Ayane Kitagawa’s funeral was the first one Kazuhiro attended, of someone he knew.
And when the opportunity to express condolences arose, he walked towards the three of them while a bad taste formed into his mouth from nerves. How was he in a position to just state ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ like he knew what they were going through? He hadn’t lost a relative! Yet, he wanted to say something different, something personal to her; something that indicated how good of a pair of friends they really were. Obviously, if anyone would be able to say something that would actually make her feel better, then it had to be him.
He felt scornful towards whoever came here, only because they were ‘supposed to’, as if they’d care. ‘I’ll never be like them,’ he swore to himself as he could hear another stranger expressing sympathies. He was convinced that he was above those people. Kazuhiro was fourteen years old; clearly ignorant and naïve. However, as nerves got the best of him, he found himself repeating that general, impersonal sentence in his head. It was better to at least say something then nothing at all. Maybe those others suffered from the same problem.
First, he showed condolences to her parents. Then, he was facing her. Her face looked a bit strained, but not so much that she was struggling to keep it together. In fact, she seemed quite calm under all of it. He barely managed to hold his breath–as if it would reveal how dumb he felt—and shake her hand.
“I’m…I’m sorry for your loss. I feel really bad for you,” he said in a voice much more stable then he was.
For a moment, he was afraid she expected him to do better then that lame line.
“Thank you,” she replied in a stale voice.
The two didn’t seem as young as they were; they were shaking hands for crying out loud!
‘I don’t know what else to say’ popped up in his head, as some sort of explanation why he wasn’t speaking up. That it wasn’t because of her, that he just felt stupid because he had no experience in this. He had to move along now, couldn’t keep anyone waiting.
And then, he let one hand rest on her shoulder and whispered: “if you ever feel the need to talk about it…”
“It’s fine…” she said, nodding. It could’ve been his hopes being held up but he could sense the beginning of a faint smile appearing on her face. It was as if a large burden was released from his shoulders, yet, his throat felt like it was swelling up.
He should’ve said more.
+++++++++++
Yuya was sprawled out in front of him. The right side of his head had been completely bashed in, and his neck was twisted in an unusual angle. Bones stuck through his skin and flesh. There wasn’t even the tiniest bit left of him that pointed out that Yuya had once been a real person. Instead, he was just another memory fading away from class 2B, which was decreasing in numbers in a high speed. His dead eyes stared back at the tower, as if he had wanted to say something with it. Kazuhiro winced and gagged, all the way from down the aching muscles in his side.
For a moment, he cursed himself for never having bothered to get to know Yuya, for never having started a conversation with him back in school. And had it been that difficult to treat Akimitchi like a human being instead of pretending he was air to him? Not having joined in when they made fun of the guy with the burnt face hadn’t made him any less responsible. And one could only assure them for so long that they were above Mimiko, the girl who slept with someone’s boyfriend, or Eizo the cheater.
He was just like anyone he didn’t want to be. Criticized them all for the things he did as well. (Hypocrite!) Why would his life be worth more then anyone else’s? And he was going to tell his best friend what a pathetic little loser he was—but hey, at least this time, he’d have the balls to admit it!
He got back upstairs with lead in his shoes. It was as if two hands clasped themselves around his throat and squeezed any air—and self esteem—he had left, directly out of him. No-one liked to hear bad news.
***
He helped her to fix her bandages. As if the metallic, scarlet fluid would let anything stop itself from seeping through to prove its point. Miyako had talked about the possibility of dying, and the thought of that was starting to get so real—even though he wanted to deny it with everything he had. It had been after having seen Kiku transform from a real girl, into just an empty shell. He choked up when thinking of her again—or Akemi, who had been mentioned as just another number, just another one who hadn’t made it. Miyako and Kenji could meet a similar fate. At least one of them would.
His hands trembled as he refused to give into thinking of it. Miyako explained that she only wanted to disarm Yuya, to make him shut up. He didn’t know why he did it, but he let the frustration about thinking he had it under control out. And despite of her injury, she still had quite some spunk and a verbal fight in her as she kept on trying to get through him, constantly highlighting that she had been aiming for the window instead. Gradually, the tone of their voices softened up as they talked. And if she was still capable of listing so many things she appreciated about him, then it wasn’t too late yet.
Like a kid receiving a present he’d always wanted, he listened to it, with his jaw being dropped lightly. So many things he had been craving to hear—yet, had never thought that they could matter so much to someone else. They were so minor. It wasn’t even a valid judgment, she didn’t know the truth.
