Gunpoint Kiss- The Roleplay Before the Writing

His gaze couldn't stay focused, and there grew a ringing in his ears until all he could hear was his own panicked breathing. He was only dimly aware of Narita as she stood, raced off, and came back moments later, dropping back down beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her mouth moving, but it took another few seconds of intent listening before he could even hear her at all. It was easy to piece together she was trying to get him to calm down. Did she even know what was wrong? She couldn't know what was wrong. He barely knew what was wrong; he was keenly aware of his social anxiety, but already Narita had accompanied him this far without incident, as was normal. It was only bigger groups that put him on edge. She had even tended to his arm before, no different than this, without setting off so much as a flicker of nervousness. So what the hell was the matter now?

Kazuo didn't think back to the tentative attempt at a comforting gesture, her hand reaching for his shoulder minutes ago. He could hardly think at all at the moment. His hands pulled up from the floor to bury themselves in wild hair as he held his head and continued to shudder. And then... small sounds akin to whimpers began to escape him with every breath. The first sign of his voice since his companion had found him; proof he was not truly mute.

But, gradually, perhaps with or without Narita's help, he did start to calm. His breathing slowly settled, and his shivering fell still but for periodic shuddering that, soon enough, also quieted. Still, he remained curled in a sitting position, keeping one hand on his head to absently clutch at his hair while the other hand fell and drifted over his legs for a resting spot. His dark eyes grew hard and bitter, his breathing weary. He felt mentally and physically fatigued after the episode... and didn't look too keen on so much as acknowledging his companion for the moment.

Setsuko continued to breathe deeply, only pausing when small mewls were hewn from Kazuo's throat. She was surprised to hear his voice, but quickly remembered the task at hand and continued to guide him with breathing. Not knowing if he was even following her, she grew self-conscious and felt useless.

An encouraging nod went in his direction as he began to calm down, even though she still had no idea if he was following her or if he was oblivious to what she was doing. Soon, the shuddering stopped and his breaths were normal, yet tired.

She knew that he was going to disregard her for a while. The hardness on her knees were slowly becoming painful, but she remained by him for a few moments. The company was short-lived, though. Setsuko made her way to one of upright chairs, crawling on the floor quietly. Wordlessly burying her face into her arms on the cushion seat, she fell onto the side of her thigh while gripping on the arms to keep the rest of her from going.

Her brows furrowed, her lips curled to expose gnashing, gritted teeth. Violent tears erupted from her eyes, and onto the rough blue fabric of the cushion. Her skin felt uncomfortable against the scratchy material, but it kept her cries silent.

What set him off?
Was it the touch? He never seemed to have a problem with it before.
Either way, it was her fault.

One of the frustrated gargles escaped the fabric, but she punched herself in the leg to quiet down. A hard yank on a chunk of her hair did the trick, too.
“I’m sorry.” The murmur was forced, and quiet.

His breath grew long and deep, as if he was perfectly prepared to sleep right where he was. But his eyes remained open stubbornly, leering ahead at the floor. He was unresponsive when Narita moved away to position herself against a chair. His brows knit, then.

What the fuck was she apologizing for?

Normally he might have lashed out at her again for the apology, but he was too tired now.

Finally, Kazuo uncurled somewhat to reach back for his shirt and blazer. After getting the articles back on he was still for a moment more, until moving as if to stand - but he hesitated, and then curled up a little again, and then fell over onto his side. It seemed to be on purpose; once lying on his side on the floor, tension melted off of him so his posture became more lax and his slender frame not so curled up anymore. His expression emptied, dark eyes glazing over just as he pulled his submachine gun closer, resting his hand on it on the floor just in front of him.

The boy didn't look particularly comfortable, head resting at a bit of an angle considering it was only against the floor and not even his arm. But he didn't look to have any desire to get any more comfortable, and considering his eyes were drifting shut, it appeared he didn't need to be. In the back of his mind, he was mad at himself for needing to rest again. Even more mad at himself for having a panic attack - not to mention vaguely embarrassed, which was not a feeling he was accustomed to. But, he assumed it only made sense for a predator to be displeased at showing signs of weakness... And that was how he saw it.

