#aod2 starter

It was early evening when she knocked at the door of Kousuke's room, looking around warily for passers by. It wasn't like she had anything to hide, per se, but she would rather keep their two-person resistance as low key as possible for as long as they could. All else aside, she couldn't be bothered with dealing with the inane gossip that could possibly spring as a result. Keeping a secret from Aku-chan was impossible, especially in this period of exposure, but she'd still rather not broadcast anything.

She began to tap her foot impatiently, sharply rapping on the door. What if he wasn't there? Katsumi really didn't feel like going on a random chase around three islands. But at the same time, she felt as though postponing this meeting any later would be a bad idea. She had to do this as soon as possible, regardless of the practicality.

Fortunately for her, the door opened and she recognised, fortunately enough, that the one opening it was a sprinter and not a gravure idol. Relief flashed across her face before being replaced with businesslike seriousness, However, her wringing of her hands betrayed her nerves, and she spoke with a hasty tone.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack

The sound was constant and unfaltering in its rhythm, sans the brief pause here and there. Just hearing her heels against the bathroom tiles in an otherwise deafening silence was enough to give Katsumi a horrendous headache, mixing with her thoughts to form a complex concoction that she was struggling to separate into its individual components.

Even though every rational part of her mind knew that it was counterproductive, she could feel herself growing frenzied as she continued to pace the locked bathroom, wringing her hands. She'd been losing grip a lot more than usual lately, and it was beginning to be a problem, like when she'd- no, no, she had something more important to focus on.

This was different, however, because for the first time Katsumi felt personally vulnerable. Of course, the secret of Jin's yakuza past being blown out of the water would theoretically be cause for him to try and clean up his act, put forward an image of innocence. She should have been satisfied that she finally knew the secret that had been so frustratingly elusive, and yet all she could seem to think of were worst case scenarios. He could become paranoid and think that they were after him, that she was out for his blood, and decide to strike first; or maybe he would snap if she brought up the subject, and he would act on impulse; or perhaps somebody would decide to 'deal justice' and kill him, only to frame- he hated her, loathed her, and she couldn't help but think of just how easy it would be for him to kill her.

Katsumi caught sight of herself in the mirror. Somewhere along the line in the midst of her thoughts she had managed to smudge her mascara, and now a charcoal smear had been spread across one eye. Seeing this, Katsumi forced herself to start breathing regularly again. She could do make-up, but she'd need a steady hand - no point getting hysterical then, was there?

She would only work upon fact. Fact number one: Jin Suzumiyatake was from a yakuza family. Fact number two: he had suffered dismemberment at the hands of his own father for some great mistake. Fact number three: he was her roommate.

The beauty queen had to keep calm. That was key. Rationally speaking, she had nothing to fear. Jin was not a complete idiot and knew the implications that his past had. Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to stir up conflict so soon after the reveal.

"No..."

This was a dream - a nightmare, surely. Just some horrible little dream right? He'd wake up soon and it would be gone. But he blinked and it was still there - minutes passed and it was still there.

Staring him dead in the face was the one thing he'd spent most of his life avoiding, forgetting.

"N-No, no, no, no, NO!" He muttered to himself frantically.

He'd been in the cafeteria. Found himself a quiet little table where he could eat in peace (the usual hectic bonding lunchtime dynamic in the real world nowhere to be found in this circus). At the announcement however he left - immediately. He couldn't be caught by anybody, not when he was like this - so frantic and nervy... But more importantly - so mad. The things he might say in this state... No, he just couldn't be caught, that's all. Easy - he'd just find somewhere to hide while he composed himself...

But he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he neglected to hear the footsteps approaching, and after rounding a hallway - he unfortunately came face to face with someone and stopped dead. 

"...WHAT-!?" He snapped at the person, hardly even paying attention to who it was. 

"Ah."

Well what else can you say? This is, how you say, a dilly of a pickle. Of course, it's not a big deal, not really. He's kept it a secret, sure, but it's been for a good reason. So he lied about the amnesia, that shouldn't be too big a deal, right?

There was no point in attempting to leave this place even though he found the room rather drab. No doubt someone would have a question for him and unfortunately, he always had a rather real fear that things would turn physical. One always had to be on their guard for physical violence. He'd already been punched by Red even if that had mostly been reflex. Nagisa would rather not repeat that experience and yet, he still fully expected to at some point or another.

"I don't need the cards to tell me you want to have a word with me." he says out of the blue when he hears footsteps near his seat on the table. He tosses his head back, grinning, seemingly as chipper and unbothered as ever.

