Chapter Text
Two.
Two people.
In the timespan of less than ten minutes, Ryohei had watched two people be killed right in front of him in almost identical terrible snapshots: a flash of red light from above, the bursting of blood, and a body slumping to the floor. A high school girl and a despairing man, their lives taken in a heartbeat.
If asked a day before, he would’ve told them that the only dead people he had ever seen before were those he had killed whilst playing video games.
That answer seemed almost hilarious to him now, Ryohei thought to himself, as he slumped on a random couch deep within a furniture shop he had come across whilst exploring the shopping mall.
After the grim conclusion of their current situation – helpless, trapped in a game of death he didn’t know the rules to – he had excused himself from Karube, Chota and Shibuki, saying he had a headache and wanted to take a walk and clear his head. Ryohei wasn’t really lying, now that he thought about it, his head was almost pounding from the sheer volume of theories and concerns and strategies, tumbling over one another in his mind—
(—where were they, where did everyone go, Tokyo’s empty, no one’s here—)
(—cards, the cards are important; themes, goals, why cards, why—)
(—lasers from the sky, we’re being watched, people are watching us, where, where—)
(—burns on Chota’s leg, he’s in so much pain, risks of infection? High, he needs treatment, shit—)
(—time differences, missing time, things are wrong, games, real or not real, game masters—)
(—not enough, don’t have enough information, I need more, I need more, more, moremore—)
“—Fuck!” he snapped, pressing hands against his aching eyes. He felt like complete shit right then; bruises from their frantic flight through the game’s death rooms, he probably slept three hours at most, kept awake from memories of blood and smoke and fire, he was crusted with soot and dirt, and he was still kind of hoping that this whole thing was some fever dream or surreal hallucination.
A hallucination would mean that everyone they know, their families, every person in Tokyo hadn’t actually disappeared into thin air.
A hallucination would mean that Chota’s left leg wasn’t actually horrifically burnt, raw flesh peeled and blackened and crusted.
A hallucination would mean that this whole thing wasn’t real, that the four of them haven’t almost died multiple times in some fucked up death game set up by unknown lethal sky laser-wielding psychopaths and had only survived because he had somehow miraculously memorized the building map and the dimensions of his father’s BMW 523.
‘But,’ Ryohei laughed bitterly to himself, ‘this seems pretty fucking real. God.’
How did it even come to this? From hiding with his best friends in a cramped subway bathroom stall praying the police officers didn’t find them to holding up in a deserted shopping mall facing their approaching deaths in three days according to this so-called VISA.
White flared bright against darkness as he pressed his hands harder against his eyes, hissing out a frustrated sigh. Quiet, it was too quiet, a quietness that screamed so loud, that made it even worse, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this, this burning silence. He couldn’t concentrate at all, there were too many things he needed to figure out but not enough information, he always hated that feeling the most: that gnawing feeling of not enough, of not understanding, the world is too big, too overwhelming, too much, too…too, can’t—
(“—it’s okay, my baby…” a soft voice, a gentle smile. All warmth, a light to keep in his chest when the cold threatened to close in. “I know the world seems a little big sometimes, a little scary. It’s okay to be scared, Ryo-kun, I’m scared too sometimes. We all are. When things are confusing. Loud.”
Warmth. He tried so hard to hold onto that warmth, the memories. His little fingers are held as he leaned into her. “When you’re scared and the world is loud and stormy, feel your hands. Wriggle your fingers and cute little toes,” giggles bubble out as his tiny, socked feet are tickled, “as you touch the ground. Be like a rock and hold yourself down so you don’t fly away~”
He sometimes forgot how warm her voice used to be. It was a bittersweet ache whenever he remembered.
Light flared behind her silhouette, illuminating her dark hair like a halo of sunlight. She bent over him, cupping his face, still smiling. “And when my smart little Ryo-kun gets a little lost, think of your birthday present. Yes?
~Throw away the wrapping, the things you don’t know.
Leave you with the mystery box that you open up slow.
Start with the big things, the details are at the end.