Soon enough, her grip on the chair faded away, and she gently fell onto the floor with a soft thump. The pain from his earlier kick made her recoil and she turned over to her back. It was good that she had stopped crying, but the tears were still apparent and drying on her face.

All of the exhaustion hit her at once. From the now-resolved perfidy in the fisherman’s shack to Kazuo’s breakdown; not to mention the other small things that were heaped onto her psyche. Setsuko craved sleep, even only a thirty minute rest. Anything. It would help clear her mind considerably. She’d get more control over her mind.

Setsuko’s head slowly turned towards her companion, a tired, yet almost tender look passing over her. Her legs were still slightly curved towards the row of chairs; her hands clutched a part of the soft white collar of the dress. She was lying on the floor as if she had met a truly violent death. One of the hands left the fabric to touch her forehead.

A fever.

Cool drafts from the shattered windows helped somewhat, but the ventilation could have been better. She was too tired to move, even to quickly get cold water for her forehead. Slowly, her eyes closed, her last conscious thought hoped that he would still be around when she would wake.

Kazuo plunged into a depth of sleep he had not been prepared for.

Not long after shutting his eyes, he was out - out hard enough that he was not conscious to the blackness of rest, oblivious to any sense of time passing by, rendered immune to the usual urgency hanging in his mind that he had to keep alert, had to listen, had to be awake soon... Out hard enough that he dreamt.

On the rare occasion they occurred, Kazuo's dreams were vivid in sensation but vague in detail. He had no sense he was dreaming - nothing to warn him he should be awake; only visions flickering through his mind as rapidly and inconsistently as a television changing channels. Pools of red, shining invitingly, and the warmth of the liquid that coated his freshly-immersed hands. The subtle feeling of gravity gathering the substance across his skin until it could hang on no longer and fell, soon to leave the high, simple sound of a drip in its wake.

But it was more than blood. In other equally fleeting and equally gory visions, the pools of red were filled with soaked textures he could grasp in his hands when he reached in - squishy, pliable things that were easily ripped apart by hand to promptly drain down between his fingers. Warm and easily destroyed, all coated in the red Kazuo was so familiar with, while a cacophony of dripping and flowing continued as a soothing white noise in his ears.

In some dreams it wasn't just his hands, but his whole, bare frame, covered in warmth and red; he could feel the pool climbing past his ankles, knees, waist, chest, shoulders, chin... but there was no fear of drowning whatsoever, only an utterly blissful feeling of contentment.

In the waking world, Kazuo was oblivious to the stirrings wrought across his body. His sealed eyelids fluttered in the depths of REM. He shifted and writhed from his curled position on the floor, fingers grasping blindly at the linoleum and occasionally at his own clothes, breath coming in hard, excited intervals. Beads of sweat collected across his skin, sticking straying threads of hair to his face, but he dreamt on unaware.

Setsuko dreamt that she was wandering through one of the numerous forests, although the rough feel of sand against her bare feet meant that the ocean was near. She felt as if she was naked, yet when the wind blew, the feel of extremely sheer fabric lapped against her skin.
There was no time for her to peer down to see if she was decent, something else caught her eye. The faint, hunched physique of her grandmother wandered on ahead of her, heading towards the coast.

Setsuko called out to her, the force of her voice strong on the throat. Yet the air was still silent. Another call. Nothing. As her grandmother continued on the lonely, slow trek, Setsuko began to follow, the feel of the thin silk on her body becoming more apparent. She tried to walk faster towards the older woman, but sluggishness was forced on the gait. They walked through the foliage, for what seemed like an entire era.

A red sky loomed above, crowning the heavens with a deeper crimson as time passed. The sound of the violent waves crashing against the nearby cliffs and the coastline got louder until it was a deafening cry against her eardrums. Time seemed to move normally as they approached the unrelenting waves. Setsuko’s grandmother slowly descended into the water. Eyes widening, she tried to run towards the old woman to pull her back, a silent scream erupting through her face. Setsuko ran as if she was slow-motion in a film. With every movement, she could feel the silk undulate in the air. Gramma had totally disappeared in the water; the crown of her head was the last to be submerged. The slow-motion halted and sped up until her pace was normal. While her grandmother was gone, Setsuko still ran into the waves. It was hard to keep balance, as her legs almost buckled in the force of the current.