"I wanted to hit Miki to make her stop, but I missed and shot Harumi. I killed her. I watched her fall, did you know that?”
Those words, and those that followed, dizzied him completely. If there was any moment to confess about Akimitchi, it was now, everything had hit rock bottom anyway. If he delayed it even longer, he’d only grow sicker and more scared at the thought of her respond.
His voice trembled, “I killed someone, too.”
She gasped in terror. “W-who?”
“Akimitchi.” Kazuhiro shuddered as he recalled everything. “H-he lost it completely, after she died. He said he wanted to search all over this place, purely to find Taro, and kill him.”
Miyako seemed frozen.
“It was no use talking to him,” Kazuhiro explained as he trembled, “At first, he didn’t even want to leave.” Kazuhiro barely registered the tightening grip on her shoulder. “I didn’t want to leave her either but—I didn’t want to give up. She wouldn’t have wanted me to.”
“Yeah, I know.” It sounded comforting.
“I nearly dragged him along, I-I mean—you don’t just leave someone there to die—”
He gulped firmly and stuffed his shaking hands inside his pockets, ignoring the sensation going through his hands.
“Eventually, it went wrong. Apparently, he had gotten the idea that I wanted to help him with—doing something to Taro,” Kazuhiro’s voice wavered uncontrollably when he said this, “I tried to explain, but then he called me selfish and stuff. I-I think it all added up together…”
He let out some big, tired gasps. His hands—he was depending on that habit. He looked down as he continued to speak.
“It went black in front of my eyes—like—like with a blackout. Like that time on my birthday, you know?”
She just stared at him.
“A-and then the next thing I knew was—was—” he hoarsely yelped the rest. “Next thing I realized was that—oh God—that thing was inside him, a-and I just froze.” He wailed, “A-and then I ran. I removed that thing from him—and I just fled.”
Just like that time with Akemi, he desperately needed someone to support him.
“I’ve played, Miyako!”
“No—no, I’m sure you didn’t—”
“Yes, I have! So why—why shouldn’t I do it again?” It was a rasp whisper.
“Kaz—no—”
“You and Kenji…you were friends too, right?” She densely nodded at him. “—you’re the only ones left that I still trust…” he whimpered.
“Bu—”
“You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to,” he voice rose. “Though I can cover you, I’m not that injured—”
“How do you see this happening?” she seemed stunned.
“Attacking everyone we run into, e-except for Kenji.”
“You do have a lot of faith in him.”
Kazuhiro breathlessly spoke, “I just don’t want to think of—of what if he’s playing. If I’d have to choose between two friends…”
Please, let me find him too—
She sighed and clicked her tongue in disapproval.
“Hey, listen, I don’t want to be annoying, but—” she let out a groggy and pained sigh, “Kenji, well, I don’t think you should put all of your trust in him.”
Kazuhiro sneered back, “why not?!”
She bit the bottom of her lip. “Look, he’s y—our friend but—Taro and Emi are still out there—”
His stomach heaved. “Yes and those two are his best friends, so he’ll pick them over us?” it was said mechanically.
She bowed her head. “S-sorry, but, yeah…”
It was painful, and it burned through him, more then anything else, because it was true. He had been aware of it, latently. It had been his reassurance, because Kenji probably wouldn’t care that much. At school, he had always felt like the literate fifth wheel as soon as those three appeared.
“No, it’s fine. I-I know that,” he replied. “A-and, I guess he won’t believe us if we tell him the truth.” Kazuhiro stopped to fold his hands together, as if it would make it easier to tell and to accept. “If it had been about you, I wouldn’t have.”
No, he would’ve ignored that person, too offended at the fact that someone could even insinuate she’d be capable of something that horrible. And now she was. Why—as much as he wanted to think differently of him—would Kenji be an exception?
“Yes, you would.”
“Argh…” he growled as he got up and ran two hands through his hair, combined with some rapid and heavy breaths exiting his mouth.
“I just don’t want to just leave him out there…” He chuckled when he realized how naïve that sounded. “Oh God…this is bad. Err, yeah, well; do you mind that I want to think of him as my friend? If I’m going to wonder about him—kill-, then—then I won’t come anywhere, you know?”
“No…” It was weak and cautious.
“That’s why I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me that about you. Because worrying—”
“…would’ve only made things worse, yeah…” she filled in the last part of his sentence.
