There can be only one [Pure-Destruction]

Black-brown eyes blinked drowsily open to a dark room. The unlit classroom was blurred at first as Kazuo Kiriyama sat up at his desk. He felt like he had woken up from a good, deep sleep… but in an uncomfortable position, which, for at least a portion of the time he had been knocked out, had been at a school desk with his head resting on his arms. It was stupid he had had to be sedated. He was a volunteer; he wanted to be here, and he wanted to win, not escape. But protocol was protocol, and the drowsiness of the sedative would wear off by the time the game started, he knew.

Being a 'transfer' again, Kazuo had arrived - and been sedated - earlier than the other students, so he was awake before just about everyone else, it looked like. Only a few of the others were beginning to stir. They could hardly be called his peers… Kazuo was 18 now, and the other participants were 15-year-old freshmen as always. Except perhaps…. His gaze drifted to the opposite back corner of the room. A pale youth with black, slicked-back hair sat at the desk there, also rousing from his induced slumber before the other students. He certainly looked like he could have been older than the others, but it was difficult to tell for sure. There was no way to find out, really, so Kazuo dismissed the question, turning away before the other transfer had the chance to lock eyes with him.

As the other students awoke, the usual pandemonium developed. Confusion began. As the kids tentatively felt at their collars, Kazuo, too, leaned back in his seat to pad over his own. Despite how long it had been, the feel of the metal was unpleasantly familiar. The remote control collars were perhaps his least favorite part of the Program. They were held over him like an inescapable avalanche waiting to happen. If any opponent happened to be a good enough shot, or even skimmed the collar by chance, he was finished. The danger zones were a pain to keep track of, too.

When the teacher of this class arrived, he introduced himself as Mr. Takami. He went over the basics of the rules. There was the usual shouting and panic and military personnel present having to settle everyone down… And the stupid informational video, and questions.
"A-Are there any… r-r-rules about how w-we… kill s-someone?"
Nope.
A few more questions, and someone abruptly stood up. "You're kidding..! This is some kind of prank. This is bullshit!" One of the students began to make a scene, convinced this was all one, big, bad joke, like on a prank show. To prove the Program was a reality, Mr. Takami activated this boy's collar.
Kazuo wondered if they made an example of the collars every Program. He sat up a little straighter, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on the desk. A new level of focus came into his dark eyes as his gaze zeroed in on the urgently beeping collar… Within a minute, it detonated, its wearer's throat blowing out in a fantastic spray of red. The boy collapsed suddenly and instantly to the floor. Kazuo withheld even a hint of the smile trying to crawl into his lips; he didn't want to give anyone the right idea about him prematurely. There was the expected moment of drama as the friends of the detonated student hesitantly moved to his side in shock. One began to sob quietly.

"You may have noticed," Mr. Takami began, "we have two transfer students to the class. It just so happens they share the same name, but they are not related, and try not to get them mixed up."
The same name…? His focused gaze flickered to the transfer in the other corner.
"With the funny hair, Kazuo Kiriyama." Takami gestured at Kazuo, who glanced briefly at the teacher. The youth's eyes skimmed over the students as they turned to stare at him, but without meeting anyone's gaze before his attention returned to the other transfer. "And with the fancy hair, Kazuo Kiriyama."
What? His brows knit somewhat. They really shared both their first and last names? In a country as big as Japan it was inevitable, but for them both to be in the Program as transfers…
"Remember, it's very important not to get them mixed up." Takami emphasized again with a small, Mona Lisa smile.

Kazuo scrutinized the other Kiriyama a moment more while the carts of supplies were wheeled in. Takami went on to explain how class numbers were to be called, and soon began. Kazuo watched student after student scurry out of the classroom and into the survival game awaiting outside. Unlike in his first Program, it seemed the two transfers' class numbers were at least closer to last.
"Boy #25, Kazuo Kiriyama."
The wild-haired youth looked up, but glanced to the transfer opposite him, unsure which Kiriyama the teacher was calling.
Takami chuckled and gestured to the other transfer. "Fancy hair."

