field of tangerine trees or a farmhouse. Tangerines sounded tempting- he wondered if they were in season right now and if he could gather some to pack into his bag- but the farmhouse served as a sign of shelter. Maybe he could get some rest and then go for some tangerines later. Reenergized, he would be better able to seek out his friends.

He headed towards the farmhouse. A long path stretched up to it, and abandoned farm equipment was everywhere, giving the place a distinctly eerie feel. Shuuya looked around, but he still saw or heard nothing aside from his own footsteps and breathing.

How is it that everybody is just gone? Did they really get that far without me?

He stumbled up to the barn, where a rake was leaning against the shed. He placed a hand on the wall and rested. The rake fell abruptly with a loud CRASH.

Shuuya jumped. "Damn-!" he hissed, scrambling downwards to pick it up. Once he was on the ground, though, he froze and stayed there, suddenly gripped with paranoia. Maybe somebody had heard him- he hadn't even checked inside the barn yet.

"Shit," he mumbled underneath his breath, digging his hands into the dirt.

Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps on the ground.

All pretense of staying still abandoned, Shuuya reacted instinctively. His instinct was to sit up and see whoever it was (later on he would realize exactly how dumb this was).

He first thing he saw was the sharp-looking shoes. Expensive sneakers of an exotic, foreign brand. Pure white, aside from some scuffing along the soles. Streaked with sharp blue lightning bolts down the sides.

Shuuya's heart began to thud and crash like a brand-new set of drums in his chest.

He lifted his eyes up- up the long legs- and then up through the slim body in the school coat- and then to the sharp chin and quirked mouth and yes, to the glint of silver at the ear and the spiked, tousled hair and Shinji Mimura!

"Mimura!" Shuuya shouted, and it was deafeningly loud. His knees hit the dirt roughly as he moved to stand, leaving his pack and its weapon on the ground. "Oh, man, it's you! Mimura!"

"Whoa," said Shinji, taking a step back and lifting his hands as though in defense. But he released a free, easy laugh, one that sparkled through Shuuya's veins like the voices of his American rock star heroes did. It felt especially good now.

Shuuya took a step towards his friend- Shinji Mimura, the Third Man who had it made. His partner-in-crime on the court for two years now. The Shinji Mimura.

"D...damn," uttered Shuuya, as the corners of his mouth turned tremblingly up into a weak, disbelieving smile. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn, Mimura."

"Cool down, will you?" Shinji elevated an eyebrow apprehensively, flicking his earring. It gave a sharp ting, shining in the moonlight. He shifted his shoulders, glancing around their surroundings. "Someone might hear you, you idiot." But the way he said 'idiot' was teasing, almost warmly, like Shinji always did. "Come on. Get inside." He flicked two fingers at Shuuya- always so damn cool; Shinji exuded coolness- and motioned for him to follow.

Shuuya did, practically tripping over himself as he did so. His eyes felt as though they were leaking dangerously- he gave a trembling laugh and smeared the back of his hand across his eyes, feeling ridiculous. Suddenly, he remembered one moment from a basketball game last year: it was in the finals, and they had been down by just a couple of points. Things were looking hopeless, and Shuuya had hurt his ankle- pent up with frustration, the tears had gathered at his eyes, but Shinji had placed his hands on Shuuya's shoulders and told him firmly that he wasn't going to cry- and that they were going to win. Spurred on and inspired by Shinji's can't-lose attitude, Shuuya grit his teeth through the pain and played through the rest of the game with his hurt ankle. They wound up winning.

"Mimura- damn it, Mimura-" Shuuya's voice cracked with joy as he stumbled after Shinji. He seemed incapable of saying anything else. "Been looking for you, and you just... Bang, just like that. Like always."

Shinji gave a drawn-out sigh. "What am I going to do with you, Shuu?" He waved his hand as they entered the dimness of the barn. Shinji moved past a tractor.

"Stay with me," said Shuuya suddenly and firmly. "You're going to stay with me."

"Yep. Of course," said Shinji plainly, as though it was fact. "I found you. Who knows what you'd do if I let you go again?"

"Aww, Mimura-" said Shuuya, choking up again. His cheeks felt like they were hurting from smiling.

"Would you stop with the blubbering mess? It's getting pretty hard to control myself over here, and I'm not sure that a crying jag's going to help out what we're doing. You want to cry, you can borrow my handkerchief and do it over there." Shinji said all this as he leaned on the wall in a brightened corner of the barn where moonlight streamed in. "I need to keep concentrating over here."

This comment caused Shuuya to snap to reality a little more. "Concentrating? On what?" He walked over to Shinji and lowered his pack bag from his shoulder, letting it drop to the hay-and-dirt-covered floor.

"A plan," said Shinji.

His words hung in the air for a moment. Shuuya's face went through many different expressions- before finally settling on awe.

"R...really, Mimura?"

"Would you stop with the shining puppy eyes?" Shinji's white teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

"C-can't help it." Shuuya reached up to wipe at them again. "You have a plan, Mim? Are we- are we going to get everybody together? Yoshi, Hiroki, Yutaka? Let's... let's do it. Let's go call everybody out. If we find a high point-"

Shinji raised a hand to silence him. "Firstly, Elvis," he said. "Yes, I have a plan. Secondly, yes, it does involve getting a few people together. Maybe not 'everybody'- hell, let's be realistic here: there might not be time or the means to do so- and thirdly... Don't even finish that thought about a 'high point'. I'm not going to turn myself into a sitting duck, and I won't let you do it either."

"Then... how?" Shuuya said, but only to supplement what Shinji would say next. Because Shinji would know how. He always did; he never let Shuuya down.

"You'll see," said Shinji with a nod. "I'm glad I found you when I did. It makes things a lot quicker. I thought I'd have to try harder. For somebody who looks so good in the court, you sure are a moose in the bush."

Shuuya rubbed at the back of his neck, flushing in the dark. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, tell me the plan." It was finally settling in that this was real. Shinji was here. Shinji already knew what he was doing. Shuuya knew he'd never buy into this. And, standing next to the Third Man, he was filled all over again with hope and courage. Together, they could do anything. They could even- did Shuuya dare to think it?- get out of this place. Maybe. Definitely.

Slam-goddamn-dunk.

[[ooc; SHINJI IS MAI NPC. (This is funny, because I started this post intending to ask Allen if we could meet up. LOL) Thank you very much to chat for putting up with my demands for Japanese boys' names. XD; Because I am too lazy to come up with my own. THANKS, CHAT. :Dv On that note, I have barely any idea how a basketball team works. I'M REALLY, REALLY COOL. 8D; PC control was approved by Lili! Thanks ♥]]

Mitsuru Numai - H7-J6

2008-07-18T01:20:39Z

“Ffffuck,” Mitsuru winced, “Goddamn, it’s gonna be tough wearing a shirt to school tomorrow. Maybe I’ll pass a few days.”

“Hey, it was your choice to get the biggest fucking tattoo you could find,” Hiroshi remarked, pretending to poke at Mitsuru’s back, “Now fuck off, it’s my turn.”

As Hiroshi sat back in the chair Mitsuru put a cloth over his back, soaking up the blood. He wasn’t trying to be a pussy about it, but damn did that thing ever hurt. Not that he had wanted to back out – Mitsuru was the one who talked the rest of the gang into getting tattoos. Not any special ‘gang symbol’ or anything - just in case one of them left the gang and was now stuck with a permanent reminder of something they did in Junior High.

Despite the fact that they were only 15 it was easy to find someone who’d do a tattoo for them, no parental permission required as long as they paid upfront. Tattoos in general weren’t very popular in Japan, mostly worn by Yakuza members. When someone’s main clientele consists of criminals and gang members, it’s pretty easy to assume they won’t care about such petty moral obligations like ‘But what will your parents think?’

The tattooist went by the name Spur, but wouldn’t give out his real name. No wonder, giving your real name to the kind of people that usually came here was probably a bad idea. He was very secretive and the parlor itself was messy and small, but he was a damn fantastic artist. Mitsuru saw some prints rolled up against the wall, so Spur probably sold his artwork as a ‘normal’ day-job.

Mitsuru wasn’t really looking for a fantastic artist, just the first guy he could find, really. He just struck it lucky this time – too bad about the price. Luckily Kazuo’d taken down a bunch of guys who were pretty loaded (probably because they themselves stole from others), and that was more than enough to cover the cost.

