((Mizuho Inada continued from And Oh, What a View...))
Mizuho made her way down the mountain, moving as inconspicuously as she could. She was heading for a house marked on the map as having a well. She hadn't used up all her water yet, but she figured it was likely somebody had, and that meant she could get information on the danger zones, and maybe on Megumi's murder. Also, she could refill her bottles now, before it became a rush and a killing zone. She would just drink as much as she could while at the house. Maybe she could find some food, too.
She came upon the house from behind, and entered through the back door. It wouldn't do at all to go to the well, refill her bottles, and get blown away by a high-powered sniper shot from the attic or something. She had to check the house before exposing herself to attack. It was light enough to see, now, so she didn't need to worry too much about being surprised inside.
Inside, she found herself in a small kitchen area. She went over to the refrigerator, sudden dreams of fruits and cakes and all sorts of different foods in her head. She hadn't had anything but a few bites of government-issued bread, and she was hungry. It was, after all, breakfast time. She opened the refrigerator door, preparing for a pleasant surprise, but was greeted by a wave of stench. Everything in the fridge was rotten beyond use. Mizuho found herself clenching her fists. For some reason, this one little disappointment was infuriating. She considered throwing one of her grenades into the fridge, blowing it to pieces, but decided against it. She had to calm down. She was still on edge after her encounter with Mitsuko, her worst fear on the island. She needed to bring herself back to reality. She nervously played with her crystal—no, glass, it was just glass—pendant.
The fridge was a loss, but there had to be more stuff in the kitchen. She looked for a cupboard, and found some rice and crackers, which she transferred to her bag. It was hardly better than the bread—in fact, the rice would be useless if she didn't cook it—but it was something, and the crackers looked good. They were the big, puffy rice crackers she'd always loved, so there was a little comfort.
The smell wasn't getting any better. Mizuho closed the fridge again, and waited for a few seconds. It cleared up a little, but there was something else, something wrong. It was faint, but definitely present. Mizuho walked out of the kitchen, into a hall, and, from there, to a small living area. The scent was strongest here. It took her a second to figure out why, then she looked down and saw the body.
It was a boy, not a very big one. He was lying in a pool of blood, his bag fallen to the floor beside him. Mizuho panicked, flailed at her bag for a few moments, and finally managed to claw one of her grenades out. She looked around the room, searching for the hidden assailant. There was nobody. The body was lying there, all alone. She looked at it again. Who was it? Which of her classmates had died here? Yutaka, perhaps? His name was one of the few she had caught. He could have died during the night. In fact, the blood was no longer flowing, so that was probably what had happened. There was only one way to know, though.
Mizuho fidgeted with her grenade, feeling very uncomfortable with the thought of what she was about to do. She looked around, searching for some way to put it off, and again noticed the bag lying on the ground. She gingerly opened it up. There was no weapon inside, but the food and water were untouched. That was good. She couldn't have taken a water bottle that this dead boy had drunk from. She scooped the water and bread out of the bag, and transferred them to her own, still keeping an eye out for trouble.
There was none. She peaked out at the porch and saw nobody. The area seemed deserted. Mizuho sighed, turned back to the corpse, and laid her right hand on it. Her left still held the grenade. The body was cold and motionless. MIzuho shivered and jerked away. It was horrible. One of her classmates was lying here, dead and stinking.
Put that behind you.
Yes. She had to let that go. She had to be... someone else. A brave medic, poking around after a battle to save any survivors. That was what she was. She had to turn the body over and ID it. It was her duty. Far less hesitantly now, though still a bit jerkily, Mizuho tried to flip the body. It was no good. She'd need both her hands. She reluctantly set the grenade down, then pushed.
It didn't turn out as well as she'd expected. She slid a little, her knees and the hem of her skirt landing in the blood. She shrieked, then fell silent, using every ounce of her self control not to panic and break down. She was a medic. She was used to this. The body was... Keita Iijima. Keita, who she'd never known well but had seen every day. Keita, lying dead, gone, no more.
Megumi was lying somewhere in the same way.
Mizuho shrieked again. How could this happen? How could her classmates be dead? She pulled back, not noticing that her hands were bloody too now from the contact with the body. She couldn't see anything except Keita's corpse, and Megumi's corpse, standing out very vividly in her mind. Keita had been shot or stabbed in the chest. And Megumi? The same?
Mizuho took a deep breath. She had to remember, she was a medic. She had seen this all before. Melting down was unprofessional. She picked up the grenade again. It was comforting, safe. It made her feel better. Keita was dead, but she was alive, and she was still safe.
Breakdown
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MurderWeasel
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The Director
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((Tatsumichi Oki continued from The Worst Game In History))
Tatsumichi Oki, Male Student #3 was in a bad way. Not physically - even having gone the night without sleep the jock was at peak physical condition. No, you were talking mentally worn down. He just didn't have the rigour to deal with this kind of situation, epsecially not with his joke of a weapon. Darts and a dartboard? Who the fuck got off on assigning him that!? How was he supposed to defend himself with a kid's toy?
Bottom line, he wasn't. Somebody, some official sitting behind a desk, had earmarked Tatsumichi for an early out. Thought 'Hey, let's give this guy a dud weapon' and dictated that he was going to be the one to get darts of all things. A kid's toy. What the fuck.
Of course, Tatsumichi wasn't to know that Kamon had been telling the truth and the draws really were random, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to consider this as a possibility. They'd done it on purpose, just to screw him over, they had something against him. They had to. Wasn't he in shape, tough, strong? Wasn't he the kind of guy they'd like? Obviously not, there was something there... some grudge.
Oki paused in his ongoing internal grumblings when he realised that he was approaching a building. He hadn't really been paying much attention to where he was going (beyond making very, very certain that he wasn't heading towards any dangerzones) but a place to crash out sounded damn good right about now.
Thoughts of caution far from his head, Tatsumichi walked right up to the house and sauntered straight through the front door. He paused in the porch, grinning to himself. He really needed a sleep, and this looked to be a good place for it.
"Honey, I'm home!" he called jokingly, then cracked up.
Wow, I'm going nuts. Good job Tatsu.
Tatsumichi Oki, Male Student #3 was in a bad way. Not physically - even having gone the night without sleep the jock was at peak physical condition. No, you were talking mentally worn down. He just didn't have the rigour to deal with this kind of situation, epsecially not with his joke of a weapon. Darts and a dartboard? Who the fuck got off on assigning him that!? How was he supposed to defend himself with a kid's toy?
Bottom line, he wasn't. Somebody, some official sitting behind a desk, had earmarked Tatsumichi for an early out. Thought 'Hey, let's give this guy a dud weapon' and dictated that he was going to be the one to get darts of all things. A kid's toy. What the fuck.
Of course, Tatsumichi wasn't to know that Kamon had been telling the truth and the draws really were random, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to consider this as a possibility. They'd done it on purpose, just to screw him over, they had something against him. They had to. Wasn't he in shape, tough, strong? Wasn't he the kind of guy they'd like? Obviously not, there was something there... some grudge.
