((Shinji Mimura continued from START GAME))
The timing wasn't perfect. Ideally, Shinji Mimura (Male Student No. 19) would've been the first one out of the school building. Had it gone like that, he could've easily grabbed everyone who mattered to him as they made their own exits, then faded into hiding as a group. As it was, he had to make choices and compromises.
Mitsuko hadn't been standing by to gun him down, which was a small blessing. It didn't mean there was any safety or trust to be found, however. Shinji had heard gunshots from the direction of the buildings whose outskirts he now waited in, but he'd gone this way anyways, because it gave him the best chance of accomplishing some of what he wanted, and because Mitsuko or someone else could always circle back. This was a better staging point. He'd need to find anything useful he could, and he also wanted to get a few people on his side. He'd left before Yutaka and Shu, so maybe he could pick them up on their ways out. Matsui had left earlier, and there was no telling where she'd gone, so he couldn't chance a search. But maybe he'd get lucky.
Shinji was lurking in the shadow of a rustic building, in a narrow alley. He held his pistol (a Luger P08 9mm Semi-Automatic) low by his side. He'd figured out enough to load it, but he wouldn't know how it really worked until he fired it. If that happened anytime soon, it would mean something had gone horribly wrong.
In the darkness, it was hard to tell what was happening, though moonlight provided enough illumination that Shinji at least thought he'd be able to tell if anyone came this way, or even moved from the school towards the Southern half of the island. He was just about three hundred meters from the building. He knew Yutaka's motions. He'd recognize his friend anywhere.
But still, there had been those gunshots. There were no guarantees. This was probably one of the riskiest moments. He couldn't afford to screw up so soon.
So Shinji pressed his back against the building, peered into the dark, and waited.
Calculated Risk
Moderator: BRAU2 Director
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Calculated Risk
Retreating to a concealed vantage point was a tactically sound decision. One could not make informed assessments of a situation without first securing one's position. Choices made in the heat of the moment without forward planning were doomed to failure: recklessness would always bear consequences, if not immediately, then with future ramifications. Alas, the type of thinker incapable of thinking beyond the short term was exactly the kind of ingrate that would die cursing a fate wrought by their own hands, too blinkered to realise that their demise could only be blamed upon themselves.
The irony was so tragic as to almost be pitiable, but idiocy did not deserve the reward of regret.
Toshinori Oda (Male Student No. 4) was far too astute and mentally sharp to fall victim to that manner of pitfall. Whilst the vision of others was limited to within a handspan of their nose, he cast his mind's eye far in advance of the present. He was a strategist, a virtuoso, considering every angle as nimbly as his bow danced across the strings of his violin. A fool may have contemplated an early exit from the headquarters building and declared in their blind overconfidence that it was an opportunity to kill classmates as they emerged. Toshinori had dismissed the notion out of hand. There was too little time between departures, and Toshinori was well aware of his limitations. Eliminating thirty-eight others in succession without a single delay or mishap? Impossible. His weapon, while useful, did not afford him the luxury of maintaining a safe distance from others to slay them from afar. He would have invited his own death ere long.
Instead, Toshinori had departed into the nearby town, his stun gun in hand. It was perfectly plausible that members of the class would swiftly fall into violence and savagery, tearing into one another with wild abandon. Even aside the possibility of mutual distrust lending itself to violence, the class counted more than enough delinquents amongst its number that indiscriminate murder would be an inevitability. Should a swift death at the hands of one they believed they could trust not have already disabused the others of the notion that cooperation was a possibility, they would learn soon enough. Toshinori, of course, had no need of such a lesson: he was already fully aware that the bonds of friendship would not survive the Program.
Regardless, Toshinori had drawn the simple conclusion that all he need do was wait out these initial phases, allow the rabble to butcher one another like animals. In the interim, he could remain safe and healthy, biding his time for an opportunity, building up his knowledge of the arena and which of his classmates were the greatest threat. Relative to himself, of course. Once all of that was in hand, Toshinori could strike at his luxury, eliminating others as the opportunity arose. With such masterful planning would victory belong to its rightful owner.
