Haruki Masato. [H2-F2] Corner of the sky.
(OOC: Okay, my final (finally!) post. Approval by Shaun, and I kinda name-dropped people but if any problems with that then yeah, you know what to do. Sorry post is long but because it's a *~death~* post then kinda self-explaintionary really. Of course, I still be reading and I'm just glad I've managed to finish rather then npc or something. So hope you enjoy, sorry if you don't, and good luck guys! :D)
Although the rain was decreasing in it's quantity and power as the hours passed it still did not come to an complete stop. It rained and it rained. So much that the only sensation he could feel anymore was a numbness, followed by the occasional twitches. Either this weather or now his mind was the cause of that. He really couldn't tell anymore.
She could never again be able to tell him either.
Haruki staggered over the tip of a small crevice, nearly tumbling head-first. Somehow he regained himself, continuing on aimlessly like some lifeless ghoul. His skin, now a mix of light blue and pale white made the resemblance seem almost possible.
If he was capable to do so he would have seen the slowly descending globe of the evening sun in the distance. He would of admire and perhaps sense a loss of the way that the sun and rain could be brought together. It was one of those rare moments. The rain drops seem to actually reflect off the beams in a mystical fashion.
And yet did he care anymore?
Care... what could he care about now?
The urge to scream suppressed him, no distinguishable voice left to support him. Instead he pathetically cradled his head, his trembling fingers running through his wet hair.
-someonehelpme-
-feelgoingcrazy-
Mud and other unidentifiable sludge squashed under his soaked shoes, his thoughts rambled as if in static. Everything, just everything, felt even more surreal then before. He was trapped, forever having to indulge that guilt, that sheer realization. He couldn't hack it, he couldn't contemplate that he had killed someone, that-
She wasn't just someone though.
Violently shaking Haruki collapsed effortlessly onto his knees. His head burrowed over into his lap as if praying, yet his prayers was something never answered. Never no mercy. Just his whole experience here in this other dimension from the real world full of pain and fear and-
"a-haha..."
A gurgled whimper parted his lips. The only other sound he made since he stopped screaming. No-one had managed to locate and kill him bizarrely after he had done just that-ididntmeantodidntmeanto-and yet perhaps a part of him wanted someone to do so. After all there was no-one left alive that he cared about. Or in other words no-one left who cared about him.
So what did he have left to live for?
He knew now that, himself included, there was only ten students of the class left now. From a count of forty-five to ten. That's what the report had said. Something he had barely able to understand as he was screaming and running, as if hoping he reach somewhere where he could eventually be safe.
But here he stayed.
Maybe he wanted to been like one of those fireworks. The ten that had littered and exploded in the sky in some kind of inhumane congratulations for them reaching this far. Soar far into the sky just before disappearing on a high note, into a sparkle of symmetrical colours.
Away from all this.
But all he did was jump at each bang, crying louder then he had ever done before. He was still him, he still stayed as Haruki. A boy with no path. No chance to start over.
Out of the five people that died only one of them truly supported the fact that there was never no way to prevent any of it. You could only play. Win. And even then all the guilt and torment would just follow you like a bad omen. So maybe no, perhaps either way you faced it all. Except dying. Just like her.
Did he... help her then? Did he save her from all those bad trials she would have faced if she was still alive?
Murderer.
Yes. That's what he had become. No forgiveness. No pity or understanding for him. He had killed his best friend. How can there be any sympathy for him?
I didn't mean to though!
Stop trying to make excuses, you were wrong. So wrong.
Solemnly glancing up, maybe intentionally to look up at the downpour of the sky Haruki could see the large shape of a house not far in the distance. It seemed distinctive from the other buildings he had seen. Grand and seemingly in good condition. The back door was shut. No faces appeared at the numerous windows. There was even a balcony yet as quick as it seemed he concluded that the blurry figure moving indoors was just an figment of his messed-up imagination.
He could of approached the building, perhaps take shelter and rest for a bit inside if he really wanted to. Of course for him now that was out of the question. He deserved no such thing. So there he stayed, sitting under the seemingly endless rain, the ground as much as he wanted it to failing to swallow him up.
"Pl-please... I-I'm so... so-sorry. So... sorry..." Haruki started to cry, his hands bawling up into clenched fists. He was alone again. His fault. Stupid. No more faith. No more comfort or safety or anything. Their faces passed at a steady speed, dwindling into nothingness.
He had almost forgotten that there was cameras installed, spotting one standing neatly on the far corner of the house. It's lens seemed to focus in on him, as if there was something fascinating about watching him.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of people was staring at him now, all in the security of their own homes. And what would they think? Just him as some crazy boy, the one who killed 'that friend of his'.
That other world, as much as this 'game', was just as sickening.
Would his parents be part of that crowd though? Would they be watching him, distraught at what he had unintentionally done? As much as he had wished they wasn't he knew they was. He knew they could see him. But he would never see them again. Never tell them he was sorry for all the wrong things he done to them. Never hug or kiss or cry with them or just being happy. No, no-
Stopping those past memories his brain was transfixed on him now.
