B15: SHŪYA NANAHARA - CONTINUED FROM "I Waited for the Sky to Change"
Shūya Nanahara (Male Student No. 15.), from his position on top of the roof of Okishima Town Hall, stared out across the island. He was in the center of the village; the human sprawl creeped out from the point at which he stood until it mixed with the dense green forest. In the distance, he could even see the mainland; he wondered if one of the dots on the distant shore was Shiroiwa, their home.
[It's hard to believe, but...]
His vision started towards the west as he took in the sights; a reservoir, some hills, and a mountain, each location surrounded by lush, untamed nature. As he shifted his glance, he could see the school; a frown formed on his face, bitter with the thought of the false teacher Sakamochi.
[...if it weren't for all the carnage...]
As he moved further eastward, he saw the Oki Island Tourist Association, where he had left Takako behind; a part of him felt remorse, but it was far too late to turn back. There was a large lighthouse and cliffs, and in the distance, he thought he could see what looked like a shrine; his eyesight was good, but he wasn't entirely sure.
[...this island might have been so beautiful.]
There was an ache in his heart; he'd heard the announcements much earlier, and he had learned that many of the people he knew were dead; for a moment at present, he reflected on the contents. Yoshio Akamatsu (Male Student No. 1.), who had spent so much of his life tormented, was dead; Shūya hoped he was finally at rest. Kazushi Niida (Male Student No. 16.), who had that spark of ambition in his eyes, had perished so young and early, and though Shūya did not know him as anything closer than a fellow athlete, it saddened him. Yutaka Seto (Male Student No. 12.), who Shinji cared for deeply, had also died, and Shūya hoped— and believed—that the boy would find a way to move forward; for Seto, he wished the boy peace in another world.
However, the last name on the list—the name of Hiroki Sugimura (Male Student No. 11.)—struck him worst of all, as Hiroki was a dear friend of Shūya; the thought of his death left him demoralized. Hiroki, he knew, had been a pacifist, despite his prodigious talent at the martial arts; it was a quality that Shūya admired and respected in the other boy. He reflected for a moment on his idea.
[I hope he'd be proud of what I'm going to do...]
Shūya walked towards the front of the building's roof and pulled out the megaphone, holding the speaker upward above his shoulder with his right arm bent. He toted it like this for a moment; at this point, he was familiar with it. He paused for a moment, took a deep gulp of air, pointed it outward, and put his mouth near it.
[...well, here goes nothing.]
"This is Shūya Nanahara, and, if you can hear me, please, take a moment to listen to my words, as while many of you may not otherwise listen to me, I have an important proclamation.
"I request that every person on this island lay down their arms; there is no need for us to fight one another; if we unite, no individual, organization, or government can stop us.
"I will remain in the residential area, and all who wish to stand against the government may join me there; the only condition is that you agree to cease violence against others. Together, I know we will find a path forward, away from this place; liberation will surely come if only we work together.
"I, Shūya Nanahara, refuse to play the game, refuse to kill, and vow to stand against the injustice we now face; with those words, I declare my formal rebellion against the government of the Republic of Greater East Asia!"
Shūya eyed the flag of the Republic of Greater East Asia as it waved in the breeze; those simple colors were a symbolic representation of the greatest evil he had known on Earth. He felt a great loathing towards it; though never proven definitively, he was sure that the government had taken his father and mother from him, and now, they had taken his friends as well. The crimes of the Republic of Greater East Asia were unforgivable.
Shūya walked towards the flag, the pole of which was close enough for him to reach out and pull at the string; he lowered the flag towards him and then, with a piece of broken glass that he had found elsewhere, struck the colors. With a bandaged and paint-covered hand, he raised another flag in its place; it was the white cloth he obtained at the tourist association. The flag had an image that he had drawn in his blood; it was his blood, taken from a cut, which he felt demonstrated his willingness to sacrifice for the cause.
The flag was a triband, with the left and right segments white; the central section was red, with another white circle inside. Inside the white circle were two red images; one looked like a flag and the other, placed above it, looked like a small fire. There was also writing on the flag, written in black paint; the English words "Peace Village" were displayed prominently across the entire flag, while the Latin phrase "pax in terra" was written in the upper-right corner.
He stood for a moment and watched as the flag of the government swayed in the air, as it slowly drifted towards the ground; it came to rest on the road in front of the town hall, and from there, Shūya would allow it to rest, in the disgrace it rightly deserved.
He sat down near the edge of the roof, took a swig of bourbon, ate one of the cookies Noriko had given him, looked out across the island, and, for a moment, smiled.
[Well, now...]
[...the die's been cast, hasn't it?]
Peace Village
Pax in Terra [Open.]
Moderator: BRAU2 Director
Yoshitoki had been wandering around in the jungle for a while after he left the shrine. Since he saw he was at the western edge of the island, the only real way to go was east. He checked his map and saw a residential area, and decided upon his new destination. He didn't want to admit it, but he was slightly nervous about the direction Tendo was taking and wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible. Plus, the residential area probably had some good supplies to scavenge, and maybe Shuya or Noriko had thought the same things he was thinking.
Then, it was like someone from above had granted him almost everything he'd asked for.
The voice of Shuya Nanahara echoed throughout the jungle, and he realized that he sound was emanating from the area where the residential area would be. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He crashed through the undergrowth, hurrying with reckless abandon towards the village. When he burst through the tree line, he couldn't help but shout. "Shuya! Shuya! It's me, Yoshitoki!"
He continued down through the rows of houses, looking for his best friend. It was then that he decided to look upwards, and he saw a flag. The words had something in English and Latin on it, and he couldn't read them, but he decided to search there. He ran out into the main corridor, and saw a very familiar face standing on the roof.
"Shuya! Shuya! Down here!"
Then, it was like someone from above had granted him almost everything he'd asked for.
The voice of Shuya Nanahara echoed throughout the jungle, and he realized that he sound was emanating from the area where the residential area would be. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He crashed through the undergrowth, hurrying with reckless abandon towards the village. When he burst through the tree line, he couldn't help but shout. "Shuya! Shuya! It's me, Yoshitoki!"
He continued down through the rows of houses, looking for his best friend. It was then that he decided to look upwards, and he saw a flag. The words had something in English and Latin on it, and he couldn't read them, but he decided to search there. He ran out into the main corridor, and saw a very familiar face standing on the roof.
"Shuya! Shuya! Down here!"
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Dogs231
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Shūya stared out across the horizon. In the distance, on the southern peak of the island, he could see a girl; he thought it might have been Fumiyo Fujiyoshi (Female Student No. 18.), the nurse's aide.
It was then that Shūya saw some movement from the treeline; at the same time, he heard a voice, a familiar voice, one that held deep meaning to him. He recognized it instantly.
[That voice, it has to be...]