“Besides, neither teaming up nor running works—I’ve noticed.” He gulped as his voice got tearful. “I think, you—or Kiku—wouldn’t have wanted me to but—but I see no other choice.”
Miyako appeared to be taken aback.
“I don’t want to die…” he stated, “but I don’t want to live while you guys are, either.” he shook his head, and then a sob escaped from his mouth.
He had wanted to be sure to be able to say a goodbye to them. Back at the lodge, he’d figured out he’d play if they were all gone. Back at the visitor’s center, he’d told himself to play to defend the group at all costs. Back outside, he had been frightened by himself. About how everything he had persistently kept inside him, just slipped through his fingers and aimed itself at Akimitchi.
It had been inevitable. Something else was, too.
He cleared his throat. “I want either you or Kenji to win.”
She gawked at him.
Only one person would leave. And it wasn’t going to be him—maybe for the best. He’d never have to worry about being ‘cursed’ again. He would’ve saved one of them – the thought of that awakened a little bit of faith back inside him. Moreover: he’d have control about how he’d die.
Was it that cruel to lean towards his friends, over anyone else?
“I want to make sure that the three of us are the last ones left.” He took a very deep breath. Confidence and determination seeped through his voice again, “You two would give me the death that I want: quick, and painless. Then, I’d die peacefully, as one of you would be safe.”
He bit his lip as he heard her make some sort of endeared noise. “It’s nothing great or anything. I’m just doing what feels right,” he swallowed the knot in his throat, “as it comes from here.” He patted the left side of his chest.
Miyako seemed too stunned to say anything. It was overwhelming him too. He knew how low his chances were, but it just felt good to have an ideal, just like when Taro had found him—(which worked out greatly, didn’t it?)
“Dangerous? Yes—”
“I’m dying,” Miyako butted in.
The glowing sensation grew bigger.
“So, I want you to be safe,” Miyako replied as she grabbed one of his arms and tried to make the words get through him. She moaned in pain because of her hip.
Now, Kazuhiro couldn’t bring out anything.
“Kaz?”
“Sorry, I don’t rea—you’re not dying!”
She sniffed, as if she had already made up her mind. “What do you achieve—with saving me?”
He yelped, “Why do you want to know?”
“I…”
“When…when Kiku d-died…” he clutched some of his blazer and winced slightly, “I knew I couldn’t help her anymore. She was bleeding so much,” he nearly sobbed. “I felt so powerless...”
“I’m so sorry.” She grabbed one of his hands. It rested limp in hers. His eyes were swelling up by now. He purposely looked down while covering his face with his other hand.
She talked breathlessly, “Kaz? I’ll help.”
He looked up.
“If it’s our only choice—” she faintly muttered.
He just pressed his lips together to fight the upcoming emotion. “Don’t—don’t do that just for me.”
“It’s not just that…” she whispered back, as if she was fighting it as well, “Kaz, I’m injured. I’m bleeding—it doesn’t matter how much you’d change that bandage because I’m—”
“Miyako,” he exclaimed as he grabbed hold of her shoulders, “what did we just decide?”
“Just look at me,” she shouted, pointing at the fresh bandage that was already soaked in blood again.
Kazuhiro sighed as he felt the tears returning - from frustration, the lack of sleep and the general hopelessness of it all. Then, she stumbled and was sent flying forwards; Kazuhiro barely had the time to grab her by one arm and yank her back to her feet.
“Okay, this isn’t working. Sit down again,” he said, with so many conflicting thoughts racing through his head again. They couldn’t play if she wasn’t capable of keeping to her feet, he wouldn’t be able to focus on eliminating students—
(Eliminating, as if they don’t matter. But it’s her only chance.)
“No, I can do this. Just give me that staff thingy, I could lean onto it—”
“No, no, no. It’s not going to work, you’re way too injured.”
“Come on, just give me the—”
Kazuhiro dropped the Naginata behind him. She started to whimper. He placed a hand on her shoulder but she shielded herself with one arm.
“No, don’t…”
“Miyako?”
She howled, “I’m ruining everything!”
“No, no you’re not—”
“D-do you know…do you know how messed up this is? I-I can’t even walk—I can’t help you, I’m weak—I’m a burden—” she exclaimed before her voice was drowned in sobs.
The desperation shining through her voice said enough. That would’ve been how Kiku had felt as well. Being dependant on someone; being seen as weak. If she would’ve had to take care of him, it would’ve gone against his pride.