Some of his features was now slowly but surely becoming indescribable. Perhaps now he was actually forgetting what he looked like, the effects of time playing on him. Only two days had passed since that final time he clamped eyes with him-
-his hazel pupils widening a little, his mouth started to silently form words-
-and yet with so much other matters eating his senses it was affecting the things he wanted to remember. Only the bad remained with him. The unavoidable.
As simply as it was stated a fraction of his derailed mind remembered an event between them. Something that he thought he had let slip by. But no, it returned.
Are you that stupid!?
Yet why? Why only a bad memory?
About ten minutes quickly passed. He still hadn't moved though. Unbeknownst to him however he was rocking himself now, his stare locking onto nothing but the exploration of that time. He hardly registered the 6 am report, not taking in that there was no deaths to announce or the sounds of Mr. Takiguchi and Mrs. Hamaguchi fearful speeches.
He didn't even hear the squelch of a footstep behind him.
"Haruki..."
Immediately drawing the large knife from the sheath tucked in his belt Haruki faced the person, the blade facing defensively in the direction his head went.
Above him, about a meter away stood a boy. In one of his hands he held a silver revolver. Unlike him his clothes didn't seem as soaked as his, only mildly damp. He barely registered the back entrance door of the grand house was now ajar, obviously from where he's assailant had came from. His ginger fringe seemed almost glued to his forehead, just finishing above his eyesight. They was cold yet large, almost as if he was trying to put on a act of defiance.
The sound of another boy's voice then just his own now actually frightened him. The way it trailed off eerily, the way the vibrations of his deep serious voice made him feel totally vulnerable. And in a sense he was. He was the captured victim.
"Taro?"
Yet never did he imagine it would be by someone like Taro Hanazawa. The knife dropped from his weak grip with a soft splatter.
Taro. The popular guy.
It was him at one point in his previous life he could of considered a friend in some manner of speaking. He was a decent person to talk to at least. But now? Now did it even matter? It all came down to his own life or Taro's life in the end. Only one could get the chance to live. As he looked deep in his glazed eyes he could actually notice he was crying. And it wasn't his own sobbing he could hear. It was his.
Left defenseless he didn't even acknowledge the muzzle now pointed at his head, a trembling finger steadying over the trigger. Haruki blinked.
"Sorry," the boy bluntly spoke. It was still there.
"Huh...?" He didn't even know why he questioned it though. Quick and unbelievable as it was it was obvious what was happening. But he couldn't help but feel betrayed. He had paid hardly any thought to this guy until now. And now that he was here a tiny fraction of his mind wondered that maybe he was still someone he could help.
He wouldn't want it, he would know. No-one wanted his help after all.
Maybe no-one understood him either.
Time can either appear fast or slow. But right now how long had passed at them staring, just staring, at each other was unknown. He couldn't stand it though. The gun he was holding. Watching him. Just pointing at him, waiting for the right moment to fire, his life ending completely.
But didn't he know? His life as he had knew it had ended long ago. He prepared to stand up.
"Don't move," Taro whispered desperately, the air dragging his child-like voice towards him. He barely noticed it had stopped raining. The muzzle edged closer towards his neck, causing him reflexively to shrink back. "I'll kill you..."
Kill? Was he... capable of that? He didn't know if Taro had played -you've had. You've played- since the game began two days ago. He was frightened, yet he attempts to hide this with some kind of invisible cloak failed. He could see, he could so see the vulnerability in his eyes, leaking trails of sorrowful tears down his dirty cheeks.
"You'd really shoot me?" He could sense the sadness in his own voice.
"I wanna go home," Taro answered, almost resembling a plea. Home. The word sounded so... beautiful to him, yet it was so far out of reach. For him anyway. Taro was still just a boy, a boy. Like him. Just like him. And maybe... maybe the entire class was just children. Lost, desperate children. All wanting to go home to someone they cared about. To someone they loved. "I wanna go home more then anyone else."
Kyoko. Keitaro. All the others who had died. They would have wanted to go home too. 'How can you be so selfish?' he thought of asking. But no, he didn't. Because each one of them individually might have all thought the same thing. That they deserved to survive. That they wanted to go home more then anyone else. But everyone needs someone. Even if you think you don't. You just do.
"I... I love you. B-best friend."
"Haruki. I...you know I love you."
"They need me," he softly spoke, unaware now of Taro's presence and his gun looming over him. All he could see was them. Standing in separate shadows, far away from the light. They needed guidance. Was they alone? Did they need him?
I can't reach you!
"They can't do anything without me." How can I reach you? He could see her though. She was waving, ushering for him to come over. And so was he... but he's too overcome with darkness, only his outline barely making his sight.
Right then Haruki started to cry, his eyes casting into the distance of the sky ahead.
I-I tried looking for you! I wanted to see you, I really did. But I was too late...