Oki paused in his ongoing internal grumblings when he realised that he was approaching a building. He hadn't really been paying much attention to where he was going (beyond making very, very certain that he wasn't heading towards any dangerzones) but a place to crash out sounded damn good right about now.
Thoughts of caution far from his head, Tatsumichi walked right up to the house and sauntered straight through the front door. He paused in the porch, grinning to himself. He really needed a sleep, and this looked to be a good place for it.
"Honey, I'm home!" he called jokingly, then cracked up.
Wow, I'm going nuts. Good job Tatsu.
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MurderWeasel
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Mizuho had only a few seconds after retrieving her weapon to sit, staring at Keita. She was still pondering her own survival when the voice rang out: an incongruous statement and a horrible laugh. What was happening? She couldn't even begin to imagine. It was a boy's voice, that was for sure, but who? And, and, and what was he talking about? Did he know she was here?
That got her started worrying about other things, ridiculous things. Was it possible... could someone have liked her? Could someone have had a crush on her this whole time, all year, and never done anything about it? Had they just been too nervous to approach her, too afraid she would laugh them off or treat it like a joke, just because she was weird, just because she still liked to play games and imagine things? Had someone been searching for her since the game began, critically wounded, dragging his bloody, beaten body along just to find her, confess his love, and expire?
No. No, that couldn't be, because the voice was coming from the front of the house, so whoever was there couldn't possibly have seen her come in. They might have seen her step onto the deck, but then why not approach with caution? This voice did not sound like it expected a response. But then, why speak in the first place? Unless...
Mizuho glanced back at Keita's corpse, a new, horrific thought dawning on her. "Honey, I'm home"? Did that mean Keita's killer had returned? That laugh... it hadn't been a friendly laugh, had it? What now? He had a gun or a sword or something. He'd killed Keita! That meant he wouldn't hesitate to kill her, too. And she'd wasted a lot of precious time contemplating, fantasizing about romantic possibilities. How had she been so stupid?
Mizuho knew she didn't have time to grab her bag off the ground. She barely had time to think. Clutching the grenade in her hand, she scrambled over the sofa, crouching down behind it, making more noise than she would have liked but less than she imagined she had. She hoped the mystery visitor, the probable killer, hadn't seen her. She hoped she wasn't about to be killed. What if it was Kawada? Shogo would step into the room, calm and quiet as always, take a quick glance, take in her bags—stupid, stupid, how could I have left them there?—and fire three times into the sofa, catching her in the chest, neck, and head, blowing her brains out to splatter against the walls. It was the end. No, wait, she was panicking. Maybe it would be fine. She just had to stay calm. She clutched the grenade more tightly, the sticky, nearly-dried blood on her hand being ground into the grooves of the explosive. She could do this. She could deal with Kawada.
She hadn't noticed that the blood on her knees had left very noticeable marks on the back of the sofa as she hastily scrambled over it, a very clear trail from Keita's corpse to her current hiding place.
That got her started worrying about other things, ridiculous things. Was it possible... could someone have liked her? Could someone have had a crush on her this whole time, all year, and never done anything about it? Had they just been too nervous to approach her, too afraid she would laugh them off or treat it like a joke, just because she was weird, just because she still liked to play games and imagine things? Had someone been searching for her since the game began, critically wounded, dragging his bloody, beaten body along just to find her, confess his love, and expire?
No. No, that couldn't be, because the voice was coming from the front of the house, so whoever was there couldn't possibly have seen her come in. They might have seen her step onto the deck, but then why not approach with caution? This voice did not sound like it expected a response. But then, why speak in the first place? Unless...
Mizuho glanced back at Keita's corpse, a new, horrific thought dawning on her. "Honey, I'm home"? Did that mean Keita's killer had returned? That laugh... it hadn't been a friendly laugh, had it? What now? He had a gun or a sword or something. He'd killed Keita! That meant he wouldn't hesitate to kill her, too. And she'd wasted a lot of precious time contemplating, fantasizing about romantic possibilities. How had she been so stupid?
Mizuho knew she didn't have time to grab her bag off the ground. She barely had time to think. Clutching the grenade in her hand, she scrambled over the sofa, crouching down behind it, making more noise than she would have liked but less than she imagined she had. She hoped the mystery visitor, the probable killer, hadn't seen her. She hoped she wasn't about to be killed. What if it was Kawada? Shogo would step into the room, calm and quiet as always, take a quick glance, take in her bags—stupid, stupid, how could I have left them there?—and fire three times into the sofa, catching her in the chest, neck, and head, blowing her brains out to splatter against the walls. It was the end. No, wait, she was panicking. Maybe it would be fine. She just had to stay calm. She clutched the grenade more tightly, the sticky, nearly-dried blood on her hand being ground into the grooves of the explosive. She could do this. She could deal with Kawada.
She hadn't noticed that the blood on her knees had left very noticeable marks on the back of the sofa as she hastily scrambled over it, a very clear trail from Keita's corpse to her current hiding place.
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The Director
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Tatsumichi managed to get his laughter under control and shook his head. Wow, that had been a hell of an outburst - on the edge of maniacal. He supposed that it was just the pressure of the whole deal. He really needed to get a better handle on himself. Tatsumichi wasn't going to survive if he went bombing into the deep end, was he?
Yeah, so just... relax a bit Tatsu. I'm safe here, or should be so long as I take care about whereabouts I crash.
More cautiously now that his fit of laughing had passed, Tatsumichi continued into the house proper, looking from side to side carefully, checking that nobody was lurking in the shadows. Spotting a door off to one side, Tatsumichi opened it into what seemed to be a small study. Oki took a cursory glance around, but it was pretty obvious that nobody was hiding out in there. Keep tabs on it though, might be something useful in there... Closing the door, Tatsumichi kept walking, and that was when the smell hit him.
Not a pleasant one and one that was distressingly familiar to boot. Tatsumichi only had to think for a few seconds to recall where he'd smelt it before. The classroom. Nanahara's blood.
"Shit!" he hissed under his breath, pressing himself up against the wall and peering around the door frame which seemed to open into a lounge area of sorts. Somebody had been killed here! Tatsumichi wished desperately that he had a better weapon than those STUPID FUCKING DARTS.
Oki took another look, then frowned. That kid on the floor... well, that corpse. Wasn't it Ijima? If Tatsumichi was remembering rightly, he was long dead. He breathed a sigh of relief. Old news then. The killer had probably moved on. Tatsumichi stepped out of hiding and into the room proper, then stopped again.
There was a trail of blood leading from the body and proceeding behind the sofa. The stains looked bright, fresh.
"Fuck!" he shouted in surprise, diving headlong out of the room again and rolling to a crouching position in the corridor. "Who's there? Who the FUCK is in there!?"
Yeah, so just... relax a bit Tatsu. I'm safe here, or should be so long as I take care about whereabouts I crash.
More cautiously now that his fit of laughing had passed, Tatsumichi continued into the house proper, looking from side to side carefully, checking that nobody was lurking in the shadows. Spotting a door off to one side, Tatsumichi opened it into what seemed to be a small study. Oki took a cursory glance around, but it was pretty obvious that nobody was hiding out in there. Keep tabs on it though, might be something useful in there... Closing the door, Tatsumichi kept walking, and that was when the smell hit him.
