Gunpoint Kiss- The Roleplay Before the Writing

Kazuo returned to his seat, resuming posture identical to before, including the incessant bouncing of his knee. But just when his restlessness nearly overwhelmed him, he was stricken with a sudden tiredness, as if his intense hunger to get up and move alone had worn him out. His lids grew heavy until he could not keep them open... and by the time his companion returned to tend to the food on the stove, Kazuo had fallen asleep - still very dimly aware of the girl's footsteps and of the slightly burnt odor of what had sat on the stove for too long, but too far from awake to care in the least.

Her words, too, went unacknowledged; her voice went in one ear and out the other as the wild-haired youth slept slumped in his chair, breathing deeply.

"Did you hear me? I...oh."
Setsuko's chilly eyes quickly turned to a tender glint once she realized that he was asleep. She stood there for a few moments before feeling her own eyelids getting heavier. Now, she had her own chance to rest, but there was still some worry that when she would wake up, he would be gone, leaving her at the mercy of the other teenagers on the island. Before she walked off to the closet, she ran a hand through his hair. It was softer than she had expected, and the familiar excitement of touch rung through her body.
After retrieving two sheets and a pillow from the nearby bedroom, she gently wrapped one of the linens around him. The island air was rather warm, yes, but it just seemed right. She rested her head on the pillow after dropping it on the floor, and pulled the sheet to her chin.
The floor was a bit hard for comfort. While the feeling was mostly ignored, adjustments were needed. Each position was more disagreeable than the last. Once she turned on her side to face him, however, she stopped. It certainly was not a comfortable angle, but knowing that she was not alone would help her rest.

Like the last time he slept, his expression had not changed, but the predatory energy radiating from him had almost vanished. It was as if he could be...decent, at most. If he wished.
The cascade of falling water nearby was calming and somewhat rhythmic. Her mind soon drifted to the calm waters, allowing a dreamless sleep to engulf the mind.

He jumped at having his hair touched as much as he might have awake, and he stirred somewhat. But this sleep, at least for the moment, was slightly deeper than the last - enough that he seemed to mistake the sensation for that of a dream, as he did not wake, though a troubled expression swept into his face.

The boy was driven to stir again at the sheet draped over him. This time, Kazuo did wake, albeit not very much with the awareness the contact that woke him was no threat. Dark eyes barely open, he leered at his companion, but she had already turned away to settle herself on the floor in front of him. His gaze drifted to the window, but only briefly before his eyes shut again.

He did not rest for long this time. After just 20 or 30 minutes, he began to stir, shifting in his seat a few times before his eyes drowsily flickered open. He couldn't sleep anymore, but felt lazy. But that wasn't going to stop him in the midst of the Program he had volunteered for - after another 10 or 15 minutes, his eyes lifted back into full wakefulness. He stood from his chair, pulling the sheet off of him and discarding it to the floor before stepping forward to kick his companion none too gently in the side to wake her.

His faded, well-worn, slip-on shoes were already decorated with scattered specks of blood, probably from his stunt on the overlook. Boy number six looked forward to earning more such stains on all his clothes.

The girl was aware that there was stirring around her, but that did not stop her from curling further into a ball and and snuggling into the pillow.
Over the course of slumber, she had shifted positions slightly. Her direction was diagonal rather than perfectly straight. As she slept, memories from the day replayed in her mind. It was an orderless sequence, separated by total darkness. Some of the scenarios did not even happen.

Some time later, she became conscious, but still felt as if she was asleep. Her eyes were still quite heavy with the weight of sleep; she welcomed sight, but her eyes were still so heavy. The dark brown irises were barely visible, only opened enough to be small slits. As she heard footsteps approaching, her body stirred but did not move any further than a few spasms.

Feeling a sharp pain at her side, she was forced into total wakefulness. Familiar, blood-specked blue shoes were in front of her, connected to wiry legs shrouded in a dark fabric. As she sat up quickly, she looked up at his face, which was turned down to leer. The predatory glint that filled his eyes had been lessened by glassy laziness. After quickly pulling the sheet off of her frame, she stood, averting her eyes.
They were standing very close.
She could feel natural warmth radiating from his thin frame, which contrasted sharply with the cold of his eyes.
He had moved away and made a beeline towards the door.
As she gave her surroundings one last look, she saw that they had left their presence everywhere. Sheets were still strewn about, they left the food on the table and the mirrors were haphazardly covered. With no time to cover up their tracks, she was sort of happy that they would not be returning.
There was a chance that if a crazed participant had wandered into the shack, the wait for the return of the occupants would start.

She saw how much distance her companion was gaining, so she ran outside until she was abreast with him, and settled into a walk. Pressing on, she pursed her lips. Guilt pressed on in her mind, realizing that she had been partly irrational for screaming at him. Oh, he deserved it, certainly; however, it could have ended badly if someone was close by.
"Sorry for yelling at you." The murmur escaped her lips, forced as if she had to regurgitate.

Once the girl was on her feet, Kazuo turned to stride for the door without a single glance for the food on the table. He recalled it smelled burnt, and it had probably gone cold during his rest anyways.

Not far outside, he paused to check his map. Studying it for a minute, he quickly decided to get back to the road and follow alongside it down to the clinic as he had planned. It was around 4:30PM... Perhaps he would take a break before quite reaching the clinic so as to wait for the 6:00PM report, depending on what kind of time it took to get there. Hearing his companion jogging to catch up, he tucked his map away and kept on. It wasn't long after that, though, that he stopped again, this time at the girl's muttered apology. He stared darkly down at her, brows slightly knit as if she had said something very bizarre and completely out of context. He looked like he might have been thinking about shoving her again... or maybe just shooting her.