"I didn't even get to speak to Keitaro before someone killed him." He didn't know if he was speaking to Taro or himself. His illusions didn't even cross his rambled mind that perhaps they was just some imaginary images he created. He just wanted them to hear him. He wanted to hold them and just forgive him for everything-
"Keitaro killed himself." A voice resonated through his hearing. Slowing bringing his head back up at Taro, his dreary expression piercing into him, his thought slowly disappeared into a blank space at realizing what words had escaped his lips.
No. "...What?"
Perhaps he should have pretended to ignore it. To deny ever hearing it. Because as Taro spoke the more the dreaded realization of what he was actually saying drawn upon him. "I heard Masakichi and Honami talking about him. They said he killed himself."
Ki-killed... himself. Lies. It had to be. Keitaro wouldn't have left him like that. He wouldn't have taken the easy way out. He just wouldn't. He was a fighter, a survivor, a-
"A-ha... no. Please, please, no..."
-a boy. Just a normal, wonderful boy that he loved. Loved.
"H-he can't have done. He loved me, he said he did!" Haruki was crying, weeping, confessing at Taro. He just stood there. Just stood, unsure what to do with himself. Yet the gun was still pointed at him. A gun shaking carelessly as if it was held by a child with a water pistol.
He didn't care though. Now he would never care. "And I loved him! H-he knew that..."
All this time he believed he had been killed. By one of his former classmates. But deep down he knew Keitaro could never be that easily taken. Not without a fight at least. But the truth-so he believed it was the truth now?-had been revealed to him. He couldn't see any reason why Taro would lie now, despite all this. Perhaps he could never know the answer why. Why the boy he cherished so much would choose to take a way out like that.
Unless...
"Have you... have you ever loved someone so much Taro that... that you would do almost anything for them?" Haruki suddenly asked casually, his tearful eyes gazing into Taro's own scared ones.
He didn't wait for an answer, continuing on relentlessly. "Well. Keitaro, Kyoko. Those were the only, the only, two people I would do as such for... but now there gone. They probably wanted me to live but... no. I-I'm sorry."
I'm so sorry. A tear dripped down his face. Breathing now felt so difficult. "I don't want to live here anymore."
He hardly registered that it had stopped raining. Only a distant wind picking up a single gunshot far from their location could be heard between the minutes of silence that had enveloped them. He didn't jump, not even a flinch. Let them play, he remembered thinking, I've already lost.
"I... I think I get it," Taro muttered, the actual meaning of his words sounding true to him. "But I can't stop now. I still wanna go home."
Smiling sadly Haruki nodded. "You do that then."
Grabbing the discarded knife off the ground without warning he was surprised Taro didn't shoot him. If he had been playing then he would have most likely won between them. One slash, one stab would all of it took. But of course he would have never done so.
The rubber handle was wet and clammy under his fingertips. His grasp was now firm though, his pupils forming the image of the long sharp blade. A part of him was frightened. A part of him hoped he do it right and quick, so he wouldn't feel any pain. He could have requested Taro to just pull that trigger right then. It wasn't his burden to do so though. He wanted to save him from the remorse.
"Ha-haruki... I'm sorry." Taro sobbed, just those two words somehow sounding so meaningful. The gun wasn't pointed at him anymore, now dangling uselessly by his side. He wanted to say one last thing to him back. Something to help him. Some reassurance.
"I'm sorry too."
The knife in both of his shaking but controlled hands now had the blade pointed directly towards his chest. "Y-you're a cool guy Taro. Thank you."
He didn't want him to look. Not like this. But before he could ask him to turn away Taro's saddened gaze was already facing in the opposite direction, his hunched back now only showing.
For some reason now he thought of the good people of class 2B. The ones who never deserved to die.
He thought of Kei Aihara as she ran back fearlessly into the bunker, being shot down before bringing the gun to her own head. He thought of Ryo Jo's cold body lying lifeless, a gaping bullet hole situated in the back of his neck. He thought of Fuuka Kuroki and Nobuko Kansui as they jumped from that cliff, their bodies entwined as they fell.
But maybe... maybe everyone actually didn't deserve to die. There had to be some good left in them, the people who turned to playing. After all: they had homes too.
They've had lives to live. They just wasn't given enough time to do so.
Haruki couldn't but cry then. A silent sob escaping his mouth, lips trembling.
Simultaneously the knife came up.
I may find the answers now.
"Live Taro." Wait for me. "Live."
I'm comming.
With one swift pull Haruki brought the blade back towards him.
As much as he hoped it took several minutes for Haruki Masato to die. Blood poured from his now broken heart, seeping over the blade lodged in him, forever stained with red. His last thoughts wasn't of his family, his friends, Taro or Class 2B at all. He was too concentrated on fighting the darkness that had engulfed him, heading boldly towards the light.
If he had managed to reach it no-one would ever know.
Although the rain was decreasing in it's quantity and power as the hours passed it still did not come to an complete stop. It rained and it rained. So much that the only sensation he could feel anymore was a numbness, followed by the occasional twitches. Either this weather or now his mind was the cause of that. He really couldn't tell anymore.