Remember, take your time, patience is your friend~”
…happiness, warmth in every singsong syllable…
A bop to his nose, laughing as he giggled at her playful touch. “…It’ll be okay, my baby. I believe in you…I always will.”
…
…He missed her so much.)
Breathe. Breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Touch his fingers to the ground. Springs creaked, leather groaned, felt the smooth coolness of the wooden floor under his fingertips. Pressed his feet against the ground, rise and fall, leant his weight down and stood back up. Tap, tap, tap.
Three taps, pause, repeat.
Three more times as he wriggled his toes as well, feeling the texture, the sensation of his scratchy socks, his tight sneakers.
Breathe in. Feathery locks of hair brushing his face as he knelt – tap, tap, tap his fingers – and wriggled his toes, rocking back and forth with the familiar motion. Breathe out.
A racing heartbeat. Pounding in his ears, quelling as the trembling in his hands gradually slowed, and a heavy exhaustion weighed down his shoulders, pulling him to the floor in a star-fish collapse.
Ryohei stared up at the unremarkable white ceiling and desperately tried not to cry.
Fuck. Fuck. It’s been a long time since he felt panic so sharp, so sudden.
Probably not since he dropped out of university and he hid for days in his bedroom, stomach knotting fiercely at every sound of his father’s slow footsteps outside his door. It was a good thing he decided to have his breakdown away from his friends. It wouldn’t have been the first time Chota and Karube saw him like that but he always hated every time it happened, feeling small and ashamed afterwards.
Like the smallest touch could break him beyond repair. Like he should be shut up somewhere dark and hidden where no one could find him and see him for what he really was.
Outcast.
Failure.
Parasite.
(Like what his family always said. Flatly, coolly. Spiteful truths dropping from their lips)
…but Chota and Karube had never treated him differently for all of his bad moments. Never dug fingers into his exposed heart, his weaknesses always bared to the world. Never turned away from him like people were meant to, turning away from someone as twisted and wrong as him (unable to love, live normally). His best friends were always kind to him. Their touches playful, their smiles big and brash and even more incredible for how real they were. Ryohei never had to scan their expressions for any hints of hidden disdain, never had to analyse their words for any nuance of deceit or aggression interweaved between breaths.
They were his anchors.
They were Chota’s cheerful chatter and bad jokes colouring the air.
They were Karube’s affectionate, despite his delinquent image, touches in his messy hair.
They were warmth and kindness as they sat beside his silent, curled-up body; keeping him company and holding him down in a world that spun around him.
He…was so lucky to have them. Karube and Chota. His best friends, they were all he had.
Which was why he had to protect them. Why he couldn’t lose them.
Ryohei didn’t know how to exist in a world without them.
He really had no idea how long he just laid there on the ground, staring up at the ceiling as he recovered from his impromptu breakdown. He probably made for a pathetic sight, swollen eyes and sweaty as hell, but he also knew that even if he wanted nothing more than to just pass out right there and then, he couldn’t. Not right now.
Because somewhere, in the middle of all this chaos and confusion, there are connections. Links he could make, inferences he could draw. Ways he could start tearing apart this world and start fitting the scrambled pieces together.
Puzzles. He always loved puzzles. Simple concepts for things that soothed that ever-present ache in his chest. That craving for knowing, for understanding (—the craving his family never understood, making him feel wrong in his own body, his mind, there must be something wrong with him—)
Breathe in, feel his chest expand with the mild ache, and he let out the air with a soft grunt as he dragged himself back upright. Ryohei sighed, wriggled his toes again for good measure, dropped his head into his hands and started thinking. To put it together.
‘Okay. Try again. Remember her words: set aside the unknowns, the questions I can’t answer, start with the big picture and work my way to the details.’
What were the big unknowns right now? Well, where everyone has gone, if it’s just the people in Tokyo or everyone outside of the prefecture as well, whether everyone in Japan was gone. Or wherever it was them who travelled somewhere instead of everyone else disappearing.