Instead, his gaze shifted away to flicker over the ground thoughtfully. He looked contemplative for what must have been a whole minute before sliding his hand into his pants pocket - a vaguely troubled expression ghosting through his face again - and pulling out some kind of ID card. It was the student ID issued to him for the Program, considering he was a 'transfer'. It was a simple ID with the Battle Royale Survival Program logo slapped onto the background, with his picture, his name, his student number, his age, and his blood type, amongst other random numbers regarding the class and the Program.
Kiriyama, Kazuo
Boy #6
15
AB
Not without some hesitation, the youth tentatively held out the card to his companion, dark eyes flitting between her face and his ID. His own means of introducing himself. He didn't like the idea of the girl knowing his name... but figured she could use it to call for him if need be, and even at quieter volume he would be more likely to pick up on her voice without her needing to shout.

Her muscles tensed, preparing for a hard push. He had looked her that way when she had yelled at him in the forest. The landing was particularly hard, and the force issued on her shoulders were quite painful.
He did not, though. As his eyes swept over the ground in thought, one of her eyebrows raised. Setsuko began to relax, only becoming tense again as he reached into his pocket.
A school I.D rested in between his fingers. The boy gave it one last look before holding it out to her. She saw his picture on it, and next to that, some text.
"Kiriyama, Kazuo..." Eyes widening, her gaze flitted between his face and the card; she was so surprised that he was giving her his name. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she continued to read on.
"Boy number six."
"...Fifteen?" She was one year older than he was...interesting. "...AB."

Kazuo stuffed the card back into his pocket once she gave him a curt nod. Before he could turn away, she introduced herself.
"Narita Setsuko. I'm sixteen." She paused, as if to think for a moment. "...O."
His eyes rested on her for a moment, then nodded. With introductions out of the way, they trudged along, her walking beside him again. She decided to fall back and stay close behind him once they had reached the main road, but it was a ten minute walk, at least. There was no surprise that the trek was quiet, but she did not mind.
The walk consisted of her grinning at the foliage, being sure that Kazuo would not see her expression.
His name. She finally knew his name.

When his student ID was returned, Kazuo slipped it back into the pants pocket he had pulled it from, moving to continue walking but pausing when his companion spoke up. Narita, Setsuko. He wasn't sure he would remember the name... Not that he would really need to. He wouldn't ever be calling for her; if she got lost, she was gone. If she got killed, she was dead. Either way suited him just fine.

Upon reaching the road again, he stuck alongside of it some ways into the woods just as before, so that he could see the road through the trees but remained decently concealed in the foliage. Sounds from behind him let him know his companion trailed behind.

He moved south through H5 and I5 without incident - to his great disappointment. Just into I6, the 6:00PM announcements started up, so Kazuo stopped to lean against a tree, taking out his map while the deaths were read out. Just two girls, one boy... and none of them were his kills. A scowl crossed his features. That meant it had been over six hours since his last kill. Fuck. It took so much time just get around the damn island.... but then, there were still over two days left. With danger zones piling up, the good hunk of students still left would be forced into a smaller area. And there were still 20 left, excluding himself and his companion. He still had time, he still had would-be victims.

After he had marked off the incoming danger zones, Kazuo examined his map a moment more, then gazing in the direction of the clinic. He glanced also toward the road he could see through the trees. There was an intersection, but both ways that forked eastward led to the clinic, he knew.

He sighed somewhat, and pulled the bread out of his bag to bite into, dark eyes sweeping around carefully as he ate. It wasn't a bad idea to stake out this spot for a little while... anyone following the road on the way to the clinic would come by here. And especially as night approached, it would be more likely that students would seek shelter. Kazuo could wait in ambush here, and unless somebody came along, he would check on the clinic after sunset.

As they were Southbound, Setsuko kept her head up, looking around for any shortcuts for them to take. She frowned as they passed one by.
Most of the overlooks and secret caves were dangerous around the Southern area of the island. They were either too small, steep or at the point of falling apart. Her lips pursed as she began to worry about her usefulness. Sure, he had listened to her direction, but what if she eventually ran out?
If she had not bandaged her ankle up immediately, Kazuo certainly would have shot her on the spot.
Those damned, impossible teenaged passions were wearing her out, too. This boy had been occupying her mind. Romantic feelings were taxing in themselves, moreso if rejection seemed to be certain. Her passions became an entirely different beast once her well-being came into the equation. Dammit. The happiness of him 'telling' her his name had promptly disappeared.

They had stayed in the brush, but still walked along the road. It was a good idea, but there was still a small chance of being seen. Even though they would not be walking directly on the road, Setsuko slowly fell behind. Thankfully, the journey had continued without any ambushes or encounters, although her companion was visibly itching to spill blood.
Kazuo's restlessness only got worse and more apparent as they followed the road. Still, she followed close behind, but that did not mean that she was not growing uneasy.
Her eyes fell upon his hand, which had been resting on the Uzi for quick use. His fingers were running over the trigger, lusting to pull.

As the announcements started, she jumped. Her companion was indifferent, his hand left the Uzi and reached for his map. Kazuo's back was soon against a tree, ready to mark the danger zones.
There had been three deaths since the last announcement. Two were girls, one was a boy. More lives had been taken away. She noticed that he had scowled that he had not been the cause of at least one, but he soon focused on the map. Sections from the grid were read out, and he scrawled the information on the map in his childish hand. After the announcements stopped, he gazed down the road. Setsuko knew that he was staring at the crossroads. As she sat down, she pulled her knees to her chin. It was a position most familiar and comfortable to her, although one of her arms traveled under her thighs to keep the skirt from falling onto the ground.

