Yuka Nakagawa: F6 - Determination
((OOC: Hi and welcome to my attempt to scramble out of the time bubble >_> Lili, Lucy and I are assuming Yoshi is in another room of the house, hope that's okay. Slight PC control in this approved by Lucy.))
"Yuka?"
"Yuka, Dad's back home now, but he's not very well. So you have to be quiet in the house, all right? And - and not mind if he's a little cross with you, or doesn't want to play like he used to. I need you to be a brave grown-up girl and not cry. Do you understand?"
There's no point in wishing things were like they used to be, because life doesn't work like that.
Sometimes bad things happen and you just have to keep going.
You have to keep smiling.
A squeal of microphone feedback, and Yuka suddenly found herself slammed back into the musty room of the house. On the island. In the Program. Wearing an explosive collar. Half-dozing on Yutaka (geez, get a grip -)
"Good afternoon, children! I'm afraid your status has yet to improve..."
Yuka rubbed her dry, itchy eyes, tried to stop thinking about her sore neck and how thirsty she was and focus on the fact that people were dying, for pete's sake. Maybe not, though, maybe they'll have - maybe they'll - maybe no one will -
"Oh, look at that! It's your class representative! Boy #20, Kyoichi Motobuchi!"
Okay.
Okay, so yes, some people will - She'd never really said much to Motobuchi, whom she suspected had always felt she didn't take life seriously enough, but... it's still going on? People were still - how long til they come for you? They're coming to take you away/ha ha, okay, seriously, not the time -
"Joining him are the three lovely ladies: girl #6, Yukiko Kitano, girl #17, Satomi Noda, and girl #20, Kaori Minami!"
Satomi?
Not...
(S'like, if you imagined all of the class arranged on a field or something, with your friends like in a circle around you and then the people you kind of talk to a bit further away and then people like Souma and Numai, people who aren't anything like you, those people really far away and bad stuff might happen to them but that's 'cause they're not like you and everyone knows bad stuff doesn't happen to people like you and, and then suddenly the girls standing right next to you are just all dropping dead -)
Shit. Yuka, you really have no idea how to handle this, do you? a cool, calm voice at the back of her head observed.
Yutaka was noting down the danger zones, slowly, his tongue between his teeth. He looked nervous, sure, but he didn't look upset. Yuka didn't want to be upset either. She wanted it not to matter. Or, or, or she wanted it to matter that she was sad Satomi was dead. She didn't just want it to be that she was terrified -
She took a deep gulp of air, and - Satomi was - had been - her friend, they'd been fond of each other, can't you work up some sympathy? Sympathy's good, if you're sympathetic it means you think it'll never happen to you -
Oh god. I don't know what to do -
***
"Yuka. Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Satomi straightened her glasses with an irritated little frown on her face. For a moment the sunlight caught the lenses, hiding her eyes and making her look exactly like a sociopathic killer from an anime.
Yuka sighed, leant forward so that her chair put all four legs on the floor again, and said, "Yeah. Of course I do. Do I look like I'm clueless?"
"Currently? Yes."
"You have so little faith -"
"Yuka!" Satomi snapped. "The essay's due in tomorrow, and I can see you've only written three lines."
"So I'll pull an all-nighter. I can deal with it. I am the night." She pulled the appropriate face, but Satomi didn't smile.
"Why do you always do this?" she said at last. "You leave it to the last minute and then you just keep cracking more and more jokes and then you don't even care when you come back with average grades."
"The key word here being average. Not all of us are gunning for Tokyo-U, you know?"
Satomi shook her head. "You can do better than B minuses and Cs, you know you can." A pause, then: "Don't your parents mind?"
Yuka shrugged. Tried to pretend her heart wasn't suddenly going twice as fast. "They'd be pleased if I scored an A, sure. But... as long as I'm not failing, why'd they care? They've... got... they've got lots of other things to worry about. Like - like my layabout brothers. Seriously, I swear Jyou's got new life forms growing under his bed..."
She trailed off, because Satomi was still refusing to smile.
