Raiden Shindou: The Great Escape.
"Name?"
"Shindou Makoto," the boy said flatly, staring directly through the man interviewing him with round, blank eyes.
The room in which they were seated was furnished minimally. A large, metal desk sat between them. Upon it, three equally large piles of papers and a mug with ballpoint pens of various colours stacked inside it. The walls were pale and blank, devoid of pictures, mirrors or charts. There were no windows. The only sources of light came from one single, bright bulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling in an unattractive fashion.
The older man seemed to pause for a moment, staring directly into Makoto's eyes before turning to his desk to write the boy's name in the top box of the closest paper form. Unlike his older brother, Makoto didn't feel particularly uneasy in the one-on-one situation. Then again, for the last two years he has barely been able to feel much of anything.
"Alright, Shindou," the man said finally, leaning back in his leather chair so much that the hinges of the mechanism creaked in protest. "What makes you think you would be an asset to our country?"
Raiden was shocked at his own strength. He was however, far more shocked at his ability to take leave of his senses just enough to throw punch after punch flying into his best friend's body. His swings were so desperate and erratic that it wasn't long before his knuckles started coming away bloodier than they were before.
What he had seen of low-budget martial arts movies had done nothing to prepare him for what it was like to be in a real fight. This wasn't just any fight either, he wasn't fighting for his honor or the love of a fair maiden. This was life or death. Movies never fully gave the full effect of a hard blow to the head. His vision swam, and for second he wasn't altogether sure what was happening.
The only thing he was sure about was that it fucking hurt.
His whole body was aching, taking the blows and struggling to do some damage of his own. The force of the fall had knocked both pistols loose from his grip. God only knew where they were now. Lying in a puddle somewhere, chambers full and awaiting a smart guy to come along and pull the trigger. Worse, Miyuki could have found them and Raiden knew for sure that she was fully capable of pulling a trigger when it was required of her.
He groaned as he hit the very solid pavement, Itsuo falling on top of him. He felt his shirt rip, tearing away a layer of skin as he scraped his back on the concrete. Struggling to move, the other boy managed to punch him in the side of the head before Raiden could throw him off. He elbowed back, hitting Itsuo sharply in the ribs as another wild fist connected with his nose, sending blood everywhere. He cried out in pain, lifting a free hand to his face. His fingers came away smudged with scarlet as Itsuo tried to struggle to his feet. He too looked more than a little worse for wear.
Raiden was too quick for Itsuo again, throwing his arm forward - this time a sharp shove that caught him by surprise. With a yell, he was on the floor again as Raiden whirled around, all his momentum behind him as he threw his entire weight into a single finishing blow. He knew that if he had stopped to think for even a fraction of a second, he would seal his own death. A moment's hesitation could lead to a bullet in the back or a blurted apology.
No. This time he was done.
Makoto gave a curt nod. "Thank you, sir."
The captain smiled, extending his arm across the desk to take Makoto's fingers in a firm handshake. "Congratulations, Private Shindou," he paused, chest swelling with pride at the honour he was about to bestow on this sixteen year old boy. "And welcome to the Imperial Army of Greater East Asia."
Make sure he stays down.
That little voice again, egging him on and telling him where to duck and turn. It was a strange part of his subconscious, enabling him to make the tough calls. It allowed the little, child-like Raiden to withdraw inside - free from pain and guilt.
Brutality was going to ensure the deed was done right, as it had always done.
"Wait!" Itsuo cried, eyes wild and desperate. He looked so terrified. Terrified of his best friend and what he had become. Raiden would never forget that face, not for as long as he lived. He would never forget how, in his dying moments, Itsuo Tateno pleaded with him. Just like a stranger...
Just like he didn't know him at all.
"You need t--"
CRACK
It was like a nightmare. Raiden could see it all play out in his head. Itsuo would randomly stand up, neck twisted at an impossible angle, shuffling and lurching towards him like a mindless automaton hungry for death. That's right, he thought to himself as he stumbled back. Any minute now he's just going to stand up...
Seconds passed.
Not a sound, not a movement emanated from Itsuo's broken body. All he could hear was the rush of hurried footsteps as somebody else entirely hurried forward to see the devastation for herself.. He didn't even have time to turn before Miyuki pushed past him, falling to her knees in the mud.
It was an agonising silence.
Itsuo lay face down on the ground, left arm submerged in a muddy puddle and soaked up to the elbow. He was dead. He was dead.
It should have been you
He was reeling, almost dizzy as his vision blurred and focussed erratically. Raiden couldn't even begin to fathom how he had reached this point. A combination of luck and random judgement that had somehow lead him here... to his best friend...
Miyuki hadn't pushed him very hard but his emotional stupor had reduced him to almost a catatonic state. He swayed momentarily before falling on his ass in the dirt. Pieces of grit dug into his bare palms. The pain barely registered.
Naive attitude will inevitably lead to an early elimination (22/1)
“I-” Raiden said, suddenly feeling like there was a leather strap bound around his chest. He could barely breathe. “Is he dead?"
Miyuki looked grey. She kneeled next to Itsuo's body and Raiden thought for a second that she might throw up. Shaking slightly, she ran her fingers down his arm before flinching away from the clammy touch of his skin. Her other hand pawed at the boy's sweater vest, pulling the fabric between her thumb and fingers. "I think so," she stuttered, broken and unsure.