Yes, safety was paramount, and that had necessitated seeking immediate cover upon the sound of gunfire splitting through the air.
The stench of the dumpster was utterly wretched. Toshinori thought that his nose had simply abandoned its function for a while, but that brief mercy was merely the precursor of the cloying reek burrowing itself into his sinuses. Nevertheless, he had persisted. Leave too soon, and all of this would be for naught. No, far better to keep to a safe haven while he strategised, looking out on occasion to assess the situation and determine if it was yet time to venture forth.
The time before last, Toshinori had peeked out of the dumpster and seen a figure standing in the alleyway. Swiftly, he had ducked back down. Then, he looked again. The figure remained. With a slightly longer look, Toshinori was able to determine that they were facing away from him.
Opportunity.
Toshinori could not leave with that figure in the way, and if he remained here much longer, he dreaded the bath he would require to remove the smell not just from his clothing, but from its etching on the inner halls of his nasal system. As such, it was time to begin putting his flawless gambit into action.
Slowly pushing up the lid of the dumpster, Toshinori straightened up and attempted to hop clear. The lid slipped from his grasp, he twisted to attempt a catch, missed, stumbled, and faceplanted onto the ground as the crash of metal on metal reverberated around the alleyway.
The irony was so tragic as to almost be pitiable, but idiocy did not deserve the reward of regret.
Toshinori Oda (Male Student No. 4) was far too astute and mentally sharp to fall victim to that manner of pitfall. Whilst the vision of others was limited to within a handspan of their nose, he cast his mind's eye far in advance of the present. He was a strategist, a virtuoso, considering every angle as nimbly as his bow danced across the strings of his violin. A fool may have contemplated an early exit from the headquarters building and declared in their blind overconfidence that it was an opportunity to kill classmates as they emerged. Toshinori had dismissed the notion out of hand. There was too little time between departures, and Toshinori was well aware of his limitations. Eliminating thirty-eight others in succession without a single delay or mishap? Impossible. His weapon, while useful, did not afford him the luxury of maintaining a safe distance from others to slay them from afar. He would have invited his own death ere long.
Instead, Toshinori had departed into the nearby town, his stun gun in hand. It was perfectly plausible that members of the class would swiftly fall into violence and savagery, tearing into one another with wild abandon. Even aside the possibility of mutual distrust lending itself to violence, the class counted more than enough delinquents amongst its number that indiscriminate murder would be an inevitability. Should a swift death at the hands of one they believed they could trust not have already disabused the others of the notion that cooperation was a possibility, they would learn soon enough. Toshinori, of course, had no need of such a lesson: he was already fully aware that the bonds of friendship would not survive the Program.
Regardless, Toshinori had drawn the simple conclusion that all he need do was wait out these initial phases, allow the rabble to butcher one another like animals. In the interim, he could remain safe and healthy, biding his time for an opportunity, building up his knowledge of the arena and which of his classmates were the greatest threat. Relative to himself, of course. Once all of that was in hand, Toshinori could strike at his luxury, eliminating others as the opportunity arose. With such masterful planning would victory belong to its rightful owner.
Yes, safety was paramount, and that had necessitated seeking immediate cover upon the sound of gunfire splitting through the air.
The stench of the dumpster was utterly wretched. Toshinori thought that his nose had simply abandoned its function for a while, but that brief mercy was merely the precursor of the cloying reek burrowing itself into his sinuses. Nevertheless, he had persisted. Leave too soon, and all of this would be for naught. No, far better to keep to a safe haven while he strategised, looking out on occasion to assess the situation and determine if it was yet time to venture forth.
The time before last, Toshinori had peeked out of the dumpster and seen a figure standing in the alleyway. Swiftly, he had ducked back down. Then, he looked again. The figure remained. With a slightly longer look, Toshinori was able to determine that they were facing away from him.