Kazuo had started to eat, and she periodically sneaked glances at him. The sun had began its descent, the sky had started to become red. Crimson light had shown on both of them, casting eerie shadows on the trees. Setsuko's right hand had wandered to the ground, her thin index finger tracing lines on the ground. Lines followed the thin, skin clad bones and did not connect, nor intersect. Just lines. Her companion was getting comfortable at his spot, lying in wait. It took some figuring out, but she eventually gathered his strategy. If a hapless participant had passed by, he would pounce and slaughter them. Kazuo's eyes scanned the road, she knew that he was hoping for prey. Her cheek rested on her knees, allowing her eyes to rest on him.
"What are these other kids like?" Setsuko did not expect an answer. She just wanted him to look at her.

He glanced down at the girl fleetingly with a brief, sour look, like she had asked an obviously stupid question. From what he could tell, they weren't much different than any other class. But he didn't really know any of them because he was a transfer. For a moment, he wondered how the other transfer was doing; he remembered boy number five, and knew that number hadn't been listed as among the dead yet. The other transfer looked like a good fight. Kazuo absently hoped he had the chance to fight him, as slim a chance as it was.

His bread was put away after a few bites, at which point he took out a water bottle to have a drink. Then it was a matter of waiting around.

His gaze darted for the road when, finally, movement caught his eye. It was getting dark - much longer and he would have moved on for the clinic, but it looked he might head there anyway... A helmeted figure on a bike pedaled along the road at a leisurely pace, traveling east. A helmet, even. Wow. This boy was clearly in no rush, and Kazuo would be having none of that.

After quickly adjusting the straps of his bag and Uzi to ensure they would stay put, the wild-haired youth jogged for the road, and upon breaking the forest's edge burst into a sprint. The kid on the bike gave a short, panicked cry upon sighting his pursuer, and immediately pedaled faster, taking off down the road with boy number six not far behind. There was a short spray of submachine gunfire as Kazuo tried for shooting, but between running with an Uzi in hand and the distance between him and his target, he decided to save his ammunition for when he caught up... As he was confident he would catch up. He would not let this kill go.

"Stupid question. Sorry." Arms were soon raised in defeat, although one immediately left to pull her skirt back up to her legs.
Her gaze drifted from the increasing lines on the ground to Kazuo like a pendulum. The suns rays got even redder as it continued the descent, showering them in bloody light. Setsuko's eyes eventually set on him. He did not seem to mind her gaze.

A familiar ringing got louder, the sound of a bicycle chain.
Bicycle? Who on Earth?...
She looked up to catch a quick glimpse of a boy wearing a white helmet riding by. She could see short strands of black hair sticking up from under the white plastic. A beige school uniform donned his thin frame. Her head snapped to her right once she heard a quick shuffle of footsteps. Her companion had left her again, jogging towards the road.
Setsuko quickly stood up and followed Kazuo, who had broke out into a sprint once he reached the main road.

Her legs were able to carry her well, but she slowly fell behind.
Kazuo and the boy on the bicycle were soon distant figures on the road. She heard fire from the submachine gun, which abruptly stopped. She paused to allow the events to set in.
A bicycle...of all the things.
Laughter. She began to laugh once she remembered the scenes of the chase that just occurred. The reasons why her companion was in pursuit were momentarily forgotten. The concept itself was just so comical. That, and Kazuo was chasing the boy like an excited dog would with a car.
Her laughing stopped after a while, feeling a heavy surge of guilt enter her body for laughing. The boy was probably going to meet his end at the hands of the murderous youth.
Soon, the two were gone, the feeling of loneliness began to pump through her veins. There was also fear.
Kazuo Kiriyama was gone. She was wide open. A fair target without any firearms. Her protector had left, again.
A violent growl stirred within her throat, but it did not escape her lips. She would have to be very careful.
Setsuko wandered back to the forest and began to follow the road from there. At least she knew where he was running to. She knew the road to the clinic by heart.

Fortunately for Kazuo, his target was even less athletic than him. The boy ahead was not very fast even on a bike... Regardless, the chase continued, moving down the south fork of the road through I6. His target swerved left down another path soon enough, and he followed in turn; both of them grew tired at about the same rate, so that as the boy on the bicycle slowed somewhat, Kazuo, too, slowed from a sprint into a run just above a jog. A few more turns were taken, but the boy on the bike consistently failed to lose his pursuer. Kazuo was, however, steadily gaining on his would-be victim.

By the time the mess of a yard that presumably belonged to the clinic in I7 came into view, Kazuo was able to take off into a sprint again, gaining speed suddenly - and just when it counted. He gained enough ground that he was able to resume firing, but didn't appear to hit his target, who was too weary to keep biking and clambered off of the bicycle to scurry between yard debris. Typewriter gunfire erupted after the helmet-clad boy; Kazuo shot in spurts until his target was cornered.

The boy screamed for his life, but Kazuo shot him down with zero hesitation. After the smaller youth dropped, Kazuo stepped forward, glancing him over to check that he was fully dead.

There was no blood. The kid had a white shirt on - riddled with holes from what Kazuo could see of it - but there wasn't a speck of red. No blood.

He had to have a vest on. A bulletproof vest... But that was alright. That was more than alright. Without hesitating to scrutinize his victim too long, Kazuo turned, jogging away and around the corner of a truck. He set his bag down, reluctantly slumping his Uzi off his shoulder; he hated to put the submachine gun away for any length of time.... but it would be well worth it.

Setsuko trudged along the road, becoming startled whenever she heard Kazuo's Uzi go off in the distance. She was really hoping that they were headed to the clinic. If not, it was going to be very hard to find him, unless another participant found her first. Her blood froze at the thought, and so did she.
Moments passed, and a clammy hand reached for her shears. The cold metal and skin met, and her legs slowly carried on.
After realizing that she would need to move faster to even catch up to them, she broke into a jog. Not as fast as she usually was, but her ankle needed to be considered.

More gunfire, but it was still distant. The clinic was not *that* far, but still a ways away. Her brow furrowed. If she would meet up with her companion while she still this angry...she would really let him have it. She was not above slaps or backhands to prove her point, either. However, her anger had no impact on him. Unless she was screaming loud enough for stragglers to hear. That did not end well.
Soon, the sun had completely set, the blood red skies had become dark. The moon provided a good amount of light, and she would certainly be much harder to detect; the perk also applied to the other kids, though.
Shoot.

