Gunpoint Kiss- The Roleplay Before the Writing

Setsuko stared blankly at his fingers, which were unfocused and careful. She shuddered when his fingertips touched her cheek, even if the sensation was shallow. She swallowed and the prominent jut around her throat shifted, like she was about to speak. But she stayed silent. Her eyes followed the sudden retraction of Kazuo’s hand, and again when it rose again. Setsuko felt him at her collar and the following shudder was smaller, but from the base of her spine. She blinked as he moved on to her shoulder; her gaze remained fixed on his face, then.

A gasp was pulled from her throat when Kazuo pushed her onto the ground and the metal of the Uzi dug into her skin, enough to be an uncomfortable sensation. The girl was absolutely still and tense as stone as she stared into his eyes; she was lost in them, as if they had become a shroud of heavy mist. She let the Uzi go easily, mostly from the painful pressure at her shoulder. The pain left her as he sat up, and she blinked a few times, albeit rapidly, when Kazuo held the gun close.

The next few tears that crept down from the corners of her eyes went unnoticed. She remained on the ground, her raggedy dark hair spread out over the dirt, the small frayed edges in a curve.

“I still think that you shouldn’t do this.” She said calmly. “What are you going to do, now?”

Setsuko tried to get up again, and the heel of her foot tapped against her shin; the soft force was closer to the ankle than she thought, and she hissed in pain.

His breath started to shudder as if he was cold, his shoulders following suit, as he clung to the gun in his hands. There was a couple minutes' silence before he answered, as belatedly as if his hearing was delayed. "... I'm going to fucking kill people," he snapped sharply. Though Kazuo didn't raise his voice this time, it still cracked once from the frequent use it was unaccustomed to - and probably the screaming and crying it had been afflicted with a few minutes before. "... That's what I signed up to do..." He added in a murmur, shifting finally to climb to his feet.

The boy had not even fully stood before he stumbled forward and dropped to his knees again. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath, which continued to quiver. Still, he tottered back to his feet, and managed a few steps forward with the coordination of a zombie before tumbling back to his knees. "Fuck." His frame and breathing were still shaking violently, so he took a moment to try to steady them.

Even though his voice was soft, Setsuko’s expression turned into one of discomfort as if he had yelled. It remained unchanged as he spoke, as if she was used to his words. Her eyes, however, became lidded as if she was struck with sudden malaise. The heat of the fire, even if it was at a safe distance, made her sweat. The crackling and Kazuo’s words created a sense of urgency, yet she lay there as if she planned to sleep.

This stillness cracked the instant her companion fell over. She was quick to become upright and shuffle towards him. There was the ever-present pain in her ankle, but she only made soft noises of distress like it was a bothersome paper-cut.

Setsuko watched his shivering intently with a hollow gaze. However, her hands were caring and cautious. One was placed on his shoulder, her fingers wrapped around the clothed flesh firmly as if to steady him; while the other reached over towards his back, and it started to rub him.

Kazuo didn't hear his companion over his own breathing, especially as the pain in his head drew his attention and he absently started to focus on the sound of the flames if only to not think about anything else. The fire had spread across the field surrounding the warehouse, and throughout the warehouse itself. Most of the structure's windows had been invaded now.

Accordingly, he jumped with a small gasp when a hand reached his shoulder, nearly toppling over onto his side but catching himself. He shivered at Setsuko's touch, and again at the second that began to move soothingly over his back. Still breathing hard, he swallowed once, realizing then how dry his throat was. His head hurt. His eyes ached and he couldn't even use them. With a pained scowl and a short sound of effort, he pushed Setsuko away half-heartedly before climbing back to his feet. The boy wavered, swaying there unsteadily and lifting his face as if to feel for his balance more attentively; he stumbled back a few steps, but managed to remain standing this time, at least for now. His hand hovered close to his gun, grazing it purposefully from time to time so as to continually assure him it was still there.

His breathing slowed with a renewed sense of calm almost, like just staying on his feet had affirmed him of his win. Noticing again how the heat dried his eyes, he shut them, though it felt strange, as his reflex was still to keep them open - but doing so made no difference. With no mind for where he was going, Kazuo turned somewhat and started to walk, in the direction of another side of the warehouse though not directly toward the building. His gait was paced carefully, one foot dragging itself in front of the other with a patience that allowed every step time to balance itself.

His push was not so powerful that it sent her reeling back. Instead, she shifted somewhat, enough that her grip on him was relinquished. However, the push made seemed to make her heart crack. Setusko’s stomach suddenly became cold and the feeling started to seep into her skin. It dug into her flesh with its despairing claws, as if it was going to fall and crash into the ashen grounds.