Opportunity.
Toshinori could not leave with that figure in the way, and if he remained here much longer, he dreaded the bath he would require to remove the smell not just from his clothing, but from its etching on the inner halls of his nasal system. As such, it was time to begin putting his flawless gambit into action.
Slowly pushing up the lid of the dumpster, Toshinori straightened up and attempted to hop clear. The lid slipped from his grasp, he twisted to attempt a catch, missed, stumbled, and faceplanted onto the ground as the crash of metal on metal reverberated around the alleyway.
It was real dark. Like, real REAL dark.
((Yutaka walked, like he was in a dream, from his death sentencing.))
Yutaka didn't have any time. Gunshots? No time to worry, I mean, hopefully nobody he knew died. Surely...his friends were strong enough to not have been slain so quickly..right? Yutaka felt a knot in his stomach. He clutched his weapon, a heavy .357 Magnum. If someone attacked him, he was very uncertain that he could raise his gun in time. It was...quite heavy for him.
Yutaka just needed to find a friend, but...
He seemed to be tunnelvisioning that goal, not really paying much attention to staying quiet or hidden. Hopefully nobody malicious come in and tries to kill him! That would be terrible!
Anyways...where was I?
Right, the heavy gun. Yutaka practically lugged it with him.
((Yutaka walked, like he was in a dream, from his death sentencing.))
Yutaka didn't have any time. Gunshots? No time to worry, I mean, hopefully nobody he knew died. Surely...his friends were strong enough to not have been slain so quickly..right? Yutaka felt a knot in his stomach. He clutched his weapon, a heavy .357 Magnum. If someone attacked him, he was very uncertain that he could raise his gun in time. It was...quite heavy for him.
Yutaka just needed to find a friend, but...
He seemed to be tunnelvisioning that goal, not really paying much attention to staying quiet or hidden. Hopefully nobody malicious come in and tries to kill him! That would be terrible!
Anyways...where was I?
Right, the heavy gun. Yutaka practically lugged it with him.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
There. There he was.
Shinji made no overt celebration, no cry of success or jump for joy or fist pump like Shu might've, but his heart soared as he caught sight of the figure stumbling along away from the school, even as he tried to plan how to handle this. It seemed like Yutaka was heading in more or less the right direction, which would make for an easier interception. The boy gave no sign that he was aware of Shinji's presence, but that was good because Shinji was keeping a low profile on purpose. He wanted to be seen only when he chose to be.
He shifted and leaned around the corner of the building, squinting from the mouth of the alleyway. Even with the moonlight, it was hard to tell what was going on. Yutaka was carrying something. A weapon? He was as kindhearted as they came, but definitely could let his nerves get the better of him. Best to handle this delicately.
"Yutaka," Shinji hissed, but there was no way he'd be heard. Probably three dozen meters still separated them, and the boy's trajectory wasn't quite right. Could he risk leaving his cover? Would that be a great risk than making noise?
Better heard than seen, Shinji decided after a moment's hesitation. Especially in case anyone was jumpy. He raised his voice, not quite to a yell, but louder than conversational.
"Yu—"
Then there came a tremendous crash of metal slamming into metal behind him. The echoes reverberated through the quiet alleyway with the same force as the earlier gunfire, startling a cat which darted across the path right in front of Shinji as he spun, pressing himself tighter against the building and pointing his pistol at the figure now sprawled on the cobblestone path.
Shinji made no overt celebration, no cry of success or jump for joy or fist pump like Shu might've, but his heart soared as he caught sight of the figure stumbling along away from the school, even as he tried to plan how to handle this. It seemed like Yutaka was heading in more or less the right direction, which would make for an easier interception. The boy gave no sign that he was aware of Shinji's presence, but that was good because Shinji was keeping a low profile on purpose. He wanted to be seen only when he chose to be.