There’s also something strange happening with the flow of time, from the differences in the timeline of people’s disappearances Shibuki and the three of them had experienced plus the weird sped-up rotting of the food here. Does the oddness of time point more towards them somehow travelling to this odd Tokyo or towards people disappearing elsewhere? Maybe the former, he couldn’t really see a correlation otherwise but then again, he doesn’t have enough information.
Ugh. What else? The people behind these games, the potential game masters. He didn’t know how many there were, how they’re doing it, or why. But that didn’t matter right now, whether it’s some government experiment, VR space or even work of God like what Chota believed. There’s too much he’s missing at the moment, so he needed to set those aside for now.
Okay so with those dismissed, Ryohei should move on. What’s next? The games themselves. There were two he knew of: the ‘Dead or Alive’ game all of them had cleared yesterday and the game Shibuki had played when all the people first disappeared for her.
‘Dead or Alive.’ The phone had clearly stated it was a ‘game,’ one with rules and conditions for victory. Failure had meant death but clearing the game with people alive had still been possible, so the game had not been completely rigged against them. A twisted but still clearable game.
Provided phones. The printed messages for where to start. The pictures on the doors. Materials that someone had to physically set up beforehand. The game masters? He couldn’t be sure yet, but they were at least connected to those in charge.
Cards. From his pocket, he pulled out the card they had collected earlier and held it in front of him, a stark black Three of Clubs staring back. He remembered his phone reading ‘Difficulty: Three of Clubs’ before the game started. How does the card correspond to the difficulty? The card has a type of suit and a number. Video games often have different gameplay options such as story or campaign or sandbox mode as well as being able to choose their difficulty level. Was it the same for this type of game? With the suit corresponding to the type of game and the number being how difficult it was?
Huh. Well. If the Dead or Alive game – which seriously injured one person, killed another and almost the rest of them too – was a Three of Clubs, how difficult were the rest of the games? Ryohei almost didn’t want to know.
Continuing that logic, how many games were there? One for every card? Multiple? Do they include face cards or just pip cards? Technically, face cards have a numerical value as well so those could be difficulty rankings too.
Shibuki’s game.
After the discussion over their scavenged lunch, Ryohei had pulled Shibuki to the side and politely asked her for further details about her first game, especially if she had gotten a card from it. He had reasoned it was highly possible since she was – as she said herself – the only survivor, not to mention the fact that she had been the one to pick up the Three of Clubs card first last night.
Shibuki had been reluctant to recount further what must’ve been a horrible experience, only adding that she and several others had to navigate the subway in almost complete darkness, that poisonous gas had been used to kill anyone who lost the path. Ryohei had understood her refusal to provide details, even that added bit of information had been enough to make his stomach turn. However, he had persisted in his question about her card, his need to know overcoming his usual awkwardness.
Shibuki’s lips had turned down, her face hardening slightly, but finally she had pulled a card from her purse, flashing it quickly in front of his face. Ryohei barely had time to glimpse the Three of Hearts symbol before she had tucked it back away and turned on her heels, disappearing further into the store.
To be honest, the whole interaction, which had barely lasted three minutes, had been pretty awkward for him as she had only stared at him at first, eyes searching for something in his face. For what, he didn’t know but something about her hard composure and the strained quality underneath it had caused a tension in his gut, a whisper inside him saying to be careful around her.
Karube didn’t trust her, he could tell, and Karube always had good instincts. Better with people than Ryohei.
(‘You need to take better care of yourself, Arisu!’ He would laugh, dragging a protesting Ryohei into a headlock. ‘You’re way too kind, too nice. The wrong people will try and take advantage of you. I’m serious here, Arisu!’)
Given that Shibuki had presumably used the people in her first game as bait and had purposefully caused the death of that poor high school student yesterday, he could understand Karube’s distrust, he did. But—
“You mean, you used them as bait, right—” A blunt accusation, eyes sharp on her.
“—think whatever you want. All I wanted…was to survive.” A quick retort, defensive yet pained.
—he couldn’t hate her for wanting to live either.