Her ears rung, breathing intermixed with a variety of high pitches. Finally able to control her eyes, she looked into the water, which had turned from clear to murky in a matter of seconds. A morbid curiosity ensnared her psyche, her knees bending towards the soft sand. Cold fear became stronger as she neared the azure.
The next part of her dream made her cry out in the real word, although it was strangled and soft. A gnarled, water-rotten hand shot out and clenched on her throat, pulling her into the unbroken, dark depths.

Her eyes snapped open before the nightmare could continue. Rather than screaming louder from the sudden turn of her dream, she blinked rapidly, slowly regaining her consciousness. She was cool, but covered in sweat.
Setsuko lay there for a moment, before her hand reluctantly passed over her forehead, which was now normally warm.
Grandmother…
The sharp, frenzied breaths from nearby had been going on, but only then did they register. Kazuo was writhing on the floor. Worry replaced the fear from her nightmare. Was he having another panic attack? She stood up to walk over to observe, stopping once she realized that he was asleep; he was enjoying a dream.
She wandered back to the row of chairs, sitting on one of them; some relief came at the thought of being wide awake. As the remnants of the nightmare tore at her, she craned her neck to gaze at her companion.

Watching him sleep gave her a moment of peace.

He continued shifting about on the floor, the beginnings of a grin passing through his lips from time to time. But any amount of happiness on the boy's face carried a rather sinister feeling of foreboding; he had the smile of a troublemaker, to say the least.

But soon the depth of sleep he had fallen into faded away, and with it, his dreaming. It wasn't long at all after that before his eyes flickered open. The lingering serenity of his dreams and the sweat dampening his form made it clear to him he had been dreaming, and he scowled at the notion. In the midst of the Program was not the place to sleep so deeply.

His dreaming also left him with a kind of emptiness. An itching in his hands to rip something apart, a hunger to feel the spatter of warm blood over his skin. He felt drowsy from his sleep, not restless like usual, yet he was still overtaken by a craving for violence, a heat just under his skin he could barely ignore.

Kazuo rolled over onto his back, chest lifting and falling rhythmically as his breath settled from his dreams. His Uzi still lay beside him, though his hand wasn't on it for once. His dark eyes shifted to check where his companion was, before shutting to rest while he tried to collect himself.

Part of her was curious to know what her companion was dreaming of, yet at the malevolent grin he wore, she decided she would be better off not knowing. However, she was somewhat happy to see him grin. An interruption in his steady breathing announced his awakening.

Her stare did not lower once he shifted onto his back, focusing on the way that his chest lifted and lowered. She could look at him until she died and her eyes blackened with rot and be happy. His lurid eyes shifted towards her, looking away once she was found. The silent admiration stopped after a quick glance. Kazuo had closed his eyes again, but it was clear that he had no intention of sleeping.

The back of her neck became sore as she lowered her face to meet her hand, a shaky thumb and forefinger gently running over the paper-thin eyelids.
It had been nearly a day since she found him. How much longer was this damn game going to carry on? Setsuko had lost track of how many other teenagers were on the island, and she knew that there had to be a time limit. With frustration, she lightly kicked the leg of a nearby chair, hoping that it would not topple over and disturb the resting boy.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to look at her companion. Just how much time did she have left with him?

His eyes opened, and he glanced at her fleetingly upon the noise of her kicking a chair. But he disregarded the gesture, shutting his eyes again soon enough. It was a few minutes before Kazuo stirred again, slowly sitting up and stretching forward before resting his elbows on his knees. He wiped his hand across his forehead, then pushing his fingers into his hair to half-heartedly tousle it. Finally, he reached for his bag to pull it closer and open it, retrieving his bottle of water first, taking a slightly longer drink than the typical short sip; next he took out his bread. His dark eyes stared off drowsily like he might not have been fully awake just yet.

There remained a hunger the bread was not satisfying. His gaze drifted from the bread in his hand to his thumb contemplatively, debating if he could bite open his skin. Without involving a knife, surely the wound wouldn't be too great, and he would have less chance of getting carried away, maybe....