She continued to jog at a reasonable pace until another set of gunshots sounded through the air. They were much louder, and she was getting ready to enter the clinic yard. Relief that she would have her protection was short-lived, though. Right as she entered the yard, a deafening scream resounded through the cool night air. Shots from the Uzi followed, then there was silence. Morbid curiosity got the better of her mind. Slowly, placing her foot in front of the other, she started to head to the source of the screaming. The tightening hold of her scissors transformed her hand into a vice-grip of flesh.
Kazuo appeared from the dirt lot around the corner, setting his bag down. Her eyes widened once she noticed that his beloved Uzi was now unattached to his shoulder. His gaze met hers, but he did not seem to completely be present. He was scheming.
Legs becoming tired and shaky from the excitement, she collapsed onto the ground, into a sitting position.
There was nothing happening in her mind, yet it was overloaded. Setsuko's gaze was blank, and entirely unfocused as her companion's.

The feeling of being watched and not so much any sound the girl made was what alerted him to her presence - but still, only dimly. Kazuo was focused, and couldn't spare his companion much attention lest said focus shift her. He did not meet her eyes for long, yet already he found his hand hesitating at the submachine gun he had just set into his bag... but he moved on, fingers coiling around the sheath of the weapon he had practically been praying for the chance to use.

Shouting from the other side of the truck kindly informed him his would-be victim did indeed have a bulletproof vest on. An 'excellent' bulletproof vest, by the sound of it. Arrogant fuck.

Kazuo slung his bag back onto his shoulder, wakizashi in hand, before turning to stealthily scale the truck. The truck was full of gravel, however, so Kazuo had to step carefully across the top without sinking in too much and hopefully without making too much noise... just when he thought he was in the clear upon reaching the opposite edge, his feet knocked a few bits of gravel loose, which bounced noisily to the ground below. Whoops. By then he was standing up straight... and below, the boy in the helmet stood to look up just in time to catch him unsheathing the wakizashi and discarding its case.

A smile played across his lips, dark eyes falling into a serene emptiness.

Horror flooded over the helmet-clad boy's face, and a scream erupted out of him as his pursuer leapt down and swept the wakizashi across his throat. The blade was surprisingly sharp - not a toy and not some rusty old relic, as Kazuo was surprised to find he actually took the boy's head clean off with ease.

His landing was rough, but he managed to crouch and manipulate the momentum enough that his legs went unharmed, and he stumbled back into a standing position, lifting his bloodied blade to his face as he paced languidly to walk off the impact. His gaze moved slowly down the shining blade, captivated by the red soaking it and dripping off of it. He looked down at his handiwork then, grinning. Spectacular.

And now, armed with his Uzi, hand grenades, and soon his latest victim's vest, he probably had the best weapons in the game. Or at least, he would once he got the vest off of this big-mouthed idiot...

The Uzi had been set in the bag, surprising her further. His hand had not left the contents, yet, though. After some shifting, she saw him handle something with a delicate malice. A white sheath emerged from the green fabric.
He didn't have one of those at dawn.
Setsuko's eyes widened once she remembered that two girls had been slaughtered on the overlook. The wakizashi must have been assigned to one of them.

Nearby shouting had confused her, not doing much to startle. The voice belonged to the boy on the bicycle that Kazuo had pursued. But he had been gunned down.
It made more sense when he brayed about his bulletproof vest.
Fool.
Her companion grabbed his bag to sling it over his shoulder and began to take languid, but quiet strides towards the trucks parked on the dirt path. Setsuko could only remain there, looking at him dumbly as he began his ascension.

Kazuo was out of sight.
Deep breaths.
She did not want to look.
A blood-curdling shriek escaped into the night, going ignored by the cold stars in the sky.
The deafening scream was cut short by a sickening crunch, followed by a thump.
More deep breaths. Her companion's shadow appeared from the corner.

Setsuko rose hesitantly, promising herself that she would cover her eyes if the body was visible. With light footsteps, she slowly wandered over to the dirt path.
Kazuo was smiling as he handled the wakizashi, admiring the sleek, warm red that now decorated the cold steel. Once her gaze fell on the beginnings of the corpse, she shut her eyes, and felt around for the truck It was clumsily found. With her back to her companion, she covered her eyes as her elbows rested on the cold metal.
A freezing feeling crept back into her blood. It wasn't that Kazuo Kiriyama had taken another life.
She was fearful that she was becoming hardened to his ways.

Glancing around only for a moment - and also still dimly aware his companion was nearby - Kazuo hastily dropped his bag and opened it so his Uzi was readily available before wriggling out of his blazer and then swiftly unbuttoning his shirt to also squirm out of. He then leaned over to pull the dress shirt off of his beheaded victim, exposing the bulletproof vest that was full of bullets. For the sake of saving weight, he thought about removing the bullets later, but for now the priority was just getting the vest on.

After removing the vest from his victim to wear for himself and regaining his clothes, Kazuo found the vest surprisingly lightweight - a pleasant surprise, for sure. He scooped up his bag and Uzi to sling onto his shoulder again, wakizashi still in hand, then gazing down at the headless corpse. His dark eyes fixated at the bloody mess that was the severed throat, and he crouched down beside it, entranced. His left hand reached forward to feel across the texture of the still-gushing wound, while he tilted the wakizashi in his right hand absently.

The clanging of a tin can falling out of place struck the silence then. Kazuo glanced up, alert. He stood, gaze shifting toward the clinic.... and his dark eyes lit up.