Not a pleasant one and one that was distressingly familiar to boot. Tatsumichi only had to think for a few seconds to recall where he'd smelt it before. The classroom. Nanahara's blood.
"Shit!" he hissed under his breath, pressing himself up against the wall and peering around the door frame which seemed to open into a lounge area of sorts. Somebody had been killed here! Tatsumichi wished desperately that he had a better weapon than those STUPID FUCKING DARTS.
Oki took another look, then frowned. That kid on the floor... well, that corpse. Wasn't it Ijima? If Tatsumichi was remembering rightly, he was long dead. He breathed a sigh of relief. Old news then. The killer had probably moved on. Tatsumichi stepped out of hiding and into the room proper, then stopped again.
There was a trail of blood leading from the body and proceeding behind the sofa. The stains looked bright, fresh.
"Fuck!" he shouted in surprise, diving headlong out of the room again and rolling to a crouching position in the corridor. "Who's there? Who the FUCK is in there!?"
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MurderWeasel
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Mizuho did not hear the boy enter the room, did not hear his whispered expletive. She did, however, hear his shouts of surprise and dismay, along with the noise he made as he retreated once more into the hall. He was demanding that she identify herself. Why would he want to know that? It had to be so he could assess her, could figure out if she was an easy target or not. Could she scare him off? Probably not. She'd have to pretend to be someone terrifying, someone like Mitsuko, and their voices were way too different.
Speaking of voices, she still didn't know who the other person was. She didn't spend too much time with her male classmates—actually, she didn't spend too much time with her classmates in general, except Kaori and Megumi (dead, Megumi's dead now)—so there was no way she could identify the speaker. One thing she was sure of, though, was that it wasn't Kawada. She didn't know what he sounded like, but she was sure his voice, whatever it was, would have been calm. He would be perpetually cool, killing one after another, smiling a little as he did. Perhaps he never spoke at all, though. Perhaps...
Now was not the time for that. She had to deal with this person, this killer. She had to take great care to make sure she didn't end up stretched out on the floor next to Keita. She had to be careful. He was armed, armed and ready to kill. He had killed before. Would he hesitate to do so again? No, certainly not. He'd killed weak little Keita (Keita was dead, Mizuho realized, and so was Yutaka. That meant Mimura, wherever he was, was all alone now. All alone in this horrible situation, his friends dead, gone, ended. And, would she be alone too? Megumi was dead. She had to find Kaori, had to avenge Megumi—No, no time for this now, calm down). This boy would surely try to take her out too, right? Mizuho, the dreamer, the immature one, the one who was always teased. Who would imagine her to be capable of defending herself? Who would cry if she died? (Kaori, only Kaori, now Megumi's dead...)
"Come out!" she was yelling before she knew it, her voice calm and cold. She didn't sound like herself at all, but that was alright. She had to be someone else now, someone who could cope with this. Now, she had to be a warrior (Funny, you got it right after all, didn't you, Ms. fortune teller? You and the little man, the little man who has to die, your prophecies were correct). She had to stay alive. She couldn't be killed.
She peeked up over the sofa, and shouted, "Come out. I have a grenade and if you don't show yourself I'll kill us both!" She wasn't sure if she really would. She wasn't sure what she was doing. Why wasn't she telling him to run away? Well, if he had a gun, he could shoot her through the walls, or lurk and wait for her to leave. She had to neutralize him as a threat, and now, before things got out of control.
"Show yourself, and drop your weapon if you want to live," she said, only her eyes peering over the sofa, the grenade held at the ready. It was easier now, easier to talk calmly. If he came in and shot her, she'd take him with her. He couldn't rush her with a sword, if that's what he had. She could make it out of this. She still couldn't see her opponent, but whoever he was, she could handle him. It was all going to be okay.
Speaking of voices, she still didn't know who the other person was. She didn't spend too much time with her male classmates—actually, she didn't spend too much time with her classmates in general, except Kaori and Megumi (dead, Megumi's dead now)—so there was no way she could identify the speaker. One thing she was sure of, though, was that it wasn't Kawada. She didn't know what he sounded like, but she was sure his voice, whatever it was, would have been calm. He would be perpetually cool, killing one after another, smiling a little as he did. Perhaps he never spoke at all, though. Perhaps...
Now was not the time for that. She had to deal with this person, this killer. She had to take great care to make sure she didn't end up stretched out on the floor next to Keita. She had to be careful. He was armed, armed and ready to kill. He had killed before. Would he hesitate to do so again? No, certainly not. He'd killed weak little Keita (Keita was dead, Mizuho realized, and so was Yutaka. That meant Mimura, wherever he was, was all alone now. All alone in this horrible situation, his friends dead, gone, ended. And, would she be alone too? Megumi was dead. She had to find Kaori, had to avenge Megumi—No, no time for this now, calm down). This boy would surely try to take her out too, right? Mizuho, the dreamer, the immature one, the one who was always teased. Who would imagine her to be capable of defending herself? Who would cry if she died? (Kaori, only Kaori, now Megumi's dead...)
"Come out!" she was yelling before she knew it, her voice calm and cold. She didn't sound like herself at all, but that was alright. She had to be someone else now, someone who could cope with this. Now, she had to be a warrior (Funny, you got it right after all, didn't you, Ms. fortune teller? You and the little man, the little man who has to die, your prophecies were correct). She had to stay alive. She couldn't be killed.
She peeked up over the sofa, and shouted, "Come out. I have a grenade and if you don't show yourself I'll kill us both!" She wasn't sure if she really would. She wasn't sure what she was doing. Why wasn't she telling him to run away? Well, if he had a gun, he could shoot her through the walls, or lurk and wait for her to leave. She had to neutralize him as a threat, and now, before things got out of control.
"Show yourself, and drop your weapon if you want to live," she said, only her eyes peering over the sofa, the grenade held at the ready. It was easier now, easier to talk calmly. If he came in and shot her, she'd take him with her. He couldn't rush her with a sword, if that's what he had. She could make it out of this. She still couldn't see her opponent, but whoever he was, she could handle him. It was all going to be okay.
Kaori woke with a start as another boy called out, woke to darkness and the slowly advancing smell of her dead classmate. There had been two downstairs... Ryuhei, it must have been Ryuhei, he was always loud so it was hard to forget his voice... and there had been a gunshot that was louder than the boy. And now another had come.
She had holed herself up in the attic with a blanket and a few pillows as soon as she'd tracked the house down on the map, it had sounded like a nice place. She'd since spent the time crying and trying to pretend she wasn't in this horrible situation. When the announcement had come, she'd buried her face in her pillow and tried to out-scream it, drown it out, somehow avoid the inevitable by denying it's existence. It hadn't stopped her hearing Megumi was gone.
She wanted Megumi with her now, and Mizuho. Maybe if they were all in the attic together it'd all go away. They could make believe, she'd be the idol, Mizuho could be the warrior and Megumi could be, could be... whatever she wanted to be. She was so shy, even with them, but this time it'd be her party. Yes. Though it wouldn't be much of a party, not with the smell and the lack of food and the horrible people with the microphones and collars and murder.
