Who's up for a stroll? [Open]
It was so odd, to Ayumu, to be woken by something as mundane as sensation when he was so accustomed to it being sound that stirred him. Yet it was the sense of sand, of grit and unpleasant heat, that brought him to.
He was lying face down on a sandy beach of some kind. Immediately he drank in the sounds as his normal habit—waves, sea birds, the rustling of clothing. He pulled a face before twitching otherwise, not quite yet wanting anyone else present to know he was awake. He was wearing baggy cargo pants, and the sand had managed to get into them as well.
He arranged his expression into its normal smooth smile, not able to mask his confusion but not really trying to. He was simply trying not to put on the sour expression and show what he felt like. He would never get all this sand off him without a shower. As this was no doubt someone’s idea of a hazing or a prank, that seemed to be a long time off.
At least it hadn’t given him a headache, whatever they’d done to get him—and the rest—there. Wherever there was.
That voice. He winced, holding his head. It was grating, robotic. It sounded so very artificial.
Well. That much would be because it was from an artificial thing, apparently. A gaudy robot bear. It talked for more than long enough for him to memorize the tones, the cadences, the all-important pauses and word choices. Not that he would want to copy it; it was terrible. Yes, definitely a manner of prank.
An elaborate, overdone prank.
As if anyone at our level would actually kill anyone else, he scoffed mentally. The very idea was absurd.
Yet…was it? They were a group of highly driven teenagers, all of them with the ambition and ability to do extraordinary things. If this weren’t a prank, if it were real…something in his eyes flashed, then faded. Would he? He didn’t know. It wasn’t something one recovered from, if it became public.
Image. Think of your image. That tore it, really. There was no way he could continue on as he was with a dark secret of that level hanging over him. People would find out. This sort of thing always comes out eventually.
There. Even if this was real, he wouldn’t do it. That settled it. And, he was forced to conclude after a while, it was best to act as if it was. That was the one thing the odd stuffed—robotic?—bear with the terrible paint job had said that he trusted. Better safe than sorry. Act like it was real for now, and possibly have a laugh at yourself later. It was better than dying because you couldn’t accept reality.
Really, he thought as he stood and brushed himself off, though it did nothing for much of the sand that clung to his skin under his clothes, best to adapt for now. Just in case…
He patted himself down to check for the ID Card and found it in his jacket pocket. Not so bad for him, but what about some of the others with less conservative outfits?
Not that he wanted to voice that and cue any outraged yells or shrieks ahead of time.
“Well then,” he said cheerfully, deliberately tuning his voice to be a comforting and innocent-sounding one, resolving to flip through the rules later and tucking the device back away. “Nothing’s to be solved by standing around here. I suggest we go explore, find out more about our surroundings. After the required introductions, of course—I’m sure none of us know absolutely everyone here by name and face already.”
There probably was at least one person who did, now that he’d said that. Oh well.
“I wouldn’t be so forward as to say that without introducing myself, of course,” he gave a light bow. “Amagawa Ayumu. I’m here for my vocal talents, naturally. Pleased to meet you all.”