Shūya could feel his heart nearly leap out of his chest in surprise. It was the voice of Yoshitoki Kuninobu (Male Student No. 7.), his best friend; the two had known one another for years. They had met at the Charity House after he lost his father and became an orphan.
"...Yoshitoki...!" he shouted, his voice fluttering with excitement.
Shūya stood up in a sudden flurry of motion and nearly toppled over. If he had fallen, he would have tumbled off the roof, end-over-end, and cracked his skull open on the ground below; that thought was unpleasant. He scanned around to try and find his friend, who told him to look downward; he did so and saw Yoshitoki, standing on the city street.
[...it's really him!]
He was almost too stunned to speak. The whole situation felt like a dream come true, which was an odd thing to think about in this horrible game; still, it was his best friend, and Shūya was happy beyond his words. He grabbed his bag, clambered down the fire escape stairs, and then leaned towards him over the railing.
"You're okay, thank God," he spoke with a sigh, a sense of relief washing over him, "I'm so glad you're here!"
He moved his hand in the direction of Yoshitoki and motioned in the other boy's direction. It was a beckoning gesture, performed in the same way that a lucky cat might do in a shop window.
"Come on up," he shouted excitedly, "I've still got the cookies and bourbon!"
It was then that Shūya saw some movement from the treeline; at the same time, he heard a voice, a familiar voice, one that held deep meaning to him. He recognized it instantly.
[That voice, it has to be...]
Shūya could feel his heart nearly leap out of his chest in surprise. It was the voice of Yoshitoki Kuninobu (Male Student No. 7.), his best friend; the two had known one another for years. They had met at the Charity House after he lost his father and became an orphan.
"...Yoshitoki...!" he shouted, his voice fluttering with excitement.
Shūya stood up in a sudden flurry of motion and nearly toppled over. If he had fallen, he would have tumbled off the roof, end-over-end, and cracked his skull open on the ground below; that thought was unpleasant. He scanned around to try and find his friend, who told him to look downward; he did so and saw Yoshitoki, standing on the city street.
[...it's really him!]
He was almost too stunned to speak. The whole situation felt like a dream come true, which was an odd thing to think about in this horrible game; still, it was his best friend, and Shūya was happy beyond his words. He grabbed his bag, clambered down the fire escape stairs, and then leaned towards him over the railing.
"You're okay, thank God," he spoke with a sigh, a sense of relief washing over him, "I'm so glad you're here!"
He moved his hand in the direction of Yoshitoki and motioned in the other boy's direction. It was a beckoning gesture, performed in the same way that a lucky cat might do in a shop window.
"Come on up," he shouted excitedly, "I've still got the cookies and bourbon!"
"Yeah, yeah! Hold on, I'm comin' up!"
Yoshitoki clambered up the fire escape stairs towards the balcony Shuya was standing on. He couldn't believe it. This motherfucker had the audacity to announce his presence on an island full of killers and tell them all to stand down? He just straight up announced that he was declaring a rebellion against the government for putting them all through this game with government forces right there in the school? That took some major fucking chutzpah, and if anyone he knew had the chutzpah to pull it off, it'd be Shuya. Yoshitoki grinned.
The balcony came quickly, and Yoshitoki didn't even waste his time trying to catch his breath before he hurled himself at Shuya and wrapped him in a hug.
"Heeeey, man! How you doin'? Still got Noriko's cookies, eh?" he asked playfully, before he let out a brief chuckle. "Those cookies are probably way fucking better than whatever the goon squad gave us in our packs." He looked down towards the floor and caught his breath for a moment. Then he looked back up at Shuya again.
"Oh my god. It's good to see that your face is still intact, man! You're a fuckin' sight for sore eyes, you know that?"
Yoshitoki put his hands on his sides and looked up at the morning sky. What a huge relief. Maybe his designated number seven had brought him a little luck, huh?
Yoshitoki clambered up the fire escape stairs towards the balcony Shuya was standing on. He couldn't believe it. This motherfucker had the audacity to announce his presence on an island full of killers and tell them all to stand down? He just straight up announced that he was declaring a rebellion against the government for putting them all through this game with government forces right there in the school? That took some major fucking chutzpah, and if anyone he knew had the chutzpah to pull it off, it'd be Shuya. Yoshitoki grinned.
The balcony came quickly, and Yoshitoki didn't even waste his time trying to catch his breath before he hurled himself at Shuya and wrapped him in a hug.
"Heeeey, man! How you doin'? Still got Noriko's cookies, eh?" he asked playfully, before he let out a brief chuckle. "Those cookies are probably way fucking better than whatever the goon squad gave us in our packs." He looked down towards the floor and caught his breath for a moment. Then he looked back up at Shuya again.
"Oh my god. It's good to see that your face is still intact, man! You're a fuckin' sight for sore eyes, you know that?"
Yoshitoki put his hands on his sides and looked up at the morning sky. What a huge relief. Maybe his designated number seven had brought him a little luck, huh?
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Dogs231
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Shūya just opened his arms wide and let Yoshitoki charge right into him; the two embraced, comrades-in-arms, now in a literal sense as well as a metaphorical sense. It was a nice feeling, a feeling he'd almost forgotten in the span of the game.
[It'd be nice to stay like this for a while...]
"...hah, I'm fine, just hanging around, declaring an uprising, you know, the usual," he said with a chuckle and casual smile as if it was the normal thing to do, "and yeah, I've got them; you want some?"
All good things ended eventually, and as such, Yoshitoki released Shūya from the embrace; the two just looked at each other for a moment, and he was relieved and happy in equal parts.
[...it's too good to be true, honestly...]
"I could say the same for you, you know, with how long it took for you to get here," he said, with a cheeky look on his face, "I mean, jeez, way to keep me worrying."
Shūya laughed for a moment, in a subdued, almost shy way, then put his arm around Yoshitoki and took a step towards the stairs up to the roof; he'd left his things there, and in general, it was a rather good roof to hang out on.
[...but I don't care about that.]
"I've got some stuff on the roof, up there," he said with a nod upward and over, "we can talk, listen to music; would you believe they didn't take the Walkman?"
[It'd be nice to stay like this for a while...]
"...hah, I'm fine, just hanging around, declaring an uprising, you know, the usual," he said with a chuckle and casual smile as if it was the normal thing to do, "and yeah, I've got them; you want some?"
All good things ended eventually, and as such, Yoshitoki released Shūya from the embrace; the two just looked at each other for a moment, and he was relieved and happy in equal parts.
[...it's too good to be true, honestly...]
"I could say the same for you, you know, with how long it took for you to get here," he said, with a cheeky look on his face, "I mean, jeez, way to keep me worrying."
Shūya laughed for a moment, in a subdued, almost shy way, then put his arm around Yoshitoki and took a step towards the stairs up to the roof; he'd left his things there, and in general, it was a rather good roof to hang out on.
[...but I don't care about that.]
