Yuichiro couldn't believe it. Even as he took his seat, his face was frozen. That was it? They had to because the government said so? Ask again after murder class is concluded?
Why? Yuichiro thought the government was good people. Yeah, it was lead by its 317th dictator, and they had maybe either arrested or shot his dad for playing music, but still! They had a lot of people to look after in a country this big, and for the most part things were OK. So how could he just accept at face value that killing all his friends was good wisdom? It just didn't make any sense to him, no matter how much he tried. He knew he wasn't that smart, but this seemed like something even he could tell was crazy.
He looked around as Sakamochi-sensei continued. All his friends, his classmates, he couldn't kill a single one of them. From Tadakatsu in front of him, to the Kiriyama family in the back, they were all just really important people to him and he didn't want to see a single one of them die.
It didn't matter what he wanted though. He only realised what he was supposed to be doing when he saw everyone else reaching into their desks, and so he followed suit. Pop Quiz: what happens in The Program?
He started writing, slowly, deliberately, until his pencil hovered at the next hiragana. It was supposed to be a distinctive ません suffix, 'We will not kill each other'. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't disobey the teacher. Even if this was insane, class was in session, you know? So he scratched out the signs of defiance and ended the line with a 'ます' like he was supposed to. Every scritch at the paper was a stab at his heart, the graphite slicing through the page like a knife through flesh.
Question two: what are you going to do?
He wrote down the repsonse, but it was a lie. He didn't care what Sakamochi-sensei thought, as disobient as it was. He wasn't going to kill, and neither were any of his friends! They'd think of something! They had to! And then he could go meet the government, and ask them why this was happening, and maybe him or one of his smarter friends could make them reconsider! Maybe they did have a good reason for it, but until he knew what it was, he had to believe this was some kind of government mistake!
HIs pencil clacked on the desk as he finished, threatening to roll away from the paper and fall to the floor. He stared at the six lines he'd written on the page, his handwriting as shaky as his worldview. Tears rained down on to the sheet, his composure breaking down as the words stared back at him.
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Mitsuru slouched back in his seat.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Toshinori's caligraphy, much like everything else about him, was excellent.
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DerArknight
- Posts: 685
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Noriko took out her pen and paper.
She still refused to even entertain the thought of anyone killing anyone, so for the first time in her education, she disobeyed the teacher by writing:
私たちはお互いを殺しません
私たちはお互いを殺しません
私たちはお互いを殺しません
殺さなければ生き残る
殺さなければ生き残る
殺さなければ生き残る
instead of what she was ordered to do.
She still refused to even entertain the thought of anyone killing anyone, so for the first time in her education, she disobeyed the teacher by writing:
私たちはお互いを殺しません
私たちはお互いを殺しません
私たちはお互いを殺しません
殺さなければ生き残る
殺さなければ生き残る
殺さなければ生き残る
instead of what she was ordered to do.
So. This whole operation was the government’s idea, huh? There had to be more to it than that. No sane and normal government would order to have their own schoolchildren kill each without a greater purpose. Maybe it was the zaibatsu, who paid the government more money than they could deny to run some crazy corporate experiment. Maybe it was the Kempeitai, purging their class because someone had spouted some pro-American views or something.
Yoshio was interrupted by the sound of Sakamochi telling them to write some phrases down.
He did as he was told.
Yoshio was interrupted by the sound of Sakamochi telling them to write some phrases down.
He did as he was told.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 902
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Chisato did what Sakamochi told them to do.
She glanced at the words that she had written on the paper and she blinked a few times, stopping herself from crying. She bit down on her lower lip slightly.
She really wanted to leave.
She glanced at the words that she had written on the paper and she blinked a few times, stopping herself from crying. She bit down on her lower lip slightly.
She really wanted to leave.
Like any other assignment, Sakura wrote in her name, classroom number, and the name of the cooling corpse in front of them.
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Questions were being shut down without an answer. Wait for the end, he said, in case whoever gets there wants to ask anything of that sort at such a point. Yukiko was not even sure if she would ask something like that, or ask anything at all! Or if she would even...
Oh lord, she should not be thinking of that! But it was hard when he immediately asked the class to write down a message, repeat it and memorize it. It allowed her to keep looking away from Mr. Hayashida as she looked down on her desk and did what she was told, signing the dotted line with a blotch made from her tears- having finally fallen down from her eyes onto the paper while she unsteadily went to work- and tried to breathe more slowly as her beating heart felt like it was having its own explosion in her chest.
Normally, Yukiko's writing would be something that she could be proud of. Sure, it was not as good as some others in the class, but it was good enough that she did not mind it much. What was in front of her were shaky scribbles that conveyed the meaning that they wanted although keeping out any penmanship, not like they deserved it. Besides, her hands were too jittery for such things at this point.
Oh lord, she should not be thinking of that! But it was hard when he immediately asked the class to write down a message, repeat it and memorize it. It allowed her to keep looking away from Mr. Hayashida as she looked down on her desk and did what she was told, signing the dotted line with a blotch made from her tears- having finally fallen down from her eyes onto the paper while she unsteadily went to work- and tried to breathe more slowly as her beating heart felt like it was having its own explosion in her chest.