The world seems different under the blanket of nightfall. Perhaps it's more serene or perhaps it's scarier, maybe a mixture of both. Whatever it is, it's something Nagisa quite likes. A lot. That's nothing new, though, he likes a lot of things some things even of a suspect or odd nature. He stares up at the sky, as if hoping to find something. Maybe a shooting star? That would be nice. Shooting stars were never as amazing in real life as they were in fiction, though. Not unless everything was just so. You had to consider everything, from the clouds to the distance to even perhaps having equipment. Chinatsu surely would've known more about that. How strange he'd think about her now. He should've talked to her. Maybe it wouldn't have changed the world but if they'd spoken he'd at least know something about her. Everyone died, after all. It didn't matter if a death was painful or a life short, it always happened, whether you expected it or not. Which meant a lot of the time all you had were memories. Well. He guessed he just he had more memories of her. A team mate and probably a good person. It's sad how things end sometimes. It's still strange not having Red around.

On top of the roof of the mysterious building he's content to just survey the area, like a little gargoyle statue if gargoyle statues were pink. It is when he's doing this little watch of his that he sees someone walking by and blinks. Someone out this late?

Oh sure, he could understand being out late himself, that was him, that was Nagisa - he'd never really been conventional and he liked the night time. There'd never been anything for him to be afraid of in the dark either, really. So who else had little fear for the dark? Or perhaps, who else had something to do that couldn't wait until the morning.

He squints into the gloom and then makes a knowing sort of 'aha' sound, nodding without realising it. His eyes have somehow always been pretty good so he can recognise it when he sees the horror author pass by. Nagisa frowns, briefly debating whether or not he should bother before just shrugging off his doubts and waving to her.

"Fujimori-sensei! Hello!"

Bridges were slowly becoming Pierce's favourite place. After all, what saved him from another shameful loss, right? It even produced a lovely(?) bonding session with the resident narrator, if you could call it bonding. Whatever it was, it didn't end terribly, so he didn't mind. Not that anyone would know if he minded or not in the first place, of course. That didn't matter right now anyway. His new fondness for bridges had managed to make him branch out a bit more, and rather than hang around on the first island all the time like the loser he was, he finally ended up exploring a little bit more. No, this was a joke, he didn't do this just because of bridges. He probably didn't actually give a damn about bridges. This is just wasting time.

He was on the third island, cheerfully walking its perimeter. He was having a good day, this pizza boy. The sun was shining (maybe), the weather was nice, he won a game of hide and seek, that got him a sweet, nifty walkie talkie. Wasn't sure what it was supposed to be for, but it was his now. He was probably in an okay enough mood that he was humming along to some weird foreign pop song, who really knows at this point. Whatever it was, he stopped when he spotted a certain Shrinking Violet and her dog companion, raising his hand to wave at her.

There was something about the craggy area that Nagisa was learning to like, or appreciate. His hands had always been rough, scratched and subtlety damaged in life's usual activities. So getting them slightly more rough on the rocks was no big thing to him. Rather, he just wanted to see how much further he could push it, how much higher he could climb. There was no doubt the mine was quite cramped but the ceiling was still high and he'd always had a taste for heights even if scaling them was often a rather pointless endeavor.

One step, two step, three step... his hands finds small handles and his feet, footholds. Steadily he raises himself up higher and higher until he's as near the top as he can be, touching the stalagmites with a couple of fingers. Somehow it's infinitely satisfying. The world does change a little when you're up high. Not in a grand way, but why does something need to be grand to be special?

Nagisa kicks his legs out over the gloom, his eyes searching the area. The mine is blocked off the further it goes on so perhaps this is just his way of exploring as much as he can. Still, there isn't much to see...

Until he hear the crunching of footsteps entering. He swings himself over the edge to peer at the entrance. The area is certainly dark but there's light shining from the horizon and it's enough to illuminate the figure. And it's a familiar and welcome presence.

"Ahhh!"

So Dorothy Gale had blasted off and another one was toast - out, finished. He'd paused pacing just long enough to pull out his comb and try to work some magic into his flat and hopelessly wet hair, now that the blasted rain had decided to finally stop. Twiddling the comb idly between his fingers, he inwardly grimaced. Chinatsu being murdered in such a demented way bothered him in some secluded faraway place in his mind. But outwardly? Well, it was business as usual. He took a deep breath.

She was a loser. Red was a loser.

It was business as usual, he decided. It was. The rules of life hadn't changed, they were the same as always. There were winners and there were losers - and the winners were the guys still breathing at the end of the day. He couldn't be done in by something like this - he wouldn't be. He was destined for something greater than a theatrical death in fantasy island.

Off in the distance the sound of footsteps approaching him grew gradually louder. He'd been wandering around the newly opened area, and had ended up by the baseball diamond. Maybe he'll have the luck of bumping into an ace pitcher?

Tapping his foot rapidly he considered his behavior in the Trial. Rude, sort of snappy, bit snide~ But he smiled to himself. There wouldn't be a single person at the trial who forgot his face or attitude. Well, besides the loser.

It was time to work a little Manga magic and change that negative impression, positive.