"I've got some stuff on the roof, up there," he said with a nod upward and over, "we can talk, listen to music; would you believe they didn't take the Walkman?"
"I'd love to head up to the roof. We can relax, eat some cookies, listen to some Bruce Springsteen. Maybe we can even get a sense of normality in here," Yoshitoki replied, eyeing the ladder to the roof. That would be the biggest form of rebellion, right? Trying to carry on with their normal lives when the government wanted them to descend into madness? He thought about it quietly, before hearing his stomach growl. He could really use some of Noriko's cookies.
And so he climbed up on the roof, with Shuya following right behind him.
Yoshitoki stared out into the horizon, just visible beyond the mainland. The Seto Inland Sea was always so pretty, and it remained so even during the game. If he looked hard enough, he could see the government patrol boats stationed in the water, ready to kill anyone who tried to swim to safety. Motherfuckers really weren't taking any precautions, were they? He wondered if they thought of that themselves, or if some ingenious kid forced them to protect that escape route. He certainly hoped it was the latter.
He was startled by the voice of Sakamochi blaring from the speakers, and Yoshitoki quickly checked his watch. Six pm. Four had died during the last announcement. How many more would be goners this time?
The names spilled out of Sakamochi's mouth like a poison. Takako, the pretty athlete. Keita, Shinji's friend. Kayoko, the tea girl. Yukie, one of the class reps. Kaori, the girl who liked J-idols too much. Shinji, the-
Shinji?!
Yoshitoki was so taken aback that the names of Toshinori Oda and Sakura Ogawa barely registered in his brain. How could Shinji be dead already? He was always so smart and confident, and he let everything roll off of him like water. How could he be dead already? Yoshitoki stared blankly ahead at the sea. Those bastards. Those bastards!
He shook his head before a thought suddenly popped into his head. Twelve of his classmates were dead in twelve hours. They were down to thirty, and there were still sixty hours left in the game. Didn't realize everyone had so many bones to pick with the others, he thought sardonically. They really wanted to make quick work of each other, huh?
And so he climbed up on the roof, with Shuya following right behind him.
Yoshitoki stared out into the horizon, just visible beyond the mainland. The Seto Inland Sea was always so pretty, and it remained so even during the game. If he looked hard enough, he could see the government patrol boats stationed in the water, ready to kill anyone who tried to swim to safety. Motherfuckers really weren't taking any precautions, were they? He wondered if they thought of that themselves, or if some ingenious kid forced them to protect that escape route. He certainly hoped it was the latter.
He was startled by the voice of Sakamochi blaring from the speakers, and Yoshitoki quickly checked his watch. Six pm. Four had died during the last announcement. How many more would be goners this time?
The names spilled out of Sakamochi's mouth like a poison. Takako, the pretty athlete. Keita, Shinji's friend. Kayoko, the tea girl. Yukie, one of the class reps. Kaori, the girl who liked J-idols too much. Shinji, the-
Shinji?!
Yoshitoki was so taken aback that the names of Toshinori Oda and Sakura Ogawa barely registered in his brain. How could Shinji be dead already? He was always so smart and confident, and he let everything roll off of him like water. How could he be dead already? Yoshitoki stared blankly ahead at the sea. Those bastards. Those bastards!
He shook his head before a thought suddenly popped into his head. Twelve of his classmates were dead in twelve hours. They were down to thirty, and there were still sixty hours left in the game. Didn't realize everyone had so many bones to pick with the others, he thought sardonically. They really wanted to make quick work of each other, huh?
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Dogs231
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Shūya stared out across the horizon, kicking the back of his feet against the wall below him; the setting sun painted the sky with bright reds, oranges, and soft yellows.
It was peaceful, even with the gunshots in the distance. For hours the two had talked, ate, drank, and listened to good music—they knew the government hated that.
Shūya stared at the flag he'd made, waving lightly in a dying breeze. A part of him was surprised that it still hung there or that he had been allowed to hang it at all; he was lucky, perhaps, that he had not simply received an execution for all his toil and trouble.
Then again, what was the game, if not one long execution?
He paused the Walkman and lowered the headphones on his neck; it was growing late, and the announcements would soon come and tell them who had lived, who had died, and whether or not this place would be declared forbidden.
[The people in power; Sakamochi, the government, the dictators...]
He frowned.
[...why are they allowed to do something like this, make us kill one another like this?]
A part of him was angry, and a part of him was sad.
A part of him didn't know how to feel at all.
[They don't have that right...]
[...nobody does.]
And then, just as he had thought, the announcements played; there were names listed, and Shūya remembered every one of them.
The first name listed was that of Takako Chigusa (Female Student No. 13), an immediate stab at his heart. If he hadn't left her behind at the other building, if he'd just pushed a little more, maybe she would be with him and Yoshitoki now, safe and still alive.
[I'm so sorry.]
[I wish I could still help you.]
His heart stung, but he didn't waver. The past was the past; he couldn't change it now, but he could learn and improve in the future. He sighed, stared upward, and took deep breaths. He needed to focus on the other names.
The next name was Keita Iijima (Male Student No. 2), one of Shinji's group, though, for some reason, the two had not spent time together recently. It must have been painful for Shinji, having lost two of his associates in a single day. It was sad for him to think about that.
[Shinji, wherever you are...]
[...stay strong.]
Shūya didn't know Kayoko Kotohiki (Female Student No. 8) very well, but she had always seemed nice; she was energetic and fun. He mused idly and thought about how Hiroki had always seemed shy around her; the two might have been nice together. It was a bittersweet thought, potential lost and gone forever.
He knew Yukie Utsumi (Female Student No. 2) much better, though; he had always respected and, in some ways, admired the Class President. A part of him considered her a friend, though a part of him considered everyone a friend; still, he liked to think the two had been close once. He didn't understand why anyone would want to hurt her; she always cared about everyone.
Like Kayoko, Shūya didn't know Kaori Minami (Female Student No. 2) very well. He searched his brain for a few moments, looking for memories where the two of them had interacted; as he did so, however, he heard something horrible. It was a fact that shook him to his core.
Shinji Mimura (Male Student No. 19) was dead.
[No...!]
[...there's no way, it can't be!]
Shūya didn't want to believe it. Shinji, the Third Man, who had always been as cool as the ice in winter, had gone entirely cold. His feet went still, hanging in the air, and he stared blankly forward, eyes glazed over.
His breathing shifted subtly; the deep breaths prior were stripped away and replaced by small, narrow gasps at the air. He felt drops of water form at the corners of his eyes, like little beads of dew; those were tears, he reminded himself.
Shūya's heart hurt a lot now; he didn't know what, if anything, he should do about that, or, for that matter, whether or not it was possible to do anything about it.
[It hurts...]
[...it hurts a lot...]
[...but we've got to keep going...!]