Ryuhei went first, because he knew exactly what he wanted: the katakana for ‘Health and Happiness’ on his shoulder, for some reason that he didn’t care to explain at the moment. It probably meant something personal, but Mitsuru thought it was way too small. He had tried to talk Ryuhei into getting something crazy like a big bloody knife, but was not a very convincing speaker.

Shou had gotten a tattoo of a rose on his lower back. Mitsuru didn’t want to think about Shou right now.

Mitsuru had his tattoo picked out for quite a while now, but he offered to go last because his would take the longest. However, Kazuo and Hiroshi were having trouble deciding so he went while they picked. Hiroshi had a lot of ideas, and Kazuo honestly didn’t seem to care what he got. If Kazuo didn’t like it someday he’d have enough money to cover it up, Mitsuru reasoned.

Mitsuru’s tattoo was of two large machine guns, one on each shoulder blade in a wing-like pattern. In between the guns in fancy writing was the phrase “Carpe Diem” – it was in some Western language Mitsuru didn’t quite understand, but he had seen it once before, somewhere meaningful. It had been a long time ago that the event was blurry in his mind, but he always remembered that phrase. Hopefully no one would come up to him and tell him that it meant “Dog Shit” or something like that.

Hiroshi ended up with a tattoo of a snake coiled around his upper left arm – pretty cool, Mitsuru thought, even though Hiroshi didn’t really like snakes. Not that he was afraid of them; he just didn’t give a damn about snakes. Better than a goddamn rose, at least.

Kazuo took a few more minutes to choose, though no one dared try to hurry him up. Either out of respect or out of fear, most everyone let Kazuo take as long as he damn well felt like taking. Finally, he pointed to one of the sketches in one of the tattoo art binders that were on display.

“This one.”

Even now it didn’t come to Mitsuru what Kazuo’s logic was in picking his tattoo – a pair of dice on his chest. It was almost as if he had flipped the pages and picked one by chance – which was fitting for a pair of dice. Kazuo didn’t really seem like one to gamble, though, he was much too smart to risk everything he had on something he couldn’t control.

Of course, if Kazuo ever lost anything really important it wasn’t like he couldn’t just take it back. No one – not older students nor teachers nor even Yakuza – could stand up to Kazuo Kiriyama.

How the Hell Kazuo got to be so freakishly good at everything he did was a mystery even to Mitsuru. He just wanted to do something, and he did it. No limitations, effortlessly. Nothing challenged Kazuo. Nothing stressed him out. There could be a surprise quiz on nuclear physics and Kazuo’d probably ace it, he was just crazy like that.

Kazuo Kiriyama was everything that Mitsuru had ever wanted to be. The ultimate badass, the untouchable. If they hadn’t been thrown into the Program Mitsuru had no doubt that Kazuo would’ve been famous in some way or another. And maybe, just maybe, by association Mitsuru would be famous too.

But, fuck that now. Fame? Who needs fame? In a few minutes the hopes and dreams of 42 people were wiped clean. Now it was almost a dream just to see the next week, to be home, to be fooling around at school. There were 41 people who’d never do that again.

Unless Kazuo could get them out of it. Somehow find away to fuck the Program up so bad that it wouldn’t know what hit it. At least try to save the Kiriyama Family – Mitsuru didn’t really care about anyone else right now. Sure, there were other people in the class who were okay (Izumi in particular was a real hottie, but Mitsuru wouldn’t stand a chance with her anyways), but if only he and the rest of the Kiriyama Family could make it out alright, it’d be fine.

Mitsuru panted. He had been running for only a few minutes but each step seemed to take hours, his heart pounding so violently that it seemed to shake him from the inside out.

This ain’t a movie, Mitsuru. You’re gonna fucking die, or they’re gonna fucking die. Either way, someone fucked.

Mitsuru thought he and the gang stood a pretty good chance. Who else in the class was a genuine badass? Shinji? Maybe, but he was just a goddamn show-off. Hiroki was strong but the guy wouldn’t hurt a fly. Mitsuko’s gang, well, they were tough but they’d probably rely on their…feminine assets. Any other day Mitsuru would’ve gladly fucked any one of Mitsuko’s crew, but he wasn’t gullible. Now it was life or death and there was no way he’d be handing his dick over to fucking Medusa.

He looked at the map. He’d passed the farm a while ago so he must be nearing the southern point. He was on top of the hill now and though it was still fairly dark outside – yes, he could see someone moving around down there! Two people, it looked like. Maybe someone else had gotten there first. Since he was the last one to leave, that was understandable.

He snuck quietly down the hill, gun pointed just in case it wasn’t Kazuo down there. He didn’t want to run down yelling at anyone, that strategy would likely end in him getting shot. Kazuo probably wouldn’t appreciate him attracting any attention, either.

As he approached he saw the familiar outline of Kazuo’s slicked back hair and – that was all. No one else. Huh, Mitsuru thought, I must be seeing things. Either way, Kazuo was there, and that was all that mattered. He had to wonder where the rest of the gang was, though. Why were they taking so long? He could understand Shou wimping out but the rest of ‘em – they trusted Kazuo as much as Mitsuru himself did, right?

“Hello Mitsuru.” Kazuo said, calm as ever. That’s right, Mitsuru thought, he knows he’s badass.

“Yo boss, what’s the plan?”

(EDIT: I forgot to mention but permission was given for the tattoos thing :O )

Chisato Matsui; G7-G8. [[with a little help from my friends]]

2008-07-17T04:52:34Z

((PC control approved by Jonathan! |D Apart from one line... tell me if you want it changing. The title is from The Beatles song, if anyone didn't know, which hopefully paralles what happens in this post, heh.))

The wind felt strong, blowing heavily against Chisato’s face. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she felt like it was going to blow her over. Her hair whipped against her hair, but Chisato didn’t bother to move it away. Her eyes were fixated on her friend – Haruka – hurt, lying on the floor, unable to move, spitting up mucus every few seconds, the wound in her head, after being bludgeoned by Chisato, was secreting small trickles of blood, which slipped down her face, dripping on to the grass below.

Time passed – only a few minutes, however, but here, time was a necessity. Chisato was still in the zone of the school – she turned her head, her eyes tearing away from Haruka, as she saw Yoshimi Yahagi, the last student in the class, slip out of the school and carry on her way. Looking back at Haruka, she noticed that her eyes were closed – she couldn’t be dead, no. Just knocked out. Kneeling down beside her, Chisato pulled back her own hand, slapping Haruka straight across the face, “wake up, Haruka!”

Haruka didn’t move. Chisato slapped her again, this time making a red mark on the side of her face. “Please… wake up, Haruka…”

After Chisato had almost given up hope, just about to leave her downed friend, when Haruka’s eyes opened – the look of fear was in her eyes, of the type of fear people get when they’re seconds away from death – Haruka didn’t know what was going on.

Chisato heard a wet cough from behind her and someone grab her leg, clawing at the bottom with their sharp fingernails, cutting deep into the leg. Chisato screamed, looking down and seeing Haruka, her eyes wide and bloodshot, trying to pull Chisato down to the ground.

“H-Haruka—what… what are you doing!?” Chisato kicked Haruka away, scrambling to the tree behind her, “stop, Haruka!”

“You,” Haruka wide a streak of blood from under her mouth, “tried to kill me, Chisato!” Launching herself forward, she took a lunge at Chisato’s neck, grabbing her almost instantaneously, not giving Chisato even more than second to move.

Falling to the floor – or rather, being pushed on the floor, Chisato knocked her head against the floor, which caused herself to wince in pain, allowing Haruka to push down further on her neck.

“W-why did you do it, C-Chisato?” Haruka’s voice rose in tempo, her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of the sockets, “I thought we were friends! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

way

was

have

that

proud

this

Feeling the hand heavy on her windpipe, Chisato couldn’t respond, only gasp for any air she could gather, taking any in, trying to stay conscious.

“I didn’t tell anyone I knew what you were doing!” Haruka pushed down harder, “no one! I kept it a secret… for you!”

Chisato felt the blood from Haruka’s wound drip onto her face – it felt hot and sticky against her skin. She tried to move her head out of the way, but Haruka wouldn’t let her.

Almost about to give up hope, Chisato spat on Haruka’s face, who responded by wiping it off, which freed Chisato from her grip, only momentarily – which thankfully, was just enough time. Chisato rolled to the side, picking up Haruka’s weapon which was on the ground, just a few metres away from where the two were having the scuffle.