She could never again be able to tell him either.
Haruki staggered over the tip of a small crevice, nearly tumbling head-first. Somehow he regained himself, continuing on aimlessly like some lifeless ghoul. His skin, now a mix of light blue and pale white made the resemblance seem almost possible.
If he was capable to do so he would have seen the slowly descending globe of the evening sun in the distance. He would of admire and perhaps sense a loss of the way that the sun and rain could be brought together. It was one of those rare moments. The rain drops seem to actually reflect off the beams in a mystical fashion.
And yet did he care anymore?
Care... what could he care about now?
The urge to scream suppressed him, no distinguishable voice left to support him. Instead he pathetically cradled his head, his trembling fingers running through his wet hair.
-someonehelpme-
-feelgoingcrazy-
Mud and other unidentifiable sludge squashed under his soaked shoes, his thoughts rambled as if in static. Everything, just everything, felt even more surreal then before. He was trapped, forever having to indulge that guilt, that sheer realization. He couldn't hack it, he couldn't contemplate that he had killed someone, that-
She wasn't just someone though.
Violently shaking Haruki collapsed effortlessly onto his knees. His head burrowed over into his lap as if praying, yet his prayers was something never answered. Never no mercy. Just his whole experience here in this other dimension from the real world full of pain and fear and-
"a-haha..."
A gurgled whimper parted his lips. The only other sound he made since he stopped screaming. No-one had managed to locate and kill him bizarrely after he had done just that-ididntmeantodidntmeanto-and yet perhaps a part of him wanted someone to do so. After all there was no-one left alive that he cared about. Or in other words no-one left who cared about him.
So what did he have left to live for?
He knew now that, himself included, there was only ten students of the class left now. From a count of forty-five to ten. That's what the report had said. Something he had barely able to understand as he was screaming and running, as if hoping he reach somewhere where he could eventually be safe.
But here he stayed.
Maybe he wanted to been like one of those fireworks. The ten that had littered and exploded in the sky in some kind of inhumane congratulations for them reaching this far. Soar far into the sky just before disappearing on a high note, into a sparkle of symmetrical colours.
Away from all this.
But all he did was jump at each bang, crying louder then he had ever done before. He was still him, he still stayed as Haruki. A boy with no path. No chance to start over.
Out of the five people that died only one of them truly supported the fact that there was never no way to prevent any of it. You could only play. Win. And even then all the guilt and torment would just follow you like a bad omen. So maybe no, perhaps either way you faced it all. Except dying. Just like her.
Did he... help her then? Did he save her from all those bad trials she would have faced if she was still alive?
Murderer.
Yes. That's what he had become. No forgiveness. No pity or understanding for him. He had killed his best friend. How can there be any sympathy for him?
I didn't mean to though!
Stop trying to make excuses, you were wrong. So wrong.
Solemnly glancing up, maybe intentionally to look up at the downpour of the sky Haruki could see the large shape of a house not far in the distance. It seemed distinctive from the other buildings he had seen. Grand and seemingly in good condition. The back door was shut. No faces appeared at the numerous windows. There was even a balcony yet as quick as it seemed he concluded that the blurry figure moving indoors was just an figment of his messed-up imagination.
He could of approached the building, perhaps take shelter and rest for a bit inside if he really wanted to. Of course for him now that was out of the question. He deserved no such thing. So there he stayed, sitting under the seemingly endless rain, the ground as much as he wanted it to failing to swallow him up.
"Pl-please... I-I'm so... so-sorry. So... sorry..." Haruki started to cry, his hands bawling up into clenched fists. He was alone again. His fault. Stupid. No more faith. No more comfort or safety or anything. Their faces passed at a steady speed, dwindling into nothingness.
He had almost forgotten that there was cameras installed, spotting one standing neatly on the far corner of the house. It's lens seemed to focus in on him, as if there was something fascinating about watching him.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of people was staring at him now, all in the security of their own homes. And what would they think? Just him as some crazy boy, the one who killed 'that friend of his'.
That other world, as much as this 'game', was just as sickening.
Would his parents be part of that crowd though? Would they be watching him, distraught at what he had unintentionally done? As much as he had wished they wasn't he knew they was. He knew they could see him. But he would never see them again. Never tell them he was sorry for all the wrong things he done to them. Never hug or kiss or cry with them or just being happy. No, no-
Stopping those past memories his brain was transfixed on him now.
Some of his features was now slowly but surely becoming indescribable. Perhaps now he was actually forgetting what he looked like, the effects of time playing on him. Only two days had passed since that final time he clamped eyes with him-
-his hazel pupils widening a little, his mouth started to silently form words-
-and yet with so much other matters eating his senses it was affecting the things he wanted to remember. Only the bad remained with him. The unavoidable.
As simply as it was stated a fraction of his derailed mind remembered an event between them. Something that he thought he had let slip by. But no, it returned.
Are you that stupid!?
Yet why? Why only a bad memory?