Last thing Kazuo Kiriyama could remember was making his way home from college, his valet being different then usual and the familiar smell of sedative gas filling his lungs. But now he was waking up to darkness, familiar to events that occurred only a year prior, except he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

Kazuo scans the faces of his new enemies, some resemble a few of his old peers. One looks like he could be related to Toshinori, one has the arrogance of Ryuhei, one had the jaded look Mitsuko had and one had the hope that had once flown through Kazuo's final victim, Shuya. Kazuo then looks out the window next to him, apparently they are on the second floor of the building and they were surrounded by a forest. Very familiar.

A man entered, followed by soldiers and introduces himself as Mr. Takami. The events that followed were almost an exact replay to Kazuo's previous introduction to the 'Program,' except from the tape that was hosted by a woman that referred to herself as 'Older sister.' After the recording had ended, the arrogant student made a fuss thinking that everything was a prank. Mr. Takami had used this boy as an example of how serious the governments intentions were by activating his collar, this scene almost reminded Kazuo of the actions his late classmate, Yoshitoki and the instructor from the last 'Program,' Mr. Sakamochi had committed inside that classroom.
This boy ran around to his peers, begging for help, but they all pushed him away, as if he were a time bomb. Several moments after, his collar exploded, surprisingly enough had only blown off a centimetre perimetre of the flesh surrounding the boy's neck, enough to kill him quickly. Kazuo had wondered about this since he had left the last standing member of his old clique, Show to a similar fate, but Kazuo had exited the area, thus didn't have the chance to witness the result.

"You may have noticed," Mr. Takami began, "we have two transfer students to the class. It just so happens they share the same name, but they are not related, and try not to get them mixed up."
Kazuo had known about how every now and then, there would be what the government would call 'Transfers,' either students who would willingly volunteer to participate in 'the Program' or a previous winner of the 'Program.' It was obvious to Kazuo that the other student in a Gakuen (the designated uniform for this class was a navy Blazer) was the other transfer. He looked familiar.

"With the funny hair, Kazuo Kiriyama." Takami gestured at the other boy, who glanced briefly at the teacher. Boy with the funny hair? Sounds like a nickname Kazuo's old 'Family' would have given him.
Kazuo Kiriyama.
Kazuo is quite a common name, but it is quite rare to meet a Kiriyama, especially in his prefecture. This doesn't really surprise Kazuo as his father would never allow him to miss a single result show of 'the Program,' so he remembered that one winner a year or so back with the exact same name.
Kazuo remembered that this other Kiriyama was the transfer for that 'Program' also, maybe he was willing to compete in this year as well. He stood out for Kazuo not because of their similar names, but because he resembled the style of the sub-culture his late 'family' members dedicated themselves to, Yankees. The group named after the nation with the Blond hair they frequently dye theirs to resemble.

Reminiscing about his late gang members, Kazuo feels 'that' sensation in his left temple. After his win in the last 'Program,' Kazuo was omitted to hospital due to his internal bleeding caused by shotgun bullets to his abdomen, where he was given numerous pieces of information about his deceased parents and a clue about the sensation he feels a couple of times a year. Blocked emotions. He had always known about his indifference, but this was no surprise either, he wondered whether deep down he feels guilty for murdering his 'friends,' or if he took some sort of pleasure in doing so.
Maybe that's why this other Kazuo 'transfers,' because he enjoys killing his peers.
A sadist.
Kazuo has met a couple before when he was the leader of the disbanded 'Kiriyama Family,' he had fought them, he defeated them. They always gave him the same look when they fall, a one that resembles Ryuhei's after he is denied a taunt at Yoshio by another member of his former class. Kazuo thought the name of the emotion shown would be called disgust? Would this boy show this expression if Kazuo defeated him? Or will he be dead before he gets the chance?

"And with the fancy hair, Kazuo Kiriyama." His gang might have giggled at such a nickname.
The other Kazuo gives him a quick glance, not quick enough for Kazuo to not notice.

Soon after his introduction, the soldiers wheel into the classroom the rack that held the day packs that carry the equipment necessary for survival. Then Mr. Takami opens the envelope that contains the number of the first person to exit, who just so happens to be a few numbers behind Kazuo, which means he'll be close to last to leave. Mr. Takami begins to call out the names, but as result of the draw, changes the numbers to fit the new router.