Hitting Haruka on the back of the head, she sat on the girl, making her drop to the ground. Chisato wasn’t as heavy as she was before, but her weight was still enough to hold Haruka down. Haruka screamed, her head thrashed from side to side, her feet kicked, but she wasn’t able to move.

Holding whatever Haruka’s weapon was in the air, she drove it into Haruka’s mouth, stuffing it as far as she could down the girl’s throat. Chisato felt Haruka bite down on the object, as some desperate way to escape. Holding onto the weapon with all her strength, Chisato watched as Haruka slowly succumbed to her friend’s actions. It didn’t take long for Haruka to stop thrashing, to stop moving… to die.

Picking herself up, Chisato moved herself away from the corpse of Haruka. Chisato had tears in her eyes, which mixed with the own spit and blood of Haruka. The tears didn’t stop, they wouldn’t stop.

Haruka was dead.

Chisato, without thinking, picked up her own bag and ran away – she didn’t know where she was going, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t understand why she killed Haruka... she didn’t know what to think.

This wasn’t supposed to happen…

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

((I hope this wasn't too out of the way for you guys. ;-; I triiied. For the lulz, I had to keep Mr. Otaku around, aha. *loser* Anyway, Allen, if you want the stuff I wrote about Shinji changed, just tell me. I didn't think it'd matter, because I don't think anyone who Shinji dated is named, so I just made up a name, yar. XD))

Yumiko Kusaka (G9) When I'm lost at sea, I hear your voice and it carries me

2008-07-16T17:01:05Z

The most intricate thing to find in this world.
Is it the needle that you lost in the desert?

The most intricate thing to find in this world.
Is it the crow's feather that you lost in the darkness of the night?

The most intricate thing to find in this world is,
Realizing your own erroneous contemplation.
-Frederica Bernkastel

It had been a stupid argument. It was just a little charm. And her mother had wanted her to be safe and have a good trip. Yumiko had probably hurt her feelings.

And that charm looked old. It probably came from her hometown.

Yumiko had never been to her mother's hometown. All her mother would say about her family was that her father was dead. Any questions about her mother would result in her breaking whatever she had in her hands.

Since their mother wouldn't say anything about it, Mikio and Yumiko had gone digging in the attic one day. What they found permanently cemented their idea that their mother was an oddball, and possibly a violent one. Wrapped in old paper was a statue of what looked like the mascot of a fried chicken restaurant. An old baseball bat with a faded name written on the bottom. A billhook with blood on it.

"Her dad was probably a butcher!" Her brother had told her.

The last thing they found was a package of old picture with "The last festival" written on it. One the pictures itself featured a young girl with long hair tied into a ponytail laughing at a boy with what looked like brown hair. A girl who looked like had blonde hair was laughing in a manner that almost looked like that of a noblewoman. Finally, there was a girl who was almost certainly their mother hugging a little girl dressed like a priestess. The rest of the pictures showed them messing around at the festival in question.

Yumiko's stomach growled and she blushed, even though there was no one else around. She dug deeper into the bag, looking for the bread that Sakamochi had mentioned. Finding it, she pulled it out and started eating. Since she couldn't sleep, she decided to think through her plan.

First, find Yukiko and Shuuya.
Second, find others that might be willing to escape.

Let’s see, there was Noriko. Yukie and her friends, probably (Well, Satomi was a little scary, but she was still pretty close to the other girls). Mizuho, if she could get her head out of her fantasy games long enough to understand that they were in a real, dangerous situation, probably. Sakura and Kazuhiko. Kayoko and maybe even Takako. Mitsuko… Probably not, Yumiko was forced to admit.

Actually, if they were able to convince Hirono and Yoshimi, maybe Mitsuko would be willing to escape, too.

The question was whether or not Hirono and Yoshimi themselves would be willing to cooperate. Hirono seemed to be a tough, independent girl, but surely she could see that getting out of this would require teamwork? And Yoshimi had a boyfriend, that Yoji Kuramoto (who, now that Yumiko thought of it, had left the school right after her), so she’d probably want to escape with him, right?

Before Yumiko could decide whether or not to consider anyone else, she heard some rustling in the bushes outside. She shrugged and briefly dismissed it as a squirrel or something. The rustle happened again.

No. That sounded too big to be a squirrel. Could it be that someone had found the clinic and was trying to inspect it, to see if it was safe?

The rustling continued and was now right outside the window by the sofa where Yumiko sat. Of course, there were curtains blocking whoever was moving in the bushes from seeing her. Yumiko still edged away from the window, just to be safe. However, she slipped off the edge and fell on her bottom.

“Ow!” She couldn’t help but grunt. Then she heard a gasp and realized that she just alerted whoever was outside.

Shit. She thought to herself. Still, maybe it was a Yukiko? Cautiously, she climbed back onto the sofa and slowly pulled the curtain back.

(OOC: If this post seems short, it probably is. Just as a warning guys, I'm going on vacation in a couple days. I'll be gone for about a week. I might have internet access, I might not. I'll see how it goes. I hope that my next post has some interaction. At some point, I plan to have a post about Yumiko's mother.)

Keita Iijima {H8} The Final Straw

2008-07-16T05:03:04Z

“We’ll be alright…it’ll all turn out fine in the end…”

“In the end…”

Keita sobbed silently. He was still curled up in a small, cowardly ball in his cupboard that seemed to become increasingly cramped with every passing second.

“Mom…” He muttered to himself, in a tone that could be understatedly described as sorrowful.

Memories came back…

Images came back…

But in all the memories that would flash across his mind, the same, painful feeling would always return…

The image of his dad, unshaved, small droplets of alcohol slapped across his lips and chin, the stench of his unwashed body filling the vicinity.

“Fuggin kid!”

Then would come the slap. Keita had gotten so used to the slap that he either would dodge it, or take the blow as painless as he could by turning his head with the blow.

It didn’t matter to his father. The alcoholic man just wanted to feel the small amount of power that came with striking at someone weaker than him. This didn’t come hard because the man was quite large and had a decent set of muscles due to his work (When he did work) at a factory.

There was always pain when his father was around.. Emotional, physical…Keita couldn’t tell, it all felt the same, because it created the same thing inside Keita…the same feeling he always felt…

Fear.

There would be the pain…the pain and fear that made Keita want to curl up and make everything go away…

But he would always look over and see his mother, cowering in the corner, tears rolling down her cheeks as she silently watched, not possessing the will to do anything.

That’s what kept Keita standing, always shaking profusely, apologizing over and over to his father for things he didn’t do.

Luckily, Keita’s father wasn’t around the house very much. Usually he was at work or at his equally alcoholic friend’s house or at the local bar. Keita’s mother worked herself to the bone at a fabric store to make sure that she and her son would survive without the need of their father’s unstable income. But she was a broken woman. She would never say anything to the police for fear of causing a rift or losing her son.

“Mom…” Keita repeated to himself in sobs.

There was so much, so much that scared Keita in this world. His abusive father had made Keita a very flinchy person, who reacted in fright instinctively whenever he felt threatened.

Other’s called him a coward, but it was actually beyond that. He had been scared too many times…his nerves had been on edge so much, that there wasn’t much holding them together…something big could probably break them loose, and possibly shred his delusions…

That something…could be the program…

Something that could either shred his sanity, making him melt into a fearful puddle of insanity…or this thing could destroy his fear…fueling the heart that had lay dormant in his body for so long…

“I hate it…” Keita thought to himself, hugging his knees, burying his face into his chest.

“Why do people have to hurt each other!?” He thought sadly and angrily. “WHY!?”

Keita let out a high-pitched sob, continuing to shake. “Wars everywhere…TV, newspapers …everything is violence…everything is pain…” He thought.

“The program…The program is the worst of all. Why are we out here!? We didn’t do anything wrong!” He thought in between sniffles. “We were a good class…we had fun…we had adventures and bad times and good times and….uuuGGHRAGAA!” He suddenly shouted a little, spasming his body in anger and frustration.

He instantly covered his mouth with his hands…realizing with horror that this might attract attention.

And so he stayed completely still.

Only the sound of his shallow breathing amidst tiny sobs could be heard.

He stayed like this for another 10 minutes, his heart thumping his chest like mad, constantly reminding him of the terror he was in.

Finally, it came to Keita’s attention that…

He had to go to the bathroom.

He had to go bad. He had been holding it in but he was close to bursting now, no longer able to distract himself with his thoughts.

“Maybe I should just….go…” He thought, mulling over the possibility of just wetting himself.