He shifted and leaned around the corner of the building, squinting from the mouth of the alleyway. Even with the moonlight, it was hard to tell what was going on. Yutaka was carrying something. A weapon? He was as kindhearted as they came, but definitely could let his nerves get the better of him. Best to handle this delicately.
"Yutaka," Shinji hissed, but there was no way he'd be heard. Probably three dozen meters still separated them, and the boy's trajectory wasn't quite right. Could he risk leaving his cover? Would that be a great risk than making noise?
Better heard than seen, Shinji decided after a moment's hesitation. Especially in case anyone was jumpy. He raised his voice, not quite to a yell, but louder than conversational.
"Yu—"
Then there came a tremendous crash of metal slamming into metal behind him. The echoes reverberated through the quiet alleyway with the same force as the earlier gunfire, startling a cat which darted across the path right in front of Shinji as he spun, pressing himself tighter against the building and pointing his pistol at the figure now sprawled on the cobblestone path.
Toshinori scrabbled up to hands and knees, instinctively and frantically touching at his nose. Was he bleeding? He felt he might be bleeding.
Oh. Hold on.
Toshinori went very still. Bit by bit, his head rose to regard his fellow alleyway occupant.
Self-preservation was enough to stifle his groan. Mimura. That arrogant, conceited, desperately smug piece of work. Really, Mimura was indication of everything wrong with the class, acting as if he owned the place, sending the girls swooning with facile compliments and a saucy wink.
Mimura was pointing a gun at him. Imbecile. As if a firearm made him any better. He was probably too busy gloating about how cool and suave he was to remember to take off the safety. R...right?
Good evening, Mimura. I would appreciate if you could refrain from pointing your weapon at me.
Toshinori's mouth kindly translated.
"Gk."
Oh. Hold on.
Toshinori went very still. Bit by bit, his head rose to regard his fellow alleyway occupant.
Self-preservation was enough to stifle his groan. Mimura. That arrogant, conceited, desperately smug piece of work. Really, Mimura was indication of everything wrong with the class, acting as if he owned the place, sending the girls swooning with facile compliments and a saucy wink.
Mimura was pointing a gun at him. Imbecile. As if a firearm made him any better. He was probably too busy gloating about how cool and suave he was to remember to take off the safety. R...right?
Good evening, Mimura. I would appreciate if you could refrain from pointing your weapon at me.
Toshinori's mouth kindly translated.
"Gk."
(( Mitsuru Numai continued from Rubicon.))
Mitsuru sat on a counter top inside one of the houses in the residential area, patching himself up next to a battery powered cassette boombox. On top of his head was a white SHOEI motorcycle helmet, the visor raised to he could see his work as he stitched his arm up, the sleeves of his short sleeved undershirt rolled up to his shoulders, his school jacket wrapped around his waist. He's never done this before, so obviously, it was taking him a lot of time.
He didn't want to hurt anyone on this island if he could help it, at least not too seriously. Even then, he needed some more protection besides the knife. The helmet should do a good job of at least protecting his face, especially now, knowing how deep a haphazard blade swing can cut. Didn't want any of that shit near his face.
As he began to finish up with the suturing, there was a loud crash of dumpsters somewhere outside, startling Mitsuru and causing him to poke himself with the needle.
"Ow! What the fuck?!" He glanced to his left and right, waiting to hear if the sound continued.
So far, it didn't. Even then, until he finished this up, he wasn't in any mood or condition to get in any more pointless fights, at least not right now.
He shrugged. "Whatever..."
((Mitsuru Numai continued elsewhere.))
Mitsuru sat on a counter top inside one of the houses in the residential area, patching himself up next to a battery powered cassette boombox. On top of his head was a white SHOEI motorcycle helmet, the visor raised to he could see his work as he stitched his arm up, the sleeves of his short sleeved undershirt rolled up to his shoulders, his school jacket wrapped around his waist. He's never done this before, so obviously, it was taking him a lot of time.