Setsuko watched him eat, her eyes becoming wide. A slight fear pulsated through the brown irises. Water wouldn’t do for her hunger, now. The small kitchen in the nexus of the clinic had been damaged due to the grenades. When they searched earlier, she saw that some food had landed in places in the kitchen, buried with some broken glass and debris. It all smelled pretty rotten, anyway.

The bread in his hand was looking pretty good right now. However, she was very hesitant to ask him. Sure, he had given her water, but that was thrown at her. The bread would have a softer impact, that is, if he was willing to part with a bit. As quietly as she could, Setsuko hesitantly crawled down from her rough perch and moved near him. She didn’t speak, the hunger had driven her senses up and she felt like she was about to vomit. That would have to be avoided. She rapped on the floor loudly and motioned towards the bread, bowing slightly as if to plead.

He was distracted from his thoughts by an insistent knock on the floor, which made him look up suddenly with a glare. The sour look on his face deepened at his companion's miming.

It wasn't like he was contagious.

Despite his scowl, he tore off a smallish piece of the loaf and tossed it at the girl. His throw was still more like he was tossing the bread at her rather than to her, but it did not carry the harmful intent of when he had thrown the water bottle earlier; he knew there was no use trying to hurt someone with a piece of bread.

Kazuo turned away to continue eating at a leisurely pace. There were probably a few hours that remained until midnight... He began thinking over if he wanted to take off in search of more participants before then, or stay at the clinic until then. Drowsiness lingered in him... but so did his itch for violence, which only continued to fester after his dreaming.

“Thank you.” She managed to croak before taking a bite out of the piece.

The sudden presence of food in her mouth made the salivary glands sting. She winced a bit as her mouth moved in slow chewing. The small amount of food was making her feel more like herself. As she ate, the hypersensitivity that came with the hunger died down. She did not move from her spot on the floor, so they were sitting near each other. It was nice, even though she felt as if he detested her company. A sigh escaped her lips as she swallowed the last bit of the bread. She looked at him from the corner of her eye while staying perfectly still, her mind wandering to what transpired at the fisherman’s shack. The desire to scoot far away from him went ignored; she pondered the hurt look that he gave her before pulling the Uzi away instead. There was a possibility that she was dwelling on that too much. Still, a small glimmer of hope rose within her, dying shortly. No. Couldn’t be.

Setsuko leaned on her right thigh, allowing her left ankle to rest flat on the floor. There was still some pain in the areas where he had kicked her, and those would get sore later. She’d have to deal with it.
He appeared to be drowsy, but she recognized that he was also longing for conflict.

“Well? Are we staying, or going?” As usual, she kept her voice toneless. “Either way is fine by me.”

He didn't appear bothered by her vicinity, though the aura about him was as antisocial as always. There weren't too many bites into his bread before he put what was left of it away. Still, he didn't move, dark eyes staring through the floor in thought.

When she spoke up again, Kazuo glanced at her fleetingly with a short scowl. He shoved her - only half-heartedly, but still hard enough to suggest he may have intended to knock her over - and climbed to his feet, swiping up his Uzi on the way up to return the strap over his arm. Leaving his bag on the floor, he began to pace - slowly, languidly, like his feet were trailing after his wandering mind. His gaze remained on the floor, and he kicked aside some debris absently as he wove a path all through the different rooms of the clinic. He still seemed drowsy, somehow, but obviously was too restless to sit still for any longer... though he didn't appear to have any intent on leaving just yet, either.

One hand held onto his submachine gun, and after a couple of minutes the other lifted to rest at his hip as he paced; specifically, fingering over the dagger at his belt. The boy's face looked bored, to say the least, but his brows were slightly knit to suggest some amount of thought, or otherwise some vaguely troubling notion crossing his mind.

She tensed when his shove came, but it was not as hard as before. Still, she knew that he wanted to knock her down. Rather than looking confused, a scolding glare went his way. Not that he noticed. Kazuo had gotten up to pace around. Her eyes followed him as he meandered through the hallway. He was going through the accessible rooms, yet Setsuko’s eyes were following the sound of footsteps, as if she could see through the walls. As he wandered, her hands met the cool flooring, curling slightly. Slowly, she stood up and stretched, wincing as some pain erupted in her side. With nothing to do, her arms wrapped over her bosom and stomach. Fingers clutched the sleeves of her dress on the opposite side, the other five latched onto the rough stitching at her waist.