He turned swiftly back for the body, dropping his wakizashi with no time to hunt for its sheath, hauling open his bag, and feeling around in it until his hand clutched what he was looking for. Next, he crouched down by his victim's severed head, prying open the mouth and stuffing a hand grenade inside, where it fit perfectly; Kazuo pushed it in a little further to be sure it stayed in and was snug. He glanced over the clinic again, then stood and jogged hurriedly to the door, leaving his head-bomb by the body on the ground.

He grabbed for the door handle, shaking it persistently, but it did not open. Those inside wanted to do things the hard way, then - and that was perfectly alright by him. The easy way would have been boring.

Kazuo moved for the window beside the door, pressing the hand still covered in warm blood against the glass and casting a manic grin, eyes electric. Psychological warfare, one could say - or maybe boy number six just got a real kick out of making people piss their pants. He slid his bloodied hand up the window with a pleasant smearing sound before darting back for the beheaded corpse where he had left his head-grenade, swiping it off the ground, pulling the pin, and hurling the bomb through the window of the clinic. He wasted no time ducking for cover; but to his delight, soon heard a horrified, female scream that sent him into a fit of breathy laughter just as the grenade went off.

It was not a fiery explosion, but more of pure impact, blowing out half the windows and causing an eruption of smoke from within the clinic.

He used the smoke to his advantage, moving swiftly for the broken row of windows and unleashing his Uzi into the building. He darted to where the smoke was just beginning to clear and peeked in through the shattered window to check for his targets - and, catching only a brief glimpse of movement, resumed firing in their direction. He paused, thought he heard yelling, and so resumed fire yet again. Another pause, more yelling. He couldn't waste away ammunition until he was driven to reload, or his adversaries could take advantage of the opportunity to shoot at him. As much as he hated to use his second and last hand grenade... he had to flush these kids out.

Kazuo cast another grenade inside, farther back into the clinic this time, and promptly ducked under the window. In the midst of the explosion he hastily reloaded. Upon looking up again, he spotted just what he had been hoping for; a figure staggering out of the smoke to the side of the building. Kazuo stood and took off after the figure, who soon enough also managed to break into a run, and the chase was on.

The sound of the green bag opening reached her ears, causing her to press her palms against her shallow eyes a bit harder. As much as she wanted to stay in the darkness, the fact that there was a dead, teenaged boy a few feet from her did not change.
More rustling.
Slowly, her hands lowered from her eyes, staying closed until they gripped the cold metal of the truck. The brown orbs shot open and the first thing she saw was Kazuo strapping on a bulletproof vest.
Despite Setsuko's brain telling her to not look down, she did. An unmoving, headless corpse rested on the ground, beige clothes wrought in crimson.
Her lips parted, ignoring her companion's hand, which was running over the bloody stump.
This was certainly not the first time Setsuko Narita saw death. Distant, almost repressed memories of sneaking away from gramma in the clinic to peer into the trauma and the attached morgue started to play in her mind like a video.
...Had these little forbidden excursions numbed her a little?
Not completely, obviously.

A soft, yet deafening clang reverberated from within the clinic made her jump, while Kazuo glanced and stood up. He dropped the blade onto the ground and opened the bag yet again. As he rummaged through the contents, Setsuko deemed it safe enough to walk over to the wakizashi. As she bent down on one knee, her hand reached out to wrap her fingers around the handle. The action felt natural...so right. The steel almost carved into her scalp once it was lifted into the air, stopping at a small angle towards her when she froze in terror. It was not as heavy as she had thought.
Pleasant surprise.
Setsuko rose from her kneeling position and looked down at her companion. Kazuo's hands were occupied with stuffing one of his grenades into the severed head's mouth. Looking away in disgust, she strode back to the truck and retrieved the sheath from the gravel. As she was about to hide the blade within its white holder, she frowned. Blood probably would not be good for the metal.
Kneeling again, she wiped the blade on the grass, the green becoming a shining red.
Clean enough.
She stood again and sheathed the sword, liking the sliding sound that the wakizashi was making. It was thin enough to fit under the ribbon, a few inches away from the scissors.

The rattling of a locked door made Setsuko slowly turn towards her companion. He was trying to open the front door.
It was locked. Kazuo swerved over to the window and ran his blood-soaked hand over the fading glass.
She backed away as he bolted back towards her and the horrifying bomb.
Just as she started to turn her head away, the glass of one of the windows shattered, forcing her to look forward.
Kazuo was nearby, crouching. His face was hidden, arms loosely covered his ears. Setsuko joined him, her arm touching his. A girlish scream came from within the building. Her companion uttered his breathy laughter.
The bomb soon went off.

It was her turn to scream as the smoke's odor reached her nose. She fell on her side, not because of the impact, but out of fright. The odor began to get stronger, she would need to find safety. Now. Kazuo had left her side when she sat up, running towards the clinic.
"What the Hell are you doing?" She screamed after him, rising, getting ready to force him away from the smoke if she had to.
He had the Uzi out and he let a rain of bullets loose from one of the newly-broken windows.
There were other voices, panicking and yelling.
He scowled, grudgingly retrieving another grenade from the open bag.
The pin was yanked off and thrown again. Without the weight of the head, the small thing surely landed farther.
"Kazuo!" She grit her teeth.
The anger was replaced with a shot of fear as the second explosion occurred. She covered her eyes and staggered back. There was more yelling, some of it completely unintelligible. Letting her arms fall to her sides, again, she saw Kazuo running after a staggering boy. There were more voices nearby, and her eyes fell upon the wrecked clinic. A muscular boy holding a shotgun helped a young girl in a beige uniform out of the building.
Reluctantly, her fingers handled the wakizashi, preparing to draw, ultimately falling limp at her side.
She had no chance against that gun. Despite this, Setsuko stood there for a few minutes, looking at the boy and girl as if they were monstrous, wild animals.