Not that they'd come. It'd just be more boys. Like the one downstairs. They didn't know how to play, they just knew how to fight. Fight fight fight, like stupid little puppies. She pulled the blanket up to her face and tried to cry into it, but it made her pimples sting so she thrust it into her lap and scrunched it as tightly as she could. She gritted her teeth and sobbed quietly. She hated being like this, pathetic and ugly and scared. Maybe if she just ended it she could... The boy downstairs was shouting again, didn't he know she was being suicidal? It was so rude interrupting and... and a girl's voice. Louder, closer, and not just any girl's voice. It was Mizuho. She was sure of it. Mizuho was there!
But so was the boy. Her enthusiasm ebbed. What if he was armed? Then Mizuho needed her. But she was scared. She didn't want to die. No, it didn't matter, Junya would have gone down there, she should too, and she'd already been thinking of suicide so it wasn't like it could get any worse. She threw the blanket away from her and crawled over to the hatch. There was just enough light coming from gaps and loose tiles to let her see the way. The smell was worse near the hatch, but she pushed it and the ladder attached to it down just the same.
She had holed herself up in the attic with a blanket and a few pillows as soon as she'd tracked the house down on the map, it had sounded like a nice place. She'd since spent the time crying and trying to pretend she wasn't in this horrible situation. When the announcement had come, she'd buried her face in her pillow and tried to out-scream it, drown it out, somehow avoid the inevitable by denying it's existence. It hadn't stopped her hearing Megumi was gone.
She wanted Megumi with her now, and Mizuho. Maybe if they were all in the attic together it'd all go away. They could make believe, she'd be the idol, Mizuho could be the warrior and Megumi could be, could be... whatever she wanted to be. She was so shy, even with them, but this time it'd be her party. Yes. Though it wouldn't be much of a party, not with the smell and the lack of food and the horrible people with the microphones and collars and murder.
Not that they'd come. It'd just be more boys. Like the one downstairs. They didn't know how to play, they just knew how to fight. Fight fight fight, like stupid little puppies. She pulled the blanket up to her face and tried to cry into it, but it made her pimples sting so she thrust it into her lap and scrunched it as tightly as she could. She gritted her teeth and sobbed quietly. She hated being like this, pathetic and ugly and scared. Maybe if she just ended it she could... The boy downstairs was shouting again, didn't he know she was being suicidal? It was so rude interrupting and... and a girl's voice. Louder, closer, and not just any girl's voice. It was Mizuho. She was sure of it. Mizuho was there!
But so was the boy. Her enthusiasm ebbed. What if he was armed? Then Mizuho needed her. But she was scared. She didn't want to die. No, it didn't matter, Junya would have gone down there, she should too, and she'd already been thinking of suicide so it wasn't like it could get any worse. She threw the blanket away from her and crawled over to the hatch. There was just enough light coming from gaps and loose tiles to let her see the way. The smell was worse near the hatch, but she pushed it and the ladder attached to it down just the same.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiii.
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The Director
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It took a moment for the voice calling out to him to process properly, but when it did, Tatsumichi frowned. A chick? There was a chick in there? He'd neither been at the school long enough nor interacted with the girls (unfortunately) enough to be able to play the voice, but whoever they were... well, they sounded pretty goddamn loco to him. Come out or she'd blow them both up? What the fuck!? She was fucking crazy! Still, with that admission hanging over him, no way in hell was he going to leave the corridor. It was much safer than in that living room, more places to duck into, should that grenade go flying his way.
"I don't have a fucking weapon you lunatic, not unless you happen to be a goddamn dartboard!" Tatsumichi backed a little further down the hallway, still looking at that sofa and trying to figure out who the hell was hiding behind it. "Look, I don't want to make any trouble, okay? I was just looking for somewhere to crash out, but if you're here I'm not gonna force the issue! Nobody needs to blow anybody else up, alright?"
Hey look... there they are... just their eyes though. Shit, who is that? Well, whoever they are, they're fucking batshit. Take it easy Tatsu, don't wanna rile her up...
"Just chill out, I'm not planning on hurting anybody. Seriously, if you don't believe me, take a look."
Tatsumichi swung his pack from his shoulder and set it down on the floor, taking care not to make any sudden movements. After a couple of seconds, he produced the dartboard and held it up in front of him. He didn't even know why he'd kept the thing, but maybe it would be enough to convince this chick to change her mind about blowing him to kingdom come.
Damn. He'd never thought he'd be so frightened to think about those words.
"I don't have a fucking weapon you lunatic, not unless you happen to be a goddamn dartboard!" Tatsumichi backed a little further down the hallway, still looking at that sofa and trying to figure out who the hell was hiding behind it. "Look, I don't want to make any trouble, okay? I was just looking for somewhere to crash out, but if you're here I'm not gonna force the issue! Nobody needs to blow anybody else up, alright?"
Hey look... there they are... just their eyes though. Shit, who is that? Well, whoever they are, they're fucking batshit. Take it easy Tatsu, don't wanna rile her up...
"Just chill out, I'm not planning on hurting anybody. Seriously, if you don't believe me, take a look."
Tatsumichi swung his pack from his shoulder and set it down on the floor, taking care not to make any sudden movements. After a couple of seconds, he produced the dartboard and held it up in front of him. He didn't even know why he'd kept the thing, but maybe it would be enough to convince this chick to change her mind about blowing him to kingdom come.
Damn. He'd never thought he'd be so frightened to think about those words.
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MurderWeasel
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- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Lying. He had to be lying. He said he didn't have a weapon. He said he hadn't killed anyone. He—Tatsumichi, she could finally identify Tatsumichi, the new kid (figures the new kid flipped first; what's he care if we all die? Just like Kawada...)—plopped his bag to the floor and produced a dartboard. As if that proved anything. It was just a ruse. He must have stolen Keita's weapon, poor Keita, unarmed, given nothing but a dartboard to defend himself, then stabbed or shot to death by this murdering psycho.
But, Keita couldn't have been shot. No way. Because, if Tatsumichi had a gun, he'd have just blown Mizuho away and then ran, waited to see if the house blew up, and, if it didn't, came back to pick over her body, pick over her like a giant, ugly crow picking clean a corpse. She shivered, her grip on the grenade loosening a little... almost too much. She very nearly dropped the thing at her own feet, nearly blew herself to bits. She traded it to her other hand. It was surprisingly heavy. Holding it up was getting a little tiring.
What could she do now? This was a horrible impasse. She could probably get Tatsumichi. He was either armed only with a melee weapon, or was telling the truth (No, no, impossible) but the blast would almost certainly kill her too. She wasn't quite sure how powerful the grenades were, but, well, she could imagine their effects well enough. If one went off, why, there would be nothing left of the house but a smoking crater. It would be a quick way to die, but, now that she thought about it at slightly more length, Mizuho wasn't ready to die yet. She needed to do a few things first. She had to find Megumi's killer, and get revenge, and she had to find Kaori, and keep her safe. Neither task would be easy, but she had to try. She couldn't die here.