Shūya knew that Shinji Mimura wouldn't have wanted him to give up; the other boy had always hated the government, and his passing only made Shūya hate it infinitely more.
[You bastards...]
[...I'll bring you down!]
He didn't focus much on the last two names, that of Toshinori Oda (Male Student No. 4), who was rich and arrogant and had now seen himself brought so low, and of Sakura Ogawa (Female Student No. 4), who had parted from her love in death.
[I'll tear down the entire government...]
[...no matter what it takes!]
A part of him was angry, and a part of him was sad.
A part of him was motivated.
He turned to Yoshitoki, and his hand drifted to the handle of the megaphone.
"I'm going to make another announcement," he said quietly and calmly, "and we're going to get everyone on this island together."
He paused for a moment and looked up at the sun, a symbol of the Republic of Greater East Asia, and watched it begin to fall behind clouds and the horizon, setting.
"We're going to make them regret choosing us," he declared, finality in his words.
It was peaceful, even with the gunshots in the distance. For hours the two had talked, ate, drank, and listened to good music—they knew the government hated that.
Shūya stared at the flag he'd made, waving lightly in a dying breeze. A part of him was surprised that it still hung there or that he had been allowed to hang it at all; he was lucky, perhaps, that he had not simply received an execution for all his toil and trouble.
Then again, what was the game, if not one long execution?
He paused the Walkman and lowered the headphones on his neck; it was growing late, and the announcements would soon come and tell them who had lived, who had died, and whether or not this place would be declared forbidden.
[The people in power; Sakamochi, the government, the dictators...]
He frowned.
[...why are they allowed to do something like this, make us kill one another like this?]
A part of him was angry, and a part of him was sad.
A part of him didn't know how to feel at all.
[They don't have that right...]
[...nobody does.]
And then, just as he had thought, the announcements played; there were names listed, and Shūya remembered every one of them.
The first name listed was that of Takako Chigusa (Female Student No. 13), an immediate stab at his heart. If he hadn't left her behind at the other building, if he'd just pushed a little more, maybe she would be with him and Yoshitoki now, safe and still alive.
[I'm so sorry.]
[I wish I could still help you.]
His heart stung, but he didn't waver. The past was the past; he couldn't change it now, but he could learn and improve in the future. He sighed, stared upward, and took deep breaths. He needed to focus on the other names.
The next name was Keita Iijima (Male Student No. 2), one of Shinji's group, though, for some reason, the two had not spent time together recently. It must have been painful for Shinji, having lost two of his associates in a single day. It was sad for him to think about that.
[Shinji, wherever you are...]
[...stay strong.]
Shūya didn't know Kayoko Kotohiki (Female Student No. 8) very well, but she had always seemed nice; she was energetic and fun. He mused idly and thought about how Hiroki had always seemed shy around her; the two might have been nice together. It was a bittersweet thought, potential lost and gone forever.
He knew Yukie Utsumi (Female Student No. 2) much better, though; he had always respected and, in some ways, admired the Class President. A part of him considered her a friend, though a part of him considered everyone a friend; still, he liked to think the two had been close once. He didn't understand why anyone would want to hurt her; she always cared about everyone.
Like Kayoko, Shūya didn't know Kaori Minami (Female Student No. 2) very well. He searched his brain for a few moments, looking for memories where the two of them had interacted; as he did so, however, he heard something horrible. It was a fact that shook him to his core.
Shinji Mimura (Male Student No. 19) was dead.
[No...!]
[...there's no way, it can't be!]
Shūya didn't want to believe it. Shinji, the Third Man, who had always been as cool as the ice in winter, had gone entirely cold. His feet went still, hanging in the air, and he stared blankly forward, eyes glazed over.
His breathing shifted subtly; the deep breaths prior were stripped away and replaced by small, narrow gasps at the air. He felt drops of water form at the corners of his eyes, like little beads of dew; those were tears, he reminded himself.
Shūya's heart hurt a lot now; he didn't know what, if anything, he should do about that, or, for that matter, whether or not it was possible to do anything about it.
[It hurts...]
[...it hurts a lot...]
[...but we've got to keep going...!]
Shūya knew that Shinji Mimura wouldn't have wanted him to give up; the other boy had always hated the government, and his passing only made Shūya hate it infinitely more.
[You bastards...]
[...I'll bring you down!]
He didn't focus much on the last two names, that of Toshinori Oda (Male Student No. 4), who was rich and arrogant and had now seen himself brought so low, and of Sakura Ogawa (Female Student No. 4), who had parted from her love in death.
[I'll tear down the entire government...]
[...no matter what it takes!]
A part of him was angry, and a part of him was sad.
A part of him was motivated.
He turned to Yoshitoki, and his hand drifted to the handle of the megaphone.
"I'm going to make another announcement," he said quietly and calmly, "and we're going to get everyone on this island together."
He paused for a moment and looked up at the sun, a symbol of the Republic of Greater East Asia, and watched it begin to fall behind clouds and the horizon, setting.
"We're going to make them regret choosing us," he declared, finality in his words.
Yoshitoki was brought out of his funk when he heard Shuya announce that he was going to, well, make another announcement. There was no doubt that it was motivated by the death of Shinji.
"You're goddamn right, Shuya. We certainly won't be the only class chosen yeah? So we'll just have to make it the most memorable. Give the government goons some shit to chew on later."
He stared out at the setting sun, noting its symbolism. Every year in history class they're taught about how the Rising Sun shines benevolently onto the people of East Asia. The light of the Sun guides the wayward peoples of East Asia, from Syonan-to to Honkon to Calcutta to Urajio to Haer'bin. It guides them to the wise, benevolent rule of the Japanese, the great older brother of the East, the liberators of the East from the imperialist dogs of the West.
But Yoshitoki knew it was a lie.
Instead, millions of millions of people just like him were scorched under the infernal rays of the Rising Sun, with no clouds in the sky to save them. They are charred, blackened by the pointless violence and exploitation of their nation and people. The Rising Sun does not provide salvation, it only provides more scars to everything that its rays shine upon.
Even it would only last for a moment, Yoshitoki wanted to be the one who would make the sun set.
"You're goddamn right, Shuya. We certainly won't be the only class chosen yeah? So we'll just have to make it the most memorable. Give the government goons some shit to chew on later."
He stared out at the setting sun, noting its symbolism. Every year in history class they're taught about how the Rising Sun shines benevolently onto the people of East Asia. The light of the Sun guides the wayward peoples of East Asia, from Syonan-to to Honkon to Calcutta to Urajio to Haer'bin. It guides them to the wise, benevolent rule of the Japanese, the great older brother of the East, the liberators of the East from the imperialist dogs of the West.
But Yoshitoki knew it was a lie.
Instead, millions of millions of people just like him were scorched under the infernal rays of the Rising Sun, with no clouds in the sky to save them. They are charred, blackened by the pointless violence and exploitation of their nation and people. The Rising Sun does not provide salvation, it only provides more scars to everything that its rays shine upon.