Normally, Yukiko's writing would be something that she could be proud of. Sure, it was not as good as some others in the class, but it was good enough that she did not mind it much. What was in front of her were shaky scribbles that conveyed the meaning that they wanted although keeping out any penmanship, not like they deserved it. Besides, her hands were too jittery for such things at this point.
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Pippi
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This is bullshit.
This is bullsiht.
This is bullshit.
Tatsumichi scowled as he scrawled the words down onto his piece of paper. He hunched over his desk, makin' sure that none of these armed guards or whoever could take a peek at what he'd chosen to write. Another lil bead of sweat rolled off the tip of his noise and splashed onto the page, turning one instance of 'bullshit' into somethin' that looked more like 'buaiiuit'.
I'm not gonna going to kill anybody.
I'm not going to kill anyboyd.
I'm not going to kill anybody.
Man, if that wad of gum had still been there, he woulda totally thought about chuckin' it at that prick down at the front.
This is bullsiht.
This is bullshit.
Tatsumichi scowled as he scrawled the words down onto his piece of paper. He hunched over his desk, makin' sure that none of these armed guards or whoever could take a peek at what he'd chosen to write. Another lil bead of sweat rolled off the tip of his noise and splashed onto the page, turning one instance of 'bullshit' into somethin' that looked more like 'buaiiuit'.
I'm not gonna going to kill anybody.
I'm not going to kill anyboyd.
I'm not going to kill anybody.
Man, if that wad of gum had still been there, he woulda totally thought about chuckin' it at that prick down at the front.
Takako listened to the instructions, tuning out the people pleading for answers. If they were going to be told anything, they would have already. Their feelings clearly didn't matter to the people readying to send them to their deaths. She sat quietly, staring attentatively forward, chin resting on her palm with her elbow on her desk. It was sloppy posture, but at least she was playing the part of the well-mannered student.
A part she detested, to be clear. She hated people like Sakamochi-san, acting so condescending and smug like he was your friend, but you still had to listen to him. He seemed like a suckup, the kind of guy who kissed his superiors' asses constantly with that simpering little grin. A weak and pathetic man. The only reason he had any authority here was beause more powerful people protected him with their guns and legal backing. The fact he was issuing orders for them to commit mass murder and had their former teacher executed went without saying.
Takako followed his instructions, writing each word in sloppy script. Her handwriting was usually neat and clean, but she saw no reason to carefully shape her own writing to look good for a man like that. As she wrote the words, Takako couldn't help but consider them, which annoyed her. She didn't want to be abiding by the bastard's rules or orders; she was only doing it to avoid getting herself into trouble if they ended up looking these over.
But could she kill people? How the hell was Takako going to know? She didn't even know what she'd have to do it with. A gun? Grenades? She had no idea how to use sword or a bow and arrow or anything like that. And physically being able to do it was very different from the mental ability. Takako was an athlete, she knew full well how important the mental game was in a competition like this.
Still...if it came down to it, Takako could protect herself. She wasn't going to just let someone kill her because she was too weak to fight for her own life. She knew that much.
A part she detested, to be clear. She hated people like Sakamochi-san, acting so condescending and smug like he was your friend, but you still had to listen to him. He seemed like a suckup, the kind of guy who kissed his superiors' asses constantly with that simpering little grin. A weak and pathetic man. The only reason he had any authority here was beause more powerful people protected him with their guns and legal backing. The fact he was issuing orders for them to commit mass murder and had their former teacher executed went without saying.
Takako followed his instructions, writing each word in sloppy script. Her handwriting was usually neat and clean, but she saw no reason to carefully shape her own writing to look good for a man like that. As she wrote the words, Takako couldn't help but consider them, which annoyed her. She didn't want to be abiding by the bastard's rules or orders; she was only doing it to avoid getting herself into trouble if they ended up looking these over.
But could she kill people? How the hell was Takako going to know? She didn't even know what she'd have to do it with. A gun? Grenades? She had no idea how to use sword or a bow and arrow or anything like that. And physically being able to do it was very different from the mental ability. Takako was an athlete, she knew full well how important the mental game was in a competition like this.
Still...if it came down to it, Takako could protect herself. She wasn't going to just let someone kill her because she was too weak to fight for her own life. She knew that much.
He had no pencils.
No pen.
No-nothing.
He was frantically searching.
Tadakatsu was frantically searching.
No pen.
No-nothing.
He was frantically searching.
Tadakatsu was frantically searching.
Everyone else seemed to be writing the words down, so after a few moments, Yumiko wrote them down too. She wasn't sure if anyone really meant them.
Yuichiro dried his tears on his sleeve, looking around the class again as some snot pooled under his nose.
He tried his hardest not to stare at the soldiers with guns, but it was so difficult. Would they really kill them, if they had to? That was their job, sure, but surely they didn’t agree with any of this? What a terrible position to be caught in, between your country and some students wrapped up in a bureaucratic mistake.