"Boy #25, Kazuo Kiriyama."
The other boy glances at Kazuo, as if to ask which one of them Mr. Takami was calling.

Takami chuckled and gestured to Kazuo. "Fancy hair."

Kazuo exits his seat, walks past his peers, retrieves the day pack from the rack and makes his exit through the long corridor. Like the previous year, there were soldiers guarding the corridor and the stairs, maybe they set up the equipment downstairs?

When Kazuo finally exits the building, he is greeted by the boy who resembles Toshinori, who is armed with a gun pressed toward Kazuo's right cheek. Instantaneous, Kazuo grabs the boy's wrist with his right hand, twists it so the gun points toward the forest ahead of him and uses his left hand to grab the gun from the buy, leaving him defenseless. The boy begs for his life, but his pleas didn't effect Kazuo in the slightest and shoots the boy a little higher than his left eye, killing him. Upon closer examination, the gun appears to be a Walther PPK. How familiar.

Kazuo eyed Boy #25 as he moved from his seat, striding coolly past the other students to pick out a bag from the rack. The other Kiriyama was clearly not nervous in the least; his walk was as casual as if he was on his way to his next class, and his face was perfectly blank. Not confident in any way… but not scared, not wary or hesitant, like this was perfectly routine, a boring ritual he had played out every day of his life. Kazuo's brow furrowed a little. To take on the situation with that kind of calm, it seemed as if the other transfer must have been a volunteer - and here to win. But as far as he knew, the Program only took one volunteer per game.

He remembered when he had won in his first Program, the teacher for that class, Kitano, had mentioned to him how impressive it was he had beaten the other transfer, because the other transfer had won a past Program. Kazuo was both a volunteer and a past winner… What did that make Boy #25? Perhaps the other Kiriyama was so calm because he had won before, too. Kazuo would have to keep an eye out for him.

Girl #25 was called next. A tiny, quivering thing. She obviously wasn't going to make it. Might even kill herself… But that would be no fun; Kazuo hoped he could find her first. Not that he would do her any favors - depending on what weapons he had to work with, maybe he could draw out her suffering. Nothing too time-consuming, just something to make sure her death wouldn't be quick or painless like she must have been praying for. The girl cast a brief, anxious glance back at him, as he was the only participant remaining in the classroom, before she shuffled hastily to the rack and received a bag before scurrying out the door.

"Boy #26, Kazuo Kiriyama."
So there were 51 students this game… Well, 50, now. As he strode to the rack, he glanced down at the body of the boy whose collar had detonated. His gaze stuck like a magnet to the obliterated throat of the young man, lingering before he pulled his eyes away and to the day packs awaiting him. A bag was shoved into his arms, but he paused, gauging its weight. It was not much heavier than his first. Possibly something more useful than a paper fan, but he wasn't going to risk it. Kazuo abruptly dropped the pack to the floor and, with almost exaggerated nonchalance, reached right past the soldier before him to pull another bag.
Takami chuckled. "Get moving, funny hair."
The wild-haired youth glanced back at the teacher like a child reluctantly acknowledging a parent's instructions. He felt the weight of this bag was a little more promising.
"GET GOING!" Barked one of the soldiers.
Kazuo arched a brow, eyeing the man, and cast a mocking kiss in his direction before languidly stepping out into the hall, bag in his arms.

Boy #26 took his time heading out of the school, opening his bag to feel around in it for whatever might be his weapon. Eventually his fingers grasped something hard and metal; a crowbar. Not bad. Could come in handy in more ways than one. But he would certainly be on the hunt for better. Once he had his weapon out, the youth was quick to close up his bag and throw it over his shoulder before arriving at the school's entrance. He hoped this time there would be no unpleasant surprises like a poorly-aimed arrow… though, he supposed there was worse that could fly his way.

After his brief encounter with the Frog boy, Kazuo fled west from the school's premises. Twenty straight minutes of jogging until he decides to check his surroundings, he had entered the location where the areas shrine was. Kazuo searches through his pack for his assigned weapon, apparently he was given a small jar of Cyanide. It must have been his luck to have run into Frog boy almost instantly, or else he wouldn't have an offensive weapon.