As if she had witnessed a corpse coming back to life, her eyes grew wide, almost rapturous, as Kazuo stood. Yet, the rest of her face carried worry, and some regret. Her fingers shyly stroked the prominent muscle that jutted forth from her neck, as if it hurt. A soft sigh befell her lips and she looked down at the ground, sparing what she could see of his legs a few quick glances.
Kazuo started to walk, and Setsuko brought herself to a one-legged kneel. She had to stand up...she had to help.

Even though she had the unshakable feeling that they were both doomed.

The thought itself caused a few tears to escape the carved edges of her eyes. She slowly rose, not without her hisses of pain. Yet, she was able to stand. Setsuko was still shaking, and the loosening bandages around her ankle were seeped with red. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep any sound of displeasure within. Even though her companion was blind, she did not want to risk sounding weak. The girl was careful not to put too much pressure on her foot, and that made the walk bearable.

Her heart sunk when she realized that she would not be able to keep up for long. Soon enough, she would collapse again.
Still, she made her way over to him and her shaking hand gently snaked over his shoulder. Her grip became stronger, and inviting, as if she was offering help. Part of her knew that she would be refused, but she needed to do something.

He quickly began to realize how his legs - and then the entirety of his frame - ached, as if every single muscle had over-exerted itself the previous today. But that wasn't so bad compared to his head; his head not only hurt, but felt heavy, and continued to skew his balance from side to side, causing him to stumble every now and then despite his patient steps. The concentration it took to walk and stay balanced seemed to make his head hurt all the more. The crackling of the flames and the sound of his own hard, steady breaths kept him focused until there was another touch at his shoulder.

Kazuo jumped, simultaneously turning toward the offender and stumbling away at an angle. He held his gun but didn't quite raise it to shoot, quickly assuming it could only be Setsuko again. Her touch had nearly knocked him back over. Though a scowl ghosted through his features, his face was possessed by a troubled, faintly hurt expression that he either wasn't conscious of or couldn't seem to rid himself of. After a minute, the boy managed to stand more or less straight again, though his lean frame swayed and threatened to totter over. It felt like the longer he stood, the more he lost track of his balance...

Nonetheless, he had gone still, facing Setsuko's vague direction expectantly, warily almost, with eyes still kept shut. He listened... and as he did so, he couldn't help growing fearful of some other participant who might've been taking aim at him out of hearing range. Standing still made Kazuo nervous. But he shook his head a little as if to shake the thought - which finally threw off what balance he was clinging to and made him stumble forward a little, though he remained on his feet.

Setsuko’s worried expression deepened when Kazuo stumbled back. She drunkenly swerved towards the left, but was able to stay still. Still enough for having more support on one leg, at least.

When he stumbled, she resisted the first instinct to help him up. Instead, she stood there as still as a statue, albeit a wobbly one. Her tears had dried, yet her eyes were red and the embers of the fire in her throat were dying down. There were some weak contractions that pulled at the strong muscles of her neck. The girl had finished crying, at least. She sighed and walked nearer to him, and stopped close enough to smell the distinctive scent of burnt clothes.

“There has to be another way to win this.” Her voice was soft and filled with sorrow

“You can’t do anything with your eyes like that. Please, let me help.” She offered, even though she knew that nothing could be done. “You must relent.” The words still came out even though she knew that they would not be heeded.

The child-like, troubled expression lingered in his face; Kazuo looked solemn and thoughtful at first, until Setsuko brought up his eyes. His expression darkened then, and he scowled. His mouth braced to spit at her, but he found it was too dry to muster the ammunition. "Fuck..." He hissed under his breath.

"Shut up," he came at clearer, albeit still soft-spoken volume. The words didn't seem to pack enough venom as he had intended, so he repeated them. "Shut up and.. leave me alone..." He began sharply, but the edge to his tone dwindled until his voice was a half-hearted murmur as he turned away to trudge off again. The boy stumbled once after a few steps, but quickly regained enough of his footing to continue, still at a patient enough pace to maintain some semblance of balance.

Her legs were shaky, and even though she saw him getting ready to spit at her, she did not move out of the way. Setsuko was still. Her lips twitched when his curse reached her ears.

The boy’s next few words were heavy and they crushed her heart. Her hands became colder and her veins danced with nervousness and anxiety.

“I can’t.” She said simply. “I just...can’t.” The girl watched him walk away. She remained in her spot and crossed her arms over her belly, as if she was about to get sick. “How can I leave you alone after all that we’ve done?!” Setsuko’s voice was quietly audible, and fury glinted in her eyes.