Raiden resisted the urge to lay flat on his back, like he had before. He couldn't remember a time when he had been this exhausted. Blessed relief could be hours away, the danger wasn't over yet and Miyuki was far from a friend.
His fault, really.
He suppressed the urge to be sick. Cleansing himself in that way seemed almost appropriate. It was all pretty sickening.
"I hate this game," he groaned, flexing his fingers and hearing his bones crack. "It feels like I've been playing it forever."
"How long have you been playing?" Miyuki snapped, suddenly sounding disgusted.
For some reason Raiden was taken aback by the question, even though he should have expected it and perhaps prepared an answer. He gaped, visibly shocked until he offered the only words he could muster. After all, what good would lying do him now?
"Hrrrrgh," she groaned, eyes streaming in pain. "Raidennn."
Her breathing quickened as she tried unsuccessfully to get some air. The white fabric was already sodden and dripping. "Don't you die," he cried, pushing harder against the wound. "Don't you dare die on me."
"Since Mami died," he said simply, choking back tears. "I'm so tired... I just want to go home."
He was begging. He didn't even know who he was begging to, but his brain was crying out for mercy. From Miyuki, from the soldiers, from the great dictator and the watchful eyes of the population. He just wanted to go home... Why was that such a hard thing to do? It should be simple. Now it was impossible and Raiden's sixteen year old mind couldn't even begin to try and grasp why. The frustration and futility was painful enough for him to want to tear his heart out of his chest just to give himself an ending... some sort of conclusion to this bloody mess of violence and shame.
"I didn't expect it of you."
I didn't expect this.
"I didn't either."
Itsuo's body was still spread-eagled next to her, face down in the mud, neck sticking out at an abnormal angle. He'd done that. Three days ago it seemed an impossible thought. In the end he couldn't value another life above his own. He wondered what his brother would say if he knew; if he was watching. "I can't believe I killed him," he continued, tears streaming down his face now. "I-I never thought I would."
"Thank you, Rai," he murmured, embracing his best friend. He seemed sombre, almost anguished as he let go of Rai's shirt.
"What for?"
Itsuo gave him a wry smile, looking down at him through his long, auburn fringe. He brought his hand down on Rai's shoulder. "For keeping her safe."
Rai grinned, "Same to you."
"You didn't seem to have a problem doing it in the end," she said matter-of-factly, eyes narrowed in his direction, seeing him for what he truly was.
Murderer
Every muscle in his body screamed for him to run but he couldn't bring himself to do it. One way or another, only one of them was going to walk away. Running wasn't an option and the more Miyuki spewed her hypocrisy the more he felt like he should stay. He should and take his shot...
Shouldn't he?
A sudden burst of adrenalin sent his brain into overdrive. His veins throbbed in his temples and his heart beat out a furious rhythm. He didn't have to put up with this. He shouldn't have to... Not after everything. This was enough. Surely this must be enough.
He was on his feet in an instant, quick enough to startle Miyuki. Her grip on the MP7 tightened instinctively, knowing exactly what he was to her. It didn't matter what she said or how much better she was than him at being able to live up to expectations. He wasn't a friend to her, not for this minute or the next. He was an obstacle. A threat.
Raiden refused to give her the easy satisfaction that he had killed Itsuo out of spite, out of some underlying revenge for not knowing him nearly well enough.
"You should be happy," he snapped, enraged all of a sudden. How could she assume that he was so spiteful, so far gone that he enjoyed hearing the snap of his best friend's neck as his foot collided with bone. “I killed him-now you don’t have to. I did you a favor.”
It was true, in its simplest terms and yet as Raiden looked down at his friend's body with tears in his eyes, Itsuo Tateno's death felt like anything but a favour.
"I already told you!" he practically yelled, a foolish action considering the danger. "I didn't kill her."
"But you're going to kill me," Taichi sneered, eyes flickering to the gun in Raiden's shaky grip. "Aren't you?"
Miyuki looked like she'd been slapped in the face. "You should have done yourself a favour and shot me," she said defiantly, levelling the gun at his chest, certain of the upper hand she held in her bloody fingers. A misplaced confidence that could potentially lead to her undoing.
Was that the exit?
"You killed the wrong person."
Part of him wanted to demand an answer of her; was there even a right person? But he didn't, he couldn't. He still had an ace in the hole, a small revolver taken from Kaoru Ishibashi tucked into the waist band of his jeans. Was anything worth this?
He didn't hesitate.
Raiden didn't even blink as he pulled the gun out from behind his back. Miyuki's sharp intake of breath was easily audible, even at this distance. He felt sure he caught a flash of fear in her eyes, a second of doubt that he grasped and held on to. He was a threat to her. Miyuki Ishida needed a few home truths.
"You gave me the advantage," he said simply, watching the colour drain from her faltering poker face. "I took it."
"You manipulated me," she snapped, scrambling to her feet. Her voice was gradually rising to a higher pitch, almost hysterical. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
Triumph barely had meaning.
The only way he was going to beat her was to be smart. Raiden had never been great with smart, but something that might have been a stroke of intuition made him reach for the folded letters in his back pocket. Little squares of paper with eye-opening words Miyuki must have been eager to consume.