He didn't want to hurt anyone on this island if he could help it, at least not too seriously. Even then, he needed some more protection besides the knife. The helmet should do a good job of at least protecting his face, especially now, knowing how deep a haphazard blade swing can cut. Didn't want any of that shit near his face.
As he began to finish up with the suturing, there was a loud crash of dumpsters somewhere outside, startling Mitsuru and causing him to poke himself with the needle.
"Ow! What the fuck?!" He glanced to his left and right, waiting to hear if the sound continued.
So far, it didn't. Even then, until he finished this up, he wasn't in any mood or condition to get in any more pointless fights, at least not right now.
He shrugged. "Whatever..."
((Mitsuru Numai continued elsewhere.))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Shinji jumped, quite literally, pointing the heavy gun in the direction of the noise. Then he...
Froze.
Listen, give Yutaka a break, kay? Kid's in a death game. Yutaka has his fight or flight kick in, and his brain chose freeze. He stood there, in cold fear, looking into the abyss. Well, that's a bit dramatic, but it sure did feel like the abyss for Yutaka!
"S-Show yourself! I won't shoot if you don't try to hurt me!" Extend the olive branch. That'll do it! Yeah!
...Right?
Froze.
Listen, give Yutaka a break, kay? Kid's in a death game. Yutaka has his fight or flight kick in, and his brain chose freeze. He stood there, in cold fear, looking into the abyss. Well, that's a bit dramatic, but it sure did feel like the abyss for Yutaka!
"S-Show yourself! I won't shoot if you don't try to hurt me!" Extend the olive branch. That'll do it! Yeah!
...Right?
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"It's me, Yutaka," Shinji called. He didn't turn away from the other boy on hands and knees, though. Yutaka would recognize who was calling out. They'd talked more than often enough for it. Yutaka wasn't the potential cause for concern here.
"Me and Oda," he added, eyeing the other boy. "Just having a chat."
Shinji and Oda had a few things in common, and a lot more that weren't. They both came from well-placed families, but where Shinji thought his father was more or less pathetic in how he clung to the government's every order, Oda seemed to derive most of his sense of identity from his family's position. They both had skills that many of their peers lacked, but where Shinji's talents lay in the realm of computers, Oda was a musical sort.
The biggest point, however, was how they carried themselves. Both Shinji and Oda had a lot of confidence, but one of the things Shinji's uncle had taught him was this: if you thought well of something that you did, or knew you could do, that was pride. If you thought well of yourself simply because you assumed you could do something, that was arrogance.
Oda was arrogant.
But, in its strange way, that made him less threatening than many of the other possible options. Oda could be predicted and understood, and he surely wouldn't be taking their situation well. He didn't seem to be armed with anything immediately dangerous. He was practically speechless.
Shinji lowered the gun, though kept it in his hand. With his free hand, he gestured over his shoulder to Yutaka, beckoning the boy closer, and he took a half step closer to Oda himself, again pressing into the shadow of the building.
"What are you doing over there, anyways?" he asked.
"Me and Oda," he added, eyeing the other boy. "Just having a chat."
Shinji and Oda had a few things in common, and a lot more that weren't. They both came from well-placed families, but where Shinji thought his father was more or less pathetic in how he clung to the government's every order, Oda seemed to derive most of his sense of identity from his family's position. They both had skills that many of their peers lacked, but where Shinji's talents lay in the realm of computers, Oda was a musical sort.
The biggest point, however, was how they carried themselves. Both Shinji and Oda had a lot of confidence, but one of the things Shinji's uncle had taught him was this: if you thought well of something that you did, or knew you could do, that was pride. If you thought well of yourself simply because you assumed you could do something, that was arrogance.
Oda was arrogant.
But, in its strange way, that made him less threatening than many of the other possible options. Oda could be predicted and understood, and he surely wouldn't be taking their situation well. He didn't seem to be armed with anything immediately dangerous. He was practically speechless.