Even it would only last for a moment, Yoshitoki wanted to be the one who would make the sun set.
-
Dogs231
- Posts: 608
- Joined: Mon Oct 12, 2020 6:45 pm
- Location: The Pear Wiggler
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Shūya raised the megaphone and drew a sharp breath; his eyes closed for a moment as he did so. He opened them again when his lungs were full of air; his eyes traced the contours of the object forged from white and red plastic.
[I hope they'll listen...]
He slipped his headphones back over his ears to protect them, then opened his mouth and spoke into the megaphone; his voice amplified instantaneously and spread across the island.
"This is Shūya Nanahara. I'm still at the village, safe and sound."
"Yoshitoki Kuninobu is here with me, and we're at the town hall."
"If you're looking for sanctuary, you'll find it here; our doors are always open."
"If you're lost, just follow the music..."
Shūya hadn't even thought about that last line; it just sounded like the right thing to say. Still, his ears perked up as soon as he said it; it was one of those moments when the lightbulb appeared over your head.
[...say, that gives me an idea.]
He unplugged the headphones from the paused Walkman, then plugged the megaphone into the device. He fumbled through the tape, rewinding it to one of the songs they'd heard earlier; he then closed the Walkman and unpaused it.
A blare of music rocketed out of the megaphone's speaker; for approximately twenty-seven seconds, a mix of drums, guitar, and vocalization played with only slight deficits in quality.
If the person listening were a fan of Rock music—as Shūya was—or, in particular, of Bruce Springsteen—as Shūya was also—they would recognize it as the opening of the song "No Surrender," the seventh track from his album "Born in the U.S.A."
After those twenty-seven seconds had elapsed, a man began to speak; of course, this man was Bruce Springsteen, a famous American rock artist, though his work was not well-known in the Republic of Greater East Asia due to censorship.
Another person's voice was audible; of course, this was Shūya Nanahara, an obscure Japanese high school student and aspiring rockstar, though he was more commonly known for participating or, more accurately, refusing to participate in the Battle Experiment No. 68 Program.
Well, we busted out of class,
Had to get away from those fools.
He nodded his head along to the music; it was a track he'd listen to when he was mad, sometimes. He felt the defiance in the speaker's words, and it resonated with him.
We learned more from a three-minute record, baby,
Than we ever learned in school.
Shūya considered the lyrics to be true to how he felt. Sure, there were some classes he liked; literature, the humanities, and English. At the same time, though, he'd always found that the musical world enriched him more than academia.
Tonight I hear the neighborhood drummer sound,
I can feel my heart begin to pound.
He'd listened to this song more times than he could count; the same applied to almost every other song that Bruce Springsteen made. It made the island feel more familiar, with the soundwaves vibrating over the horizon.
You say you're tired and you just want to close your eyes,
And follow your dreams down.
Bruce Springsteen's music was the music of liberation, Shūya felt, from everything wrong with this country. It had that spirit of revolution that they'd always heard was terrible and evil; it had that energy of resistance that the government tried so hard to stamp out.
Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
In a way, Shūya felt that this was the ultimate insult in the face of the government; they hated this music, this revolutionary sentiment; now, they were broadcasting it across the island. How mad that bastard Sakamochi must be right now, listening to it in the school!
[Serves you right!]
Shūya turned to Yoshitoki, tilted his head, and flashed a quick smirk, a cue to sing along with the music. If the two of them were to remain on this God-forsaken island, why not pass the time with something fun?
[I hope they'll listen...]
He slipped his headphones back over his ears to protect them, then opened his mouth and spoke into the megaphone; his voice amplified instantaneously and spread across the island.
"This is Shūya Nanahara. I'm still at the village, safe and sound."
"Yoshitoki Kuninobu is here with me, and we're at the town hall."
"If you're looking for sanctuary, you'll find it here; our doors are always open."
"If you're lost, just follow the music..."
Shūya hadn't even thought about that last line; it just sounded like the right thing to say. Still, his ears perked up as soon as he said it; it was one of those moments when the lightbulb appeared over your head.
[...say, that gives me an idea.]
He unplugged the headphones from the paused Walkman, then plugged the megaphone into the device. He fumbled through the tape, rewinding it to one of the songs they'd heard earlier; he then closed the Walkman and unpaused it.
A blare of music rocketed out of the megaphone's speaker; for approximately twenty-seven seconds, a mix of drums, guitar, and vocalization played with only slight deficits in quality.
If the person listening were a fan of Rock music—as Shūya was—or, in particular, of Bruce Springsteen—as Shūya was also—they would recognize it as the opening of the song "No Surrender," the seventh track from his album "Born in the U.S.A."
After those twenty-seven seconds had elapsed, a man began to speak; of course, this man was Bruce Springsteen, a famous American rock artist, though his work was not well-known in the Republic of Greater East Asia due to censorship.
Another person's voice was audible; of course, this was Shūya Nanahara, an obscure Japanese high school student and aspiring rockstar, though he was more commonly known for participating or, more accurately, refusing to participate in the Battle Experiment No. 68 Program.
Well, we busted out of class,
Had to get away from those fools.
He nodded his head along to the music; it was a track he'd listen to when he was mad, sometimes. He felt the defiance in the speaker's words, and it resonated with him.
We learned more from a three-minute record, baby,
Than we ever learned in school.
Shūya considered the lyrics to be true to how he felt. Sure, there were some classes he liked; literature, the humanities, and English. At the same time, though, he'd always found that the musical world enriched him more than academia.
Tonight I hear the neighborhood drummer sound,
I can feel my heart begin to pound.
He'd listened to this song more times than he could count; the same applied to almost every other song that Bruce Springsteen made. It made the island feel more familiar, with the soundwaves vibrating over the horizon.
You say you're tired and you just want to close your eyes,
And follow your dreams down.
Bruce Springsteen's music was the music of liberation, Shūya felt, from everything wrong with this country. It had that spirit of revolution that they'd always heard was terrible and evil; it had that energy of resistance that the government tried so hard to stamp out.
Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
In a way, Shūya felt that this was the ultimate insult in the face of the government; they hated this music, this revolutionary sentiment; now, they were broadcasting it across the island. How mad that bastard Sakamochi must be right now, listening to it in the school!
[Serves you right!]
Shūya turned to Yoshitoki, tilted his head, and flashed a quick smirk, a cue to sing along with the music. If the two of them were to remain on this God-forsaken island, why not pass the time with something fun?
By now, Yoshitoki stood up, doing a silent little jig along to Shuya's singing. He appreciated the sentiment behind it, hearing the rock music that the government so hated being broadcasted for all on the island to hear. He grinned ear to ear, content with listening to Shuya sing.
It was at that point that Shuya silently told him to sing along with it.