The papers floated to the earth like they were practically weightless, settling in the mud and absorbing the moisture enough to turn the paper a darker shade of yellow. All Miyuki had to do was reach down and take them, grasp for the truth that she must have been yearning for.
Take the bait.
"You made that choice on your own," Raiden said finally, watching her eyes flicker between his own and the discarded papers. He gestured towards them. "Everything I said was true, read it for yourself."
Miyuki didn't even deliberate. His stomach lurched, feeling foolish for even expecting her to. She was a seasoned player by now. She was a killer, just like he was and more importantly, she was far more intelligent. He froze, knowing for certain that he was the target. Knowing for certain that there wasn't a way out.
"It will be good for you, Raiden," he mumbled quickly, trying to fill the silence. "A guy at work called it the finest facility he's ever been to... Perfect for... uh, well... your type."
Raiden closed the folder with a snap. A gleaming picture of the school's lustrous gateway shone out brightly from the front cover. His bottom lip quivered. "I don't want to go."
"It doesn't matter who's lying to me anymore."
The urge to shoot her then was almost unquenchable. Another second ticked by, two, three... The MP7 seemed to be looming in his field of vision so much that soon it was everything he saw. A hand-held instrument of destruction.
But Raiden had a gun too. He felt like they both needed a form of emotional closure, something to convince himself once and for all that he wasn't the crazy one. He deserved this. She deserved this, didn't she? What was it that was keeping her going with severe drug withdrawal and a bullet lodged in her arm?
A delusion?
"That's another way of saying you can't face the truth," he retorted, surprised at how confident and calm he sounded. Even a slightly stressful situation at school was enough to produce a small stutter in his voice. Maybe he was finally rising to the occasion. Better late than never, he supposed. "Everyone deserves to win this game, even me."
Reality?
If Miyuki was surprised this time, she didn't show it. If she was scared or in pain, she didn't show it either. For a split second she seemed to look like she had always done, the same old Miyuki. She exuded total control, even if the control was only a fabrication. It was the illusion of control that made her as confident and self-assured as she was. Unlike Raiden, she was staying true to herself.
That was pretty scary.
"You're missing the point, Raiden."
He bit the inside of his cheek, finger caressing the trigger. He felt like he should say something. Some cool, cliché retort that might give him some form of closure before the girl half his size sunk seven bullets in his chest. Miyuki had always known how to make things go with a bang. She worked with cameras, she knew what the cameras wanted.
"We might all deserve to win," she continued after a pause, eyes narrowing; picking her shot. "But only one of us is going to."
He smiled.
"Got that right."
As Miyuki opened her mouth to try and redeliver a final verbal blow, Raiden reacted. He reacted and he smiled because after everything that had happened, it was going to end. Everything eventually had and ending.
And this was his.
"Shindou, over here!" a cry came up through the trees to his left. "I've found another one!"
Makoto reacted instantly, pushing his way through the dew-heavy under brush in the direction of the voice. An older guy stood in the clearing, dressed in an identical uniform to his own but for an extra stripe on the fatigue patch on his shoulder. He looked hardened and weary, the sign of a solider who had many years of combat under his belt.
At the man's feet, a mangled body lay spread-eagled in the mud. Makoto paled as he realised that the side of the body's head had been torn open from the ear. It looked for all the world that a wild animal had attack it, trying to feast on the inside of the shattered skull. Naturally, the child's torn, sailor-suit style uniform was drenched in blood at least twenty-four hours old.
The older soldier grunted, holstering his weapon and taking hold of the girl's wrists. "C'mon, grab the legs. The truck is back down the track a ways, I couldn't drive it through here with the mud this thick."
Makoto complied. It wasn't his job to be reluctant despite the fact that the situation visibly disgusted him. The girl was surprisingly light, probably easy enough for one of them to carry. It was only the unwillingness of the men to hold her mangled corpse too tightly and the mutual respect of each other that stopped the task from falling down to a single infantryman.
Neither of them spoke again until the girl's broken skull hit the sheet metal of the back of their pick-up truck.
It was kind of funny when he thought about it.
That simple, little click.
He hadn't even considered the possibility of the gun being empty. Despite the fact it didn't feel heavy in his grip, the idea of a misfire hadn't occurred to him. In that moment's pause Miyuki's eyes snapped open, wide and in total awe. She was alive and he was fucked. Simple is as simple does, after all. All it took was one mistake...
She exhaled suddenly, the air gushing between her teeth in a relieved laugh. She had a good reason to be happy, the entire situation had just reversed in the blink of an eye. She swayed on her feet only momentarily, her knees nearly buckling in sheer surprise. Raiden's eyes went wide, all the horror and desperation shining within. His mouth gaped, staring stupidly into Miyuki's smiling face. She was pale and sweaty, face spotted with blood and probably gravely ill. He didn't even have a chance to think how much of a mess he must look too.
Miyuki raised the gun and without so much as a breath or parting word, lacerated him from his thigh up to his stomach in a flurry of hot, smoking metal.
The pain was thick, intense and entirely unbearable. He watched in horror as his smooth, pink intestines tried to slide out of the hole in his stomach. Incredulously, Raiden's hand went to the wound and tried desperately to keep his insides inside. He groaned, stumbling backwards and catching the back of his heel on Itsuo's leg, landing in a heap next to his dead friend.