Shinji lowered the gun, though kept it in his hand. With his free hand, he gestured over his shoulder to Yutaka, beckoning the boy closer, and he took a half step closer to Oda himself, again pressing into the shadow of the building.
"What are you doing over there, anyways?" he asked.
Mimura lowered his weapon. At least the boor was capable of that much. Toshinori felt his throat unrestrict itself with the firearm no longer jammed in his face. Of course, there was no chance that Mimura would ever found the guts or the gall to shoot him, but given that Mimura lacked discipline in numerous other fields, it was not beyond possibility that trigger discipline may have counted itself amidst those ranks.
The news turned yet worse when Mimura called out to somebody. Yutaka Seto. Wonderful. A limpit. Toshinori could concede that Mimura possessed a modicum of intelligence (if a paucity of class), but Seto did not possess that same virtue. Instead, the boy hung upon Mimura's every word, trailing after him like a lost puppy. Frankly, it bordered on hero worship, and for what? Mimura's ability to bounce a ball? His success with women? Perhaps Seto hoped to get his hands on some of Mimura's leavings, sniffling around for scraps after his master grew bored and discarded them.
It no longer mattered. Both were here together, and that stymied any attempt Toshinori could possibly make to gain an advantage. For now, he simply had to return to biding his time.
"I had merely retreated to a tactical vantage point," said Toshinori. Belatedly he stood up, edging a little closer to Mimura. "Certainly you can appreciate the necessity of good cover in the presence of gunfire."
The news turned yet worse when Mimura called out to somebody. Yutaka Seto. Wonderful. A limpit. Toshinori could concede that Mimura possessed a modicum of intelligence (if a paucity of class), but Seto did not possess that same virtue. Instead, the boy hung upon Mimura's every word, trailing after him like a lost puppy. Frankly, it bordered on hero worship, and for what? Mimura's ability to bounce a ball? His success with women? Perhaps Seto hoped to get his hands on some of Mimura's leavings, sniffling around for scraps after his master grew bored and discarded them.
It no longer mattered. Both were here together, and that stymied any attempt Toshinori could possibly make to gain an advantage. For now, he simply had to return to biding his time.
"I had merely retreated to a tactical vantage point," said Toshinori. Belatedly he stood up, edging a little closer to Mimura. "Certainly you can appreciate the necessity of good cover in the presence of gunfire."
"Shinji?" Yutaka lowered his weapon in response to a friends voice being heard. "Oh, God, Shinji! Thank God we found each other! Oh, and, hello Oda!" Yutaka sounded more relieved than anything to find more than one person that could be someone to rely on while in this deathgame. Lord knows that we need people like this in a game like this.
This, at least, comforted Yutaka, as he approached the two, following the voices.
"Very good planning I'd say. Good to try to hide before you find people you trust! You never know.."
Yutaka was relieved.
This, at least, comforted Yutaka, as he approached the two, following the voices.
"Very good planning I'd say. Good to try to hide before you find people you trust! You never know.."
Yutaka was relieved.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
So Oda was cowering in the face of the gunfire. Probably in that dumpster behind him, since that was the only thing around that could've made such a ruckus.
"Right," Shinji said.
In other circumstances, he might've given Oda just a little grief. Just enough to force him to stretch his self-perception, to watch how he would contort the circumstances to maintain his supposed superiority. But right now, there were far more important things than a rich boy's arrogance.
Yutaka was calming down. He was also buying Oda's line completely, or maybe being nice about it to soother the guy's nerves. That was the thing with Yutaka, sometimes he was way more insightful than he let on, but other times his innate goodness made him just... trust people. That would have Shinji just about sick with concern, if he wasn't here to keep it from getting out of hand.
"Anyways," he continued, mostly directing his conversation towards Yutaka, "we shouldn't stay here too long. Did you see if Shūya left before you?"
