- Peerless - Invincible -

Yo, name's Aiichiro Koibuchi, student council treasurer. Whaddaya want, I'm a busy guy.

[shslseitokaikei]

Lights in the Deep | Open

[shslprosecuting]

The prosecutor remains stoic, eyes darting past Aiichiro and out into the pitch-black deep, though he doesn’t see anything beyond the glass… but then again, would he really want to? At the same time, he’d almost rather be stuck in a room with a deep-sea terror than with the treasurer. At least a blobfish wouldn’t be smoking in an area that should clearly be non-smoking.

Despite his aversion to the reasoning behind the sound, he couldn’t deny that the notes resonating from the guitar’s strings were pleasant. Perhaps, if he weren’t blinded by rage, he simply could have stood there and listened. But alas, his objectivity is a bit rusty as of late, but with everything going on, well… Ah, yes. Hilarious. He simply sighs at the smoke rings, taking another sip of coffee as he bites back the urge to ask if he’s going to enter that talent into the show as well.

“There’s no need… to be… contrary, Koibuchi. I’m not… going to lecture you. I understand that’s… a battle I would… would not win. I’m not asking… you to do that… only for you… to extinguish it… while I’m in the room… please…” He ends his sentence with a light cough, as if punctuating it on accident.

This time, the drink Hozumi takes from his cup is larger, though he slowly lowers the cup from his lips at about the same time Aiichiro sets the guitar down. He notices, even as the much taller boy turns to face him, that the cigarette is still lit. He’s… not sure if he expected anything otherwise, though.

There’s an audible ‘hmph’ in response to Aiichiro’s statement, though he doesn’t interrupt quite yet, letting him speak. What he says, though, causes Hozumi to grit his teeth. “I cannot… stop you, by… any stretch of the imagination. However… do you wish to know… what I think?” He asks this in a way that tells Aiichiro that whether or not he wants to know, he’s going to find out. “I believe… there will be a murder either way. You… you yourself saw the kind of… people we’re… trapped here with… What little regard they… have for human life. And it shows… in that… instead of mourning… Kuromatsu-san… or even making note… of Minell’s… departure, there’s… nothing. A talent show. Fun and games in light… of two hideous deaths. Does it not disgust you?”

[shslseitokaikei]

What an irritating little man. Did Hozumi have any idea how much of a prick he sounded like right now? It was good that Aiichiro was in such a charitable mood right now. He flexed his fingers, clenched an unclenched his fist, but despite the red covering his vision, he wouldn’t lash out. He could keep his anger under control. He’d try his damn best.

He inhaled the smoke again, and turned his head to exhale, blowing the smoke well away from Hozumi. “You came in here while I was practisin’, ‘n then tell me I can’t smoke while you’re in here? Fuck off, Uozomi, I don’t gotta do shit for you.”

“Yeah, it’s a talent show,” he said, “But do you got any better ideas? I don’t like most o’ these people, ‘n some o’ them are really shitty, but don’t’cha think that, if there’s somethin’ that can be done, it should be done? You just wanna give up ‘n let the filth kill the ones who actually ain’t that bad?”

He exhaled a snort of derision. “What am I sayin’. You’re a prosecutor, ain’t you? Your whole job depends on people gettin’ murdered. So another one dyin’ off ain’t that much of an issue to you, is it?” Knuckles cracked, he was still flexing his fingers, the only way he had right now to burn off the anger he felt. 

"’Sides, I like playin’ my guitar. What’s it to ya, anyway?”

[shslseitokaikei]

Lights in the Deep | Open

[shslprosecuting]

He’s absolutely livid, almost as furious as he was during the farcical trial itself. A talent show. A talent show. People are dead. Michi Kuromatsu was poisoned to death, and Tyler Minell was… was… whatever that had been. Sewn in half, as little sense as it made to actually say it. Cruel and unusual. Disgusting. And they’d laughed, and joked, and made inane little puns about it. The announcement of the talent show brings back all of the rage that he’d thought had evaporated. And, to make matters worse, the person behind it isn’t even Malice, setting this up so she can mock them more. It’s Halie, the only hope they have of getting out of here.

Great, lovely, absolutely amazing. 

Hozumi needs to be alone right now, and that’s what brings him to the viewing platform. He’d normally be in the aquarium, of course, but unfortunately, someone had already decided to hang out there. So the viewing platform is his next stop. “H–” he begins, before seeing Aiichiro’s form in the room and freezing. Or, more accurately, the smell of smoke is what stops him in his tracks, and his face scrunches up in disgust. He coughs and sputters, waving an arm about to try and clear the air around him. “Koibuchi?” he questions, voice still scratchy from not just the smoke, but also the throttling he’d received before. It was… well… mostly gone, but this wasn’t exactly helping.