A friend he'd killed a few minutes before, a friend he'd hoped he'd outlive just a little longer.
He tried to suck in a breath but his lungs felt shredded and clogged with blood. A terrible rasping noise emanated from his throat. Miyuki looked down at him with something that could have been regret, although his vision was clouding over too fast for him to make out her expression any more. He could feel Itsuo's cold, dead fingers against his forearm.
You were so close.
He couldn't even see Miyuki now, it was getting dark. A grey sky fading to black.
"I..." he groaned. He felt like a hundred pound weight had settled on his chest. Breathing was unbearable, talking even more so. "I just wish..."
I just wish...
"Ugggh," he groaned in frustration, throwing his pencil down and running his hands through his hair. "Can't I just make a wish and have this all go away?"
"Just concentrate. Algebra is pretty easy once you get into the math-mindset," Miyuki sighed, looking up from her magazine. Itsuo sat across from her on the bed, playing video games on a small colour television. Their toes were almost touching.
Itsuo grinned without looking away from the screen. "At least you're halfway done," he offered. "I'm surprised you managed to get past the first question with Suzuka and Mai staring over your shoulder."
Raiden bit his lip, inwardly wincing at just the idea of the girl's screeching laughter. "I wish Sosuke would just tell them to go away."
Miyuki rolled her eyes. "He's your math tutor, Raiden," she sighed, poking Itsuo with her foot. "He's not your friend. He's not going to just tell his girlfriend to go away."
"Think positive," Itsuo offered, obviously not really paying attention to the conversation. Miyuki stifled a laugh, watching him stare intently at the television screen. He was hardly blinking. "You can do anything if you put your mind to it!"
The recent memories of his friend's deaths seemed to pop out of existence like fragile soap bubbles. His friends. Itsuo, Kentaro, Seikou, Raina... Mami... even Miyuki. Raiden was overcome with the urge to go to them and tell them in person.
It was time to go... and he really was sorry. About everything.
"I wish they would send me a note or something," Raiden mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady. "Or even a phone call. Just so I know they're getting my letters."
Matano sighed, idly pretending to be shuffling around in his desk drawer despite the fact Raiden know he kept nothing but pencil sharpeners and boxes of staples in there. He may not have be totally aware of the awkwardness of certain social situations but he could easily pick up the odd sense of discomfort coming from the old man. "There could have a been a problem with the post office," he offered. "There's no real way of knowing."
Raiden lowered his head, staring intently at the floor, determined not to let the teacher catch a glimpse of his face. He could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. His stomach felt empty, desperate for a warmth and comfort he knew was hundreds of miles away and in light of past events, totally unreachable.
Matano shifted in his seat, habitually shaking his head. "Your parents care about you," he mumbled, looking for all the world like he was going to pat the boy on the back.
"They don't," he cried suddenly, a strangled sob escaping through his lips. "They just don't."
Matano gave Raiden's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, although it did little to quell his emotional outburst. It was such a rare occurrence that even Raiden was surprised he wasn't able to suppress his emotions in an objectively low stress situation. He bit his lip to keep from crying with little luck and now he could taste blood mixed with tears on his tongue.
"Just give them time."
He couldn't even feel any part of his body now. He tried to move his fingers but found himself unable to even see his hands clearly. It was so dark. It hadn't been like this before. Why was it so dark all of a sudden? Wh-
"What's the matter, Raiden?" Kyousuke called. "Did you fall?"
He bit his lip to keep from crying, staring in shock at the trickle of blood that traced its way down his leg. "Yeahhh," he breathed, struggling to keep his voice steady. He wanted to put on a brave face and show his father he wasn't the type to be upset by a scraped knee. He was eight years old, too old to cry over such a minor injury. "Owww, I'm... I'm okay."
Kyousuke jogged over and kneeled next to his son, inspecting the wound thoughtfully. "It's just a scratch," he said with a smile, patting Raiden on the shoulder. "Nothing worth worrying about."
His eyelids felt heavy. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I'll just sleep right now, then when I wake up the sun will be up again.
Yes, the sun would be really nice right now.
"You really love this, don't you?" Itsuo inquired, slinging his aged bag over his shoulder.
"You've got to admit part of you loves the glory," he laughed. "Getting the opportunity to save people."
"I hate that hat," Raiden's younger brother said one evening, watching his brother pack. "It makes you look silly."
"Don't you dare splash me."
You're late," Raina smiled, still looking straight ahead.
"I know," he replied.
Huh?" he breathed, his voice choked and despairing. "What did you say?"
The younger Shindou also attempted to adjust his collar, probably in an attempt to copy his brother as Raiden was pretty sure his tie was attached with elastic.
"Why do people die?"
“You’re going to be just fine.”
"You like math?"
"I don't wear speedos!" he cried, throwing a sock at Kentaro. "I wear trunks, there's a difference. Anyway, that's besides the point."
"B-but I'm glad you're, uh, smiling again. You have a pretty smile, Mami."
"If you knew what I had done you would understand why I'm here."
"Now, the answer to question three... Raiden?"
"You know, Raiden..."
"Raiden! Time to get up!"
"Hey, Raiden. Did you study for the test?"
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Raiden Shindou?"
"Raiden..."
"...you would understand why I'm here."
"Raiden?!"
"Raiden."
