[day 1, 6:45am][marui, jackal @ d6] getting started
So. They were in the Program, a concept that took Bunta a surprisingly short time to accept. It happened; it sucked but it happened, and bitching and moaning wasn't going to change anything. After the introduction, Bunta mainly ignored the retard that seemed in charge of the place--WTF, everyone sold the Program as this ultra-hardcore shit, but if it was all run by dumbasses like this? Unfortunately, no one tried to test if the guns the guards had were really loaded or just plastic replicas or something, and Bunta sure as hell wasn't going to. This was why singles sucked, he muttered to himself. ...But he didn't want to go down that track now.
Instead, he wrote on the paper (a note to his little brother--"guess it worked out you weren't interested in tennis after all"), and spent the rest of the time thinking. Plotting really was Yanagi's department, but at least one of those Program bastards knew what they were doing--they'd taken out Rikkai's data man and their captain before the game'd even started. Had it been tennis, or anything like, there was no way that two of the three demons could ever be touched. And it made Bunta sad--pissed--they'd just gotten Yukimura back, and now-- Well. Now it was different.
More practically (and looking at the practical was something Bunta was good at, no matter what sorts of things Jackal complained about), if Yukimura wasn't there, then-- Well, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that without the other two, Sanada would take a huge hit. And without them, the type that always won... See, Bunta didn't do all that much losing himself, not against normal people. And the kids he saw displaying various degrees of fear sitting around the classroom seemed pretty normal to him. He was a genius. He didn't have anyone to distract him or bring him down, which gave him a hell of an advantage, he figured. He could beat them. He could win. He had to win. He would.
And so Bunta grabbed his bag from the government man, hurried past the fat dead kid, and moved out. He made it halfway down the hallway before he stopped. Think, Bunta--think about the chance that someone was hiding outside the school doors, picking kids off. It was probably pretty high--hell, that's what he would do if he was the first one out. Geez, Akaya might do it just for having nicked most of his fries last time they'd all gone out. Crazy little bastard, Bunta thought fondly, then stopped. There was no room for that sort of thought in the Battle Royale. It was every man for himself. And Bunta was smart--a genius, really--so he knew this, and he didn't spend long minutes contemplating or some other dumb shit, but instead nodded to himself and ducked down a side hall and into a dusty classroom.
Sunlight streamed through the windows--summer, so the sun would be high before long; if they were back home he'd be on his way to practice-- Anyway, he could get out through here. Bunta locked the door behind him, and sat against it, so that no one could slide it back open (without him knowing, anyway). Time to see the damage...
He sifted through the contents of his bags, keeping only what seemed completely necessary--flashlight, first aid kit, candy bars--and dumping the rest. Funny thing was, he couldn't find anything in there that really seemed weaponlike. The closest he got was a staple gun, with a handy-belt and holster. Well, wasn't that a bitch... Sighing and jamming a few pieces of apple-flavored gum in his mouth (sure it might smell, but he deserved it), he slung the holster around his waist, his bag over his shoulder, and walked over to the window.
It slid open with little resistance, and Bunta hopped up and jumped out--a 9.9 drop to the bushes below. ...Okay, maybe more of a 7.8, but nothing was broken, and who the hell was watching, he figured as he brushed leaves and twigs from his hair.
"Marui!" came a hiss from far too close beside him. Immediately, Bunta jumped (stumbled?) to the side, falling back into the bushes, raising one arm to guard and the other going for his stapler (except he'd fallen on it, damn but that hurt). His attacker was shadowed, the sun at his back, and shit, he wasn't ready yet--
Said attacker offered and hand, and as the sun passed behind a cloud, Bunta could finally see who it was--could finally register the familiar timbre of the voice. "Jackal?"
"Who else? Was waiting for you...thought you'd come from the front, though. --You okay there, partner?" Jackal said, concern written across his face. "You seemed pretty spooked."
"Don't just jump out of nowhere, then," Bunta snapped, his hand going to his heart. "I was about to kick you in the face," he informed, willing his heart rate to calm. "And the kidney." He still should, staple him right in those shiny teeth.
"Right, right," Jackal said in that infuriating tone that meant he was just humoring Bunta. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"And go home?" Marui asked, voice bitter.
"And...just get away for a bit. Okay?" Jackal crouched down, the effort to be strong and cheerful painfully obvious in his expression. "...I'll take care of you. You don't have to do this alone."
Oh please, not this. "Jackal, did you ever think--"
"Marui... I take care of defense, right? 'S why we're a good team." And he gave Bunta a hand up and didn't let go, leading him off with the sun at their backs. And maybe it was because it was early, or he was getting soft, or because for the most part they were a good team, Bunta let him.
...Well, damn.
[RESULTS:
Boy #14, Jackal Kuwahara - shaken, but unharmed.
Boy #24, Marui Bunta - annoyed and slightly bruised.
Both headed to the old hotel (E4).]