Eventually, she saw him emerge from the walls. A feeling of enticement traveled through her body once his hand rested on his hip, although his grip drifted over to the dagger. Her teeth gently bit on the inside of her lower lip rhythmically as she took one step back. While uneasiness was in the air, the pose was…alluring.

He appeared to be restless and bored. His furrowed eyebrows made him look somewhat vexed. Blushing, she looked away for a moment, then back. Her staring had gone on for a while. As he neared, her head tilted slightly to the side, as if to inquire if something was wrong.

He glanced at his companion only briefly upon noticing she had stood. A few more minutes of pacing, and he paused a few feet from her, dark eyes lifting to meet hers. His gaze hardened, and his brows knit further. He had felt her staring, and now she was looking at him questioningly.

Kazuo only glowered at her and strode forward to shove her by the shoulders. Roughly, but not hard enough to knock her to the floor - just an assertive push, as if to snap at her for looking at him so much. Irritation lingered in his features as he moved off to continue pacing, kicking a bottle across the floor with particular vehemence, though nowhere near the violence he had exercised earlier at the fishing shack.

A feeling of excitement came from the brief contact, since his hand had touched hers, which was resting on her shoulder. The latch came off and dangled uselessly at her side as she fumbled backwards.

Damn it.

Kazuo’s vexed expression became one of irritation as he continued his rounds about the clinic. She jumped as he kicked a bottle, even though she had witnessed a more violent tantrum earlier.

Setsuko sighed and looked down at her shoes, which had grown scuffled and muddy. She couldn’t help but stare. There wasn’t anything else to do!
This was totally different. She got teased at school for staring, even if those were hollow, unthinking stares that just happened to be in the general direction of certain classmates. But now, her eyes had turned emotional, they were thinking. Not lustful, although memories of what happened in the bathroom forced itself into her mind and made her frame shiver.

The way he was clutching the Uzi and the dagger as he paced was beginning to make her feel ill. There had to be something to make herself useful. She couldn't rely on unheeded directions and amateur nursing as her lifelines.
"There's a holding." Her voice rung through the clinic, pausing to choose her words carefully. "It's not too far, maybe someone's set up in there, maybe we'd find someone along the way." Setsuko's eyes brightened, as if she remembered something. "And even if no one's there, it won't be totally empty. I mean, there are animals..."

He could feel the girl's staring, but at that point was growing accustomed to it, and was not in the mood to protest it any further at the moment. He made another round through the house, absently leaning over and wiping his entire side across a wall on his way back into the waiting room - a rather peculiar behavior not unlike might be expected of a mental patient. Drowsiness still lingered in his gaze, which was glossy and downcast.

He perked up somewhat his companion spoke, but didn't look in any way enthused about her suggestion until animals were mentioned. His brows knit. His gaze dropped again and a deeply contemplative look crossed his features.

That would be stupid. It was stupid to still have to kill animals just like he did at home when he was on an island where he could kill any person he came across. Yet Kazuo's hand felt over the handle of the blade at his side restlessly. His lips withdrew between his teeth, such was the concentration in his face. Another minute, and his eyes lifted fleetingly to Narita, and he gave a short nod. His gaze then shifted its attention to the door to give the silent, subtle instruction for her to lead the way, before he moved to collect his bag.

Some relief passed over her when he nodded and looked at the door. Once he had the bag slung over his shoulder and her supplies gathered, she slowly headed out, observing her surroundings with some confusion. Nothing looked familiar, it was as if she was in a new land, like the clinic was some sort of portal into another world. It took her a moment to gather herself, and for a moment, fear blazed through her veins. Setsuko knew this island well. What the Hell was going on?

‘You’re shocked from that long sleep, is all. Get over it.’

The roughness of her inner mind did not cause distress, she was used to these mental pep talks that she had to give herself. Maneuvering away from the clinic, she looked over her shoulder briefly to see if Kazuo was following, her eyes flickering to the Uzi before she looked ahead.