"Throw your bag over," she said. Her voice had gone calm again, calm and cold, like when she was facing Mitsuko. "I'll look through it. You stay back. If you're lying, I take your weapon and you leave. If you're telling the truth, you leave. If you try anything, we both die here."
That seemed sensible, and there was no way Tatsumichi had any big melee weapon on him, at least, not from what she could see of him. He might have a little knife or something, but that wouldn't matter once he left. They would just go their seperate ways, and things would work out better. It would all be okay, with any luck. Mizuho felt her pulse slowing down, her adrenaline levels dropping a little.
Then, she realized that, if Tatsumichi was telling the truth—she had now accepted the possibility, though it was faint at best—it might be best to share a little information with him.
"Oh," she said, her tone now casual and conversational, "watch out for Mitsuko. She's crazy."
But, Keita couldn't have been shot. No way. Because, if Tatsumichi had a gun, he'd have just blown Mizuho away and then ran, waited to see if the house blew up, and, if it didn't, came back to pick over her body, pick over her like a giant, ugly crow picking clean a corpse. She shivered, her grip on the grenade loosening a little... almost too much. She very nearly dropped the thing at her own feet, nearly blew herself to bits. She traded it to her other hand. It was surprisingly heavy. Holding it up was getting a little tiring.
What could she do now? This was a horrible impasse. She could probably get Tatsumichi. He was either armed only with a melee weapon, or was telling the truth (No, no, impossible) but the blast would almost certainly kill her too. She wasn't quite sure how powerful the grenades were, but, well, she could imagine their effects well enough. If one went off, why, there would be nothing left of the house but a smoking crater. It would be a quick way to die, but, now that she thought about it at slightly more length, Mizuho wasn't ready to die yet. She needed to do a few things first. She had to find Megumi's killer, and get revenge, and she had to find Kaori, and keep her safe. Neither task would be easy, but she had to try. She couldn't die here.
"Throw your bag over," she said. Her voice had gone calm again, calm and cold, like when she was facing Mitsuko. "I'll look through it. You stay back. If you're lying, I take your weapon and you leave. If you're telling the truth, you leave. If you try anything, we both die here."
That seemed sensible, and there was no way Tatsumichi had any big melee weapon on him, at least, not from what she could see of him. He might have a little knife or something, but that wouldn't matter once he left. They would just go their seperate ways, and things would work out better. It would all be okay, with any luck. Mizuho felt her pulse slowing down, her adrenaline levels dropping a little.
Then, she realized that, if Tatsumichi was telling the truth—she had now accepted the possibility, though it was faint at best—it might be best to share a little information with him.
"Oh," she said, her tone now casual and conversational, "watch out for Mitsuko. She's crazy."
Kaori crept down the sliding ladder into the study. She'd been lucky to find that trap door in the first place, it was in the same kind of place as at home. She barely made a sound as she descended. She was good at being quiet, she'd always been good at being quiet. Maybe not when she was little, and maybe not whenever she tried to sing, sure, but generally. Maybe sneaky was a better word, it wasn't the nicest thing to be called, but it seemed to fit, and she had more important things to worry about.
Like the fact she was unarmed. Not a good way to be when she was about to run into a confrontation, not good at all. The 'weapon' she'd been assigned wasn't going to help there, it might inspire pity but... no, she didn't want pity, she was strong! She was going to go and... and... live, somehow. She realised she hadn't really thought this out beyond "Save and/or join Mizuho". The tick of the wood framed clock hanging on the wall reminded her she was wasting precious time. A weapon, she needed a weapon. In a study.
She swept over to the desk and started rummaging through the drawers, flinching at every sound. She couldn't really make out what was being said down the hallway, so they probably couldn't hear her there, but the thought only alleviated her paranoia a little. What she was hoping for was a revolver or something, like out of the movies, everyone always kept revolvers in their desks, but no, no revolvers, pistols, swords, nothing. She grabbed a pair of long scissors and a letter opener from the top drawer. Maybe she could sneak up and stab him in the neck, or in the back or something or, or she could hold it to his throat maybe. Yes! that'd work.
She stepped quickly to door and carefully peered around the door frame. There he was in the living room at the end of the hall, holding something out in front of him. She couldn't make it out in the dim light, it was probably a gun, what if he had Mizuho at gunpoint? What if the two were in a standoff? Like her stationary was going to help then, this was stupid. No, Junya would think of something, she just had to be cool. Think.
A few seconds passed before inspiration hit and she made her way out of the office and quietly up the hall. She stared at her feet to begin with. Heel before toe, that's how she used to creep around the house late at night. Hug the walls, the floorboards didn't creak near the walls. Clutching her makeshift weapons tightly in each hand, she was only metres behind him now, concentrating too hard on the back of his head to process Mizuho's warning about Mitsuko.
She swallowed hard and breathed deep, ready to almost shout what she was going to say next. "H-Hands up! Don't turn! Turn around and I shoot!"
Like the fact she was unarmed. Not a good way to be when she was about to run into a confrontation, not good at all. The 'weapon' she'd been assigned wasn't going to help there, it might inspire pity but... no, she didn't want pity, she was strong! She was going to go and... and... live, somehow. She realised she hadn't really thought this out beyond "Save and/or join Mizuho". The tick of the wood framed clock hanging on the wall reminded her she was wasting precious time. A weapon, she needed a weapon. In a study.
She swept over to the desk and started rummaging through the drawers, flinching at every sound. She couldn't really make out what was being said down the hallway, so they probably couldn't hear her there, but the thought only alleviated her paranoia a little. What she was hoping for was a revolver or something, like out of the movies, everyone always kept revolvers in their desks, but no, no revolvers, pistols, swords, nothing. She grabbed a pair of long scissors and a letter opener from the top drawer. Maybe she could sneak up and stab him in the neck, or in the back or something or, or she could hold it to his throat maybe. Yes! that'd work.
She stepped quickly to door and carefully peered around the door frame. There he was in the living room at the end of the hall, holding something out in front of him. She couldn't make it out in the dim light, it was probably a gun, what if he had Mizuho at gunpoint? What if the two were in a standoff? Like her stationary was going to help then, this was stupid. No, Junya would think of something, she just had to be cool. Think.
A few seconds passed before inspiration hit and she made her way out of the office and quietly up the hall. She stared at her feet to begin with. Heel before toe, that's how she used to creep around the house late at night. Hug the walls, the floorboards didn't creak near the walls. Clutching her makeshift weapons tightly in each hand, she was only metres behind him now, concentrating too hard on the back of his head to process Mizuho's warning about Mitsuko.
She swallowed hard and breathed deep, ready to almost shout what she was going to say next. "H-Hands up! Don't turn! Turn around and I shoot!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiii.
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The Director
- Posts: 78
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:29 pm
"What!?"
This chick - whoever it was - wanted his bag now!? There was no way in HELL that was going to happen! It wasn't that he was anxious or nervous about her finding anything, after all Tatsumichi didn't exactly anything to hide; no, it wasn't that at all. Rather, if he gave her his bag, what the fuck was going to stop her from just running off with it and leaving him high and dry? Hell, he didn't even know if she was telling the truth about that grenade and even though he didn't really want to test the veracity of that claim, giving up the bag would NOT be a good move.