Gazing at her companion in another chase, she started to follow.
Who cared if the other two saw her? She would be out of their reach, if they noticed her.
Her priority was to catch up with Kazuo, yet again.

Even a gunshot did not cause Kazuo to hesitate in the least. He sprinted after his target - a smaller boy with shaggy, dark hair. Typewriter gunfire was interrupted when a second shot hit him square in the chest; he stumbled back, the impact knocking him off balance. The vest had taken the hit of course, but it still hurt, though he did not even notice the pain at the moment. He quickly recovered his balance and his breath, however, and built back into a run.

Some distance and a couple of missed gunshots later, and the pair were racing through a fishing harbor littered with rope, nets, and barrels. Finally, the smaller boy collapsed near the shore; Kazuo couldn't tell just how much he had actually hit his target, but it was obvious the other boy was exhausted, at least... Though still not without ammunition, according to his count. Still, it didn't trouble him, though as his finger clenched down on the trigger of his Uzi once more, there was only an empty click.

Well, his target wasn't going anywhere now, anyways. Kazuo reeled in his submachine gun to reload, and was almost promptly shot in the chest. He flinched at the impact, the pain this time more vivid at such close range, and for a second he nearly forgot about the vest and his pleasant expression faded... but when he looked back up, it was with a Cheshire grin, silent laughter wrought through his features. At a second close-range shot into his vest just as he finished reloading, though, his smile dropped. That was enough fucking around. Kazuo lifted the Uzi again, but a second too late - the other boy had scrambled back to his feet and was throwing himself off the short cliff just behind him into the water. Kazuo rushed for the edge, firing furiously into the water after his target--

When someone grabbed his Uzi-wielding arm and suddenly hauled him around. He and his attacker were sent tumbling across the ground, Kazuo on one side of some barrels and his newfound adversary on the other. Said adversary, a tallish, short-haired boy, was on his feet a second quicker than Kazuo, and bolted for the water. Shooting after him even as he clambered to his feet, Kazuo was too late, and was left standing on the cliff's edge with neither target in sight.

He stood in silence for a minute, staring down at the waves. He would never know if he got those two kills.... Not until he won, at least. Or if he encountered them later to finish them off.

He turned abruptly to deliver a sharp kick into a barrel, knocking it over. Then he paced for a moment. Then he realized how hard he was breathing; between his panting to catch his breath after the chase, and the frustration building inside him, his breath was near hyperventilating. Hard, furious hyperventilating. He became aware of the ache in his chest at having been shot in his bulletproof vest three times... His pacing slowed gradually, before he dropped to his knees, physical and mental fatigue setting in after the high he had been on fighting and chasing and killing. His shoulders slumped and his head tilted back wearily - though still, he clutched his Uzi at his side.

The distance between them was rapidly gaining, Kazuo and his prey became figures in the darkness. Setsuko stopped, clinging to a small tree to catch her breath. Her eyes were downcast to the ground, looking up only when she heard gunshots.
A deep, sharp exhale was released when some pain in her ankle began to register. The tourniquet was getting loose, but there was no time to attend to that now. Cursing at the injury, she broke away from the tree, only to suddenly become silent and stop mid-walk. Someone else was coming, and whoever it was, they were close.

As her tongue ran over her dry lips, she held her breath to hear her surroundings. Eventually, the direction of the other person was clear. She looked down the path, eyes widening as they caught movement. Judging by the build, the stranger was male, and sort of tall. He was walking slowly, as well, pausing only when more gunfire erupted, then he broke out into a run. She retreated back to the tree, pressing her back against the bark once she crouched, her arms embracing her own frame.
To Setsuko's horror, the figure had stopped for a moment, as if he could detect her. The male then spoke, uttering one syllable that was to be a call, only to be interrupted by distant gunfire. Soon, he was on his way. She sighed and slowly stood up.
Another bang.
The two gunshots were from a different gun. Despite that Kazuo now had a bulletproof vest, worry began to settle into her gut. That vest only covered the torso.
She'd have to really run to the battlefield to see if he was alright. Her gaze swept over her ankle as she broke out in full speed. Hopefully, the distance would be short.

The pain was bearable, at first. As she continued her furious pace, the pressure built up. Lactic acid started to set into the leg muscles, making them tighten and constrict.
She wished that she could stop running, but the thought of her companion slowly dying drove her faster. Some comfort was given when the Uzi called into the night. Unless the boy on the road now wielded it...
A salty smell invaded her senses, the smell of the sea.
The battle was to be held by the waters, then. Deadly.

Once the first line of barrels were within sight, she stopped. Her heart's rhythm clamored all over her body, breathing becoming labored. She continued to make her way forward, staggering and shaking as her feet reached the ground. The sound of a barrel tipping over startled her, causing her head to snap up. She was relieved to see Kazuo, alone. He was pacing, and upon listening closely, hyperventilating. A worried expression wrought her face, causing her to stiffen and walk briskly towards her companion, despite the pain. She reached him just as he dropped to his knees. Her first instinct was to kneel and help him lean back to breathe, but that faded once the Uzi came into view.
"...Ka-" Stop. "Kiriyama...it's me." No sign of recognition, nor regard came.
She knelt by him as her lips pursed, paying no attention to the tightness within her legs. There were three holes on his Oxford shirt, the insides shining whenever the glint of the stars hit his chest.
Good that he put on the vest immediately. But the bullets needed to be taken out, as the impressions seemed to cause slight pain. Her fingers hesitantly reached for the buttons on his white shirt, stopping suddenly. Setsuko did not want to surprise him, especially since he was still holding the Uzi.
"Let's take these bullets out...then you can rest."
As she waited for his signal, she looked around the area, her eyes falling on a small wooden shack in the distance. A fisherman's hut. The construct was probably small and cramped, but that did not matter. Supplies and food were inside, and perhaps a bed. That would be nice to sleep on...although she admitted to herself that Kazuo needed it more than her.
They could always share, anyway.
An unfamiliar feeling crept into her as she entertained the idea. It was strange, and oddly warm. It went away as the scenario of Kazuo waking up and strangling her to death played within her mind.
...Forget it.
She turned to look at her companion, who seemed to ignore her earlier words.
"There's a fisherman's home nearby." A bony finger pointed towards the more leveled land. "We should be safe there."