Yoshitoki sputtered a bit, before hastily catching up with the lyrics of Springsteen. He was an awful singer, so he sang as quietly as possible, trying his best to match up what was coming from his mouth with what was coming from the megaphone.
Well, now young faces grow sad and old,
And hearts of fire grow cold,
We swore blood brothers against the wind.
I'm ready to grow young again,
And hear your sister's voice calling us home,
Across the open yards.
Well maybe we'll cut someplace of our own,
With these drums and these guitars.
Yoshitoki was so busy attempting to hide the fact that his singing voice was terrible that he accidentally inhaled some spit and broke out into a coughing fit. He hacked away for a solid few seconds before the spluttering eventually ended. He really was no Shuya, huh? He recovered just in time to start (very quietly) 'singing' the chorus.
Well we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
He nodded towards Shuya to get the third verse and whatever came after it done. Yoshitoki would die if he had to do anymore singing.
It was at that point that Shuya silently told him to sing along with it.
Yoshitoki sputtered a bit, before hastily catching up with the lyrics of Springsteen. He was an awful singer, so he sang as quietly as possible, trying his best to match up what was coming from his mouth with what was coming from the megaphone.
Well, now young faces grow sad and old,
And hearts of fire grow cold,
We swore blood brothers against the wind.
I'm ready to grow young again,
And hear your sister's voice calling us home,
Across the open yards.
Well maybe we'll cut someplace of our own,
With these drums and these guitars.
Yoshitoki was so busy attempting to hide the fact that his singing voice was terrible that he accidentally inhaled some spit and broke out into a coughing fit. He hacked away for a solid few seconds before the spluttering eventually ended. He really was no Shuya, huh? He recovered just in time to start (very quietly) 'singing' the chorus.
Well we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
He nodded towards Shuya to get the third verse and whatever came after it done. Yoshitoki would die if he had to do anymore singing.
-
Dogs231
- Posts: 608
- Joined: Mon Oct 12, 2020 6:45 pm
- Location: The Pear Wiggler
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
It was like the older, better times. The two sang together not-so-harmoniously, a discordant duo bound by blood and fire. Shūya hit every note spot-on, replicating the immortal words word-for-word; Yoshitoki stumbled through each line, belting out each syllable with an unpracticed, off-kilter flow.
Shūya softly laughed when Yoshitoki choked on the lyrics; it was a familiar, friendly chuckle that acknowledged the situation's humor without pressing judgment on the other boy. He patted Yoshitoki on the back and smiled to console the other boy, who had always been better at rapping than rocking and rolling.
It was up to him to lead the musical charge, then. Shūya stood up, proud and glorious, and continued to sing; there was charismatic ease in his voice, the quiet confidence of someone well-versed in their verses.
Now on the street tonight, the lights grow dim,
The walls of my room are closing in.
He theatrically strolled about the roof, the megaphone in one hand and the Walkman in the other. He was the star, the whole village as his stage; despite this, he performed only—except those who may have listened by chance—to a crowd of one.
There's a war outside still raging,
You say it ain't ours anymore to win.
Despite the situation, Shūya felt invincible; nothing could harm him now, he imagined, even though every observable fact pointed to the contrary. He nearly plummeted to his death—for the second time in recent memory—while strolling too close to the edge.
It was like how Icarus had flown too close to the sun, except he narrowly and deftly danced his way back towards safety, catching himself and swaying back towards the center of the roof with a proper step.
I want to sleep beneath,
Peaceful skies in my lover's bed.
Still, a harsher thought dawned on him again; no amount of revelry could truly fix their horrible situation. It was a means to pass the time, lift their spirits, and cope with their pain, but still, it didn't progress their goals.
Shūya knew it wouldn't bring their classmates back, bring them home, or bring down the government, but it helped hold his heart together; at this point, he didn't want to—no, he couldn't—stop.
He wondered if their dead classmates would hate him for this. He also mused that, perhaps, if they did hate him, they might hate him so much as to drag themselves from their graves and pull him into the afterlife.
[No, wait, uh...]
[...that's a weird thing to think.]
With a wide open country in my eyes,
And these romantic dreams in my head.
Aside from his usual strange method of thinking and the guilt in his heart, Shūya was feeling a little bit better than he had before; not happy, obviously, but not as loathsome and horrible as he had felt before.
It was like the old days, the good days. Shūya was hanging out with a good friend after a bad day—or, more accurately, the worst day of his life—and trying to cheer himself up with music.
[It's not working all that well...]
[...but, hey, what can you do?]
It was time for the coda, the final chorus before the end; it was bittersweet, letting the moment end, but it was necessary too. Everything ended at some point, and it was no different here; Shūya took a deep breath and readied himself for the finale.
Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
At that point, he kept singing; the music, and with it, his voice, soon faded away and drifted along the night's wind. The instance would last as a memory in their minds, whether for better or worse, a short time or the distant future; the two, at this moment, had no idea which.
It was just a moment, but every moment counted now.
[God only knows...]
Shūya softly laughed when Yoshitoki choked on the lyrics; it was a familiar, friendly chuckle that acknowledged the situation's humor without pressing judgment on the other boy. He patted Yoshitoki on the back and smiled to console the other boy, who had always been better at rapping than rocking and rolling.
It was up to him to lead the musical charge, then. Shūya stood up, proud and glorious, and continued to sing; there was charismatic ease in his voice, the quiet confidence of someone well-versed in their verses.
Now on the street tonight, the lights grow dim,
The walls of my room are closing in.
He theatrically strolled about the roof, the megaphone in one hand and the Walkman in the other. He was the star, the whole village as his stage; despite this, he performed only—except those who may have listened by chance—to a crowd of one.
There's a war outside still raging,
You say it ain't ours anymore to win.
Despite the situation, Shūya felt invincible; nothing could harm him now, he imagined, even though every observable fact pointed to the contrary. He nearly plummeted to his death—for the second time in recent memory—while strolling too close to the edge.
It was like how Icarus had flown too close to the sun, except he narrowly and deftly danced his way back towards safety, catching himself and swaying back towards the center of the roof with a proper step.
I want to sleep beneath,
Peaceful skies in my lover's bed.
Still, a harsher thought dawned on him again; no amount of revelry could truly fix their horrible situation. It was a means to pass the time, lift their spirits, and cope with their pain, but still, it didn't progress their goals.
Shūya knew it wouldn't bring their classmates back, bring them home, or bring down the government, but it helped hold his heart together; at this point, he didn't want to—no, he couldn't—stop.
He wondered if their dead classmates would hate him for this. He also mused that, perhaps, if they did hate him, they might hate him so much as to drag themselves from their graves and pull him into the afterlife.
[No, wait, uh...]
[...that's a weird thing to think.]
With a wide open country in my eyes,
And these romantic dreams in my head.
Aside from his usual strange method of thinking and the guilt in his heart, Shūya was feeling a little bit better than he had before; not happy, obviously, but not as loathsome and horrible as he had felt before.