"I'm sorry but that ain't fucking happening. That board is what I goddamn got. Why the hell do you think I'd be carrying it around otherwise? It ain't exactly something you look at and think 'oh hey, that'll come in handy' you know!" Tatsumichi squinted, trying to figure out who it was behind that sofa, place their voice. "Look... uh... Yahagi? You've got to believe me here - I don't want to hurt anyon-"
And then somebody yelled out from behind him and he swore. Loudly. Tatsumichi slowly straightened up from his bag and held his hands out either side of him. He didn't drop the dartboard though, his mind calculating. Shit. Was this one of the sofa chick's similarly whacked out friends? Had she just been delaying him long enough for her buddy to sneak on up behind him and take him out?
Tatsumichi swallowed.
"Okay people... let's just chill here... Nobody needs to be shooting or blowing up anybody else, right?"
This chick - whoever it was - wanted his bag now!? There was no way in HELL that was going to happen! It wasn't that he was anxious or nervous about her finding anything, after all Tatsumichi didn't exactly anything to hide; no, it wasn't that at all. Rather, if he gave her his bag, what the fuck was going to stop her from just running off with it and leaving him high and dry? Hell, he didn't even know if she was telling the truth about that grenade and even though he didn't really want to test the veracity of that claim, giving up the bag would NOT be a good move.
"I'm sorry but that ain't fucking happening. That board is what I goddamn got. Why the hell do you think I'd be carrying it around otherwise? It ain't exactly something you look at and think 'oh hey, that'll come in handy' you know!" Tatsumichi squinted, trying to figure out who it was behind that sofa, place their voice. "Look... uh... Yahagi? You've got to believe me here - I don't want to hurt anyon-"
And then somebody yelled out from behind him and he swore. Loudly. Tatsumichi slowly straightened up from his bag and held his hands out either side of him. He didn't drop the dartboard though, his mind calculating. Shit. Was this one of the sofa chick's similarly whacked out friends? Had she just been delaying him long enough for her buddy to sneak on up behind him and take him out?
Tatsumichi swallowed.
"Okay people... let's just chill here... Nobody needs to be shooting or blowing up anybody else, right?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Tatsumichi refused. He refused, and he swore at her, and he claimed that the board was his assigned weapon. His logic was faulty, though. Why would he be carrying it around if he hadn't been assigned it? A better question would be: Why was he carrying it around, whether it was his assigned weapon or not? Clearly, it was to prove his innocence in exactly this sort of situation. Just as clearly, there was something hidden in his bag, something he didn't want Mizuho to see. Maybe it was a gun. Maybe he'd just been caught off guard.
Then, just to add icing to the cake, he called her Yahagi. Yahagi, as in Yoshimi, one of Mitsuko's cronies. He was likening her to one of those evil sluts. Mizuho felt her fist tightening again. How could he make a mistake like that? He was new, but he wasn't stupid. Was he trying to goad her? Maybe his goal was to get her to drop her guard. If she rushed him, he would kill her. If she got close, he would use that sword—she was almost certain it was a sword—against her. He would get her to charge, then he'd lift his bag up, as if to push her back, and ram the bag into her stomach. The sword, concealed within, would stab through the bag and deep into her guts, maybe out the other side. She would try to set off the grenade, of course, but what if he ran? What if he was too fast to get caught? What if he had some other trick up his sleeve?
Then, the whole situation changed in a second. That oh-so-familiar voice rang out, concerned, scared, but with just the right amount of authority and control. Kaori was here. Somehow, Mizuho had had a stroke of luck, and found her friend, and now Tatsumichi was out-manned and out-gunned. If he so much as twitched wrong, Kaori would blow his head off. For the first time in the encounter, Mizuho felt safe. They would get out of this, whether Tatsumichi was lying or not. Kaori had a gun.
Mizuho stood up, leaving her cover. She probably looked horrible, with the blood on her hands and skirt and knees, but she didn't care. Tatsumichi was helpless. She smiled at him, smiled at the figure of Kaori in the background.
Something was wrong, though. Mizuho couldn't see Kaori clearly, but she was pretty sure her friend was not positioned correctly to blow Tatsumichi's head off. She couldn't tell what Kaori was holding, but it didn't look quite right, either. Could she have been bluffing? That was bad, really bad. Maybe they didn't have the upper hand after all, only Tatsumichi thought they did, only maybe he could tell something was wrong, so Mizuho thought she had better act like nothing was the matter and play it cool, only she hadn't answered Tatsumichi's last statement yet. She took a deep breath and said, "Sure. We can 'chill'. We can 'chill' as soon as you toss your bag over here and I look through it. Maybe you're lying. Maybe you have that board to fake me out. But if you don't toss me the bag, Kaori'll splatter your head all over."
Just to provide a little extra motivation, Mizuho waggled the grenade in her left hand.
"Come on. Let's get this over with. Oh, and don't call me Yahagi. I'm..."—what now, though? she wondered. Should she just introduce herself? It seemed so silly. New or not, of course Tatsumichi would know her. She had to say something, though...—"Prexia Dikianne Mizuho."
It rolled off her tongue easily, reflexively, the name she used for herself in her games. It was stupid, so stupid, and badly timed, to boot. Also, Kaori might—no, probably would—recognize it. But what could she do? It was too late to unsay it. She just had to hope Tatsumichi ignored it, and followed her directions.
Then, just to add icing to the cake, he called her Yahagi. Yahagi, as in Yoshimi, one of Mitsuko's cronies. He was likening her to one of those evil sluts. Mizuho felt her fist tightening again. How could he make a mistake like that? He was new, but he wasn't stupid. Was he trying to goad her? Maybe his goal was to get her to drop her guard. If she rushed him, he would kill her. If she got close, he would use that sword—she was almost certain it was a sword—against her. He would get her to charge, then he'd lift his bag up, as if to push her back, and ram the bag into her stomach. The sword, concealed within, would stab through the bag and deep into her guts, maybe out the other side. She would try to set off the grenade, of course, but what if he ran? What if he was too fast to get caught? What if he had some other trick up his sleeve?
Then, the whole situation changed in a second. That oh-so-familiar voice rang out, concerned, scared, but with just the right amount of authority and control. Kaori was here. Somehow, Mizuho had had a stroke of luck, and found her friend, and now Tatsumichi was out-manned and out-gunned. If he so much as twitched wrong, Kaori would blow his head off. For the first time in the encounter, Mizuho felt safe. They would get out of this, whether Tatsumichi was lying or not. Kaori had a gun.
Mizuho stood up, leaving her cover. She probably looked horrible, with the blood on her hands and skirt and knees, but she didn't care. Tatsumichi was helpless. She smiled at him, smiled at the figure of Kaori in the background.
Something was wrong, though. Mizuho couldn't see Kaori clearly, but she was pretty sure her friend was not positioned correctly to blow Tatsumichi's head off. She couldn't tell what Kaori was holding, but it didn't look quite right, either. Could she have been bluffing? That was bad, really bad. Maybe they didn't have the upper hand after all, only Tatsumichi thought they did, only maybe he could tell something was wrong, so Mizuho thought she had better act like nothing was the matter and play it cool, only she hadn't answered Tatsumichi's last statement yet. She took a deep breath and said, "Sure. We can 'chill'. We can 'chill' as soon as you toss your bag over here and I look through it. Maybe you're lying. Maybe you have that board to fake me out. But if you don't toss me the bag, Kaori'll splatter your head all over."