Setsuko lead on, only stopping when they ventured near open areas to survey the surroundings like a cautious doe. The farmstead wasn’t that far away, but it would be hard to find. It had been built on a small, elliptical clearing surrounded by a small forest. Her lips pressed together as they passed by another tree, with a very familiar knot in its center. At first, she thought that it was an illusion of the night, but they must have passed it five times by now. She stopped a few steps away from the tree, hesitantly turning to face her companion, her eyes downcast. Slowly, they wandered up to meet his eyes. Unlike the majority of their previous exchanges, she showed no fear in her expression.

“I think we’re lo-” The declaration was cut short by a distant sound.

Distant, yet somehow close. It was the soft bleating of a goat.

As Kazuo followed his companion out the door, his hand finally fell from the dagger at his side, though his other remained on his Uzi. His steps were languid, not so brisk as they had been earlier, as if he had been walking too long when really he had just started - regardless of his pacing. He paused each time Narita paused, looking around slowly just as she did, ears alert.

When she stopped by the tree and turned to meet his gaze, he thought to take out his map to check with her on just where they were headed... but as he reached for his bag, his companion spoke up, only to be interrupted by a bizarre sound that took Kazuo a moment to even recognize.

His drowsy, dark eyes sparked to life. They held the electric curiosity of a cat, and he even gave a slight tilt of his head at the sound, gaze sweeping the direction it had come from. Newfound tunnel vision made him blind again to his companion, and the boy began stepping slowly forward with practiced, predatory stealth and focus. Just a little ways further into the foliage and a pen with a few goats came into view; most of the animals appeared asleep. Kazuo's gaze was unrelentingly intense upon locking onto the creatures - he hardly seemed to blink, even. One of the goats that was more awake perked up once it noticed him, and lifted its head, ears swiveling forward. It didn't look particularly alarmed, just interested. That was fine by boy number six. If the animal was tame, he didn't have to chase it down - which he wasn't in the mood to do right now.

Kazuo had never killed a goat before.

Her frame became less tense, less worried. They had been near the holding all this time, and if that goat had stayed silent…

Before she could look back at him, his back was in her view, following the sound with his eyes and legs. Kazuo was now the leader, and she could only follow. The forest was short, despite the wild, gnarled thickness of the trees; soon they found the small pasture. Setsuko’s eyes fell on the goat pen, which Kazuo was now heading towards. Almost all of the goats were nannies, save for one. There was a small wether that was stirred awake by her companion’s movement. For a moment, she pitied it, but the commiseration soon disappeared.

Better it than her.

She tore her eyes away from the pen, walking towards the enclosed barn. There was a very dirty window, but she was able to see. Within, there were several enclosures; rabbits, chickens, pigs and a single cow were seemingly asleep. It was odd when she saw that some of the animals were not breathing, but then her eyes fell on some gunshot wounds. The soldiers who evacuated the people must have had some fun before they left. It seemed safe to go in, she slowly opened the door, trying to make minimal sound; unfortunately the rotting wood was rickety. The sounds tore some squealing from the healthy pigs. Her eyes scanned the rabbit cages; an uneasy cry escaped her once she saw the bloody mess. Most of the rabbits lay on the metal, totally torn apart. At first, the soldiers were the assumed culprits, but the blood around and in some of their open mouths told her that they had killed each other.

Setsuko looked away and stood up, her head turning towards the far right corner, towards the cow pen. All she could see was that the cow was lying down, the distended belly rising up and down with her breathing. The girl slowly approached the pen, pausing as the creature breathed in deeply.
After a few moments of observing the cow, she eventually opened the pen and walked in to get closer. The sour smell of bile reached Setsuko’s nose as she neared the creature, a strained sound passed out of its open maw. The animal was sick, and in much pain. An indescribable fear ran through Setsuko’s body, replacing the strong blood. Her hand was already wrapped around the handle of the wakizashi, preparing to draw the blade and strike. Swallowing hard, Setsuko unsheathed the steel and knelt by the creature. Her hands trembled as the point of the sword wandered to the defined top of ribcage, her palm settled on the top of the handle to push.