Regardless of his win the previous year, Kazuo didn't know what to do with himself in his second run. At his stay in the Hospital, a nurse told him that he had the potential to escape with his friends and that would've been the better thing to do. He questioned his father about this, he told him that he did the right thing to have discarded such scum and to have won at all costs. Kazuo considered flipping a coin like he did the previous year, but the thought then occurred to him, what would be the point? He doesn't know any of his peers, so maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to assassinate them too. Other than the Brown haired Kazuo's presents, the odds were in his favour. None of the other students were well built, nor did they seem to be calm and cunning. One boy wore the same expression Mitsuko wore in the classroom, so maybe he would act the same way too.

Before he knew it, Kazuo had his answer. He was going to play to win this year also. Kazuo then checks his map, there is a residential area North of the area he was currently standing in. It's highly likely that there would be a couple of students hiding in the houses, so it would have been a good idea to check it out.

As Kazuo heads towards the residential area, he thought about the Kazuo with the wild hair.

Maybe this years program will be interesting.

Despite being the last student out, there were no unpleasant surprises to greet him upon exiting the school. Instead, there was a dead boy on the ground just outside the door. Kazuo studied the corpse a moment to find the boy had been shot in the head. Probably a handgun, undoubtedly close range. Lifting his head to glance around, Boy #26 didn't see anybody else, or any other bodies. He certainly took his time standing around right outside the school; if anyone was still there, they would have shot at him by now for sure. But Kazuo didn't look worried.

Kneeling down, the wild-haired youth poked through the dead boy's bag for supplies, taking the rations and the water to stuff into his own pack. Whatever weapon the student had had, however, was gone. Damn it.

Crowbar in hand, Kazuo chose a random direction without checking his map to start moving. It was not far before he nearly tripped over another body - a girl with a few stab wounds. He checked for her weapon, but didn't find it until going through her bag: a lighter. His dark eyes narrowed. Kazuo was not a fan of fire after his last Program. He had been close enough to the explosion that stupid kid had set off that if he had taken a second longer to duck for cover, any number of things could have gone horribly downhill for him at such close range. He had survived the explosion with a few burns - and a massive headache - but it wasn't a pleasant experience. Fire irked him ever since. But he wasn't going to deny a lighter could prove useful, so he tucked it into a pocket of his bag. He didn't feel the need to grab any more rations or water, not wanting to get too weighed down, so he resumed walking.

He kept on until the foliage became particularly dense. He crouched to take out his flashlight and map to check where he was, and to look over the rest of the area. It was not unlike the island of his last Program. There was a clinic… Kazuo wondered if anyone was smart enough to head there. It might not be a bad idea to scope out the place himself, but he decided it could wait. He knew a hunk of kids would be racing for the cluster of houses in the residential area… That would be too crowded for what he had on hand now; he needed to get a better weapon. Maybe he could find someone alone at the barn. The boy put his flashlight and map away and sighed, stretching, before heading in the direction of the farmhouse.

Not long after, a gunshot echoed through the night. A thunderous, solitary sound, probably of a rifle. Kazuo contemplated changing direction - any firearm was better than none - but decided to continue toward the barn for now, though he kept in mind where the gunshot sounded like it had come from.

After a half hour walk, Kazuo finally enters the zone's residential area. From what he could remember, this area was smaller then the area on the island he was stranded on in the previous year. A small flicker of light caught Kazuo's gaze, looks like it could be a torch. Someone was being careless, such actions could attract predators, such as himself. This light was lit inside the bottom floor window of the first house next to Kazuo.
Since there were almost twice the amount of students participating in this 'program' than in his last, Kazuo thought that there being more than one student in such a large area was quite likely and he should check every house in the area. But first things first, Kazuo must eliminate this student before checking for others.

As the boy with the slicked back hair draws closer toward the building, the torch leaves site of the window and he could hear the sound of foot steps fading. They were probably heading upstairs. Kazuo thought of this as a good opportunity, trap the student on the second floor. The weapon didn't matter as he could improvise if armed with a firearm. Kazuo then smashed the window, this action was followed by a loud shriek. Sounded like a girl, she probably didn't take well to pressure. The refined youth leaped through the window, on top of small pile of shattered glass and made his way up the stairs.