- His bedroom always seemed pretty cool to him. It had a nice mix of dark and light colours, mainly consisting of blue. There was a bit of clutter here and there but basically the bookshelf and his other personal belongings were all fairly organized. At least this was an example of their alikeness.
Haruki sat timidly on the corner of his bed, his fingers fiddling nervously in his lap. Maybe it was because he had never spent this much time in his room before. And perhaps the other, the more secretive of his emotions, was actually the reason why he was here.
The more he thought about it the more agitated he got. He had spent enough time dwindling over it, trying to grab the best opportunity to tell him. And now that he had... he kind of regretted it.
The soft creaking of a door opening behind him detached him from his thoughts, shifting the upper half of his body towards the sound. He smiled weakly as he immediately recognized the person entering, holding a plain-looking tray full of various food.
"Hungry?" Keitaro grinned, closing the door gently behind him with one hand. The tray didn't even shake. "I hope you are otherwise I'm going to eat all this."
Even though he actually had no appetite he found himself agreeing to share some with him as soon as he leant in for a kiss, the warm tingle of his lips against his own.
There was always something daring about doing it, no matter how much privacy they had. Even though Keitaro had a lock on his bedroom door and already giving his mother a story of them 'just playing games and maybe watch some films' it was always a risk. A truthfully fun one but still. He wished it didn't have to feel this way.
Maybe... just maybe it didn't.
"Kei..." Haruki mumbled, hesitant at first if he should disturb him eating his bowl of sushi. He glanced up, his defined facial features looking sweet even now. His intentional question got stuck in his throat, quickly changing to a more neutral one. "So is it just your mum in?"
"Yep," he nodded, shifting to a more relaxed position on his bed, his head resting against one of his pillows. "Didn't I tell you already my brother was staying out this weekend?"
Haruki have never met his brother, supposedly according to Kei that he was 'a bit of a workaholic and a bit of a jerk'. But he had already knew Keitaro's answer anyway. Stop trying to bide time.
"I think so, yeah..."
Keitaro's expression seem to change into curiosity. "You alright? You been acting funny since you've arrive. Told you, don't have to worry."
"No, it's not really that. It's just I-I think..." You know she does. Tell him. "someone... someone knows..."
The clatter of his metal spoon against the bowl rang shivers up his spine. "What? Know what?"
"A-about... no, not about us," Haruki immediately proclaimed, seeing how he his eyes suddenly became larger with worry. "But... but more me."
"Well, what is it?"
About ten minutes quickly passed. He still hadn't moved though. Unbeknownst to him however he was rocking himself now, his stare locking onto nothing but the exploration of that time. He hardly registered the 6 am report, not taking in that there was no deaths to announce or the sounds of Mr. Takiguchi and Mrs. Hamaguchi fearful speeches.
He didn't even hear the squelch of a footstep behind him.
"Haruki..."
Immediately drawing the large knife from the sheath tucked in his belt Haruki faced the person, the blade facing defensively in the direction his head went.
Above him, about a meter away stood a boy. In one of his hands he held a silver revolver. Unlike him his clothes didn't seem as soaked as his, only mildly damp. He barely registered the back entrance door of the grand house was now ajar, obviously from where he's assailant had came from. His ginger fringe seemed almost glued to his forehead, just finishing above his eyesight. They was cold yet large, almost as if he was trying to put on a act of defiance.
The sound of another boy's voice then just his own now actually frightened him. The way it trailed off eerily, the way the vibrations of his deep serious voice made him feel totally vulnerable. And in a sense he was. He was the captured victim.
"Taro?"
Yet never did he imagine it would be by someone like Taro Hanazawa. The knife dropped from his weak grip with a soft splatter.
Taro. The popular guy.
It was him at one point in his previous life he could of considered a friend in some manner of speaking. He was a decent person to talk to at least. But now? Now did it even matter? It all came down to his own life or Taro's life in the end. Only one could get the chance to live. As he looked deep in his glazed eyes he could actually notice he was crying. And it wasn't his own sobbing he could hear. It was his.
Left defenseless he didn't even acknowledge the muzzle now pointed at his head, a trembling finger steadying over the trigger. Haruki blinked.
"Sorry," the boy bluntly spoke. It was still there.
"Huh...?" He didn't even know why he questioned it though. Quick and unbelievable as it was it was obvious what was happening. But he couldn't help but feel betrayed. He had paid hardly any thought to this guy until now. And now that he was here a tiny fraction of his mind wondered that maybe he was still someone he could help.
He wouldn't want it, he would know. No-one wanted his help after all.
Maybe no-one understood him either.
- "Are you that stupid!?"
Haruki found himself speechless, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He didn't understand. Wasn't it a good thing? "W-what? I thought-"
"No, you didn't think anything!" Keitaro continued angrily, a vile bitterness in the harsh words that escaped his seemingly uncontrollable mouth, "Not one little thought about it! Don't you understand what could have happened?"