“Could you please… put that out… Koibuchi…” he asks sternly, before the notes of music finally register to him and he spies the guitar in the treasurer’s hands. His eyes narrow. “Ah…” Clearing his throat again, he steps just into the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed… as well as they can with coffee in one hand, at least. He takes a sip before speaking again. “I would have thought… given your anger… at the trial… entirely justified, might I add… that you too would see… this ‘talent show’… for what it really… really is. A mockery. Of course… I could be wrong… and in that case… I will apologize… But can you, Koibuchi… in good conscious… tell me you’re participating in… that?”

[shslseitokaikei]

Aiichiro’s expression flatlined. Just what he’d needed. Although interactions were avoidable in as cramped a place as this, Aiichiro had been doing his best to avoid the lawyer. He hated lawyers. Bags of hot air, all of ‘em. Clearly this one was no different, throwing his weight around because, oh boy, a legal professional here.

The quiet strumming stopped, leaving the room silent. Aiichiro took a deep, deliberate inhale of smoke, and then blew a series of smoke rings forward into the air, and they broke against the glass wall. And looking at Hozumi, Aiichiro barely turned his head, peering up at him from the corner of his eye, for he couldn’t possibly be bothered to do anything more.

“I guess I could just quit cold turkey,” he muttered flatly, “Would’ja prefer that? Withdrawal’s a pretty ugly thing, but I guess if it’s for the sake o’ your delicate li’l nose, I can think about it.”

Okay, so much for being supportive and leaderly. Granted, if someone else had asked him this, he might have been a little nicer. He reverently sat his guitar down and stood up at his own leisure. He stretched, his joints audibly popping, and at last, cigarette still between his teeth, he faced Hozumi, looming over him.

“Maybe I am gonna participate,” he said. There was no threat in his voice - no nothing. Just flat and factual. “A bit o’ teamwork ‘n good will can go a long way. ‘Cause y’know what the alternative is, Uozomi? People get scared, ‘n someone else dies.”

[shslseitokaikei]

Powerless // Open

[shsltrickshot]

Why was he squinting at her. Sure, she backed up a little and looked at him with a surprised look on her face, but she didn’t know why he was squinting at her. Great, she must have put on her weird arm belts too tight, because she felt blood leak a little from the bandage. She slowly put her hand up to rub at her shoulder and avoided all eye contact with Aiichiro.

After making a face at her, he stabbed his poor food without a single word to her and she felt sweat gather at her forehead. He sounded awfully tired though, when he responded to her. She felt bad for interrupting whatever he was doing, he probably wanted to be alone. 

“Uh- hrk–” Her voice cracked and she coughed into her fist again. “W..well I mean I..” She turned over to glance at the kitchen again. “I..I apologize for interrupting your.. uh..” Suki looked down at the food on his place, he was picking at it either. “..Your meal..?” Good enough, Suki.

But something stopped her from turning away and getting the hell out of there. She paused, and frowned. “S..salve..?” Aiichiro probably knew cuts better than her, she only knew how to patch up certain wounds. 

“…D..do you know how to treat my arms..? Because.. ” She was only curious, but if Aiichiro told her to bug off again, she would awkwardly exit the room. 

[shslseitokaikei]

He frowned. She was really not doing well, was she? But no one was, not after... that had happened so recently. He sighed and stood up, pushing his chair back as he did. Food could wait, Ishibashi’s arms would get infected at this rate. “Don’t apologise,” he said, “No need.”

He needed to be a leader again. It had really only been a few days here but he had felt so helpless, like a sheep in the herd. He needed to step out again, else the flock would wander aimlessly. Wander towards certain death. But if others stood out as leaders among that crowd, they could steer them to safety, keep them protected. He had resolved to begin doing just that. Be a positive influence around here, no matter how shitty he felt. Baby steps here.

“I can’t just make those cuts disappear,” he said, “But I can help ‘em heal faster. You’ve cleaned ‘em out, right?” He didn’t know where they had come from, but he had horrible visions of possible accidents. “You gotta keep ‘em clean ‘n bandaged, ‘n try not to open ‘em up again.”

Honestly, with a title like gunslinger, he figured she’d have dealt with wounds before. Maybe she was just too shaken to do it right.

[shslseitokaikei]

Lights in the Deep | Open

[♫♫♫]

Aiichiro couldn’t help but feel grumpy about this whole thing, but then again, when was he not feeling grumpy about something? A talent show? It seemed so trivial. Two people were dead. Dead. One murdered, and the other murdered in turn. Two corpses and they wanted the rest of them to have a talent show? 

It was insulting. If the blue mascot really wanted to be helping them it could be giving them a way out. Not this. Bullshit.

But, on the other hand, maybe that thing was right. Maybe they needed something, something to keep them from being too self destructive. It was like trying to bandage a fault line, but maybe it would give them the time they needed. If everyone worked on this talent show, it could distract them long enough to get murder out of their minds, and then maybe Aiichiro could... do something. Once they’d been far enough removed from this whole murder thing, they might be more willing to cooperate.