I understand now.
Thank you.
"Shindou Makoto," the boy said flatly, staring directly through the man interviewing him with round, blank eyes.
The room in which they were seated was furnished minimally. A large, metal desk sat between them. Upon it, three equally large piles of papers and a mug with ballpoint pens of various colours stacked inside it. The walls were pale and blank, devoid of pictures, mirrors or charts. There were no windows. The only sources of light came from one single, bright bulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling in an unattractive fashion.
The older man seemed to pause for a moment, staring directly into Makoto's eyes before turning to his desk to write the boy's name in the top box of the closest paper form. Unlike his older brother, Makoto didn't feel particularly uneasy in the one-on-one situation. Then again, for the last two years he has barely been able to feel much of anything.
"Alright, Shindou," the man said finally, leaning back in his leather chair so much that the hinges of the mechanism creaked in protest. "What makes you think you would be an asset to our country?"
Raiden was shocked at his own strength. He was however, far more shocked at his ability to take leave of his senses just enough to throw punch after punch flying into his best friend's body. His swings were so desperate and erratic that it wasn't long before his knuckles started coming away bloodier than they were before.
What he had seen of low-budget martial arts movies had done nothing to prepare him for what it was like to be in a real fight. This wasn't just any fight either, he wasn't fighting for his honor or the love of a fair maiden. This was life or death. Movies never fully gave the full effect of a hard blow to the head. His vision swam, and for second he wasn't altogether sure what was happening.
The only thing he was sure about was that it fucking hurt.
His whole body was aching, taking the blows and struggling to do some damage of his own. The force of the fall had knocked both pistols loose from his grip. God only knew where they were now. Lying in a puddle somewhere, chambers full and awaiting a smart guy to come along and pull the trigger. Worse, Miyuki could have found them and Raiden knew for sure that she was fully capable of pulling a trigger when it was required of her.
He groaned as he hit the very solid pavement, Itsuo falling on top of him. He felt his shirt rip, tearing away a layer of skin as he scraped his back on the concrete. Struggling to move, the other boy managed to punch him in the side of the head before Raiden could throw him off. He elbowed back, hitting Itsuo sharply in the ribs as another wild fist connected with his nose, sending blood everywhere. He cried out in pain, lifting a free hand to his face. His fingers came away smudged with scarlet as Itsuo tried to struggle to his feet. He too looked more than a little worse for wear.
Raiden was too quick for Itsuo again, throwing his arm forward - this time a sharp shove that caught him by surprise. With a yell, he was on the floor again as Raiden whirled around, all his momentum behind him as he threw his entire weight into a single finishing blow. He knew that if he had stopped to think for even a fraction of a second, he would seal his own death. A moment's hesitation could lead to a bullet in the back or a blurted apology.
No. This time he was done.
Makoto gave a curt nod. "Thank you, sir."
The captain smiled, extending his arm across the desk to take Makoto's fingers in a firm handshake. "Congratulations, Private Shindou," he paused, chest swelling with pride at the honour he was about to bestow on this sixteen year old boy. "And welcome to the Imperial Army of Greater East Asia."
Make sure he stays down.
That little voice again, egging him on and telling him where to duck and turn. It was a strange part of his subconscious, enabling him to make the tough calls. It allowed the little, child-like Raiden to withdraw inside - free from pain and guilt.
Brutality was going to ensure the deed was done right, as it had always done.
"Wait!" Itsuo cried, eyes wild and desperate. He looked so terrified. Terrified of his best friend and what he had become. Raiden would never forget that face, not for as long as he lived. He would never forget how, in his dying moments, Itsuo Tateno pleaded with him. Just like a stranger...
Just like he didn't know him at all.
"You need t--"
CRACK
It was like a nightmare. Raiden could see it all play out in his head. Itsuo would randomly stand up, neck twisted at an impossible angle, shuffling and lurching towards him like a mindless automaton hungry for death. That's right, he thought to himself as he stumbled back. Any minute now he's just going to stand up...
Seconds passed.
Not a sound, not a movement emanated from Itsuo's broken body. All he could hear was the rush of hurried footsteps as somebody else entirely hurried forward to see the devastation for herself.. He didn't even have time to turn before Miyuki pushed past him, falling to her knees in the mud.
It was an agonising silence.
Itsuo lay face down on the ground, left arm submerged in a muddy puddle and soaked up to the elbow. He was dead. He was dead.
It should have been you
He was reeling, almost dizzy as his vision blurred and focussed erratically. Raiden couldn't even begin to fathom how he had reached this point. A combination of luck and random judgement that had somehow lead him here... to his best friend...
Miyuki hadn't pushed him very hard but his emotional stupor had reduced him to almost a catatonic state. He swayed momentarily before falling on his ass in the dirt. Pieces of grit dug into his bare palms. The pain barely registered.
Naive attitude will inevitably lead to an early elimination (22/1)
“I-” Raiden said, suddenly feeling like there was a leather strap bound around his chest. He could barely breathe. “Is he dead?"
Miyuki looked grey. She kneeled next to Itsuo's body and Raiden thought for a second that she might throw up. Shaking slightly, she ran her fingers down his arm before flinching away from the clammy touch of his skin. Her other hand pawed at the boy's sweater vest, pulling the fabric between her thumb and fingers. "I think so," she stuttered, broken and unsure.