Oda had been a distraction. How long had it been since Shinji first caught sight of Yutaka? Had to have been over a hundred and twenty seconds. Two or three of their classmates could've passed, and this far along, there wouldn't be many left.
And, of course, he did keep an eye on Oda too. Just in case. After all, he wasn't sure why Oda had chosen this moment to emerge from his hiding hole.
"Right," Shinji said.
In other circumstances, he might've given Oda just a little grief. Just enough to force him to stretch his self-perception, to watch how he would contort the circumstances to maintain his supposed superiority. But right now, there were far more important things than a rich boy's arrogance.
Yutaka was calming down. He was also buying Oda's line completely, or maybe being nice about it to soother the guy's nerves. That was the thing with Yutaka, sometimes he was way more insightful than he let on, but other times his innate goodness made him just... trust people. That would have Shinji just about sick with concern, if he wasn't here to keep it from getting out of hand.
"Anyways," he continued, mostly directing his conversation towards Yutaka, "we shouldn't stay here too long. Did you see if Shūya left before you?"
Oda had been a distraction. How long had it been since Shinji first caught sight of Yutaka? Had to have been over a hundred and twenty seconds. Two or three of their classmates could've passed, and this far along, there wouldn't be many left.
And, of course, he did keep an eye on Oda too. Just in case. After all, he wasn't sure why Oda had chosen this moment to emerge from his hiding hole.
Oda politely if unenthusiastically greeted Seto, then allowed Mimura to continue talking with his limpit. Little sense attempting to seize control of the conversation for no gain.
Yutaka shook his head. "I left before him, so I have no idea where he could be. I hope he's alright!"
Yutaka seemed worried sick about Shuya. Poor guy! "Should we try and find him?"
Yutaka seemed worried sick about Shuya. Poor guy! "Should we try and find him?"
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Shinji gave Yutaka's proposal only brief consideration before coming to a decision.
"We can't risk running all over looking for him," Shinji said. "We should stay here a few more minutes. If we see him, great, but we can't afford to risk ourselves, especially when we don't have a plan."
What he didn't add was that, even if they did find Shu somehow, he might be more of a liability than an asset. He was a good guy, but also rash and impulsive. Shinji could run hot sometimes, but there was a time and a place. For Shu, it was always and anywhere.
"We'll also want to see what we can find here. No telling when we won't be able to come back. If we find him there, we can scoop him up."
It would be unlikely to miss Shūya here and find him later, unless he did a loop, but Shinji didn't need to share the less happy musings. Yutaka would have to keep his spirits up if he was going to do the same for Shinji.
And speaking of, there was one more thing to touch on.
"You can come along if you want," he added to Oda. "No obligation."
Better to have the boy slinking around with them than somewhere unknown, and as much as Shinji didn't particularly like or trust him, his presence here and the timing were enough to tell Shinji that he hadn't been the shooter. That meant that, for now at least, he rated above average.
((Everybody continued in Stood Up))
"We can't risk running all over looking for him," Shinji said. "We should stay here a few more minutes. If we see him, great, but we can't afford to risk ourselves, especially when we don't have a plan."
What he didn't add was that, even if they did find Shu somehow, he might be more of a liability than an asset. He was a good guy, but also rash and impulsive. Shinji could run hot sometimes, but there was a time and a place. For Shu, it was always and anywhere.
"We'll also want to see what we can find here. No telling when we won't be able to come back. If we find him there, we can scoop him up."
It would be unlikely to miss Shūya here and find him later, unless he did a loop, but Shinji didn't need to share the less happy musings. Yutaka would have to keep his spirits up if he was going to do the same for Shinji.
And speaking of, there was one more thing to touch on.
"You can come along if you want," he added to Oda. "No obligation."
Better to have the boy slinking around with them than somewhere unknown, and as much as Shinji didn't particularly like or trust him, his presence here and the timing were enough to tell Shinji that he hadn't been the shooter. That meant that, for now at least, he rated above average.
((Everybody continued in Stood Up))