“But…Then I’d be stuck like that for…” He said to himself. “B-But wait! No! What am I thinking! M-my friends are all out there! I shouldn’t be scared to just get up and go to the bathroom! My class…they’re all…” He said to himself, suddenly choking up again. “None of them are playing…right? I mean…even Kazuo…Shogo…they mighta done stuff in the past, I dunno but…we’re all in this together, we’re all a class…it’s the government that’s hurting us! We shouldn’t…we can’t…we can’t hurt each other…we’re all…friends…” He said, letting out a shivering sob.

With that thought, Keita felt a surge of courage well up in him. He quickly clambored out of the cupboard with a huff and made his way down the narrow hallway to his left, where he entered the bathroom. For once, and very surprisingly, he wasn’t caring in the least to the noise he might be making.

A minute later…after he had finished his business, Keita stood in the hallway…

Shaking…

Was it fear?

No.

It wasn’t fear this time…something else was going on…

The images were coming back…

All of them, like a slideshow in front of his brain as Keita clenched his eyes and jaw shut…

His mother crying…

His fathers angry hand…

The bullies at his school laughing at his flinchiness…

Shinji’s smile flashed across the screen of his brain…the smile faded…and turned into a look of disgust…

Sakamochi’s evil smile…

The faceless soldiers in the classroom…

His mother again…

It was enough. The images all seemed to swirl and explode like a firework as Keita suddenly opened his eyes fiercely.

“No fucking more!” He suddenly seethed through his teeth. “We’re a good class…good people…we don’t need this…there can’t be…I will make sure…that there is NO MORE FUCKING PAIN!” He shouted, his body convulsing in a rage that had never appeared in his nerves before.

His body twitched, moving inch by inch until it was outside the door of the house. He no longer cared about himself being out in the open.

“I. swear. to. God.” He seethed, taking a convulsed, pained breath in between each word. “If I get out of this, I’m taking my mom and running away. Then no more pain. No more pain for mom…no more pain for anyone else…we can do this…we’re all friends, we can do this…they don’t deserve this pain…everyone should be happy…no more pain…all of us will get together…and then WE’RE GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” He shouted up at the heavens, as if a desperate cry for humanity and himself.

With that, he finally buckled and fell to his knees, crying uncontrollably.

“I swear to god…”

Toshinori Oda; E-04. Pain.

2008-07-16T03:07:48Z

The smell, what was that smell? Toshinori cringed, his eyes popped open. He felt himself gasping; his breathing felt off. It felt disgusted, reattributed with a feeling of uneasiness and weariness. Just what the hell was that smell?

Toshinori rubbed the back of his head, smoothing his thick wavy hair with his fingers, which smoothly landed by his cheeks, sweat, there was sweat caressing from there.

His eyes looked narrowly around, blinking wildly, trying to re-collect the view. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, blinking tightly again. Finally, he saw a wall, on it, a framed photo. His eyelashes crossed, he winced again, his vision narrowed awkwardly at the photo, it was a photo of two people, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. One was a male, who had a cheerful smile. Beside him, a beautiful woman, smiling shyly. He attempted to move his arm, however, a numb resistance slowed him down. He glared at the photo, motioning himself closer to it. Finally, his fingers reached over to the photo, he removed it out of the frame, studying the details closely with his weary eyes. His eyes followed from left to right, to, it. There were four words labeled at the bottom. He rubbed his eyes again, squinting.

Labeled, on the bottom left, were two names; Kayoko Kinoshita and Yoshitoki Saito. He took a loud sigh, once again, motioning his fingers to his forehead, where he felt uneasy. The word, ‘headache,’ might as well have been stamped to his forehead. He groaned, his eyes then returning back to the photo. Kayoko. Kayoko…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Toshinori Oda lied in his bed, a telephone beside him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off that telephone, it had the look of a classic 1920’s style, the classic style had always looked appealing to little Toshinori. He wanted it to ring, maybe after it rang, he could visit her again.

Toshinori smiled, happily. He held a photo, on there, was his friend. His friend was a girl from school, a very close friend. Kayoko Maeda. She was well mannered, intelligent, and proper. Not to mention beautiful, she was very beautiful. He could tell her anything, she was something special. Toshinori knew everything would be okay in his life as long as she was in it, he knew she would be, she promised she would. He had her, he was alright.

His eyes went back to the phone, it was ringing! His hands grabbed a hold of the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Toshinori.”

“Kayoko! How are you?”

“Umm, I don’t know, kinda sad.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but, mum says we’re moving away.”

Toshinori felt as if his mind went blank, he was at a loss of words. It couldn’t be, she was joking, right?

“Toshinori?”

“Yeah, uhh, are you serious, Kayoko?”

“Yeah, aww, Toshinori, I’m sorry…”

“Why? Why are you moving? You said you’d be here for me!”

He heard her sigh loudly from the other line. “

America

, mom and dad say it’s more diverse and my brother wants to go there as well. They’ve got plenty of cool stuff there too, like rock and roll!”

Speechless couldn’t even begin to describe how Toshinori had felt. Hatred, betrayal; so much more was felt from him. Without a word, he hung the phone up. He walked back towards his bed, pulling out his violin. He started playing it, the phone rang, he played louder and louder, acting as if he could not hear it. *Hmmft, Rock and Roll, leave me for that shit? Keep calling, bitch, just keep on calling.*

Glaring angrily at the telephone, the violin screeched louder and louder, his emotions inside of him seemed to be bursting into a rage of inferno and hate.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Toshinori slammed his fist on the ground, grunting angrily. “Fucking bitch…why? Why won’t she leave me alone?!” His infuriated eyes looked upon the photo, focusing closely on the word, ‘Kayoko.’ Toshinori tore the photo into multiple pieces, growling angrily. No matter what, she came back into his head, the pain of losing, the pain of failure, the pain of not feeling loved. It all stalked him.

The class, so many in the class made him think of her, it brought back the pain, the sadness, the uneasiness, it brought back every damn emotion he wanted to leave him alone. The class, yes, the class. Who was still out there? Who would be a threat? Who would kill? Who wouldn’t kill? Who would hide? Who would play? Who would he have to kill last before winning? Toshinori grabbed his school bag, unzipping it, pulling out his school yearbook. He turned to the page that labeled his class photos, each in order, a headshot for each student. A red pen was in his hand, he guided it over to Tadakatsu’s face, placing a giant X through it. He was dead. No need for his pointless, ugly face to be seen.

After a while of studying through some of the classmates, his eyes went to Kayoko Kotohiki, his only friend. He thought the cruel irony of her sharing the same name as his ex would be enough for him to hate her, although, something about her impressed him. He hated admitting it to himself, but he cared about her, he really cared about her. He wondered where Kayoko must have been so far on the island. Has she killed? He smiled at the thought of it; he doubted she would kill, though. Actually, she would probably be helpless and hide. Still, what was it about her? Why did he care for her? Oda felt his stomach churning, he felt disappointed in himself. *Women…they can’t be trusted, look at Miyuki, look what she did to you, remember that? You can’t let it happen again. Women, hmmft, they’re only good for a few things. Cooking, cleaning, baring children, pleasing us men, and looking good. They aren’t worth or meant for much else. Yes, that’s the way to think.*

Toshinori felt his shoulder jump, as if someone had tapped it. “Huh?”
His eyes looked around the room in confusion.

“Did I teach you to think that way?”

Toshinori felt himself jumping out of his skin. Angrily, he muttered, “Wh—who’s there?!”

The voice sounded scarily familiar, but, there was no one there!

“You know who I am.”

Toshinori shook his head, he had to of been hallucinating, he wasn’t awake yet or something. The voice sounded like a figure of warmth, however, an old hero. It sounded like his Aunt Mihara. That couldn't have been right, though. She had died when he was a young boy, she had been raped and murdered by some Yakuza thug. Impossible...she couldn't be in front of him.

“Mihara? B—but! Y—you’re d--!”

The voice interrupted him. “Dead? Toshinori, oh, Toshinori, dead I may be in body, spirit, I roam freely.”

Toshinori felt his nerves wrecking him, his knees felt weak, his jaw hung open in fright. “Just, what the hell are you?!”

“Toshinori, do the right thing, you need to do what is right. You’re an intelligent, witty, boy with a lot of potential. Open yourself to it, Toshinori, to love. Find your light, my friend.”

Toshinori attempted to reply, but he felt no words coming, instead, he slouched back on the ground. He placed his hands to his eyes, he felt his body shaking, how weak he felt. Tears formed in his eyes. Pain, it’ll never go away. Never.

Noriko Nakagawa - F-08

2008-07-15T05:13:31Z

Noriko did not have much to worry about in her morning routine. What had once been a grueling process involving her mother and alarm clocks had long since become a simple pattern. Truth be told she did not even need the alarm clock that buzzed every morning to wake her up for school. It had become such a longstanding routine that Noriko only used it now as insurance. This morning had been no different, she had woken up 15 minutes before the alarm went off.

Normally Noriko applied various hair products for the first part of her morning. She had awoken this morning without one of her many bad hair days. For the first time in a awhile all she had to do was go to the bathroom and brush her hair. It felt nice not having to do such a ridiculous amount of things to her hair for it to be normal. Once in a while it was nice to feel tangles come out with the simple stroke of a brush and her hair to stay straight through the day with only a little hair spray.

It was a simple thing she could enjoy.

Noriko had never tried to be popular; she had tried to be pretty. She would always put on the slightest touch of make up and pride herself in being just a little prettier. No one ever told her how pretty she was or solicited her, she had never tried to be that way. But the straightened hair and the glossy lipstick she applied only once during the day did a lot for her because she could go throughout the day and define her appearance in a simple and yet humble way: cute.

Cute was not stuck up or caught in herself, right?

She laughed at herself; it was pointless to be caught up in these thoughts. . She could try and think about things in a difficult way or she could just be done with it and think about more pleasant things. So instead of focusing on such meticulous details Noriko thoughts about her dreams. There had been no dream that night, and the vivid dreamer had always spent the first part of the day thinking about the dreams. Sometimes they were simple dreams in which she would spend the day going to the mall or spend time with her friends.

But even the simplest dreams could be vivid. Yes, Noriko recalled even the deeply etched words in the side of the mall, she recalled every name that was named there. Sometimes they would be a classmates name and they would be called a whore, and for days she would wonder if it were true. There would be abnormal colors in her friends' favorite clothing. The mall would always have purple glass on it's sliding doors, the shops they went into would be clear. She could recall the purple patterns in a hair salon, and for days she had blushed because she had recalled the black and white stripes lining the shop of a store filled with lingerie.

The simplest dreams with the oddest things were truly embarrassing. But when she had the embarrasing dreams it would embarrass her for a much longer time. Her cheeks turned a timid red shade as she recalled the dreams about her slight crushes and the times she would kiss them on the cheek, and the very occasional sex dreams that Noriko was ashamed of. They weren't the most detailed because they never had to be to strike an impression. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to any man or was afraid to become sexual, it's that she had never noticed these attractions before her subconscious threw them in her face.

They had always been vivid, and for some reason Noriko felt as if the white in the dreamless sleep had been vivid enough. So she felt herself sigh and go on, and she realized this was a day she could finally tell her mom the truth. For some reason she had never felt comfortable at all telling her mother about the dreams.

- - -

Noriko had never been stupid. If anything, Noriko was bright enough to think for herself and to invoke enough creativity and talent to alert her mother. Noriko had no idea what was wrong with creativity, but her mother was sure there was something wrong with Noriko's creativity. Her mother was sure of a lot of things.

Her mother was sure that her father would not accept it. So her mother always nipped everything in the bud before her father could, and Noriko had learned very early that her mother would never tolerate her methods not working. Noriko's mother would always win.

“What you're doing is a common thing, stop being so proud of it,” her mother would say with a stern tone as she looked down on her daughter. “You should be more humble, it's becoming of a woman.” Noriko had barely understood what creativity itself was, so the lesson would essentially be simple. Her mother had failed to note she was only 6 years old, and so when her mother left the room with all of her recent 'creative' drawings, Noriko just picked up another crayon and drew again, on the paper her mother had left for her to write the alphabet on again.

Her mother took her crayons and she whined.

Her mother brought a lighter and a glass of icy water. She stuck her left hand in the water and her right hand got burned only for a second. “If you can't do what's right then I won't let you.” Her mother had seen the cruel irony in it all, because with the knowledge she'd be burned when she disobeyed she did not want to. The five minutes in cold water meant she could not, she would have to shake it and move it around or it would drive her six year old mind crazy.

Her mother smiled. “Just be more humble, it's what your father would want.”

Noriko had only been 6, and so she still could not understand the meaning of humble. Noriko only knew that her mother was cruel for punishing her, and the six year old cried a heap of tears. Her mother did not comfort her because it was a lesson. She rubbed her hands together hoping they would balance out, but it was only the rubbing notion that stopped it. Her left hand no longer felt the chilling sensation, but her right hand still felt singed. Her fingers had turned a blistered red. She could not even pick up a toy.

However the solution had not been a long term one. Her mother had done it in hopes that her daughter would understand what she wanted. There was no potential in Noriko's creativity, and if she was creative and brought out that side and overcame any man in that aspect, it would make her seem overconfident and no man would want her. Noriko was only a girl, with an average IQ and an average family and an average life.

Days later, Noriko expressed her creativity in more ways. Instead of giving Noriko a singe across her fingers, her mother dabbed her hand in lighting fuel and set it aflame. This time, the water had been to put the flames out. It had only been for a few seconds, but Noriko's hand had been bandaged for weeks. She had learned her lesson and done as her mother told her. She had never touched a crayon in a creative way again, and she never wanted to.

- - -

Noriko brushed her hair and did not think of those times. Noriko thought about the day as she put down the brush and slid on her uniform. That was just her mother's discipline and she didn't mind it at all. She'd probably do it to her cute children one day, in her modest home, in her humble life. Because that was what cute women like Noriko did, and she had no problem with it at all.

- - -

When her name had been called it had been struck in just a little harder.

When she ran out and a painful stinging became apparent in her legs, it was all so very real. Noriko Nakagawa had never done anything to deserve it, no one had. Yet Noriko could not be angry with a certain individual or find herself calling it unfair, she could only search for a bleak hope. If you did things right there was hope, if you were a good person there was hope. Noriko had to feel like this was true.

She was not athletic and she was not a killer. She was not a bad person yet she was not guaranteed to live. What could she do? Optimism was her only assurance. Even as she acknowledged the probability that she might be one of the first dead, even as she accepted that she was on a list of people who were allowed to die in the name of a game, she could not acknowledge that truthfully there was death. She had to hope that the people she had grown with her would listen, that there were no lives lost already and Noriko would never become one of those names.

The atmosphere of this place was like a poison. The ground was covered in a lush grass and it seemed like a peaceful place, but the air was poison. How many of her classmates were participating? It felt as if the air would suck in her hopes and shred them to pieces. Hearing about it was a lot less fearful, seeing it, breathing it, touching the boomerang she had been given, all of it was intense and frightful. Noriko longed for her mother - for her family - already.

The only thing Noriko could do was deny herself as Girl #15.

“This can end in a good way, I know it can.”

Noriko wished she had appreciated the simple gesture of a good hair day just a little more before all of this. Just a little more happiness might have made it all easier.

(WHAT? Noriko isn't crazy, she's a nice humble girl with good morals and optimism. SHE'S JUST A LITTLE BRAINWASHED. ....A LITTLE. LOL
D: My aim is NnoiNell Junkie for anyone who wants to plot with me. Lol I blame Cass for this it's all her fault I hate it wah *self hate* XDD )

Hirono Shimizu [School Days] G-7 - H-8.

2008-07-15T00:09:15Z

Hirono Shimizu impatiently rapped her banana yellow finger nails against the hard surface of her desk, chewing a wad of water melon gum which noisily disrupted the quiet atmosphere of her home room. Mr. Hayashida was busily flicking through some papers while the other three students in the room were deeply engrossed in their own activities.

It was a major rarity that Hirono was even in school, let alone being one of the first few students through the door. Normally suffering from a heavy hangover that could not be numbed by even the strongest of migraine tablets, school mornings weren‘t exactly on the top of Hirono Shimizu’s “to do list”. The reason she was even sitting on her assigned desk (which she swore had gained a layer of dust since the last time she had been there) was because the night before had been spectacularly boring and, well, truth be told, she didn’t have anything better to do right now.

Glancing up at the clock above the blackboard, Hirono growled lazily. She didn’t expect Mitsuko to walk in any time soon, but surely Yoshimi would make an appearance and deliver her from boredom? Unless she stayed at that mutant’s house last night. Fucked him again, did you Yoshimi? Standards are dropping, you’re way too pretty for him. Hey, what the hell are you saying? At least she has standards. How old was that guy last week again?

How she would kill be to wrapped up in her bed right now (alone, of course, unless they were paying). Nothing beat waking up at day break and realizing that the only agenda for the day was lounging around in bed like a slob without any unwanted visitors (again, paying visitors were fine). She supposed anything beat sitting around with this crew.

Yoshio Akamatsu (that is his name, isn’t it?) was furiously bashing the keys on a games console while his eyes danced across the area of the screen. Mizuho Inada (or “plain and utter psychopath” as Hirono liked to call her” was staring off into space dreamily, murmuring something ridiculous under her breath, accompanied with “plain and utter psychopath # 2”, Kaori Minami.

Even an acid trip couldn’t hallucinate these freaks, she thought. Akamatsu will end up alone, fat and depressed with only a game boy as his friend (but he’d have probably eaten it by the time he gets to that age), Inada will become some crack-pot serial killer, no question about it and.. Minami...

Well, Hirono really didn’t give a fuck what happened to her, or any of the others for that matter. The only people that mattered were Mitsuko and Yoshimi, really. They knew how to have fun, enjoy themselves - and they certainly knew better than to be at school on a day like this!

Jumping up from her chair as though she had been electrocuted, Hirono raced from the room, already texting Mitsuko and ignoring Mr. Hayashida’s desperate and rather pathetic cries to return. Sorry, Hayashida, duty calls. School days, pfft, Hirono Shimizu is so over them!
_____________________________________________________________________________

The worst hangover in the world had invaded Hirono’s skull and for a moment she felt as though she would die. A noise that sounded like a thousand drums was ricocheting through her head, and all she could think of were her beloved migraine tablets. Fumbling for them in her shirt pockets, she was shocked to realise that not only were they gone but moving her hand had suddenly become a whole new mission in itself. It felt heavy and sluggish.

Her chocolate brown eyes gradually came into focus as the pain slowly began to subside and her surroundings began to piece themselves together to form what would be the most horrific puzzle of them all.

Twenty minutes later, Hirono Shimizu watched as every single one of her fellow classmates left the room, each clutching a bag which contained a map, a compass, water and bread and most importantly the randomly assigned weapon which would be used to kill as many students as possible.

A fresh wave of mysterious panic washed over her as she made eye contact with Mitsuko, who was sitting quite a distance away from her. She was, of all things, brushing her hair!

The image chilled Hirono to the bone. It was common knowledge throughout school that Mitsuko was a bitch, but, even The Program couldn’t ensnare such a person. Could it?

“Girl # 10 Hirono Shimizu”

It seemed that a while had gone by since Hirono had really been paying attention to what was going on around her. The seriousness and danger of her situation hadn’t remotely kicked in yet, it all felt like some kind of absurd dream (what was I smoking last night?) and any minute now she expected a giant blue bunny to come bounding in with a machine gun and war paint on it’s face and screaming like a banshee.

“Hirono Shimizu, get the fuck up and get the fuck out!”

Her hair like walking traffic lights, Hirono Shimizu made her way across the room and caught the bag deftly against her strong chest before leaving the room without looking back. Only forward, into the carnage that would soon take place. And even if the inevitable did happen, at least there was no more school, right?

“Yeah, school’s out forever!” exclaimed Hirono, referencing the infamous Alice Cooper song.

At least that was something to smile about!

[ooc: okay, first Hirono post. I'm aiming to show the fun, wreckless side of her this version, as detailed in my Hirono pre-game flashback on her profile (please read it!) Didn't get PC control as neither of the characters mentioned do anything specific. Sorry for it being, well, crap. thanks, please comment, yadda yadda yadda and make sure to im me ok: koy4925 if you want your character and Hirono to meet as right now she is pretty much going with the flow! XD]

Tangerines are Delicious! E8

2008-07-14T21:16:53Z

I’m really not sure how long I ran. I didn’t want to stop running until I reached my bed and hid myself underneath the covers. Of course this would be impossible. After all I’m not in the greatest shape and even if I were there’s no way to get off this island. It wasn’t until I started to smell the sweet scent of tangerines that I stopped. I found myself surrounded in almost picture perfect atmosphere. There were about 10 to 15 tangerine trees circled around me. I wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but I knew that it was either early morning or evening because soft sunlight glowed through the leaves. For a moment I forgot the horror that bestowed upon me and my classmates.
I soon came back to reality as I felt something inside my bag poking me. I hadn’t even opened up my bag yet to see what was inside. I didn’t really want to know. Whatever it was it was intended to kill. After several moments of trying to restrain myself from opening up my bag, my curiosity got the better me and I had to know what type of weapon I had received.

To my surprise it was a gun. I really don’t know guns to well, it appeared to look like a rifle or a shotgun. I’m not really too sure. Whatever it was it was a gun and it was given to me so that I would use it.

I only seen a gun once in my life. It was attached to the police officer that came to my house after I mother called the police to notified that my grandmother had died. The atmosphere in the air felt so eerie. I was certain that my mother knew what I had done. She probably hated me, I took away her mother. I took away her only living family member, besides myself. But to my surprise she came over gave me a hug and told me how sorry she was that she wasn’t here when grandmother passed away.

It was funny how quickly the news of my grandmother dying spread through the school. The next day Yukie and Chisato both ran up to me telling me how deeply sorry they were to hear about my grandmother. I couldn’t let them know I helped with her death, they wouldn’t have understood.

All day long people were nicer to me than they usually were. Even Shuya paid attention to me. Everyone seemed more upset about my grandmother’s death than me. The school nurse, Ms. Asko, told me I didn’t need to volunteer for the rest of the week if I didn’t want to. I love helping out in the nurses office, so I declined her offer. I couldn’t understand why everyone had so much pity on me. My grandmother needed to die it was her time to go. I just helped speed up her process. Everyone will die some day.

That’s right everyone will eventually die.

I grabbed one of the tangerines and started to peel it. It had such a refreshing taste that I couldn't help but eat more and more. I had about 9 tangerines before my stomach started to hurt. I had no idea what to do. Should I just sit there in the woods and wait for someone to show up, or what?
As I sat underneath the trees my question was soon answered. Footsteps could be heard. My heart started to race faster than when I ended my grandmother’s life. I felt all my blood drain from my body. I quickly tried to hide myself behind a tree. I prayed that it wasn’t a boy or Mitsuko and her gang.
Whoever it was they were coming closer. I knew I couldn’t just hide behind the tree for long. They would eventually realize someone was there. It was probably a stupid thing to do, but I had to see who it was. As I peered over I was greatly relieved to see Yukiko Kitano walking towards my way. Without thinking I quickly ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her, giving her the biggest hug. It never occurred to me that she maybe playing, I could have startled her causing her to pull out a weapon and kill me.
I was lucky that, that didn’t happen. Instead Yukiko’s entire body went limp as I hugged her.
Most people would probably become frighten having someone pass out in their arms, but I was use to this from Yukiko. She would come to the nurses office quite often due to dizzy spells and fainting’s. She has really low blood sugar. There’s a lot of things I know about the students in my class that others wouldn’t know.
For instance there’s a boy in my class that has an STD you can only get through anal sex and its not who you think it is.

I laid Yukiko down on the soft grass and quickly grabbed some tangerines. I needed to get her blood sugar back up to normal. I squeezed the tangerines juice into one of the bottle of waters that I had in my bag. I mixed the water and juice together and then helped revive Yukiko by having her sip the juice slowly. I apologized several times, letting her know that I never meant to scare her.
She sat up eventually. Neither one of us spoke for a few moments. I could tell she wasn’t sure if I was trust worthy or not. Even though me and Yukiko got a long fine in school, we never were the greatest of friends. I think she thought I found her weak, since she was always in the nurses office.

I couldn’t handle the silence anymore so I broke it, “Are you feeling any better? Once again I’m sorry for scaring you.”
She said nothing to me at first but then responded, “It’s fine.”

I do hope Yukiko knows that I do not want to hurt her. I suppose only time will tell. We just don’t have that much time left.

(OOC: If anyone wants to meet up or something. My email is dragongora@aim.com My name’s Audrey.)

Yukie Utsumi [G-07, I-06]: Promise

2008-07-14T21:04:39Z

In the sunny garden of Shirowia Junior High School, Yukie was plunged into a deep discussion with Haruka, Satomi, Izumi and Fumiyo. Izumi asked to the other girls:

''Have any of you seen Yuko lately?''

Yukie answered in a concerned voice.

''No! She has not come to school since Hatagami and Sasagawa's fight after Sasagawa insulted Takiguchi. It was so bloody! Poor Yuko! She was so afraid! She hates violence so much...''

Satomi nodded. Haruka said in a sad voice.

''She did not want to answer to any of our calls.''

Fumiyo added.

''But her mother told me yesterday that she is supposed to come back today. I hope she is okay.''

All the girls looked around them to see if they could spot Yuko in the almost deserted garden. Near the fountain sitting on the bench was Takako Chigusa, the track runner, talking with a girl from another class who was her best friend. Near the door were Mitsuko Souma's gang, composed of herself, Hirono Shimuzu and Yoshimi Yahagi. They were surrounding a little silhouette, laughing at her and pushing her. Suddenly, Yukie recognized the silhouette. It was Yuko. Yukie was overcome by anger and revolt. How dare they bully such a sweet girl? Always nice to everybody, as well as shy and helpful. Yukie approached them, without any hesitation. She could hear Hirono's mocking voice.

''Oh little crybaby! Not even able to look at a good old fight without crying...We should teach you what it's like in real life!''

Yukie said in a firm voice.

''Stop this! I won't let you hurt her. No way!''

Yukie pushed Yoshimi and put herself in front of Yuko to protect her. Mitsuko said in a soft but cold voice.

''Miss Class Representative is seeking for problems as I can see.''

Yukie answered in a calm voice.

''No. I don't want any problems. I just want to protect my friends.''

Luckily, Yukie was soon joined by Haruka, Satomi, Izumi and Fumiyo. Outnumbered, Mitsuko, Yoshimi and Hirono leave. Yukie looked at Yuka. Tears were still pouring down her cheeks. Yukie puts the tears away with her hands and says in a soft voice:

''Don't worry, Yuko. I will always be there to protect you. Always. I swear it."

A smile appeared on Yuko's little face.

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''Always there to protect you, Yuko.'' Yukie was looking at Yuko, who was running away from the school yard. What must I do now? Follow Yuko or wait for the others? I have to follow Yuko. I promised her I would always protect her. Besides, the others can look for themselves for a bit, no? Haruka is the tallest girl in school, an athlete, and she is courageous. Satomi is intelligent too. Behind her sweet girl face, Noriko is really courageous too. Yuka is always full of energy and Fumiyo is so resourceful, same with Chisato. One of them would also probably wait for the others...and Yuko is so defenseless...No, I have to respect my promise. I have to protect her, no matter what. A mother must protect her children and must respect her promise no? With her heart filled by guiltiness when thinking to her other friends, she ran in the direction where Yuko had ran away. As she ran away, she could see Hirono Shimuzu, who was exiting the school. Haruka, who was Girl #12, would exit in less than 10 minutes. Haruka...she would be okay...I have to tell myself this...she will be okay...I can't wait for her. I promised to Yuko that I would protect her...and mothers respected their promises, no?

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In the little dining room of the Tanizawa's family home, 7 year old Yukie, Haruka and Yuka were doing their homework, eating cookies, and talking happily. They were a doing an homework assignment for the upcoming Mothers day. They described in a one page length text how a good mother was. For the moment, they were lacking inspiration. They had looked in dictionaries and found nothing. Why are dictionaries always so objective? Yuka was joking happily about how they could make their homework more original. They could kidnap a mother, bring her in the classroom the mothers day and force her to tell to the classroom what was a good mother. According to Yuka, it was far less complicated and far more funny. Yukie and Haruka laughed happily. Yuka was always so funny. Suddenly, Mrs. Tanizawa entered the dining room. Yukie asked her ''Mrs. Tanizawa, what is a good mother?'' Mrs. Tanizawa answered in a soft voice. ''It is someone who is always there for their children. It is a woman who gives time to her children, who always supports them, comforts them. She also raises them, gives them good values. When they are very young, she feeds them, washes them, and tries to teach them how accomplish these tasks. She must also respect her promise she makes to her children.''

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Yes, I have to respect it. Poor Yuko! She must be so afraid. Alone in the dark. It is my fault. I should have been more convincing. I should have tried to prevent her to run away. This way, she would be safe with me and we could wait for the others. Yukie ran for a very long time. Suddenly, she arrived in a long beach. The dark sea looked sinister. Waves were rolling the beach. Yukie spotted a tiny silhouette near the sea. She was so small. It could only be Yuko or Yukiko Kitano, the two smallest girls in the classroom. Yukie approached the silhouette. Yukie was overcome by relief. It was Yuko! Yukie said to her:

''Hey Yuko! Don't be afraid! It is me, Yukie!''

Yuko appeared not to hear her friend for a moment, still absorbed in watching the sea. Then, slowly, she turned her head. "...Yukie?"

A smile appeared on Yukie's lips. Her usual compassionate smile. ''Yes, it is me...always there to protect you, you remember Yuko?''

She remembers. If she can't trust anyone else, she can at least trust Yukie. Shakily, she gets to her feet, not noticing how much sand has stuck to her. "You came after me. I... thank you. I'm sorry I ran, I just... I was so scared."

''Yes. It is all my fault. I should not have stayed in the dark. I should have stayed near the door. At least, you could have see me clearly.'' Yukie's eyes were filled by tears for a moment. Yes, it was all her fault if she was not there for Haruka, Noriko, Yuka, Satomi, Fumiyo and Chisato. But, she continued to smile and said in a determined voice ''Don't worry Yuko. We will find a way out of this hell!''

Yuko blinked . "How? The collars..." She touches her collar and gulps, sniffling a bit. "How can we escape?"

Yukie continued to smile. Tears had disappeared from her eyes. Now, we could read in them optimism and determination. ''They have been made by humans, no? And humans do make mistakes, no?''

Yuko looked a little doubtful, fingering the smooth metal of the explosive necklace, but she nodded. "Yes... I suppose they do." She looked somewhat reassured at Yukie's confidence. "I'm not so scared any more, now there's two of us."

Yukie hugged her tightly, ''Yes, you don't have to be afraid. We will try to find all the others. I think it is a little bit too late to come back to the school now. I don't want to take the risk to have our collars exploded. But, surely, we will meet them sometime.'' Yukie smiled, heightened as she was imagining all her gang and Shuya leaving the island, all alive. Yes, she could do this, she could save them all, she said to herself.

Yuko returned Yukie's hug. She didn't realize how cold she had become while sitting on the beach. Something was pressing against her side. She pulled away from Yukie, and realized that it was her bag. They were all given bags, she remembered. "Did they give you a... a weapon, or something? Have you checked?"

Yukie looked at Yuko with surprise, ''Oh no! I did not even think to look at it...Wait a moment.'' She opened her bag and pulled off a gun. She looked at it with disgust, ''I got this.'' She had never hold a gun in her hands before. It was heavier than it looks like.

Yuko jumped backwards, her eyes wide. "Don't! It might go off, and someone will hear us!" Although she was keeping her distance from the gun, she couldn't seem to stop staring at it. Unlike Yukie, she had seen one before.

Yukie looked at Yuko, puzzled. ''Why? I won't shoot. I don't really know how it works. But there must have some security trigger to prevent it to shoot, no?''

"You're right." Yuko looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry. Scared of everything, again." She unzips her own bag, and withdraws her telescopic spring baton. "At least it's not a gun," she says, giving it an experimental swish. "Oh!" She nearly drops it as it unexpectedly extends to full length.

Yukie laughed softly. ''Yes. And its not dangerous to hurt you trying to manipulate it, unlike a gun.''

"Yes." Yuko occupies herself trying to de-spring her baton, and tucks it back in her bag. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to do, where to sleep, how we're going to find people, any of that stuff. I'm glad I've got you to do the thinking."

''Oh. Don't underestimate yourself Yuko. I'm glad you are with me too. Hey, but first, we should warm you up. You are so cold!'' Yukie open her personal bag and pulled out a heavy blanket and a hand-made wool scarf, which didn't look really good. ''As we have planned doing camping during the school trip, I thought it would have been a good idea to bring a blanket.'' She envelops Yuko in the blanket and gives her the hand-made scarf.

Yuko smiled, finally, and let Yukie wrap her in the blanket. "Camping... yes, I was just going to borrow stuff off the teachers. Is this your knitting?" she asked, fingering the scarf. "You're always well prepared. I wish I could knit."

''Eum no...It is my mother. She is always knitting.'' Yukie smiled disappeared for a moment. If she did not survive, who would take care of her mother? No, she must not think to this. She will survive. They will survive.