As he approached the pen, in the back of his mind he realized Narita had the wakizashi. That might have been easier, or perhaps more fun, than a dagger... but then, he wasn't sure how sturdy the wakizashi was, either. A goat wasn't a rabbit or a cat. There was a lot more meat to get through. Without any regard for what his companion was doing meanwhile, he dropped his bag - keeping his Uzi, of course - and nimbly climbed over the short fence. This roused a few more of the goats, and a couple of the creatures awake enough to do so began toddling in his direction while most others stayed behind, watching on warily.

Kazuo tensed and reflexively took a step back, unaccustomed to animals approaching him; his hand hovered for his submachine gun but he did not grasp it. Too noisy. No need to draw that much attention, nor waste ammunition. He frowned somewhat. He didn't know what a dying goat sounded like. But this wasn't the place to find out; that would also be too noisy. He would have to go for its throat first, which would make it a pretty quick kill.... How boring. At least there would still be lots of blood. Maybe he'd take a look at the insides if he had time.

After grabbing for the first goat to reach him and slitting its throat, the gush of blood set Kazuo into a kind of trance, and the other goats all backed away and started emitting a quiet chorus of skittish noises, which Kazuo paid no mind to.

Time turned out to be no concern.

Nearly half an hour later and the wild-haired youth was on his knees on the ground, the ripped open body of the goat lying before him, barely recognizable for what it was anymore. He had carved open the whole torso like a great dissection, examining its layers of flesh, fat, and muscle, and poking through the organs with both his blade and his own hands. The remaining goats had all moved to about the opposite side of the pen, and watched the boy vigilantly in silence like they might watch a wolf.

His rush was fading. A corpse was much less entertaining than something living to be tortured; this one only lasted as long as it did because it was something new. The dark, hollow look in his eyes was receding to leave the usual boredom and disinterest in its wake. His breath was deep and slightly heavy like a mixture of rest and exhaustion. His sleeves had been rolled up so his hands and wrists were soaked with blood, and there were a few smudges of glistening red across his cheek and brow where he had absent-mindedly touched his face. With the rush of a kill dying down, he was starting to feel tired again. His gaze finally lifted from the gruesome corpse to glance around for his companion... and he wondered if she had watched at all, if she had wandered off, or perhaps if she had been frightened off and really left. All these notions were regarded with utter indifference. His mind remained too hazy from its previous high to care about much of anything just yet.

After some hesitation, Setsuko pushed with half-hearted strength. Her eyes clamped shut as a weak crunch sounded through the air; a quiet cry escaped the cow. More pained gurgles followed, each coming at a slightly higher pitch. The bovine moaning was not that loud, but anyone on the immediate vicinity could definitely hear it. The girl paid it little mind.

All would be quiet soon enough.

The cow kept on groaning, though. At first, Setsuko thought that Death would come in a short while, but the cries carried on longer. She finally opened her eyes, taking a moment for her gaze to search for the blade. The wakizashi was barely through the crease. Panicking, she pushed the sword in further. It did not go in much, and the cow yelped in response. Setsuko yanked the weapon out of the laceration and positioned it over a wider opening between the ribs. Steel was hewn through flesh, and the girl began to shake at its unending cries, her ears started to ring.

Why wasn’t she dying?

The blade was unleashed mercilessly on the cow, its push feeble. While the pain-filled cries did not stop, Setsuko grew increasingly deaf as the ringing grew louder.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. The wakizashi was to bring a quick death. Now, it was torturing the creature for an eternity. That did not stop the frightened girl, however. Each plunge grew weaker than the last. The ribcage was not exclusive anymore; now the entire body was assailed. It took a while, but Setsuko finally stopped. She was hyperventilating now, her breathing mixed in with desperate grunts and whispers. The cow was still alive, twitching and barely breathing. Setsuko leaned in and rested her head on the cow’s neck for a moment, as if in apology. She’d still have to end it. Slowly, she raised herself in a kneeling position, the wakizashi shaking in her hands. The hold was steadied and positioned over the well-defined tendon and vein on the neck. With no hesitation, the point crashed through the flesh, slicing through the jugular. Blood sprayed on her skirt, and the cow let out a final cry that did not penetrate the buzzing in her ears.