It was like the old days, the good days. Shūya was hanging out with a good friend after a bad day—or, more accurately, the worst day of his life—and trying to cheer himself up with music.
[It's not working all that well...]
[...but, hey, what can you do?]
It was time for the coda, the final chorus before the end; it was bittersweet, letting the moment end, but it was necessary too. Everything ended at some point, and it was no different here; Shūya took a deep breath and readied himself for the finale.
Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby, no surrender!
At that point, he kept singing; the music, and with it, his voice, soon faded away and drifted along the night's wind. The instance would last as a memory in their minds, whether for better or worse, a short time or the distant future; the two, at this moment, had no idea which.
It was just a moment, but every moment counted now.
[God only knows...]
With the sound of music filling his ears, Mitsuru thought this might be it. The Kiriyama Family's last ditch chance at decency lied with Shuuya. If he was right, if he could get everyone together to avoid playing this game, then he could get people together to plan a way out. All it took was the right person with the right knowledge at the right place at the right time, and-
He didn't know what would come after, the government would come after them all. Fight wouldn't be over yet, but they'd have a better chance working together than working against each other. His class had one enemy, one real enemy, but...
He glanced behind him. Ryuhei had been staring daggers at him all day. They all seemed to forget that. He'd seen the worst of just about everyone he's met. They'd all believed everyone else was out to get them, and their only chance was to kill first, before someone does the same to them. He'd seen it with Akamatsu, he'd seen it with Haruka. He'd seen it with his own best friends. It hurts.
Everything in his head screams to just give up, to turn away, that they're more trouble than they're worth. He had to push on. Mitsuru didn't grow up being weak, and he didn't plan to start now. Even at their worst, people could be changed for the better. He saw it with Akamatsu, it meant it could happen to anyone. Even Ryuhei and all his fuckups. Both him and Mitsuru grew up together dreaming of being Yakuza, real shot callers, real hardcore gangsters. It's not for everyone. There's a code of honor in it, even if it's honor among thieves. You had to trust the hierarchy, you had to trust your brothers. If you couldn't follow orders, you couldn't lead. If you couldn't protect your brothers, what use were you to the family? There was reasons for it, if you acted rash, just jumping in headfirst, it wasn't just you needing to be bailed out anymore. It was your brothers, your family. Just being strong enough to throw a fist didn't cut it.
You had to be strong enough to know the difference between the weak, and a weak point. Ryuhei never got that. Maybe he never will.
Then again, maybe Mitsuru watched too much Hokuto no Ken as a kid. Kenshiro was always a role model to him, as we all knew his deadbeat dad certainly wasn't.
As for now, the weak point to all of this was Shuuya. Someone brave or stupid enough to stand up for what's right in the face of certain death is a rarity. Someone capable of that with the number of friends he had even less. He was the gap in the armor, the open sore of the Program. With him, they stood a chance of beating it. When Kiriyama came back for them, they'd be unstoppable then.
They'd be free. And if not?
Everyone dies. Not everyone dies with dignity.
He could see them now. Mitsuru stopped, and took his helmet off.
"Shuuya! The Kiriyama family's here!"
"We want to join you!"
He didn't know what would come after, the government would come after them all. Fight wouldn't be over yet, but they'd have a better chance working together than working against each other. His class had one enemy, one real enemy, but...
He glanced behind him. Ryuhei had been staring daggers at him all day. They all seemed to forget that. He'd seen the worst of just about everyone he's met. They'd all believed everyone else was out to get them, and their only chance was to kill first, before someone does the same to them. He'd seen it with Akamatsu, he'd seen it with Haruka. He'd seen it with his own best friends. It hurts.
Everything in his head screams to just give up, to turn away, that they're more trouble than they're worth. He had to push on. Mitsuru didn't grow up being weak, and he didn't plan to start now. Even at their worst, people could be changed for the better. He saw it with Akamatsu, it meant it could happen to anyone. Even Ryuhei and all his fuckups. Both him and Mitsuru grew up together dreaming of being Yakuza, real shot callers, real hardcore gangsters. It's not for everyone. There's a code of honor in it, even if it's honor among thieves. You had to trust the hierarchy, you had to trust your brothers. If you couldn't follow orders, you couldn't lead. If you couldn't protect your brothers, what use were you to the family? There was reasons for it, if you acted rash, just jumping in headfirst, it wasn't just you needing to be bailed out anymore. It was your brothers, your family. Just being strong enough to throw a fist didn't cut it.
You had to be strong enough to know the difference between the weak, and a weak point. Ryuhei never got that. Maybe he never will.
Then again, maybe Mitsuru watched too much Hokuto no Ken as a kid. Kenshiro was always a role model to him, as we all knew his deadbeat dad certainly wasn't.
As for now, the weak point to all of this was Shuuya. Someone brave or stupid enough to stand up for what's right in the face of certain death is a rarity. Someone capable of that with the number of friends he had even less. He was the gap in the armor, the open sore of the Program. With him, they stood a chance of beating it. When Kiriyama came back for them, they'd be unstoppable then.
They'd be free. And if not?
Everyone dies. Not everyone dies with dignity.
He could see them now. Mitsuru stopped, and took his helmet off.
"Shuuya! The Kiriyama family's here!"
"We want to join you!"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
((Ryuhei Sasagawa continued from Fast Times at Fort Kiriyama))
Ryuhei didn't say much as he followed Mitsuru along, the trio guided by the sound of gaijin rock blaring through a megaphone.
He still had a lot of reservations about all this. Something about this entire set-up rubbed him the wrong way, all just seemed a little too convenient. Sure, Shuuya never struck him as the kind of guy who'd up an ambush, but neither did he seem like the kind of fella who'd bum rush a man telling them all to off each other. Dumbass nearly got himself and Mitsuru killed, trying to prove... What, exactly? That bullets hurt? If Shuuya didn't give a damn about his own life, why the hell should they trust him with any of theirs?
Besides, even if this was all legit, was joining these clowns really the best idea they had? They were the Kiriyama Family! They could easily take this town over and claim it as their turf, use it as their base of operations. But instead Mitsuru seemed to get it into his head that Shuuya was onto something, that if they all held each others hands and asked real nicely the government would just let them all walk.
Ryuhei didn't buy it. But, for now, he kept his mouth shut and followed along. He was still processing what had happened back at the barn, mulling over what alternative approach the family should be taking instead of turning themselves into a big target. There were one or two thoughts that kept springing to mind that wouldn't go away, but... Well, he needed more time to chew on them.
At the very least, he'd keep his hand gripped tight on the gun in his jacket pocket, and his eyes peeled for any sneaky snipers. The thought of Mitsuru's head bursting like a watermelon the moment he took his helmet off sprung to mind, and he wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't wishful thinking.