Ryohei remembered the way she had cowered against the door, staring helplessly up at Karube as he crowded over her, shouting. Remembered the desperation, the terror, the same terror in them all as they had tried to escape the fire.
He really didn’t know how he felt about Shibuki’s actions but…Ryohei wasn’t going to just abandon her. Maybe he didn’t really know her all that well or even entirely trusted her but leaving her behind now felt wrong to him. They were all in the same boat so they should try to all survive this fucked up world together.
So no, he wasn’t going to hold it against her (—for now—)
Shibuki had the Three of Hearts card. Three of Hearts and Three of Clubs. Was that just a coincidence? If numbers indicated how hard a game was, it wasn’t weird to have games of the same difficulty. Ryohei had no idea what the Hearts and Clubs suits indicated; he didn’t know enough to try to figure out what the different suits could mean for the games.
They…would probably have to play more games to learn more. Well, apparently if they didn’t want to die in three days they were going to have to play anyways. ‘…we will supply all game survivors with a 3-day VISA.’ The difficulty of the game equals the number of safe days without having to play that were supplied to them after clearing a game. Seems logical enough.
But the idea of having three days without needing to play was both a relief for Ryohei…and also incredibly frustrating.
Ryohei was never a particularly patient person when it comes to waiting for games: he hated waiting for online game servers to finish maintenance, upcoming game updates might as well be an exercise in torture and whenever an NPC needed a dozen side quests completed before they finally gave him the info he wanted, he wanted to beat them over the head with his monitor.
He knew it was ridiculous to compare his normal video games to the literal death games he was now being forced to play, that he shouldn’t want to risk his life when he didn’t have to…but…if he could just…play more, learn more about the games, the creators’ style, their signature…he could figure them out.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he also couldn’t deny it either; that as terrifying as the last twenty-four hours have been, as awful as watching Chota be in pain was, as horrifying the knowledge of being constantly monitored and able to be killed at any moment was…it was also one of the most interesting things he had ever come across.
Ryohei had never ever seen a game that he had not wanted to pull apart, to learn its every mechanic and hidden secret. And these games…were really no exceptions.
He smiled bitterly.
(He was such a fucking twisted person, huh?)
As Ryohei checked back in with Chota, he was relieved to be greeted with the familiar cheerful grin on his face, if smaller and more pained than usual. “Oh, you’re back. Hi Arisu…you okay?”
Ryohei grimaced slightly, sitting down carefully next to Chota on the couch and asking him, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? How are your burns?”
At that, the other man winced and glanced quickly at his bandaged leg propped up on a stool. “They’re fine.”
“Chota…”
At that, Chota turned around and leaned close enough to Ryohei to reach out and bat at his knee playfully. “Seriously, man. I don’t want you to worry over me. It’s gonna be fine.”
Ryohei stared. “Eh? How can I not worry about you? The last time you got hurt was when we broke into our homeroom before graduation for that prank and you fell out of the window and twisted your ankle! And this is way worse than that!” It had barely fazed Chota honestly, he had shown up to class the next day like nothing had happened despite Karube’s yelling at him to ‘fucking stay home, you idiot, what the hell?’
Chota only laughed at that, whacking Ryohei’s knee even harder. “Oh my goodness, I remember that! Man, the way Karube yelled at me the whole morning, I thought he was going to pass out at some point. Hey, hey, Arisu, remember when Nakayama-sensei threw his chalk at Karube to get him to shut up?”
“I remember sensei throwing it at you too because you wouldn’t stop laughing at him.” Ryohei grinned at the memory, warmth blooming in his chest as Chota shook next to him, high-pitched laughter bubbling out. His best friend laughing like an idiot, that was the way he wanted him to act; not the forced smiles and barely hidden winces of today.
It felt wrong to see him like this and Ryohei was worried. No one had any medical knowledge beyond basic first aid and Ryohei was keenly aware that Chota’s burns needed actual medical help, not their clumsy bandaging. But he had no idea how many people there were still left in Tokyo and the chances of them somehow running into a doctor were ridiculously low. Would hospitals even be operational without electricity?