"How can you say that? Of course I thought it over!" he found himself suddenly snapping back, the way Keitaro relentlessly insulted him becoming too much to listen to. "I been thinking it over for months now!"
"You clearly haven't! You don't know how she would have reacted. She could have told your dad or kicked you out or-"
Shut up.
"But she didn't!" Haruki was almost shouting now, the gap between them growing much wider as he edged closer towards the bedroom door. "I-I know my own mum! She wouldn't have done anything like that!" Wouldn't she? No, he was right. They may now talk less but time's a great healer. She just needs time. "She just wants the best for me."
"So being gay in her book be the best thing for you then?" Keitaro instantly answered back, the sarcasm drooling in his words. "No, for any parent it's the last thing they want. Don't you see? People like us are not allowed, they can't just go around telling everyone!"
"...so that's what you want to be? A secret?" He received no immediate answer this time, only a low mutter under his breath. "You want to hide away your true feelings and pretend to be something else?"
People like us. They was that different? He fully knew how the country opposed to them. And that's why it should stop. He didn't want to live his life a lie, he didn't want to have to feel that what he is was wrong. Even it meant leaving the country to do so, he just wanted to be himself. For so long now. And every time he more or less asked Keitaro about it he always noticed he tried to avoid the question, changing the subject as quickly as that. So...
"Y-you're... you're a coward then."
"No," Keitaro whispered, his saddened eyes locking with his. "no, I'm just playing smart. People can't, they just can't find out. It's... how it's gotta be."
"Well, it shouldn't be."
Both their gaze started to drift towards the floor, perhaps now counting the cracks in the floorboard. Or just pondering who really was right.
"I should go," Haruki eventually concluded, hastily picking up his bag off from the floor. "Think it may be for the best if I did."
"Haruki..."
"Goodbye." Water lingering his eyes Haruki placed his hand on the cool doorknob. "I'm sorry you don't feel the same way."
With that said he left, his grasp holding back the tears releasing as he hurried down the stairs.
Time can either appear fast or slow. But right now how long had passed at them staring, just staring, at each other was unknown. He couldn't stand it though. The gun he was holding. Watching him. Just pointing at him, waiting for the right moment to fire, his life ending completely.
But didn't he know? His life as he had knew it had ended long ago. He prepared to stand up.
"Don't move," Taro whispered desperately, the air dragging his child-like voice towards him. He barely noticed it had stopped raining. The muzzle edged closer towards his neck, causing him reflexively to shrink back. "I'll kill you..."
Kill? Was he... capable of that? He didn't know if Taro had played -you've had. You've played- since the game began two days ago. He was frightened, yet he attempts to hide this with some kind of invisible cloak failed. He could see, he could so see the vulnerability in his eyes, leaking trails of sorrowful tears down his dirty cheeks.
"You'd really shoot me?" He could sense the sadness in his own voice.
"I wanna go home," Taro answered, almost resembling a plea. Home. The word sounded so... beautiful to him, yet it was so far out of reach. For him anyway. Taro was still just a boy, a boy. Like him. Just like him. And maybe... maybe the entire class was just children. Lost, desperate children. All wanting to go home to someone they cared about. To someone they loved. "I wanna go home more then anyone else."
Kyoko. Keitaro. All the others who had died. They would have wanted to go home too. 'How can you be so selfish?' he thought of asking. But no, he didn't. Because each one of them individually might have all thought the same thing. That they deserved to survive. That they wanted to go home more then anyone else. But everyone needs someone. Even if you think you don't. You just do.
"I... I love you. B-best friend."
"Haruki. I...you know I love you."
"They need me," he softly spoke, unaware now of Taro's presence and his gun looming over him. All he could see was them. Standing in separate shadows, far away from the light. They needed guidance. Was they alone? Did they need him?
I can't reach you!
"They can't do anything without me." How can I reach you? He could see her though. She was waving, ushering for him to come over. And so was he... but he's too overcome with darkness, only his outline barely making his sight.
Right then Haruki started to cry, his eyes casting into the distance of the sky ahead.
I-I tried looking for you! I wanted to see you, I really did. But I was too late...
"I didn't even get to speak to Keitaro before someone killed him." He didn't know if he was speaking to Taro or himself. His illusions didn't even cross his rambled mind that perhaps they was just some imaginary images he created. He just wanted them to hear him. He wanted to hold them and just forgive him for everything-
"Keitaro killed himself." A voice resonated through his hearing. Slowing bringing his head back up at Taro, his dreary expression piercing into him, his thought slowly disappeared into a blank space at realizing what words had escaped his lips.
No. "...What?"
Perhaps he should have pretended to ignore it. To deny ever hearing it. Because as Taro spoke the more the dreaded realization of what he was actually saying drawn upon him. "I heard Masakichi and Honami talking about him. They said he killed himself."
Ki-killed... himself. Lies. It had to be. Keitaro wouldn't have left him like that. He wouldn't have taken the easy way out. He just wouldn't. He was a fighter, a survivor, a-
- "Haruki! Telephone!"