“You’re not a burden, not at all,” he started, as his voice clearly softened up, “I’d rather have you being in here where I know you’re safe, then going outside with me just for me, I mean, with that wound...” His shoulders shook a little. “If something would happen—”
She looked glassily at him while letting out a few heart-tearing cries. “But you just said that you wanted to find Kenji—”
“I do, but it shouldn’t be at your expense.” He stopped to rub his watering eyes. “It…” he nearly choked on the words, “it breaks my heart to see you like this. So sorry for—”
Miyako slumped down and Kazuhiro followed suit.
He sighed. “Listen, you’re not weak,” he shook his head and forced a smile onto his face, “you’ve been shot. You’ve lost a lot of blood; you’ve been through so much, seriously.”
She nodded.
“And yet, you’ve managed to come over here. Th-that’s not weak at all,” the smile changed into a slight grin as he smoothed some hair out of her face.
“You’re lying.” It sounded like a half-laugh, half-complain.
“No, I’m not. Not everyone would’ve been able to do that.”
She vaguely smiled for a reply.
“I guess we still have some time before we—you know. If you want to, you can try to catch some sleep.”
“No, I’ll stay awake.”
“You sure? You look really tired. I can wake you up with the next report.”
“Hmm,” she thought out loud, “I’ll just lie down for a while.” It sounded very distant and indistinct.
She let her head rest on his shoulder as her eyes shut for a moment. She opened them again. “I guess…I could sleep,” she muttered, “But wake me up soon, okay?”
“Sure. Just give me the gun.”
Miyako looked at the gun, at him, and back.
“I must guard you. So, I need the best weapon.”
Hesitantly, she handed it to him. Kazuhiro felt both safe and anxious when he closed his fingers around it. He had seen what it could do.
“Miyako?” he asked in a small voice, “What’s it like to shoot this? D-does it hurt?”
++++++++++++
“And do you know what’s the stupidest about this?” Kazuhiro complained, “With Eiji, if he breaks up with a girl, they do stay friends.”
“Maybe it’s for the best.” She seemed unsure about how to react.
He sighed. “I don’t know. We were pretty good together.”
“Eiji?” Miyako joked.
Simultaneously, Kazuhiro corrected himself. “Kiku and me. Ew, no, not him!”
Miyako playfully pushed him. “You’re being a sour grape because you got du-umped!”
“No, I’m not!”
“Why would you want to stay friends with her anyway?”
Kazuhiro sighed deeper, his hands fumbling with his shirt. “Well, she’s avoiding me,” he explained, “and it’s obvious to the rest of the class, everyone’s talking about it. It’s so annoying—and embarrassing,” he whined.
“Well,” Miyako suggested, “maybe she can’t deal with it after all.”
“Yeah, well—gahh—Eiji keeps rubbing it in.”
“Why are you jealous of him anyway?”
“I’m not!”
Miyako gave him a ‘yeah right’ look. “You should, just for once, stop comparing yourself to others.”
Kazuhiro sighed once more. “I know, it’s just—he’s good at everything. He’s got the girls, the grades and lots of people like him.”
“Plus, he’s cute.”
Kazuhiro was taken aback for a moment, nervously shifting in his chair. “Uh, so you like him?”
“Wait, can you tell?”
“Oh, wow, err,” he lowered his voice, “he has a girlfriend—”
“Kidding!” Miyako cheered, “You fell for it.”
Kazuhiro groaned at first but then grinned. “God, not those jokes again.”
“Just try to think of something else,” Miyako chirped, “you’re no fun when you’re grumpy!”
“I don’t feel like—”
She tapped him on the arm again. “Come on!”
“Well, one more thing.”
He didn’t want to do this—talking bad behind a friend’s back was something he despised, yet, in this case a good friend was involved. Judging by the way Eiji talked about girls and by the ease that he ditched a girl whenever he got tired of her, Kazuhiro felt compelled to step in. It wasn’t jealousy, it was more like feeling responsible. He could do that to any girl he pleased, but not one that Kazuhiro was this close to. No way. Warning seemed so silly, so childish, yet, what else could he do?
He should’ve realized at this point that the relationship between him and the guy he admired so much was getting very unstable.
“Okay.”
“Even if you and he got together, he’d probably break up with you just a week later,” he explained, “Eiji really is a good guy, but I know what he does; I don’t want that to happen to you.”
OOC: PC approval by Lili, of course!
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