Just to provide a little extra motivation, Mizuho waggled the grenade in her left hand.
"Come on. Let's get this over with. Oh, and don't call me Yahagi. I'm..."—what now, though? she wondered. Should she just introduce herself? It seemed so silly. New or not, of course Tatsumichi would know her. She had to say something, though...—"Prexia Dikianne Mizuho."
It rolled off her tongue easily, reflexively, the name she used for herself in her games. It was stupid, so stupid, and badly timed, to boot. Also, Kaori might—no, probably would—recognize it. But what could she do? It was too late to unsay it. She just had to hope Tatsumichi ignored it, and followed her directions.
He was buying it, he was buying it! She smiled awkwardly, almost manically, despite her nervousness. Here she was, little old Kaori, nervous Kaori, pizza face Kaori, holding up one of the boys with nothing more than a letter opener and a pair of scissors. He wasn't making fun of her now she had the upper-hand, oh no no. Being in control felt so good.
When Mizuho introduced herself as Prexia, Kaori felt a bit warmer. It came as a surprise, but a welcome one. With that, she knew Mizuho was still Mizuho, still her friend from school. It occured to her she should probably introduce herself as well, seeing as that seemed to be the thing to do. She briefly thought of taking Junya's name; maybe Kaori Kenzaki or Kaori Junya or something. But no, she was her bestest fan, not her creepiest stalker. She was going make a name for herself, she was going to be something.
"My name's Minami, Kaori Minami. A-and don't forget it!" Yeah! Junya would be so proud. And mum, and dad. She was cool right then. More than she'd ever been back home. "Now hold still!"
With Mizuho about to check the bag she decided she was going to make herself useful. She moved closer behind the boy, slipped the scissors into her pocket (use one hand, don't let him think you've put away the gun...) and started patting him down. Better safe than sorry after all! And if she was lucky, he might have something better for her to take. Maybe a sword or a gun or something. Though if it was a sword then Mizuho could probably have it. Wait, what was she thinking, there wasn't room for a sword there. Unless he was hiding it down a pant-leg... She patted along his legs again just to be sure.
When Mizuho introduced herself as Prexia, Kaori felt a bit warmer. It came as a surprise, but a welcome one. With that, she knew Mizuho was still Mizuho, still her friend from school. It occured to her she should probably introduce herself as well, seeing as that seemed to be the thing to do. She briefly thought of taking Junya's name; maybe Kaori Kenzaki or Kaori Junya or something. But no, she was her bestest fan, not her creepiest stalker. She was going make a name for herself, she was going to be something.
"My name's Minami, Kaori Minami. A-and don't forget it!" Yeah! Junya would be so proud. And mum, and dad. She was cool right then. More than she'd ever been back home. "Now hold still!"
With Mizuho about to check the bag she decided she was going to make herself useful. She moved closer behind the boy, slipped the scissors into her pocket (use one hand, don't let him think you've put away the gun...) and started patting him down. Better safe than sorry after all! And if she was lucky, he might have something better for her to take. Maybe a sword or a gun or something. Though if it was a sword then Mizuho could probably have it. Wait, what was she thinking, there wasn't room for a sword there. Unless he was hiding it down a pant-leg... She patted along his legs again just to be sure.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiii.
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The Director
- Posts: 78
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:29 pm
Tatsumichi's nerves were jangling as the mysterious girl stood up, revealing herself to be... Mizuho Inada? What the fuck? It hadn't sounded ANYTHING like her! But sure enough, she was still toting a grenade, so it didn't exactly matter who it was. Whether it was Yahagi or Inada holding it, that thing would still blow him to smithereens.
Kaori? Oh right... Minami. Wow, I'm being held at gunpoint by two of the biggest freaks in the class. Just fucking great. I'm as good as wasted.
Oki raised an eyebrow at Inada's bizarre introduction, as if he needed more proof that she was seriously off her rocker. But hey, she was the one packing heat here, she could call herself whatever the fuck she wanted. In the meantime, Minami was patting him down. Jesus fuck... so long as this was all kept cool, he might, just might be able to walk out of this alive...
Tatsumichi gave his pack a kick towards Inada.
"Look, there. I don't have shit. Come on guys... I ain't about to hurt anyone."
Kaori? Oh right... Minami. Wow, I'm being held at gunpoint by two of the biggest freaks in the class. Just fucking great. I'm as good as wasted.
Oki raised an eyebrow at Inada's bizarre introduction, as if he needed more proof that she was seriously off her rocker. But hey, she was the one packing heat here, she could call herself whatever the fuck she wanted. In the meantime, Minami was patting him down. Jesus fuck... so long as this was all kept cool, he might, just might be able to walk out of this alive...
Tatsumichi gave his pack a kick towards Inada.
"Look, there. I don't have shit. Come on guys... I ain't about to hurt anyone."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Kaori kept her composure reasonably well, introducing herself to Tatsumichi too, albeit a bit shakily. Mizuho could feel the tension in the room mounting, could feel the stress building. It seemed like everything had come to a tipping point, where the smallest of movements could push them all to explosive violence or keep them all safe and allow them to go their separate ways. Mizuho didn't have the slightest clue which direction everything would finally go when it came down to it. On the one hand, she hoped things went well, hoped she could stay with Kaori and protect her. On the other, the stress of the situation was getting to her. It couldn't be denied. She'd slipped up and used her pretend name, after all, and who knew what could come after that? She felt like she was losing control of the situation entirely. Tatsumichi kicked his bag towards her and she jumped, nearly freaked out and blew them all up on the spot, before realizing why he'd done it. He'd decided to follow her instructions after all. He'd realized that he was at a disadvantage and taken the sane route.
The only question now was, what was in that bag? Was he telling the truth? Was this all some terrible misunderstanding? Or was it something worse, some sort of trick or trap? Perhaps he knew Kaori was only pretending to have a gun. Perhaps, as soon as Mizuho leaned down to check the bag, he would lunge forward, pin her down, kill her with a knife hidden in his belt, then finish Kaori. But wait—that wasn't possible. Kaori had patted him down. Mizuho shook lightly. She wasn't sharp right now. She wasn't paying attention to important information. What could be wrong with her? If they made it out of this, she would have to get Kaori to stand watch while she took a nap. Then she would feel better.
Mizuho leaned down and pulled the bag open with her free hand. She rummaged around inside, and found...
Nothing.
There was nothing at all like a weapon in the bag. Tatsumichi had been telling the truth. He'd been telling the truth the whole time. He'd... who knew what he'd been doing, why he'd been acting so strangely, but it didn't matter at all, because he'd been telling the truth. Mizuho had nearly blown him up, nearly sent him to whatever lay after this world—heaven hell unity with the universe nothing at all it doesn't even matter does it ask Megumi when you get there if you can but then you'll know anyways—and all because of a misunderstanding.