"Essay?" she said at last.
"Essay. Just for fifteen minutes, Yuka, at least."
"But you've done yours. You're just reading for extra credit."
"But you haven't done yours." And Satomi picked up her book with a little shake of the head, signifying that the conversation was over.
***
And Satomi was dead. Yuka was pretty sure she still wasn't feeling like she ought to about it, but at least it felt a bit more real now. All the memories of Satomi suddenly felt cut loose, separated from reality; shifted into a box in her head marked The Past, Which Is Dead and Gone.
It's not right, is it, Satomi? I was the one who would've settled for average. Huh. You can't be average in the Program. It's perfect or nothing...
On the other hand, her model-student friend hadn't got very far in it.
That's really sick. Even for you.
But you have to keep smiling.
(So, if Satomi never settled for average, does that mean she decided she'd be top of the class here too?)
You have to keep smiling!
All right. All right, no more freaking out. She didn't want to die, okay? She really didn't want to die. So she should... put some effort into not dying.
Like how? Like shooting everyone else? Oh, sure. If you want to do that then get your gun and start with Yutaka. Right between the eyes. See? You can't do it, can you?
(That wasn't quite true. You could go and pick up a gun and shoot someone and no one would actually stop you, that was the key thing. In the end, all that was keeping you from shooting someone was you. And. And... And she wasn't, okay? She just... because in life's horror movie, Yuka Nakagawa was one of the good guys.)
And besides, putting effort into not dying didn't mean playing the game. It meant, like, thinking positively, and staying calm, and trying to escape. Good stuff like that.
There's no point in panicking if you don't do anything to try and make things better. Right? Like Mum said, you gotta keep smiling. So she should stay calm, and so she should make Satomi proud and start taking things seriously.
Somehow.
***
Shiroiwa-cho, one a.m. on the first full day of the Program
Incho Nakagawa stepped through the front door of the house and relocked it behind her and put down her bag and kicked her shoes off her aching feet all before realising her husband was standing in the dark hallway, watching her.
"Dear god, Masato, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Why haven't you put the lights on?"
She switched them on herself, and then she saw his expression.
"Masato," she said, gently, feeling sweet-calm-never-loses-it-carer-Incho sweeping over her like the smell of dead flowers, "what's happened?"
"Yuka's in the Program."
"No... no, darling, she's not, she's on her school trip -"
"Don't patronise me," he said. His words were clipped, as if he wasn't getting enough air. That was usually a bad sign. "The soldiers came about an hour ago. They told me. One of them remembered. She's in the Program because of me."
Incho swallowed, and swallowed again, and tried to - to -
(Yuka was in the Program. Yuka was pretty much dead)
To say something, even think something -
(and if Yuka wasn't dead already Yuka would almost certainly be dead during the next twelve hours and she would be frightened and she would be hurt)
She breathed in - a shaky breath - and saw Masato still watching her. She wondered how she looked. She'd always tried so hard not to let him see when she was upset or scared or angry, always tried to get the kids to stop fighting or whining when he was around, Yuka was in the Program and she was going to die -
And the world was still standing and around them the house settled and the clock ticked and she could hear a tap dripping somewhere and life went on, just as normal, it didn't stop because something bad had happened and she really ought to know that by now.
She had to say something. But she didn't know what. Carer-Incho would murmur soothingly it wasn't because of you, they randomise it, remember, we talked about this, just because you feel it doesn't make it true. But real-Incho wanted -
- wanted to scream, wanted to sob and cry and break stuff and snarl what did we ever do to deserve all this, it isn't fair, make it stop, and why the hell do I have to go through this alone?
"It wasn't because of you," she said, at last, roughly. (A compromise.) "Don't be stupid." And then, "I'm sorry. I just..."
There wasn't a just.
(Yuka could still be alive right now, that was the worst thing, she could be still alive and they couldn't help her, and if you thought about that you'd go mad (too), wouldn't you?)