To avoid them, he looked at the back of Tadakatsu’s head. More than a firework, he was a full-blown anxiety inferno. Yuichiro’s heart ached just to see his best friend suffer so.
He watched his movements, which were unlike the rest of the class writing down the blasphemous pledges. Not scrawling, but searching. He saw empty hands grip the sides of the desk.
He had seen this before, when Tadakatsu had left his stationery at home. Normally, he would turn around and ask to borrow a pencil, but he was right at the front of the class. He was almost certainly even more terrified of being shot than Yuichiro was.
He couldn’t leave his best friend like this though. He had to do something. If he didn’t, who would? Would Tadakatsu get punished for not doing his classwork? Killed there and then?
With trepidation, he picked the pencil up from his own desk. He could lean forwards and poke him with it, but would that draw too much lethal attention? He could try rolling it forwards, but that was probably even worse.
He could think of nothing else. He covered his face, because he couldn’t bear to watch, and threw the pencil towards what he hoped was his best friend’s shoulder, with as much subtelty as throwing a pencil could have. If fate smiled on Tadakatsu, any more than it had to put him in this horrible situation, it would sail clean over and land on his desk, ready for him to use.
He could only hope that he wasn't signing his, or Tadakatsu's, death warrant with that tossed pencil.
He tried his hardest not to stare at the soldiers with guns, but it was so difficult. Would they really kill them, if they had to? That was their job, sure, but surely they didn’t agree with any of this? What a terrible position to be caught in, between your country and some students wrapped up in a bureaucratic mistake.
To avoid them, he looked at the back of Tadakatsu’s head. More than a firework, he was a full-blown anxiety inferno. Yuichiro’s heart ached just to see his best friend suffer so.
He watched his movements, which were unlike the rest of the class writing down the blasphemous pledges. Not scrawling, but searching. He saw empty hands grip the sides of the desk.
He had seen this before, when Tadakatsu had left his stationery at home. Normally, he would turn around and ask to borrow a pencil, but he was right at the front of the class. He was almost certainly even more terrified of being shot than Yuichiro was.
He couldn’t leave his best friend like this though. He had to do something. If he didn’t, who would? Would Tadakatsu get punished for not doing his classwork? Killed there and then?
With trepidation, he picked the pencil up from his own desk. He could lean forwards and poke him with it, but would that draw too much lethal attention? He could try rolling it forwards, but that was probably even worse.
He could think of nothing else. He covered his face, because he couldn’t bear to watch, and threw the pencil towards what he hoped was his best friend’s shoulder, with as much subtelty as throwing a pencil could have. If fate smiled on Tadakatsu, any more than it had to put him in this horrible situation, it would sail clean over and land on his desk, ready for him to use.
He could only hope that he wasn't signing his, or Tadakatsu's, death warrant with that tossed pencil.
The pencil made a snapping noise when it landed on the edge of the table. Tadakatsu's head snapped toward it. He wasn't sure if he had imagine it until the noise of the impact rang a bell. He grabbed it because it made a little jump again.
He raised his head, seeing the soldiers around him noticing him. He looked back anyways.
Yuichiro.
He smiled at his friend, whispering a 'thank you'. He turned his head back toward the paper.
He wrote quickly.
He raised his head, seeing the soldiers around him noticing him. He looked back anyways.
Yuichiro.
He smiled at his friend, whispering a 'thank you'. He turned his head back toward the paper.
He wrote quickly.
Sometimes, usually on days without much homework, Hayashida would gave out short, open-topic creative writing assignments. Hirono usually liked these, since the lack of restrictions or length requirements made it easy to just write something she was thinking about that day. It was a pretty good way to relieve stress and get her mind focused on something else, especially when she was having a shitty day.
This was the exact opposite of that in the worst way. With every stroke of Hirono's pen, she could feel her muscles tensing as her stress built further. She kept checking over her shoulder, to see if any of the soldiers were watching her. She wanted to go off-script and write a protest, or maybe just some incredibly personal insults directed at Sakamochi. However, she'd resigned to just thinking those thoughts rather than acting on them. She wanted to stay alive, and that outranked any other thought process right now.
Her pen was pressed so hard against the paper that it was in danger of ripping at several points. Although the paper survived intact, a few small grooves were left in the top of the desk from her aggressive calligraphy.
This was the exact opposite of that in the worst way. With every stroke of Hirono's pen, she could feel her muscles tensing as her stress built further. She kept checking over her shoulder, to see if any of the soldiers were watching her. She wanted to go off-script and write a protest, or maybe just some incredibly personal insults directed at Sakamochi. However, she'd resigned to just thinking those thoughts rather than acting on them. She wanted to stay alive, and that outranked any other thought process right now.
Her pen was pressed so hard against the paper that it was in danger of ripping at several points. Although the paper survived intact, a few small grooves were left in the top of the desk from her aggressive calligraphy.