Eyes glossy and skyward, Kazuo blinked dazedly when he faintly made out his name - a murmur in his mind, like his ears were clogged. Then again, he had endured two grenades and a ton of gunfire with very little hearing protection. So it probably wasn't just his fatigue making his brain fuzzy.

His breath was slowly settling as his mind came at least somewhat back into focus. It took him a couple of minutes to realize his companion had said something else... He couldn't remember what, though. His memory was busy replaying all he had just done. When some of his rationality was put on hold, as it often was in the midst of a fight or killing, it tended to mull over everything it had missed once it returned; and, if he could afford to, Kazuo often spent some time dwelling on his actions, checking over every decision with a kind of meticulous neuroticism. His dark eyes were dazed and distant as this happened, like he couldn't really see anything he was looking at, but was looking into another plane of existence entirely.

Still, he picked up on her movement, and his gaze mechanically followed her hand when it lifted to point in a certain direction. His eyes drifted absently over where she pointed. Home. Safe. Whatever.

He was slow to climb to his feet, wincing once when a sharp, pained breath escaped him at the exertion reaching his chest. Bullets... He had wanted to get the bullets out of his vest. The youth looked unsteady on his feet, posture slumped and steps languid, though his breathing had mostly calmed into just a weary depth. His legs were worn. But he followed where his companion led without accepting help and without any threat of falling over, not stumbling even once for how ragged his stride was.

Every time Setsuko offered to help him walk, she was coldly rebuked. It was dark, and he could have tripped if he was not careful. While his usual brisk gait was reduced to a mere stagger, he never stumbled. Kazuo's eyes were glazed over with fatigue, only changing once when she stopped to look back at him one too many times. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as they neared the shack, slowing down as they became closer. It was too dark to look in, she would have to listen to the walls again.
The wood was rough on her skin, but she pressed as hard as she could. Setsuko could barely hear a thing due to the waves crashing on the rocks. Pulling away from the wall, her hand gripped the white handle of the blade, slowly drawing the cold steel. She glanced at her companion for a moment before noiselessly sliding open the entrance.

Blue moonlight flooded in from the new opening, showing that the main area was totally empty. No one was hiding under the tables, but two closed off areas of the shack filled her with dread. She slowly walked over to the wider door first, the blade poised over her head to strike, if necessary. With no hesitation, she opened the closet door.
Setsuko yelped and jumped when an array of metal hooks spilled from the opening, free of the holding space.
"Shit..." She held her head after she saw the inanimate occupants.
With no time to waste, she walked towards the smaller door. If someone was hiding in there, they surely would have heard the commotion. Luckily, the small passage was an empty washroom.
Perfect. Now, to attend to her companion. She turned around, eying his torso. Fingers alone were not enough to dig the bullets out.

Brown eyes scanned the nearby shelves. Amidst the stacked pots, pans and wooden boxes, here were three white medical cases; one of which was already opened and had an array of tools spilling out. Pliers and forceps were among the mess.
Those looked useful.
As she reached for the tools, she saw that one of the pots was filled with clear liquid. Her finger tested the temperature, the stuff was lukewarm, and definitely water. With her new finds on the table, she reached for the green bag, taking one of the washcloths from the bottom. The cloth was soon immersed in the water.
She'd get to work on the vest as soon as he was taken care of. First, he needed to get comfortable.
Setsuko motioned towards the bed with her head.
"Lie down."

He trailed after Narita with his hollow gaze staring ahead like a zombie. However, his eyes hardened for a minute at noticing his companion glancing at him periodically, as if she was worried he was going to suddenly melt away at any given second. He glared at her, though only briefly.

His eyes only regained focus again when she drew his wakizashi. He hadn't even noticed she had it until now... His brows knit somewhat. He did not like the idea of her having a weapon, especially not his weapon that he had earned for himself. But he didn't feel like fighting for it now. Unlike real Program competitors, with collars set to detonate if there was more than one survivor after three days, Narita had little reason to kill him. He would take his wakizashi back if he needed it again.

Kazuo followed his companion to the door of the shack, waiting around its corner for her to scope the place out. A metallic clamoring made him whip around the corner of the door, Uzi raised and electricity sparking through his eyes again - but he did not fire, and lowered the submachine gun when he saw there was no threat. When the structure was confirmed as clear, he stepped in, moving to a corner to throw his bag down. He kind of wanted to just sit down and get a little sleep... but the bullets in his vest hung on his mind. He hesitantly set his Uzi down before peeling off his blazer to toss on the floor by his bag, and then began on the buttons down his dress shirt. In the midst of unbuttoning, he glanced up at Narita at her instruction, but only cast a faint scowl and continued on his shirt until he could pull it off and also discard it to the floor. A few straps, and his vest was reluctantly removed; he hated to have it off for any period of time, considering a fight could start at hardly a moment's notice, but he knew it would be easier to carve the bullets out of it without it being on his person.

Shifting the vest to his left hand and swiping his Uzi back up with the other, he paused to gaze down the length of his slender torso. His chest was dotted with dark, rapidly-forming bruises. It ached a little if he took a big enough breath. But it didn't trouble him. Better that he was riddled with bruises and not bullets...