"No. I'm sorry," Masato said, and even though she knew he didn't mean what he should, she nodded, and took a few steps forward, and put her arms round him, pressed her face into his shoulder, and found herself crying.
"Yuka?"
"Yuka, Dad's back home now, but he's not very well. So you have to be quiet in the house, all right? And - and not mind if he's a little cross with you, or doesn't want to play like he used to. I need you to be a brave grown-up girl and not cry. Do you understand?"
There's no point in wishing things were like they used to be, because life doesn't work like that.
Sometimes bad things happen and you just have to keep going.
You have to keep smiling.
A squeal of microphone feedback, and Yuka suddenly found herself slammed back into the musty room of the house. On the island. In the Program. Wearing an explosive collar. Half-dozing on Yutaka (geez, get a grip -)
"Good afternoon, children! I'm afraid your status has yet to improve..."
Yuka rubbed her dry, itchy eyes, tried to stop thinking about her sore neck and how thirsty she was and focus on the fact that people were dying, for pete's sake. Maybe not, though, maybe they'll have - maybe they'll - maybe no one will -
"Oh, look at that! It's your class representative! Boy #20, Kyoichi Motobuchi!"
Okay.
Okay, so yes, some people will - She'd never really said much to Motobuchi, whom she suspected had always felt she didn't take life seriously enough, but... it's still going on? People were still - how long til they come for you? They're coming to take you away/ha ha, okay, seriously, not the time -
"Joining him are the three lovely ladies: girl #6, Yukiko Kitano, girl #17, Satomi Noda, and girl #20, Kaori Minami!"
Satomi?
Not...
(S'like, if you imagined all of the class arranged on a field or something, with your friends like in a circle around you and then the people you kind of talk to a bit further away and then people like Souma and Numai, people who aren't anything like you, those people really far away and bad stuff might happen to them but that's 'cause they're not like you and everyone knows bad stuff doesn't happen to people like you and, and then suddenly the girls standing right next to you are just all dropping dead -)
Shit. Yuka, you really have no idea how to handle this, do you? a cool, calm voice at the back of her head observed.
Yutaka was noting down the danger zones, slowly, his tongue between his teeth. He looked nervous, sure, but he didn't look upset. Yuka didn't want to be upset either. She wanted it not to matter. Or, or, or she wanted it to matter that she was sad Satomi was dead. She didn't just want it to be that she was terrified -
She took a deep gulp of air, and - Satomi was - had been - her friend, they'd been fond of each other, can't you work up some sympathy? Sympathy's good, if you're sympathetic it means you think it'll never happen to you -
Oh god. I don't know what to do -
***
"Yuka. Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Satomi straightened her glasses with an irritated little frown on her face. For a moment the sunlight caught the lenses, hiding her eyes and making her look exactly like a sociopathic killer from an anime.
Yuka sighed, leant forward so that her chair put all four legs on the floor again, and said, "Yeah. Of course I do. Do I look like I'm clueless?"
"Currently? Yes."
"You have so little faith -"
"Yuka!" Satomi snapped. "The essay's due in tomorrow, and I can see you've only written three lines."
"So I'll pull an all-nighter. I can deal with it. I am the night." She pulled the appropriate face, but Satomi didn't smile.
"Why do you always do this?" she said at last. "You leave it to the last minute and then you just keep cracking more and more jokes and then you don't even care when you come back with average grades."
"The key word here being average. Not all of us are gunning for Tokyo-U, you know?"
Satomi shook her head. "You can do better than B minuses and Cs, you know you can." A pause, then: "Don't your parents mind?"
Yuka shrugged. Tried to pretend her heart wasn't suddenly going twice as fast. "They'd be pleased if I scored an A, sure. But... as long as I'm not failing, why'd they care? They've... got... they've got lots of other things to worry about. Like - like my layabout brothers. Seriously, I swear Jyou's got new life forms growing under his bed..."
She trailed off, because Satomi was still refusing to smile.
"Essay?" she said at last.
"Essay. Just for fifteen minutes, Yuka, at least."