Raiden resisted the urge to lay flat on his back, like he had before. He couldn't remember a time when he had been this exhausted. Blessed relief could be hours away, the danger wasn't over yet and Miyuki was far from a friend.
His fault, really.
He suppressed the urge to be sick. Cleansing himself in that way seemed almost appropriate. It was all pretty sickening.
"I hate this game," he groaned, flexing his fingers and hearing his bones crack. "It feels like I've been playing it forever."
"How long have you been playing?" Miyuki snapped, suddenly sounding disgusted.
For some reason Raiden was taken aback by the question, even though he should have expected it and perhaps prepared an answer. He gaped, visibly shocked until he offered the only words he could muster. After all, what good would lying do him now?
"Hrrrrgh," she groaned, eyes streaming in pain. "Raidennn."
Her breathing quickened as she tried unsuccessfully to get some air. The white fabric was already sodden and dripping. "Don't you die," he cried, pushing harder against the wound. "Don't you dare die on me."
"Since Mami died," he said simply, choking back tears. "I'm so tired... I just want to go home."
He was begging. He didn't even know who he was begging to, but his brain was crying out for mercy. From Miyuki, from the soldiers, from the great dictator and the watchful eyes of the population. He just wanted to go home... Why was that such a hard thing to do? It should be simple. Now it was impossible and Raiden's sixteen year old mind couldn't even begin to try and grasp why. The frustration and futility was painful enough for him to want to tear his heart out of his chest just to give himself an ending... some sort of conclusion to this bloody mess of violence and shame.
"I didn't expect it of you."
I didn't expect this.
"I didn't either."
Itsuo's body was still spread-eagled next to her, face down in the mud, neck sticking out at an abnormal angle. He'd done that. Three days ago it seemed an impossible thought. In the end he couldn't value another life above his own. He wondered what his brother would say if he knew; if he was watching. "I can't believe I killed him," he continued, tears streaming down his face now. "I-I never thought I would."
"Thank you, Rai," he murmured, embracing his best friend. He seemed sombre, almost anguished as he let go of Rai's shirt.
"What for?"
Itsuo gave him a wry smile, looking down at him through his long, auburn fringe. He brought his hand down on Rai's shoulder. "For keeping her safe."
Rai grinned, "Same to you."
"You didn't seem to have a problem doing it in the end," she said matter-of-factly, eyes narrowed in his direction, seeing him for what he truly was.
Murderer
Every muscle in his body screamed for him to run but he couldn't bring himself to do it. One way or another, only one of them was going to walk away. Running wasn't an option and the more Miyuki spewed her hypocrisy the more he felt like he should stay. He should and take his shot...
Shouldn't he?
A sudden burst of adrenalin sent his brain into overdrive. His veins throbbed in his temples and his heart beat out a furious rhythm. He didn't have to put up with this. He shouldn't have to... Not after everything. This was enough. Surely this must be enough.
He was on his feet in an instant, quick enough to startle Miyuki. Her grip on the MP7 tightened instinctively, knowing exactly what he was to her. It didn't matter what she said or how much better she was than him at being able to live up to expectations. He wasn't a friend to her, not for this minute or the next. He was an obstacle. A threat.
Raiden refused to give her the easy satisfaction that he had killed Itsuo out of spite, out of some underlying revenge for not knowing him nearly well enough.
"You should be happy," he snapped, enraged all of a sudden. How could she assume that he was so spiteful, so far gone that he enjoyed hearing the snap of his best friend's neck as his foot collided with bone. “I killed him-now you don’t have to. I did you a favor.”
It was true, in its simplest terms and yet as Raiden looked down at his friend's body with tears in his eyes, Itsuo Tateno's death felt like anything but a favour.
"I already told you!" he practically yelled, a foolish action considering the danger. "I didn't kill her."
"But you're going to kill me," Taichi sneered, eyes flickering to the gun in Raiden's shaky grip. "Aren't you?"
Miyuki looked like she'd been slapped in the face. "You should have done yourself a favour and shot me," she said defiantly, levelling the gun at his chest, certain of the upper hand she held in her bloody fingers. A misplaced confidence that could potentially lead to her undoing.
Was that the exit?
"You killed the wrong person."
Part of him wanted to demand an answer of her; was there even a right person? But he didn't, he couldn't. He still had an ace in the hole, a small revolver taken from Kaoru Ishibashi tucked into the waist band of his jeans. Was anything worth this?
He didn't hesitate.
Raiden didn't even blink as he pulled the gun out from behind his back. Miyuki's sharp intake of breath was easily audible, even at this distance. He felt sure he caught a flash of fear in her eyes, a second of doubt that he grasped and held on to. He was a threat to her. Miyuki Ishida needed a few home truths.
"You gave me the advantage," he said simply, watching the colour drain from her faltering poker face. "I took it."
"You manipulated me," she snapped, scrambling to her feet. Her voice was gradually rising to a higher pitch, almost hysterical. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
Triumph barely had meaning.
The only way he was going to beat her was to be smart. Raiden had never been great with smart, but something that might have been a stroke of intuition made him reach for the folded letters in his back pocket. Little squares of paper with eye-opening words Miyuki must have been eager to consume.
The papers floated to the earth like they were practically weightless, settling in the mud and absorbing the moisture enough to turn the paper a darker shade of yellow. All Miyuki had to do was reach down and take them, grasp for the truth that she must have been yearning for.
Take the bait.
"You made that choice on your own," Raiden said finally, watching her eyes flicker between his own and the discarded papers. He gestured towards them. "Everything I said was true, read it for yourself."
Miyuki didn't even deliberate. His stomach lurched, feeling foolish for even expecting her to. She was a seasoned player by now. She was a killer, just like he was and more importantly, she was far more intelligent. He froze, knowing for certain that he was the target. Knowing for certain that there wasn't a way out.
"It will be good for you, Raiden," he mumbled quickly, trying to fill the silence. "A guy at work called it the finest facility he's ever been to... Perfect for... uh, well... your type."
Raiden closed the folder with a snap. A gleaming picture of the school's lustrous gateway shone out brightly from the front cover. His bottom lip quivered. "I don't want to go."
"It doesn't matter who's lying to me anymore."
The urge to shoot her then was almost unquenchable. Another second ticked by, two, three... The MP7 seemed to be looming in his field of vision so much that soon it was everything he saw. A hand-held instrument of destruction.
But Raiden had a gun too. He felt like they both needed a form of emotional closure, something to convince himself once and for all that he wasn't the crazy one. He deserved this. She deserved this, didn't she? What was it that was keeping her going with severe drug withdrawal and a bullet lodged in her arm?
A delusion?
"That's another way of saying you can't face the truth," he retorted, surprised at how confident and calm he sounded. Even a slightly stressful situation at school was enough to produce a small stutter in his voice. Maybe he was finally rising to the occasion. Better late than never, he supposed. "Everyone deserves to win this game, even me."
Reality?
If Miyuki was surprised this time, she didn't show it. If she was scared or in pain, she didn't show it either. For a split second she seemed to look like she had always done, the same old Miyuki. She exuded total control, even if the control was only a fabrication. It was the illusion of control that made her as confident and self-assured as she was. Unlike Raiden, she was staying true to herself.
That was pretty scary.
"You're missing the point, Raiden."
He bit the inside of his cheek, finger caressing the trigger. He felt like he should say something. Some cool, cliché retort that might give him some form of closure before the girl half his size sunk seven bullets in his chest. Miyuki had always known how to make things go with a bang. She worked with cameras, she knew what the cameras wanted.
"We might all deserve to win," she continued after a pause, eyes narrowing; picking her shot. "But only one of us is going to."
He smiled.
"Got that right."
As Miyuki opened her mouth to try and redeliver a final verbal blow, Raiden reacted. He reacted and he smiled because after everything that had happened, it was going to end. Everything eventually had and ending.
And this was his.
"Shindou, over here!" a cry came up through the trees to his left. "I've found another one!"
Makoto reacted instantly, pushing his way through the dew-heavy under brush in the direction of the voice. An older guy stood in the clearing, dressed in an identical uniform to his own but for an extra stripe on the fatigue patch on his shoulder. He looked hardened and weary, the sign of a solider who had many years of combat under his belt.
At the man's feet, a mangled body lay spread-eagled in the mud. Makoto paled as he realised that the side of the body's head had been torn open from the ear. It looked for all the world that a wild animal had attack it, trying to feast on the inside of the shattered skull. Naturally, the child's torn, sailor-suit style uniform was drenched in blood at least twenty-four hours old.
The older soldier grunted, holstering his weapon and taking hold of the girl's wrists. "C'mon, grab the legs. The truck is back down the track a ways, I couldn't drive it through here with the mud this thick."
Makoto complied. It wasn't his job to be reluctant despite the fact that the situation visibly disgusted him. The girl was surprisingly light, probably easy enough for one of them to carry. It was only the unwillingness of the men to hold her mangled corpse too tightly and the mutual respect of each other that stopped the task from falling down to a single infantryman.
Neither of them spoke again until the girl's broken skull hit the sheet metal of the back of their pick-up truck.
It was kind of funny when he thought about it.
That simple, little click.
He hadn't even considered the possibility of the gun being empty. Despite the fact it didn't feel heavy in his grip, the idea of a misfire hadn't occurred to him. In that moment's pause Miyuki's eyes snapped open, wide and in total awe. She was alive and he was fucked. Simple is as simple does, after all. All it took was one mistake...
She exhaled suddenly, the air gushing between her teeth in a relieved laugh. She had a good reason to be happy, the entire situation had just reversed in the blink of an eye. She swayed on her feet only momentarily, her knees nearly buckling in sheer surprise. Raiden's eyes went wide, all the horror and desperation shining within. His mouth gaped, staring stupidly into Miyuki's smiling face. She was pale and sweaty, face spotted with blood and probably gravely ill. He didn't even have a chance to think how much of a mess he must look too.
Miyuki raised the gun and without so much as a breath or parting word, lacerated him from his thigh up to his stomach in a flurry of hot, smoking metal.
The pain was thick, intense and entirely unbearable. He watched in horror as his smooth, pink intestines tried to slide out of the hole in his stomach. Incredulously, Raiden's hand went to the wound and tried desperately to keep his insides inside. He groaned, stumbling backwards and catching the back of his heel on Itsuo's leg, landing in a heap next to his dead friend.