Setsuko pursed her lips as the request went unheeded, only allowing her lower lip to escape as she remembered that Kazuo had only slept on chairs so far on their trek. With some movement on her brows, her eyes widened as he resumed unbuttoning his shirt. Her breathing became heavier, her right hand straying to tuck a stray section of hair behind her ear, the other hand still wrapped around the wet cloth in the drenched iron pot.
Sharp air escaped her nostrils as she felt the same, unfamiliar invading warmth press into her body. She felt it on her face, then shifted uncomfortably as it appeared in her stomach, slowly going lower.
"Tch..."
Never felt that before.

The white shirt was indifferently cast onto the floor, leaving the vest. She continued to look at her companion, totally enthralled. He had taken off his shirt once before, yes; this show was different in the night. The dark blue light gave the act a new feeling, a new sort of hunger rose in her throat. She shut her eyes for a moment, blushing moreover with embarrassment that her breathing had become somewhat labored. Upon opening them, the bulletproof vest had just been taken off.
Her eyes ran over his bare skin, fascinated with the way that the muscle and bone moved underneath when he leaned over to sling the Uzi back on his shoulder. The fascination turned into concern when she noticed the dark circles of bruises scattered around his chest. Those would not cause a problem, but they seemed to cause some slight pain. Unfortunately, they would have to let the bruises heal by themselves.
Setsuko knew that he did not want to lie down, smiling a little when she spotted a chair was scrunched up in between the bed and the first shelf, smile widening when she saw that it had not gone unnoticed by her companion. She looked at him, straight in the eyes to get his attention before fishing the washcloth and wringing the excess water. Her free hand slowly extended, palm up as she walked towards him.
"I'll take that." She quickly pointed at the vest. "You should sleep."

Just as he was eyeing the same pliers his companion had spotted a minute ago, she gestured for the vest in his hand. His gaze darkened, and he stared at her warily, distrust etched in his eyes. With a bulletproof vest, she would be considerably more capable of making it through the game on her own since she didn't have a detonatable collar to kill her otherwise. It wasn't that he cared if she ditched him - not in the least - but he did care if she took the vest with her. He cared an awful lot about the vest. Within just a half an hour of obtaining it, already it had saved his life, after all.

Still, after a few minutes' hesitation, he did step closer to reluctantly pass it to her. The threat in his eyes was a clear one as he moved back to sit down in the chair by the bed, grabbing his jacket off the floor on his way. Goosebumps just beginning to climb across his bare skin, he draped the blazer over him as he leaned back to slump in his seat in a position at least slightly better suited to sleep in. Though even in his relaxed posture, his hand did not leave the submachine gun set in his lap, and his dark eyes monitored his vest vigilantly.

However, the youth did still feel quite weary from his fight and chase. Vaguely, he worried about just how deeply he might sleep... The next report wouldn't be until midnight, which was likely still a number of hours away, and Kazuo was certain he wouldn't sleep that long, at least. But the potential depth of his sleep still concerned him. Occasionally, if he was very worn out, sleep hit him like a brick over the head, and he couldn't afford to be that out of it in the midst of a survival game... But his thoughts couldn't keep churning on the matter for long, nor could his eyes keep open to watch Narita's progress on his vest, and soon enough his eyes had shut and he had fallen - thankfully - into his typical, light sleep. His breath growing long and relaxed signaled his surrender to rest.

One of her eyebrows raised as she watched his gaze. It was clear that he did not trust her.
She was a little offended, although she could not help but agree with him. They were companions in this game, but she would have to prove herself further.

He eventually walked up to her and a small amount of weight made her lower her hand. She looked up at him to give a reassuring smile, only to freeze in fear as he threatened her with his eyes.
Setsuko sighed once he strode past her, making his way towards the chair after getting his blazer. As he sat down and shifted to make himself more comfortable, she set the vest down on the table, right by the tools. The washcloth in her hand going momentarily forgotten, she set it on the table and studied the vest.
There were some bullets from the Uzi embedded in a wild pattern, and three different bullets had been forced on the chest. Her fingers ran over the indentations on the rough fabric as she chewed the inside of her cheek.
Some were in there pretty deep.
She grabbed the pliers first, studying them. Those would be good enough. The forceps were handled next. Slipping her fingers into the holds, she opened the device. The metal had been cut into small, pointed grooves on the tips. The serrated edges would certainly help, as well.
A method latched itself to her brain, and she hoped that it would work. Her eyes strayed from the task and onto the limp cloth.

Whoops. She was not finished attending to her companion just yet. Kazuo did not have a fever, but the dampness around his ears would help him recover lost hearing. His forehead would be the perfect balance.
Setsuko slowly walked over to him, noticing that he had visibly relaxed. Hopefully, she would not disturb him so much.
The damp was placed on his forehead, she made sure that the ends reached his ears. Exhaling, she gently ran the curve of her palm over his cheek, shivering as she felt the smooth skin.
She'd better not lose herself in this moment, though. He needed rest, after all.

It was time to test the method. Fingers wound against the forceps, she debated which bullet would go first.
A loose one, preferably a bullet from the submachine gun. Perhaps those were starting to be pushed away from the vest.
Found one.
The serrated edges clung to the shining metal, and she pulled. It took some effort to wrench out, but it had been done. Setsuko smirked to herself as she studied the bullet.
Time to get the rest of these out.

Just as sleep overcame his consciousness, a ringing began in his ears, but rest pushed it from his hearing. Seemingly a second later though in reality a few minutes, a dampness on his forehead made him jump somewhat. But it was not enough to wake him; though his sleep was light enough that such a sensation roused him, he was also tired enough that he quickly fell back asleep before stirring even halfway into wakefulness. The subtle touch against his cheek was not enough to disturb him a second time.

His rest was as shallow and dreamless as always. Time passed quicker than usual, though, and what had felt like five or ten minutes was around an hour when Kazuo found himself waking again. His head, which had been leaning back against the wall, slowly lifted, and the cloth that had been on it fell into his lap. He blinked drowsily and peered down at it. Without giving the cloth much thought, his gaze lifted then to sweep for the status of his vest and find his companion.