Worry sinking in his stomach, Ryohei glanced at Chota, his best friend still smiling up at the ceiling. Would Chota be able to play games in his condition?
“…Chota?” he asked hesitantly.
“Hm? Yeah?”
Slowly, Ryohei said, “We have three days left before our VISA runs out and with your burns…do you think you’d be able to play?” When Chota’s smile slipped a little, Ryohei silently cursed to himself, realizing that this was something that was probably troubling Chota as well.
The other man shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure on how to answer. “I…Arisu…not gonna lie…it really hurts to walk but…I don’t really have a choice, right? Unless I play, they’re gonna kill me when my VISA runs out.”
Ryohei really didn’t want to ask his next question but he knew it was important so it was with reluctance that he asked Chota, “…Do you think that you’d be up for joining a game tomorrow night?”
Chota flinched in shock, staring at Ryohei. He had anticipated that reaction since the logical decision would be to let Chota rest until the final day on their VISA, not make him participate earlier than he had to. And in any other situation, Ryohei would agree with that. However, it had occurred to him earlier whilst he had been trying to puzzle through what little info he had, that other than they happened only at night, they had no idea about where the games showed up or how frequently they happened.
They couldn’t trust that they occurred every night and waiting until their final day to join a game seemed too risky to Ryohei and he said as much to Chota, adding, “You’d be able to rest for today but I don’t want to risk a game not showing up on our last day. We can look around for something close by and in a small space so maybe the game wouldn’t make us run like yesterday’s did.”
When Chota remained silent, dark brows furrowed, Ryohei felt an instant rush of guilt. What was he thinking asking his best friend, clearly in huge pain, to risk his life when he didn’t need to? He was such a bad friend, he got too caught up in his thoughts and theories. Ducking his head, he quickly rushed out, “I’m so sorry, Chota, I’m being stupid, just ignore me—”
“No, Arisu, you’re right.”
What?
Ryohei looked back up to see Chota watching him, strangely calm. Chota continued, “You’re right, Arisu. We can’t assume that games happen every night…and let’s be honest, one day isn’t going to make a huge difference for my leg getting better.”
Which was a fair point but Ryohei still hesitated. “Are you sure, Chota? I don’t want to make you go if you’re in too much pain—”
“—you can’t make me do anything, you’re a literal twig, Arisu.”
“Hey, you’re literally the shortest one out of all of us! We always need to get the things off the shelves for you!” Ryohei shot back, as Chota burst out laughing at his mock-affront. It was a moment of levity that he couldn’t help but relish in, a remainder of when they have no worries in the world.
Unfortunately, the humour died quickly, leaving the two of them quiet in the deserted store, the seriousness of the current topic like a dark cloud above their heads. Chota said quietly, “You’re not forcing me, Arisu, I’m choosing to. You’re really smart and if you think it’s a risk to wait, then I trust you. Okay? Just…” He paused, biting his lip. “Just…take care of me? I’ll try to help as much as I can but I don’t want to drag you guys down.”
Ryohei took a deep breath, the significance of it all not lost on him; Chota would be relying almost entirely on them to protect him from whatever the next game had next in store for them.
Staring straight at his friend, Ryohei said with as much conviction as he could summon, “Chota, I promise you that we will protect you with everything that we have. We’re not leaving you behind. We’re going to survive and learn as much as we can about these games and the people running them, these game masters. We’re going to figure this out.”
His friend smiled a little. “You mean, you’ll figure it out. You’re the smart one out of all of us.”
Ryohei opened his mouth to protest but was cut off when Chota added mischievously, “Anyways, the problem now is convincing Karube. Bet he’s not going to be happy ‘bout this, the overprotective idiot.”
Sure enough, thirty minutes later when Chota announced his decision to join them in a game the very next day, they were met with Karube’s fierce scowl. “You must be out of your minds. Did you forget Chota’s leg is burnt to shit? He needs to rest, he’ll probably pass out from the pain just walking out of here!”
“It’s my leg that’s burnt to shit, of course I didn’t forget,” Chota muttered mutinously. “It’ll be fine, I have a crutch and everything.”