“How can you think I could?”

She limped towards him.

“I won’t leave you alone. Not like this.”

Kazuo paused again - swaying - only to tilt his head back and then crane his neck to the side as if to aim an ear in her direction. But he didn't turn back around this time, nor did he answer... only letting his head drop forward again and then dragging on as he had been.

His hand flexed over his Uzi. He swallowed hard but his throat was still dry. He couldn't keep track of how far he was walking, or in what direction, but tottered aside from time to time when he felt the direct heat of nearby flames. The heat was oppressive, like walking in a desert. His clothes felt sticky and dirty and uncomfortable. His skin stung in some places. His frame was sore. And his head still hurt, and his eyes ached. But Kazuo kept walking... and listening.

The empty feeling continued to well inside of her, broken by a worthless joy when he stopped. It was short-lived, however. There was no answer, and he did not turn around; she stopped her injured shuffle towards him. Right when she stopped, his slow movements began again.

Setsuko felt like she should have cried, then. Yet, there were no bitter-tasting tears to spare. Her eyes were as dry as the fire that made the air hot, and her throat burned and heaved along with it. She blinked and took one more step.

“I just can't.” She repeated. “Do you honestly think that I'd leave you alone? When you're like this? When I'm...”

Her eyes became downcast for a moment. She looked up again and took another step towards him.

“I...” Setsuko's voice trailed off and she grasped at her strong throat with surprise. What she was about to say made her face burn as red with the flames, and she was glad that she stopped herself.
The girl wanted to tell him that she found a way around the Program, anything to keep him from walking towards his doom. The inevitable that they did not accept.

He heard her rambling on, at first. But her voice soon started to dwindle in the unrelenting crackle of the flames.

His path went surprisingly unobstructed for a time, as he continued to weave between the flares of heat he detected. He stumbled against what felt like some kind of tractor once, clinging to it for a moment to avoid toppling over. He was so sore and so tired, he felt like collapsing and falling asleep in the grass until the pain stopped - but he knew he couldn't, of course. The fire could snake across the ground and find him in his sleep. Or even now, if he stayed put for too long. The metal of whatever machinery he was leaning against was hot anyways, so finally Kazuo roused himself to stand back up. Balance came a little easier, but too brave a step in any direction, and he was threatened with teetering off kilter. So he kept his pace patient… and continued to listen carefully through the white noise that had become the sound of the fire. It took effort to stay focused, though. Effort made his head hurt more.

It took him a moment to realize he had started to climb slightly uphill. But this didn't deter him, even as he stumbled once and then had to right himself. When he seemed to have reached the top, his ears started to ring again... He tilted his head back with exasperation, anxiety creasing his features - but the sound died down before growing too painful. He let his head drop forward to his chest wearily and turned to trudge on, keeping his eyes shut against the parched air, dragging one foot in front of the other.

A hard, brisk, mechanical sound from behind him reflexively turned him right around more swiftly than he would have thought himself capable. His eyes opened without his realizing, though they remained of no use. The gun in his grip raised and erupted; the kickback was a small shock to his sore muscles, and he stumbled briefly before resuming fire, staggering forward to where he presumed his target to be. The boy hardly had the strength to aim anymore, but tried to sweep his fire back and forth somewhat in anticipation of his opponent dodging; based on the single sound he had heard, he couldn't be sure of how far or near his target was, and had no concept of if his typewriter bullets were hitting their mark.

A louder return shot was instantly followed by a burst of pain in his calf. Kazuo half-spun in an attempt to keep off the hurt leg and keep on his feet, but dropped to the ground a second later.

Get up, get up, get up, GET UP...!

He could feel his leg bleeding out. His every muscle was a mass of pain and fatigue, but he did not stop to doubt himself as he slowly started to push himself to his feet. He had to get up. He had to keep shooting, keep fighting, keep killing; he had to win. He had to live.

Another loud shot. A sudden impact that hit him too quick for thought. The world went black and still, the ringing in his ears the only remaining sound to die out.

Boy #6, Kiriyama Kazuo, dead.

The shotgun slug would likely have done the job on its own, but as it was, it met and detonated the boy's collar. He had been knocked over hard onto his back, dead before he hit the ground. His throat was blown open like all manner of scavengers had picked it apart. The charred, withered ruins of the back half of the collar could be made out through the gory debris. A violent mess of blood was spattered all across his chest and face. A troubled expression lingered in his features. His eyes had fallen shut.