This girl definitely had no tolerance to pressure as Kazuo could clearly hear her hyperventilating from the room next to the staircase, their was no telling what a person under pressure would do, so Kazuo readied his weapon in preparation. Before he could even open the door, the female student smashed the door open and flew toward the refined youth with a small army knife. In retaliation, Kazuo snatched the girls knife wielding hand with his left hand and shot her in her left temple with his right, killing her almost instantly.

Kazuo then notices the girls day pack lying next to the door frame, he then picked out her water supply along with her daily rations and places them inside his day pack. Kazuo was certain that others would have heard the gunshot, so he decided to hide in the house to await their arrival. It didn't take long for a dark skinned boy to check the area for the cause of such a sound. The refined youth took his position next to the window he shattered, looked like the tanned boy was armed with a Spoon of all things. As he peered through the window, the dark skinned youth was taken out by Kazuo's Walther. This was probably easier than any of his previous kills.

Kazuo waited out for another half hour before deciding to move on, maybe the others have more sense to move away from danger. The refined youth then checked the other houses for weapons and new victims, but his efforts were futile, those two were the only students hiding in the area. Kazuo then checked his map, there was a small farm a mile east from his location, maybe there would be more student there.

It wasn't long before Kazuo thought he heard a couple more gunshots… Not so much those of a rifle, though. A handgun was preferable to a rifle, and of course a submachine gun was preferable to a handgun, but the bloodthirsty youth would take anything he could get right now. Despite this, he stayed true to his intended destination - and was rewarded for his focus.

Almost as soon as the farmhouse was in sight, he could hear shouting. It wasn't until he inched closer, slinking between the vehicles and farm equipment in the yard, that he could make out what the yelling was about.
"GET OUT!" Shrieked a girl's voice, hoarse with panic. "STOP! LEAVE!"
A gunshot, and this one not so distant. And then… the beautiful, typewriter sound Kazuo had made so ominous to his peers in his last Program. He wanted it. God, did he want it. But he had to be patient for now… and quiet. He continued slinking closer to the farmhouse. There was another burst of rapid fire, and an audible thmp. Kazuo waited another minute, but there was no more gunfire. He poked his wild-haired head around the entrance to peer inside. It took him a minute to locate the figures within; first, a boy with the submachine gun, but he had just picked up his bag and was headed out the door on the other side of the barn. It took some glancing around before Kazuo spotted the withered form lying above in the loft.

Shit. He wanted that submachine gun, but the dead girl must have the handgun he had heard, and it didn't look like the other boy had climbed up there to take it. Something was better than nothing, and certainly better than being shot to pieces by the very firearm he so vehemently desired. He watched the boy leave the barn and jog back to the woods, though Kazuo shifted restlessly, and glanced around now and then to check for anyone else who might have heard the gunfire. But as soon as the other boy was well out of hearing range, Kazuo scurried into the farmhouse, moving briskly to tuck his crowbar in his bag and scale the ladder. He crept toward the girl's body more hesitantly, eyeing her for signs of movement, crowbar at the ready again. His dark eyes scanned for her weapon, and quickly found it in her hand. He couldn't help eyeing the blood already seeping out from beneath her form, but grabbed like a striking snake for the pistol under her unmoving hand. By now it was clear she was dead.

Kazuo was at last really armed, for now with a Colt M1911. A pistol was not his first choice, as accuracy was far from his strong point, but it would help him get what he really wanted.

Peering down into the barn below, he scrutinized what he could see through each door to check for anyone approaching, but, seeing no one for now, began his way back down the ladder with his crowbar stuck back into his bag and his pistol in his belt. He glanced again over his shoulder once he reached the ground, drawing his gun as he strode for the door the other boy had taken. It hadn't been too long; there was still a chance he could catch up. With more yard to cover once outside, Kazuo moved swiftly through it, not wanting to be out in the open too long, before he soon reached the forest again and followed in the direction the other boy looked to have taken.