It was done. Her pace was sluggish as she withdrew the blade from the vein. Clutching the handle, she backed out of the pen, not able to avert her eyes from the bloody heap. The small of her back was pushed against another pen, and something warm was pressed against her elbow. Setsuko whirled around and sliced the air, stopping once she noticed that it was merely a pig who pressed its snout against her to smell. Soon, her hands opened and the wakizashi fell onto the floor. Despite the wooden planks, the impact created a harsh clang that brought forth her hearing. Sounds from the other animals hit her like a wave, even though their noise was soft. She slid onto her behind after crashing into a faraway wall, losing herself in dire confusion.

Kazuo climbed to his feet, grabbing his dagger on the way up - pausing to examine the blood on the blade - and then wiping it on his pants before sheathing it away. He took a long look around. No sign of his companion, or anybody else. He hopped over the fence again to retrieve his bag, and just as he was about to take a second look around for his companion, a sudden clatter caught his attention from the barn. A faint scowl flickered through his otherwise calm expression.

Still with his sleeves rolled up and his hands and face smothered in blood, he approached the barn's entrance, peering warily inside before stepping in. It didn't take long to spot Narita sitting back against one of the pens... the wakizashi on the ground beside her and her skirt spattered with blood. The pace of his heart quickened then. He had missed something - something bloody had gone on and he had missed it. He glanced down at his dripping, red hands; but he had been busy.

His brow furrowed somewhat and his gaze notably darkened. But what or who had she killed...? If she had taken one of the Program participants, one of his kills-- His hard eyes lifted to her, boring into her face for answers.

It took her a while to notice that her companion had set foot in the barn, as Setsuko jumped slightly when her eyes found him. Her eyes widened some, a strange bliss overtaking her body at the idea that she was not totally alone.

The happiness wavered when she saw his crimson, dripping hands, but only slightly. Her heart picked up its irregular pace as his eyes gouged into hers.
For a moment, she looked away. Her mind needed to settle. Kazuo wanted answers, now; but he would have to wait a little longer. Her breathing became steadier; she started to relax, all in good time.

Eventually, she stood up and leaned against the wall weakly. After collecting herself once more, she looked up at him and spoke slowly.

“I was searching.” Setsuko began, her arms wandering over her waist so that she could hold herself. “Searching to see if there were any other kids, y’know? Of course…there’s nothing here but animals.”

Her head turned around over the pigs and chickens, not even acknowledging the small number of living rabbits.

“The only cow here…she was so ill.” Her eyes fell on the wakizashi on the floor. “I wanted to end it quickly, but I failed.” Setsuko’s voice cracked slightly, but there were no tears. “I…tortured her.”

Her head turned over her shoulder so that she could look at the pen. The cow’s belly was still slightly visible, but now it was unmoving.
She did what she could, at least, and the job was done. At least the animal did not feel pain anymore. Setsuko Narita became somewhat calmer at that thought.

Though his stare was unrelenting, he stood patiently as Narita looked at him, looked away, appeared to gather herself, and got to her feet before finally answering. He followed her gaze when it turned to the rabbit pen... and his eyes sparked to life again, and his breathing grew suddenly heavier. It took him a moment to tune back into his companion after she continued. He, too, eyed the wakizashi.

Now he felt vaguely disappointed. She had gotten to torment the cow - without even meaning to - whereas he had had to kill the goat quickly to avoid being noisy. Surely, the cow had been noisy, too, but he had been oblivious in the midst of his kill, and the barn probably helped dull its cries. Kazuo approached Narita and gave her a half-hearted push out of the way - leaving a red handprint on her shoulder - to peer past her at the cow.

Blood was pooling through the hay from the beast's slashed throat. Its stomach was cut to pieces, and already an odor wafted out from it; the primary reason Kazuo wouldn't really want to kill a cow even if he had the chance. They were smelly alive, and undoubtedly even smellier on the inside, and all the smellier dead and cut open. Ighk.

He sighed as if to purge the odor from his nose, turning around and gazing down at his bloodied hands. He loved the sight of them. He would leave them that way forever if he could, but even he knew better than to risk getting such bacteria in his food or his mouth or in him. They had been heading for a house or something... He couldn't even quite remember now. But with the farm animals and the barn there must have been a house nearby where he could clean up and rest a little more. His gaze reluctantly lifted from his blood-soaked hands to his companion with a somewhat expectant look, not unlike the uncertain gaze of a child.