Slowly easing himself down the banister Haruki took the receiver from his father hand, forcing himself to pull a small smile across his face. "Think it's your friend."
"Who?" Haruki questioned curiously. It couldn't have been Kyoko, she was almost like part of the family after all. No way would his dad refer to her so bluntly. And it couldn't have been him... so who else?
"Well speak to him and you'll find out."
Him? Hiding his puzzlement he watched his father, a broad newspaper slung under his arm, leave the hallway completely before speaking himself. "H-hello?"
"Haruki, hi."
"Oh..." So it was him. "Why-"
"Please, let me just say what I need to say first," Keitaro's voice calmly interrupting him, "I'll say it quick."
A week it had been since that time. And a week of depression, guilt and tears. All having to be hid from everyone else. But if there was a chance to resolve then maybe... maybe now was the time. "I'm listening."
"Well I'm... I'm basically sorry, okay? About all that." he spoke sincerely, his whisper a sound that perhaps he had missed. "I... I'm concerned for you. Don't want you to go through any shit because of it. And I'm scared, I admit that. Sacred we're be found out. Scared I be found out. My mom wouldn't take it so easily then yours."
Easily? His mother and him had hardly exchanged words since then, only when it was necessary. But his father remained oblivious. He was hardly around because of work (the only day today he just took a break) so maybe that was why. But that was good, that's how he wanted it to remain. And maybe... maybe he kinda did get now Keitaro's outburst.
"I understand." He found himself now smiling genuinely. "I'm glad you called."
"Look, uh, would you like to come round? We can talk more about it here." Keitaro suggested, an almost plea lingering in his voice. "I've missed you..." A pause ensured.
"Haruki. I... you know I love you."
"L-love?"
Love.
"A-ha... no. Please, please, no..."
-a boy. Just a normal, wonderful boy that he loved. Loved.
"H-he can't have done. He loved me, he said he did!" Haruki was crying, weeping, confessing at Taro. He just stood there. Just stood, unsure what to do with himself. Yet the gun was still pointed at him. A gun shaking carelessly as if it was held by a child with a water pistol.
He didn't care though. Now he would never care. "And I loved him! H-he knew that..."
All this time he believed he had been killed. By one of his former classmates. But deep down he knew Keitaro could never be that easily taken. Not without a fight at least. But the truth-so he believed it was the truth now?-had been revealed to him. He couldn't see any reason why Taro would lie now, despite all this. Perhaps he could never know the answer why. Why the boy he cherished so much would choose to take a way out like that.
Unless...
"Have you... have you ever loved someone so much Taro that... that you would do almost anything for them?" Haruki suddenly asked casually, his tearful eyes gazing into Taro's own scared ones.
He didn't wait for an answer, continuing on relentlessly. "Well. Keitaro, Kyoko. Those were the only, the only, two people I would do as such for... but now there gone. They probably wanted me to live but... no. I-I'm sorry."
I'm so sorry. A tear dripped down his face. Breathing now felt so difficult. "I don't want to live here anymore."
He hardly registered that it had stopped raining. Only a distant wind picking up a single gunshot far from their location could be heard between the minutes of silence that had enveloped them. He didn't jump, not even a flinch. Let them play, he remembered thinking, I've already lost.
"I... I think I get it," Taro muttered, the actual meaning of his words sounding true to him. "But I can't stop now. I still wanna go home."
Smiling sadly Haruki nodded. "You do that then."
Grabbing the discarded knife off the ground without warning he was surprised Taro didn't shoot him. If he had been playing then he would have most likely won between them. One slash, one stab would all of it took. But of course he would have never done so.
The rubber handle was wet and clammy under his fingertips. His grasp was now firm though, his pupils forming the image of the long sharp blade. A part of him was frightened. A part of him hoped he do it right and quick, so he wouldn't feel any pain. He could have requested Taro to just pull that trigger right then. It wasn't his burden to do so though. He wanted to save him from the remorse.
"Ha-haruki... I'm sorry." Taro sobbed, just those two words somehow sounding so meaningful. The gun wasn't pointed at him anymore, now dangling uselessly by his side. He wanted to say one last thing to him back. Something to help him. Some reassurance.
"I'm sorry too."
The knife in both of his shaking but controlled hands now had the blade pointed directly towards his chest. "Y-you're a cool guy Taro. Thank you."
He didn't want him to look. Not like this. But before he could ask him to turn away Taro's saddened gaze was already facing in the opposite direction, his hunched back now only showing.
For some reason now he thought of the good people of class 2B. The ones who never deserved to die.
He thought of Kei Aihara as she ran back fearlessly into the bunker, being shot down before bringing the gun to her own head. He thought of Ryo Jo's cold body lying lifeless, a gaping bullet hole situated in the back of his neck. He thought of Fuuka Kuroki and Nobuko Kansui as they jumped from that cliff, their bodies entwined as they fell.
But maybe... maybe everyone actually didn't deserve to die. There had to be some good left in them, the people who turned to playing. After all: they had homes too.