Suddenly, Mizuho felt tired, incredibly tired and lethargic, yet also happy. She'd been wrong, so who knew what that meant? Maybe the only bad one here was her? Maybe Mitsuko had been honest after all. Maybe they were all just like her, all scared and lonely and sad, but maybe none of them—no, not even her, she'd made an idiotic mistake, but it hadn't been malicious, after all—were really bad. Maybe it had just been a series of mistakes. Maybe—
Megumi!
No, it couldn't be. No one could have killed Megumi by mistake. That wasn't a mistake; it was murder.
Mizuho had gone quiet as she thought this through, had spent probably half a minute staring at nothing, obviously not checking the bag, just spacing out. She jerked a little bit unnaturally, then zipped the bag up and shoved it back towards Tatsumichi. It didn't slide over smoothly; Mizuho was nowhere near as strong as the sports player, and besides, she wasn't positioned well to throw it. Then she straightened up, smoothing her skirt, noticing the blood covering it, her hands, and her knees for the first time.
Where did that come from?
She couldn't even be entirely sure it was real; after all, she was a warrior right now, and warriors ended up covered in blood, right? After battles? She would have to make sure. There was only one way to do it.
She gazed past Tatsumichi, unfocused, then, after a second, pulled her attention together enough to make eye contact with Kaori. She almost blurted it out right there ("Kaori, am I really covered in blood?") but it seemed inadvisable, with Tatsumichi still in the picture. Instead, she broke the silence by saying, "It's alright. He's being truthful. Put your gun away."
There. She'd had the presence of mind to say something so Tatsumichi wouldn't question the fact that Kaori's "gun" wasn't visible. He'd hopefully assume she'd hidden it somewhere. Mizuho giggled for a second, the stress relenting, her tension easing, then said, her voice back to its normal, conversational tone, "Well, we have some rice crackers, if either of you is hungry. There might be something else in the kitchen, but nothing that can rot. They turned the power off, I guess."
Smiling, deciding to sort out all her questions later, once she was alone with Kaori, Mizuho knelt and finally set the grenade down near her feet, then stood up again and stretched. Her arms were sore.
The only question now was, what was in that bag? Was he telling the truth? Was this all some terrible misunderstanding? Or was it something worse, some sort of trick or trap? Perhaps he knew Kaori was only pretending to have a gun. Perhaps, as soon as Mizuho leaned down to check the bag, he would lunge forward, pin her down, kill her with a knife hidden in his belt, then finish Kaori. But wait—that wasn't possible. Kaori had patted him down. Mizuho shook lightly. She wasn't sharp right now. She wasn't paying attention to important information. What could be wrong with her? If they made it out of this, she would have to get Kaori to stand watch while she took a nap. Then she would feel better.
Mizuho leaned down and pulled the bag open with her free hand. She rummaged around inside, and found...
Nothing.
There was nothing at all like a weapon in the bag. Tatsumichi had been telling the truth. He'd been telling the truth the whole time. He'd... who knew what he'd been doing, why he'd been acting so strangely, but it didn't matter at all, because he'd been telling the truth. Mizuho had nearly blown him up, nearly sent him to whatever lay after this world—heaven hell unity with the universe nothing at all it doesn't even matter does it ask Megumi when you get there if you can but then you'll know anyways—and all because of a misunderstanding.
Suddenly, Mizuho felt tired, incredibly tired and lethargic, yet also happy. She'd been wrong, so who knew what that meant? Maybe the only bad one here was her? Maybe Mitsuko had been honest after all. Maybe they were all just like her, all scared and lonely and sad, but maybe none of them—no, not even her, she'd made an idiotic mistake, but it hadn't been malicious, after all—were really bad. Maybe it had just been a series of mistakes. Maybe—
Megumi!
No, it couldn't be. No one could have killed Megumi by mistake. That wasn't a mistake; it was murder.
Mizuho had gone quiet as she thought this through, had spent probably half a minute staring at nothing, obviously not checking the bag, just spacing out. She jerked a little bit unnaturally, then zipped the bag up and shoved it back towards Tatsumichi. It didn't slide over smoothly; Mizuho was nowhere near as strong as the sports player, and besides, she wasn't positioned well to throw it. Then she straightened up, smoothing her skirt, noticing the blood covering it, her hands, and her knees for the first time.
Where did that come from?
She couldn't even be entirely sure it was real; after all, she was a warrior right now, and warriors ended up covered in blood, right? After battles? She would have to make sure. There was only one way to do it.
She gazed past Tatsumichi, unfocused, then, after a second, pulled her attention together enough to make eye contact with Kaori. She almost blurted it out right there ("Kaori, am I really covered in blood?") but it seemed inadvisable, with Tatsumichi still in the picture. Instead, she broke the silence by saying, "It's alright. He's being truthful. Put your gun away."
There. She'd had the presence of mind to say something so Tatsumichi wouldn't question the fact that Kaori's "gun" wasn't visible. He'd hopefully assume she'd hidden it somewhere. Mizuho giggled for a second, the stress relenting, her tension easing, then said, her voice back to its normal, conversational tone, "Well, we have some rice crackers, if either of you is hungry. There might be something else in the kitchen, but nothing that can rot. They turned the power off, I guess."
Smiling, deciding to sort out all her questions later, once she was alone with Kaori, Mizuho knelt and finally set the grenade down near her feet, then stood up again and stretched. Her arms were sore.
With the boy thoroughly searched and apparently disarmed Kaori started to relax, and took a few cautious steps into the room. It was a wreck, Mizuho was covered in blood, there was... someone's... body on the floor, there were flecks of blood in all sorts of strange places and the couches were all messed up. Surveying the carnage brought her back to reality a bit, and Kaori all but ran into Mizuho's arms, hugging the taller girl tightly. She was crying again, her chest felt tight and her breaths came in ragged drags as she tried to suppress her tears. It wasn't much use, and in a sense she desperately needed to just to be with her friend; despite the horrible situation she still felt she could trust Mizuho, that she'd protect her even if no-one else would.
"Oh my god Mizuho it's s-so g-good to see you!" She buried her face in Mizuho’s shoulder and sobbed quietly. "Megumi... Megumi's..."
“…She should be here.”
She held on quietly for a minute before finally releasing her warrior. She'd needed to get that off her chest, and she felt better for it. Now that she had Mizuho things were going to be okay, they'd get off this island and things would go back... as much as they could... to the way they were before. One thing they couldn't do though, was stay there. Well, they probably could have, but Kaori didn't want to be in that house anymore now she'd seen the body.
"I-I'll... I'll go get my stuff."
"Oh my god Mizuho it's s-so g-good to see you!" She buried her face in Mizuho’s shoulder and sobbed quietly. "Megumi... Megumi's..."
“…She should be here.”
She held on quietly for a minute before finally releasing her warrior. She'd needed to get that off her chest, and she felt better for it. Now that she had Mizuho things were going to be okay, they'd get off this island and things would go back... as much as they could... to the way they were before. One thing they couldn't do though, was stay there. Well, they probably could have, but Kaori didn't want to be in that house anymore now she'd seen the body.
"I-I'll... I'll go get my stuff."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiii.