Emi Sekiyama [H3-I4] Spectacle
In her school uniform, ready for the first day of Junior High School. The skirt is long, brushing the tops of the calf length socks that disappear into polished - for now - black shoes. She’s smiling, teeth caged up in braces, doing the Peace sign, eyes squinted against the sun glaring into them from behind the camera. The garden she’s standing in is immaculately kept.
The scribbled characters in a young hand on the back of the Polaroid read: ‘Today is a new beginning~’
She opened her eyes.
And instantly screwed them shut again, wincing and bringing a hand to her face, shielding it. For a confused, still half-asleep second in which she might still have been in bed woken by the sun, Emi Sekiyama was a calm and happy teenager, if sleepily ruffled by the lights glaring in her face.
As soon as she managed to open her eyes, that vanished in cold, bright lights and grey walls. She was lying next to Kiku Mori, a fact that only penetrated into her fuzzy consciousness by the huge stomach pointing at her. She was with her classmates. As she lifted her head a moment later, she took in slowly that they were all here, in this stark, steel room.
The bus trip. Nagano. It flooded back to her in a rush, but then only registered dimly at the end that this probably wasn't Nagano. Something was wrong.
They were all waking up now, maybe half of them sitting up, most of the rest at least awake. Pushing strands of hair out of her face with a shaking hand, she sat up, lights popping in front of her eyes and her head swimming momentarily. Her mouth, parched and feeling like her tongue might crack. Her legs trembling. For a moment, she thought she might be sick.
She sat up fully and looked around. She met eyes with first Kenji, then Hikaru - the girl’s moved away again instantly; a mere coincidence - Kouji - finally Keisuke. All looked as confused as she. Keisuke was mere feet away - but before she could make a move toward him-
“Welcome!” Emi gave a squeak of surprise and froze; she hadn’t even noticed the man standing at the front of the room. Odd looking, like a past-his-prime comedian; beady little eyes; moustache; horrific dress sense. He sounded like he was more excited than he’d been in years - somehow that made her shake.
Above him, a flicker little sign flashed the word APPLAUSE. Emi could have laughed, but her throat might just have cracked open.
The floor under her palms was growing slippery; she was sweating with nerves, the back of her neck damp with it. The feeling of something being decidedly wrong was as tangible a presence as the air itself. She was uneasy; they were all uneasy, shifting restlessly.
“Are… we on a game show?” The voice sounded young. By the time she looked around for the source, the speaker had been lost in the crowd.
“No, you are not!” It was a shout, raising the hair on her arms. “Well! Not your typical game show. Welcome to your class’s very own…”
The pause thickened the air - Emi’s heart was pounding.
“Battle Royale!”
And then it stopped.
- “It’s late. Why can’t these assholes kill each other in the middle of the day?”
“Because they suck. Shut up, they’re arguing! I wanna hear this.”
There’s the sound of either Taro or Kenji adjusting the phone pressed against his ear.
“ But… this is easier for you, isn’t it? You don’t have that many friends to care about.”
“Ouch,” Kenji mutters, and there’s the sound of him crunching on popcorn.
“You got popcorn?-“ Taro begins.
“Shut up!”
“Neither do you, now.”
There’s a pause of about two seconds.
Taro has clearly snorted into his drink, Kenji and Emi both yell out, “Oh, snap” at the same time and Keisuke cackles the word, “burn “.
“I love this show, you guys.” Emi grabs at one of Keisuke’s crisps and watches the two kids - one is about a foot taller than the other in what is shaping up to be the most hilarious showdown ever - square off, still arguing and still pointing guns at each other.
Emi’s mother is thankfully out - she knows full well that if her mother ever found out she was watching the real-time re-runs of the Programme, she’d… well, she’d rather be right there in the Programme than deal with that.
She grabs for the phone, turns up the volume on the loudspeaker and announces, “Bets on who’s going to take this?”
“I already know, it’s the g-“
“Then you can’t bet.”
“The girl,” Kenji says promptly. “That little runt beating the big guy? That’s great TV, guys.”
“The girl,” Keisuke says through a mouthful of food. “The guy’s gay.”
“Fine, I’ll bet on the guy,” Emi grabs a chocolate bar. “You all owe me a thousand if he wins.”
“No, we won’t.”
There’s a sudden movement from the screen, and then a series of cacophonous bangs and ticking, rattling sounds.
A pause. “Euw.”
“Gross.”
“You’ve got till school tomorrow. Pay up.”
Maybe an hour had passed. Maybe it had been three or four.
All Emi knew now was that according to the map she carried a trembling hand, which she couldn’t see through tear-filled eyes, she was in Zone J3. And the only reason she knew that was that she was standing in front of the Visitor’s Centre. Abandoned. Pitch black.
She had thrown away her high heeled shoes already and, with a sick thrill of fear had realised that had never heard them hit ground. She might have thrown them right off a cliff face and never noticed. Now she wore her flats and even they hurt her feet, every step throbbing.
Her hands and knees were scraped, her tights probably ripped; she had fallen over somewhere.
She didn’t think she had registered with reality yet. It was distant, didn’t seem like it could penetrate the dark, the thin, cold air of the mountain side.
She was too shocked to cry, only able to get as far as tears blindingly filling her eyes, making the light from the torch she’d been given swim and sway before her. She half walked, half stumbled to the entrance.
Maybe this was some kind of prank, like they pull for variety TV shows. She’d walk into the visitor centre and they’d laugh at her and jump out, and she would cry in sheer relief and they’d laugh more and she’d hit somebody.
Besides. She took a deep breath. The Programme was usually held in late spring to early summer. It was too early.
The collar around her neck was a cheap ploy to scare her. And yet…. Her hair was caught in it, stinging a little when she moved her head, and she didn’t dare try to pull it out.
The door was locked. She thumped it hard with a fist, but it bounced ineffectually off the glass.
And then-something beyond the glass, on the other side, a human shape making its way toward her, reaching toward her-
She screamed, backed away, dropping her torch - it rolled several feet and came to a stop, casting a dim, orange light over the space between herself and the door, and the short haired figure behind it waving its - empty - hands.
“It’s me!” The voice was muffled. Emi stared.
“Tatsutarou!”
She stared more, suddenly feeling quite stupid.
“I’m coming outside, okay? Wait there!”
And he disappeared.
She wanted to run, get away before he could come out and get her, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to move. She wanted company. She wanted someone there with her to help her pretend that this was some kind of huge hoax. That everything would be alright.
Just a day ago, she’d been a normal teenager.
Now she was a celebrity. Fancy that.
Standing on shaking feet and holding her retrieved flashlight to her chest, Emi, numb with shock and cold, stood on the unsteady rocks and waited.
((FIRST. \o/ I wanted to get something up and I wanted that NPC. Sue me.))