"We should go and find somewhere to sleep." Yuko's eyes were starting to droop from tiredness. "Somewhere inside. There are buildings, and I've got all your blankets."

Yukie nodded, ''Mmm...But hiding in a basement would be dangerous no? If someone is playing, they could probably go look in houses because it is the usual place where people hide, no?''

"I hadn't thought about that." And they won't be able to lock the doors either. "Should we have a look at the map?"

''Yes.'' Yukie opened her map. ''We should find a natural shelter like a cave. Oh look, there must be some caves on the hill which is situated in I-06, the same zone in which we are. We'll also be on a hill, so we can see people approaching. If they are friends, we could ask them to join us...do you agree?''

Yuko smothered a yawn with her hand. "Okay. I'll go anywhere you like. I don't really mind." She was glad that Yukie's suggested hiding place was so close. "It's sort of like camping, isn't it?" She giggles a little, seemingly having forgotten about the situation they're in.

Yukie answered in a happy voice. ''Yes. And do you know what? I brought marshmallows in my bag. Yuka loves them so much.''

"Me too." Yuko doesn't really feel like she could eat now, but she's not about to refuse the offer of a marshmallow breakfast. "Well, lead the way... I'll try not to lose you in the dark."

(OOC: I don't have Yoshimi, Hirono and Mitsuko's agreements for the flashback. I sent them a message but they did not answer. So if they disagree, they can contact me and I would supress them from the flashback =D But I hope they don't mind. Sorry again. And Yuko and Yukie's discussion has been made by me and Yuko's player together so I get her agreement loll Thanks to Huxley for correcting my grammar. As my native language is french, this can be hard at times loll)

Yuka Nakagawa: G7 - F6: Walking Out

2008-07-14T18:16:11Z

Yuka had never liked running - seriously, who would? - but walking was okay. As she crept through the undergrowth, the leaves crunching under her feet - and there's no one hiding in the trees watching you, no, shut up, I don't care what happens in the movies - she could almost kid herself things were gonna be okay. The rhythm of her feet on the soft ground made the panic curl up a bit more, made her feel like nothing was actually that different. Still leaves and grass and being able to put one foot in front of the other, right? Like her mum always said, everything would be fine as long as you kept smiling.

Her mum and dad. They'd know, right? Wouldn't they? That Sakamochi jerk would've sent more soldiers or something to tell people, it wouldn't just be that she would've disappeared, that they'd never know, they'd have to have been told -

She was freaking out again. Stopping, she took a slow breath, "Hey, Yuka, if you can get through Zombie Death Crash III you can get through this, right?" That remark made her smile. Well, sort of. Like, through the tears.

They'd be told. People always knew when their cousins or acquaintances or best friend's brother's buddy from kendo club got put in the Program.

Mum'll be okay. She'll just cope like she always does. She'll look after the rest of 'em. And Jyou'll probably be all right too. Her thirteen-year-old brother was like her, goofing around and never taking anything too seriously. He'd be sad, but not, like, seriously messed up. Ryuki... It's not fair about Ryuki. Only eight, now he'll be freaking out about the Program til he's passed ninth grade. It's not fair.

Her mum again. Life's not fair, now is it, Yuka? Now take off that frown and start getting things sorted.

And as for Dad...

You never know, and Yuka knew she was only thinking this 'cause she was tired and scared as hell and on her own unable to sort out her thoughts, but, you never know, maybe it won't actually be a major big deal to him.

She honestly didn't know if she believed that or not. Sometimes Dad was almost like he was before the bad stuff had happened, and he'd make jokes or offer to teach her to cook something new or listen to her complain about homework. And sometimes he wasn't like that, he was angry or quiet and you couldn't work out why, you just knew it was a bad day, and so you kept out of the way, because you never could keep your mouth shut and you didn't want to see that there was no way you could make it better by kidding around.

Because what else do you know how to do, huh, Yuka? Playing tennis and talking crap, that's about your level.

"Okay," she snapped, "okay, if you're so damn pathetic, why don't you just shoot yourself now, instead of whining about how you useless you are?"

And if someone rose up out of the bushes and shot me now, that'd serve me right for being a bigmouth, huh? Get it together. I'm gonna get out of here and go home and - and none of this is gonna matter, in the end.

She pushed through a few more branches, and then, ahead of her, black and squat against the sky, was a house.

And a light blinked in one of the windows.

Yuka froze, went so still she ached with it. Someone in there. Someone gonna - well, what? If you were signalling - and they were, it was a regular blink on and off - then you weren't playing. Right? 'Cause, okay, sure, you might be trying to be clever and call people to you and pick them off, but what if you called someone who was playing and had a better weapon than you, huh? Also, they'd know you were there. If I was playing, I'd creep around in the woods and be really quiet and just shoot people in the back.

She couldn't really imagine doing it, though. Or only as a joke.

Besides, I doubt you'd be able to be really quiet. Be honest.

Already she'd taken another couple of steps towards the house. The light kept blinking.

Could be Yukie. That's the sort of thing she'd do. Yuka sighed. She hadn't gone back to wait for Chisato or Satomi, had she? She still wasn't sure why. She did trust them, she did, she just... she just... wasn't so good at making up quick plans.

Yeah. If she wanted to survive this without going all Jason, she'd have to find someone who could think on their feet a lot better'n she could.

So - another step - it was worth a try. She could just look. See who it was.

Or maybe she was sick of talking to herself. Even yelling Freeze, hands up! would make a change from all this dark and thinking.

Gripping her gun more tightly, she kept walking, towards the light.

Yoshimi Yahagi [G7-G9]: Alone

2008-07-14T04:32:56Z

Click.

The attractive, yet child-faced teenager opened her compact mirror, checking her appearance. She ran her fingers through her wheat-colored hair, puckering her lips at her reflection to show off the lip gloss she had recently stolen.

She was somewhat wishing that Yoji would look back at her, so he could see what he was missing. She was also somewhat wishing that he would come crawling back to her, since she was the type that hated apologizing and admitting that they were wrong.

Closing the compact, Yoshimi focused her attention on whatever it was Mitsuko and Hirono were talking about, taking occasional glances at the back of Yoji's head.

Mitsuko must have caught one of those glances, because her arctic eyes slitted and her lip twitched with disgust.

"Yoshimi, you're so pathetic. He's a nobody, a loser, and unattractive. He's been dead in my book, and should be in yours." Mitsuko said, sounding factual.

Yet she was wrong.

Sure, Yoji didn't look as handsome as Shinji Mimura or Shogo Kawada, but he was protective. And he looked after her, trying to keep her away from Mitsuko and Hirono's lifestyles. His hooked nose and thick-eyelashes were also charming, giving him a Latin-esque look. She could do without his jealousy, though, and his dislike of her two best, and only, friends.

After Kazuhiko Yamamoto's name was called, Yoshimi Yahagi was left alone; alone in a room filled with a heartless instructor, brainless soldiers, and a lifeless teacher.

Her eyes were glued to Kinpatsu Sakamochi, who was busy typing something into a laptop that sat on his desk. The soldiers scattered around the room were glowering at her, silent. A few licked their lips whenever she briefly looked away from Kinpatsu and caught one of their stares, some rubbing their crotches. Yoshimi was used to such behavior from Kazuo's crew or the random men and boys she had met throughout Shiroiwa, but in this situation, it was all new to her.

She was new to the idea of defending herself, of not having Mitsuko or Yoji or Hirono around to protect her.

And it scared her, it scared the shit out of her.

Sakamochi looked away from his laptop at Yoshimi, smirking.

"Your turn, Miss Yahagi." He said, sending chills down Yoshimi's spine.

The blond stood from her desk quickly, grabbing her overnight bag, and running towards the classroom's exit. One of the soldiers threw her duffel bag at her, Yoshimi catching it, but stumbling and running into a soldier-the bag's weight had caught her off guard.

"Ah!" She screamed, gripping the bag tightly and running out of the classroom and down the hall to the school's exit.

Pushing the exit open, she took one quick glance at her surroundings.

The outside of the school was surrounded by lampposts, that admitted white light. But beyond that was total darkness, trees, and her classmates.

There was no Mitsuko.
There was no Hirono.
There was no Yoji.

Crying even more, Yoshimi ran.

She ran eastward-into the unknown.

((Hello V8! Lets make this version action-packed and fun and stuff, ok? I'd love to arrange some interactions with y'all, if possible! Just comment this or look for me on AIM! I tried to contact Kirsten for the minor PC control, but I got no response. So if it's a problem, let me know and I'll fix it.))