A friend he'd killed a few minutes before, a friend he'd hoped he'd outlive just a little longer.
He tried to suck in a breath but his lungs felt shredded and clogged with blood. A terrible rasping noise emanated from his throat. Miyuki looked down at him with something that could have been regret, although his vision was clouding over too fast for him to make out her expression any more. He could feel Itsuo's cold, dead fingers against his forearm.
You were so close.
He couldn't even see Miyuki now, it was getting dark. A grey sky fading to black.
"I..." he groaned. He felt like a hundred pound weight had settled on his chest. Breathing was unbearable, talking even more so. "I just wish..."
I just wish...
"Ugggh," he groaned in frustration, throwing his pencil down and running his hands through his hair. "Can't I just make a wish and have this all go away?"
"Just concentrate. Algebra is pretty easy once you get into the math-mindset," Miyuki sighed, looking up from her magazine. Itsuo sat across from her on the bed, playing video games on a small colour television. Their toes were almost touching.
Itsuo grinned without looking away from the screen. "At least you're halfway done," he offered. "I'm surprised you managed to get past the first question with Suzuka and Mai staring over your shoulder."
Raiden bit his lip, inwardly wincing at just the idea of the girl's screeching laughter. "I wish Sosuke would just tell them to go away."
Miyuki rolled her eyes. "He's your math tutor, Raiden," she sighed, poking Itsuo with her foot. "He's not your friend. He's not going to just tell his girlfriend to go away."
"Think positive," Itsuo offered, obviously not really paying attention to the conversation. Miyuki stifled a laugh, watching him stare intently at the television screen. He was hardly blinking. "You can do anything if you put your mind to it!"
The recent memories of his friend's deaths seemed to pop out of existence like fragile soap bubbles. His friends. Itsuo, Kentaro, Seikou, Raina... Mami... even Miyuki. Raiden was overcome with the urge to go to them and tell them in person.
It was time to go... and he really was sorry. About everything.
"I wish they would send me a note or something," Raiden mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady. "Or even a phone call. Just so I know they're getting my letters."
Matano sighed, idly pretending to be shuffling around in his desk drawer despite the fact Raiden know he kept nothing but pencil sharpeners and boxes of staples in there. He may not have be totally aware of the awkwardness of certain social situations but he could easily pick up the odd sense of discomfort coming from the old man. "There could have a been a problem with the post office," he offered. "There's no real way of knowing."
Raiden lowered his head, staring intently at the floor, determined not to let the teacher catch a glimpse of his face. He could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. His stomach felt empty, desperate for a warmth and comfort he knew was hundreds of miles away and in light of past events, totally unreachable.
Matano shifted in his seat, habitually shaking his head. "Your parents care about you," he mumbled, looking for all the world like he was going to pat the boy on the back.
"They don't," he cried suddenly, a strangled sob escaping through his lips. "They just don't."
Matano gave Raiden's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, although it did little to quell his emotional outburst. It was such a rare occurrence that even Raiden was surprised he wasn't able to suppress his emotions in an objectively low stress situation. He bit his lip to keep from crying with little luck and now he could taste blood mixed with tears on his tongue.
"Just give them time."
He couldn't even feel any part of his body now. He tried to move his fingers but found himself unable to even see his hands clearly. It was so dark. It hadn't been like this before. Why was it so dark all of a sudden? Wh-
"What's the matter, Raiden?" Kyousuke called. "Did you fall?"
He bit his lip to keep from crying, staring in shock at the trickle of blood that traced its way down his leg. "Yeahhh," he breathed, struggling to keep his voice steady. He wanted to put on a brave face and show his father he wasn't the type to be upset by a scraped knee. He was eight years old, too old to cry over such a minor injury. "Owww, I'm... I'm okay."
Kyousuke jogged over and kneeled next to his son, inspecting the wound thoughtfully. "It's just a scratch," he said with a smile, patting Raiden on the shoulder. "Nothing worth worrying about."
His eyelids felt heavy. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I'll just sleep right now, then when I wake up the sun will be up again.
Yes, the sun would be really nice right now.
"You really love this, don't you?" Itsuo inquired, slinging his aged bag over his shoulder.
"You've got to admit part of you loves the glory," he laughed. "Getting the opportunity to save people."
"I hate that hat," Raiden's younger brother said one evening, watching his brother pack. "It makes you look silly."
"Don't you dare splash me."
You're late," Raina smiled, still looking straight ahead.
"I know," he replied.
Huh?" he breathed, his voice choked and despairing. "What did you say?"
The younger Shindou also attempted to adjust his collar, probably in an attempt to copy his brother as Raiden was pretty sure his tie was attached with elastic.
"Why do people die?"
“You’re going to be just fine.”
"You like math?"
"I don't wear speedos!" he cried, throwing a sock at Kentaro. "I wear trunks, there's a difference. Anyway, that's besides the point."
"B-but I'm glad you're, uh, smiling again. You have a pretty smile, Mami."
"If you knew what I had done you would understand why I'm here."
"Now, the answer to question three... Raiden?"
"You know, Raiden..."
"Raiden! Time to get up!"
"Hey, Raiden. Did you study for the test?"
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Raiden Shindou?"
"Raiden..."
"...you would understand why I'm here."
"Raiden?!"
"Raiden."
I understand now.
Thank you.