- "Remember to bring all belongings necessary for tomorrow please! And don't be late!"
Mr. Takiguchi's last sentence seemed to be swept away by the bustling chatter of Class 2B. Low boyish laughter and shrill girly gasps filled the entire classroom, even making it hard for himself to think straight. Chairs scrapping the floor simultaneously, numerous boys and girls stood up, adjusting their bags or chatting to one another as they headed towards the door.
Haruki took his time, stuffing a piece of paper filled with a list of reminders into his bag. He hadn't, he admit, thought much of the trip up to now. It was the first time though he recalled that there class had gone somewhere further from Odaiba then just to the local museum. So perhaps he could give it some thought at least.
But he had other issues to think about, other typical teenage worries to ponder. A history study trip was the least of his problems.
Looking casually around Haruki spotted the usual group of Taro, Keisuke, and the two class representatives Emi and Kenji standing near the doorway. They was obviously chatting amongst themselves, an occasional gust of laughter escaping from them. Grinning, giving each other a friendly push. They stood out as one of the most obvious group of friends.
Nice...
Then again, ironically, situated in the far corner of the classroom near the window was a group of girls. He could only spot the neutral faces of Mimiko and Kei but he knew who the whole clique was by now, bathing in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the window pane. Slightly hyper but a friendly group of friends. They was good girls.
Tsukiko walked by him, holding a folder close to her chest. Kiku, her open palm resting on the risen part of her stomach, was giggling nearby at something Yuya had said. Kazuhiro was discussing something with Mr. Takiguchi by the front desk. Yuuji was helping Yuu pick up a pen he dropped off the floor.
Everyday things.
Everyday things he saw these people do. He never took them really into account, even though they have been classmates for about two years now. But he could tell there was some really good people. Good people he never got around to knowing.
Maybe this trip would helped with that. He hoped so.
"You ready?"
Turning towards the husky voice Haruki nodded at Keitaro, who had been talking with Atsuo nearby about something to do with sports. Typical.
"Yeah, let's get going."
Leaving the classroom together, as they entered the corridor Haruki felt a tap on his shoulder, "Hey, you weren't going to forget about me were you?"
"Oh how could I possibly ever!"
Sighing impatiently, Kyoko waved a goodbye oddly to Eizo who stood alone by the lockers. Weird.
As they left the school, neither of them knew that it would be the last time they experience an normal day like today. The same for spoke for the rest of Class 2B. Those everyday things now vanishing from their young lives in a blink of an eye. And they would never see it coming.
They've had lives to live. They just wasn't given enough time to do so.
Haruki couldn't but cry then. A silent sob escaping his mouth, lips trembling.
Simultaneously the knife came up.
I may find the answers now.
"Live Taro." Wait for me. "Live."
I'm comming.
With one swift pull Haruki brought the blade back towards him.
- The dials of the old grandfather clock was approaching close to 12 pm. It's familiar chime would be the moment they would know if their son was still alive.
Atsuma Masato though had already predicted the outcome. Standing in the doorway, he looked over at his wife. Motionless, Ayumi continued to stare at the television screen. She sat straight up on the sofa, giving almost off her persona of perfection and maturity. But her once usually tidy hair was now an complete mess, wearing clothes that was now crumpled. An shadow almost of her former self.
"You need rest." he spoke, his dreary voice sounding somewhat mystical yet odd in the still surroundings. "You've haven't slept since..."
"No," Ayumi vaguely answered, not turning to look at home. "I don't need it."
"You do, you know you do."
"I said no." The fierceness in her tone was disturbing.
Sitting down next to her Atsuma attempted to take her hand into his own. As soon as he made contact she slapped it away harshly. "Just leave me alone!"
"I care about him too! I'm not the only parent here suffering Ayumi" Atsuma angrily responded, just hoping, praying, that she would just look in his eyes. She didn't.
He could feel tears prick them. Tears he hadn't experienced for a long time. Working so much, he had no need for such emotions. But now when they came he hated it. The weakness. What he would be perceived by others. So he went somewhere alone after hearing the news, kept driving to goodness knows where until he decided to return. Decided to confront the truth that his son was in the program, a place he was most likely to die.
He knew a part of Ayumi had died too. And maybe now, now it was the same for him.
"You don't know him like I know him," she suddenly spoke coldly, as if hoping her words would be daggers to him. "You've never had since you started working... you missed him growing up. You missed experiencing that with me. Being proud of our son. Now..."
"Stop. Please stop."
"...now you will never. You've missed your chance."
Crying frantically the chime of the clock struck twelve.
As much as he hoped it took several minutes for Haruki Masato to die. Blood poured from his now broken heart, seeping over the blade lodged in him, forever stained with red. His last thoughts wasn't of his family, his friends, Taro or Class 2B at all. He was too concentrated on fighting the darkness that had engulfed him, heading boldly towards the light.
If he had managed to reach it no-one would ever know.
Boy #19 Haruki Masato, dead.
6 to go.