Karube scoffed, crossing his arms. “Oh good, you have a crutch, we’ll definitely clear the game with your hobbling ass slowing us down.” The blond was glaring hard at Chota from where he was standing over the two of them on the couch like a lecturing teacher, Ryohei wincing at the angry stand-off. Whilst bickering between his two friends was nothing new, it’s clear the situation was getting to them, their words sharper than ever.
“What’s your problem, man? I’m gonna have to play a game anyways, one day isn’t going to matter,” the shorter man snapped at their looming friend. “The pain’s not going to miraculously vanish. Anyways, you can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my dad.”
Karube gritted his teeth but Ryohei quickly cut in before things devolved even further. “Hey, calm down, guys, let’s not fight. We need to work together on this.” Ryohei almost regretted speaking up when Karube switched his scowl from Chota to him instead.
“Just look at him, Arisu. There’s no way he’s going to make it through the game if it’s anything like what yesterday was—”
“I know, Karube, that’s why we’ll try to look for a place that’s smaller or more manageable. Something Chota can handle.”
His friend mulled over that, clearly not entirely convinced. Ryohei fidgeted, agitated, and he exchanged glances with Chota besides him who looked like he was gearing up to tackle Karube, burns and all, if he kept arguing with them. Karube caught his attention when he addressed Ryohei again, something strange crossing over his face. “…Arisu. Maybe instead of Chota joining us, it can just be the two of us. You and me. We’ll play and bring back info to help Chota in his game.”
Just Karube and him…? Ryohei paused, caught off-guard from that unexpected suggestion. He had never considered the idea of splitting up and his mind started rapidly turning over that idea, even if he wasn’t immediately sold on it. He slowly said, “…I’m not sure, Karube. If we go, we don’t know if we’ll even make it back. Which would leave Chota and Shibuki alone.”
“And dying together with Chota and Shibuki is better?” Karube asked pointedly.
He stared back at Karube’s frustrated face (—had he ever seen his friend like this—) and replied quietly, “No, it wouldn’t be. But if we’re together, then we can at least help each other, work together to clear the game just like we did yesterday.”
There’s dead silence as Karube returned his gaze, jaw clenching with the force of his emotions. He glanced at Chota when the man shifted. Clearing his throat, Chota told them, “It’s between all of us dying or you two dying and I’m on my own with only one working leg. I’m dead either way. If I’m with you guys, with your muscles and Arisu’s brain, then maybe I can survive.” He smiled, staring down at his hands, “God…God will protect me. He will. It’ll be okay.”
Chota’s hands were trembling, Ryohei noticed absently, watching the way they subtly shook. He’s scared.
In front of them, Karube finally seemed to have given up on arguing with them. “Fine, Chota,” he sighed. “Let’s go together. We’ll look after your sorry ass, don’t worry.”
“Ha, you better.”
Needless to say, the atmosphere surrounding the four of them as they started walking outside the shopping mall the next night was as bleak as the darkness around them. The pace was undeniably slow with Ryohei and Karube holding up a hissing Chota between the two of them, awkwardly manoeuvring around his crutch. A few meters ahead of them, Shibuki led the way, saying nothing even as her high heels clicked loudly on the asphalt street.
(She had been noticeably quiet ever since Chota had told her about his decision for them to join a game the following night.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Wouldn’t you rather rest your leg instead of joining a game? We still have three days on our VISA,” she had asked, her pretty face tugging into a disapproving frown.
Chota had shrugged. “I’ll still take today off but Arisu made a good point, that it’s risky to wait until our VISA is almost up before I join a game. Do it sooner rather than later, right?”
“…Arisu, huh?” she had said quietly, glancing at Ryohei standing slightly away from them, watching the two talk.
There had been something a little off in the way she had looked at him, something sharp in her posture, but Ryohei still had tried to keep his smile on his face.
Tried not to betray his growing unease.
He had still been grateful when Chota caught her attention again when he tried to reassure her that she didn’t have to come as well. “After all, you have the same VISA days as us. You can just stay here.”