"But you've done yours. You're just reading for extra credit."
"But you haven't done yours." And Satomi picked up her book with a little shake of the head, signifying that the conversation was over.
***
And Satomi was dead. Yuka was pretty sure she still wasn't feeling like she ought to about it, but at least it felt a bit more real now. All the memories of Satomi suddenly felt cut loose, separated from reality; shifted into a box in her head marked The Past, Which Is Dead and Gone.
It's not right, is it, Satomi? I was the one who would've settled for average. Huh. You can't be average in the Program. It's perfect or nothing...
On the other hand, her model-student friend hadn't got very far in it.
That's really sick. Even for you.
But you have to keep smiling.
(So, if Satomi never settled for average, does that mean she decided she'd be top of the class here too?)
You have to keep smiling!
All right. All right, no more freaking out. She didn't want to die, okay? She really didn't want to die. So she should... put some effort into not dying.
Like how? Like shooting everyone else? Oh, sure. If you want to do that then get your gun and start with Yutaka. Right between the eyes. See? You can't do it, can you?
(That wasn't quite true. You could go and pick up a gun and shoot someone and no one would actually stop you, that was the key thing. In the end, all that was keeping you from shooting someone was you. And. And... And she wasn't, okay? She just... because in life's horror movie, Yuka Nakagawa was one of the good guys.)
And besides, putting effort into not dying didn't mean playing the game. It meant, like, thinking positively, and staying calm, and trying to escape. Good stuff like that.
There's no point in panicking if you don't do anything to try and make things better. Right? Like Mum said, you gotta keep smiling. So she should stay calm, and so she should make Satomi proud and start taking things seriously.
Somehow.
***
Shiroiwa-cho, one a.m. on the first full day of the Program
Incho Nakagawa stepped through the front door of the house and relocked it behind her and put down her bag and kicked her shoes off her aching feet all before realising her husband was standing in the dark hallway, watching her.
"Dear god, Masato, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Why haven't you put the lights on?"
She switched them on herself, and then she saw his expression.
"Masato," she said, gently, feeling sweet-calm-never-loses-it-carer-Incho sweeping over her like the smell of dead flowers, "what's happened?"
"Yuka's in the Program."
"No... no, darling, she's not, she's on her school trip -"
"Don't patronise me," he said. His words were clipped, as if he wasn't getting enough air. That was usually a bad sign. "The soldiers came about an hour ago. They told me. One of them remembered. She's in the Program because of me."
Incho swallowed, and swallowed again, and tried to - to -
(Yuka was in the Program. Yuka was pretty much dead)
To say something, even think something -
(and if Yuka wasn't dead already Yuka would almost certainly be dead during the next twelve hours and she would be frightened and she would be hurt)
She breathed in - a shaky breath - and saw Masato still watching her. She wondered how she looked. She'd always tried so hard not to let him see when she was upset or scared or angry, always tried to get the kids to stop fighting or whining when he was around, Yuka was in the Program and she was going to die -
And the world was still standing and around them the house settled and the clock ticked and she could hear a tap dripping somewhere and life went on, just as normal, it didn't stop because something bad had happened and she really ought to know that by now.
She had to say something. But she didn't know what. Carer-Incho would murmur soothingly it wasn't because of you, they randomise it, remember, we talked about this, just because you feel it doesn't make it true. But real-Incho wanted -
- wanted to scream, wanted to sob and cry and break stuff and snarl what did we ever do to deserve all this, it isn't fair, make it stop, and why the hell do I have to go through this alone?
"It wasn't because of you," she said, at last, roughly. (A compromise.) "Don't be stupid." And then, "I'm sorry. I just..."
There wasn't a just.
(Yuka could still be alive right now, that was the worst thing, she could be still alive and they couldn't help her, and if you thought about that you'd go mad (too), wouldn't you?)
"No. I'm sorry," Masato said, and even though she knew he didn't mean what he should, she nodded, and took a few steps forward, and put her arms round him, pressed her face into his shoulder, and found herself crying.