Ryuhei didn't say much as he followed Mitsuru along, the trio guided by the sound of gaijin rock blaring through a megaphone.
He still had a lot of reservations about all this. Something about this entire set-up rubbed him the wrong way, all just seemed a little too convenient. Sure, Shuuya never struck him as the kind of guy who'd up an ambush, but neither did he seem like the kind of fella who'd bum rush a man telling them all to off each other. Dumbass nearly got himself and Mitsuru killed, trying to prove... What, exactly? That bullets hurt? If Shuuya didn't give a damn about his own life, why the hell should they trust him with any of theirs?
Besides, even if this was all legit, was joining these clowns really the best idea they had? They were the Kiriyama Family! They could easily take this town over and claim it as their turf, use it as their base of operations. But instead Mitsuru seemed to get it into his head that Shuuya was onto something, that if they all held each others hands and asked real nicely the government would just let them all walk.
Ryuhei didn't buy it. But, for now, he kept his mouth shut and followed along. He was still processing what had happened back at the barn, mulling over what alternative approach the family should be taking instead of turning themselves into a big target. There were one or two thoughts that kept springing to mind that wouldn't go away, but... Well, he needed more time to chew on them.
At the very least, he'd keep his hand gripped tight on the gun in his jacket pocket, and his eyes peeled for any sneaky snipers. The thought of Mitsuru's head bursting like a watermelon the moment he took his helmet off sprung to mind, and he wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't wishful thinking.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
((Hiroshi Kuronaga continued from Fast Times at Fort Kiriyama))
Noting much was said on the walk; there wasn't much to be said; Mitsuru said all he had to earlier, Ryuhei uncharacteristically kept quiet and Hiroshi... Hiroshi didn't have much add of his own, he was too busy looking at their surroundings, and when he wasn't doing that, he kept his eyes to the ground.
At first, they just wandered about, you know. Where the fuck was a dude like Shuya going to hole himself up; and as time went by, they could slowly hear music. It was the kind of music that Shuya never shut the fuck up about; it had to be him.
They followed the sound of rock blaring through the air; it almost could be said that it was Shuya's calling card; if you wanted to find him, just follow the music.
He tried to think of the music and what he thought of it; some of it could be catchy in an irritating way in a way not dissimilar to what the idol freaks in their class would go on about, but... He could still see them in the corner of his eyes; it was hard not to when he kept looking down to see the glares that came back at him, Haruka's in particular; they didn't get rid of her body before they left, her damaged face kept creeping in.
A final gift after that clusterfuck, it was not even his fault that it all went down. If Ryuhei hadn't just shot Yuko then it would be fine. She would have just left, and they wouldn't have had to deal with any of that.
Maybe.
Haruka did seem deadset on getting somebody; when you're creeping around like that it's only begging for trouble, and maybe she was. Maybe he did a good thing.
But that face... It said otherwise.
Hiroshi kept quiet as Mitsuru made his presence clear to the others. Instead, he crossed his arms and kept a lookout as before; he'd leave the glaring to Ryuhei.
Noting much was said on the walk; there wasn't much to be said; Mitsuru said all he had to earlier, Ryuhei uncharacteristically kept quiet and Hiroshi... Hiroshi didn't have much add of his own, he was too busy looking at their surroundings, and when he wasn't doing that, he kept his eyes to the ground.
At first, they just wandered about, you know. Where the fuck was a dude like Shuya going to hole himself up; and as time went by, they could slowly hear music. It was the kind of music that Shuya never shut the fuck up about; it had to be him.
They followed the sound of rock blaring through the air; it almost could be said that it was Shuya's calling card; if you wanted to find him, just follow the music.
He tried to think of the music and what he thought of it; some of it could be catchy in an irritating way in a way not dissimilar to what the idol freaks in their class would go on about, but... He could still see them in the corner of his eyes; it was hard not to when he kept looking down to see the glares that came back at him, Haruka's in particular; they didn't get rid of her body before they left, her damaged face kept creeping in.
A final gift after that clusterfuck, it was not even his fault that it all went down. If Ryuhei hadn't just shot Yuko then it would be fine. She would have just left, and they wouldn't have had to deal with any of that.
Maybe.
Haruka did seem deadset on getting somebody; when you're creeping around like that it's only begging for trouble, and maybe she was. Maybe he did a good thing.
But that face... It said otherwise.
Hiroshi kept quiet as Mitsuru made his presence clear to the others. Instead, he crossed his arms and kept a lookout as before; he'd leave the glaring to Ryuhei.
Yoshitoki quietly contemplated if anyone really was going to show up to the Peace Village. They'd been at it for hours, and he presumed that the residential district on this island would be a popular place to scavenge. Shit, compared to everywhere else on this island, the houses were probably gold mines. They probably had food, water, a weapon, and maybe even some working shit from Macintosh or Tokyo Telecommunications someone could use. It stood to reason, then, that Yoshitoki should've seen other people around here. He turned around to look at the mastermind of this operation, with a rather tired look in his eyes.
"Hey, Shuya, I know our duet was fucking killer, but do you really think anyone's gonna come here after-"
Immediately, a voice echoed loudly throughout the area, hitting Yoshitoki like a train. He immediately ran up to the edge of the roof and looked down. His eyes almost bugged out his head.
Numai, Sasagawa, and Kuronaga were all advancing down the path. Kiriyama's boys, but the titular gang leader was nowhere in sight. Neither was Tsukioka, for that matter.
Yoshitoki didn't want to be the type caster, but he was honestly a little confused. Really, bullies and delinquents were the last people he figured would show up to a place that was built on pacifism, but hey, who was he to judge? They showed up. They wouldn't show up if they didn't want to be here.
"Ay, yo! It's Kuninobu! Shuya's up here on the roof with me. Up here!"
Yoshitoki turned around without moving away from the edge.
"Hey, Shuya," an excited uptick was audible in his voice. "I think some motherfuckers finally decided to join the Peace Village."
"Hey, Shuya, I know our duet was fucking killer, but do you really think anyone's gonna come here after-"
Immediately, a voice echoed loudly throughout the area, hitting Yoshitoki like a train. He immediately ran up to the edge of the roof and looked down. His eyes almost bugged out his head.
Numai, Sasagawa, and Kuronaga were all advancing down the path. Kiriyama's boys, but the titular gang leader was nowhere in sight. Neither was Tsukioka, for that matter.
Yoshitoki didn't want to be the type caster, but he was honestly a little confused. Really, bullies and delinquents were the last people he figured would show up to a place that was built on pacifism, but hey, who was he to judge? They showed up. They wouldn't show up if they didn't want to be here.
"Ay, yo! It's Kuninobu! Shuya's up here on the roof with me. Up here!"
Yoshitoki turned around without moving away from the edge.
"Hey, Shuya," an excited uptick was audible in his voice. "I think some motherfuckers finally decided to join the Peace Village."