“Maybe it’s better if you stay here,” Karube had muttered derisively, still not thrilled about Shibuki’s presence.
The office clerk had tossed her head at him, just as unimpressed. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I think I’ll join you. After all,” she had smiled at Chota, resting her manicured hand on his arm, “This one needs someone to look out for him.”
Ryohei had tilted his head, studying her even as Chota had stuttered out a nervous thank you and Karube scoffed behind her. There had been a strange tint to her smile, something he hadn’t quite been able to put a finger on.
He had really wished that he had more experience with people but maybe that discomfort he had been feeling was nothing.
Yeah, it was probably nothing. He just needed to try trusting her more.)
To Ryohei’s relief, after walking a few minutes in a random direction, billboards had lit up, arrows with the words [THIS WAY TO THE GAME ARENA] pointing the way. Last night, when he had peered out into the city after climbing atop a nearby building’s roof, he had barely managed to catch sight of some dim lights in the distance, giving him the idea that they were probably other game arenas. This lent credence to the premise that there were multiple games happening at the same time and on more than one night in a row, which was good.
Whether they happened every night was still in question, but the probability was high, at least.
It was eerily silent as they followed the glaringly bright signs, the still night air punctured only by the sounds of their heavy breaths, the quiet grunts of Chota as he limped along and their footsteps’ steady falls ringing out. Dark buildings, devoid of life or light, cast unnerving silhouettes surrounding them, the unbearable silence bearing down on them like a foreboding omen. Ryohei could only grit his teeth and heave his friend along, heart racing in what he could only classify as fear (—it has to be fear, not anything else, he’s not that screwed up—)
“Remember,” he said, trying to distract himself from that thought, “If the place seems like it’s a big building or large space, we don’t go in. As long as we don’t cross those laser beam boundaries, we should be fine, we won’t be registered.”
“Got it, no sports fields for Chota,” Karube snorted and probably elbowing Chota hard, judging from his loud yelp. His friend wheezed and asked, “Dude, aren’t you supposed to be nice to an injured person? Where’s the respect?”
“Boy, you’re kidding, I’ve never respected you in my life.”
“Oh, screw you too.”
Ryohei didn’t have time to join in on the banter before Shibuki abruptly cut in. “There,” she gasped, halting in place. “Look.”
Stopping as well, they squinted, as the previously dark streets were very faintly illuminated by a few lit up windows in a building set a fair distance away. The closest working sign acting as their ominous guiding light was close enough behind them that they were able to just make out the words:
SHOTO JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL
A school, huh?
“Shoto Junior High School? I didn’t go here, did you?” Karube whispered. Ryohei hadn’t and apparently neither did the other two. Straining his eyes further, judging from the few lights and how grouped they were together, he concluded the game was set up in a single classroom which was promising.
A school…did the location indicate the type of game? Something to do with knowledge or trivia? He proposed that hypothesis to his friends which was met with a thoughtful silence.
“Well,” Chota finally said. “If so, this is definitely in your favour, Arisu. Shibuki and I will probably be okay too…Karube might be dead though…”
“Fuck off, Chota.”
“In a small location with a likely possibility the game is related to knowledge or intelligence,” Ryohei muttered to himself, mind whirling over their current situation. “It’s the game most geared to us at the moment, the best possible option. I’m not sure we’ll get any better if we leave.”
Karube grunted in agreement, staring at the beckoning lights. “Probably.”
There’s a pause, tension rising at the realisation that this is it: they’ll either walk out of that school alive or be killed very shortly. Ryohei breathed in, tapped his fingers against his leg, breathed out, heart beginning to pump, adrenaline racing through his body, electricity prickling his skin as he fixed his sight on those waiting lights.
“Come on, guys, let’s do it. Together,” he called out to them, the others straightening in preparation.
It was with a racing heart and a burning in his stomach that Ryohei started walking towards the game arena. He told himself that it was from fear, the fear that he was walking to his potential death.
But he knew deep down it wasn’t fear at all.
(It was excitement)