Aiichiro was mulling this over to himself while enjoying a cigarette. He’d had a lot to think about the last few days. So much had changed. So much had been lost. He had planted himself on the floor of the viewing platform, staring out into the ocean pressing down on their glass cage. The smoke was held between his teeth and he puffed little grey clouds into the air with each breath. He missed Matsuyama, and his boys, and the councillors. Missed his pal Isamu. He’d never thought about how hard life would be without them. Would he have been able to survive Hope’s Peak Academy without them there?

In his bandaged hands was his guitar, idly being played. His fingers ran up and down the neck, striking frets in time with the pick in his other hand, playing scale, arpeggios, and abstract melodies. He’d probably prep a song for the show, but hadn’t decided which yet.

Until he decided, he would just stay there, breathing smoke, staring at the fish and the dark blue waters, strumming background noise, and thinking. There were people outside, but ignored them. Would continue to ignore them, unless they came into the room.

[shslseitokaikei]

Powerless // Open

[shslseitokaikei]

shsltrickshot:

With her arms injured and wrapped shoulder to wrist with white bandages, Suki kept it in her mind to be careful. To not strain her arms too much, to make sure to replace them and put some sort of medicine so they would heal. 

Except she was somehow doing the exact opposite. She already reopened most of her wounds in swimming. When she got dressed, sometimes she would put on her belts too tight and the blood would seep through the bandage layers. Eventually, she got tired of being extra careful to not strain herself and she wanted her arms to heal quicker. 

Though, she couldn’t do much but wait around and wait for them to heal over time. She didn’t find herself to be an impatient person, but these were getting in the way of several things. One of these things was her usual workout routine in the morning. She recalled one of the contestants on Arms Arena was talking about this special shake that some effect on your body, she was weirdly ease dropping in the conversation, so all she heard was ‘heal’ and ‘body’. 

It must do something to heal her arms, right? So, after running around the dome, she decided to change and then go into the kitchen area to make said shake.

When Suki walked into the dining hall, she didn’t seem to see Aiichiro at first, because she jumped a little when she heard his voice. 

This was one of the many times she hated seeing out of one eye only, because she slowly and very awkwardly, turned to face him. 

“..Oh.” She coughed into her fist, she had no idea who he was, but she did see him around. “Uh..” She glanced over at the place she wanted to be.

“..N..no? I mean– yes?!” Oh god, she’s going to fuck this up. 

Aiichiro squinted at her. Ishibashi. Took him a moment to recall, even though they’d all been stuck together so long. She was bleeding quite visibly. Aiichiro flexed his hand, felt the sting of the broken skin. But that was nothing like what was going on with Suki’s arms. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Or if he wanted to know.

He also pulled a face as she stammered her way through that meaningless little interaction. He’d thought she’d looked tough back on their first day here, but she was jumpy and afraid. But who could really blame her? It made him pity her, almost.

Either way, he jammed his fork down into his supper, picking at it. His mouth had felt dry and everything tasted like sawdust, ever since he’d had to watch that boy die right in front of him.

“If ya got somewhere better to be,” he said, not with malice or anything, just a worn-out statement, “Then go be there.” A pause. “And put somethin’ on your arms. Like, salve or somethin’. You’re gonna catch an infection.”

He’d had his fair share of cuts, the kinds that oozed when he moved. Grazes from turning too hard on his bike. Memories of dipping too low, clipping the pavement, thrown from the bike- he shook his head. Point was, he knew, or thought he knew, injuries like that, and Suki was clearly not taking care of them.

[shslseitokaikei]

Powerless // Open

[♬♬♬]

With the trial over and done with a number of days ago, things had more or less settled down to a usual rhythm. Except it was a usual rhythm that no longer included Michi or Tyler. Aiichiro hadn’t know them well, hardly at all, but there were always just around, and now they weren’t. 

Some people would have been left with grief or fear after the trial, but what Aiichiro felt was anger. He was angry at Tyler for stooping so low as to commit murder. He was angry at that robot for twisting their arms so hard as to make one of their own commit murder in the first place. He was angry at those among their number who had had the audacity to jeer Tyler and act so flippantly about his sacrifice. And he was angry a himself, for he felt that, somehow, somehow, he should have been able to stop this.

Aiichiro was a leader. He protected his gang, looked out for them. He knew how to keep the ones worth keeping in line, and how to weed out the ones who would bring the enterprise to ruin. He knew how to keep them safe. And he had failed. He should have done something.

But, all the same, he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Isamu was safe. The student council was safe. The Bleeding Hearts were safe. He was grateful for that. But they were safe because Tyler and Michi had died in their place and he hated himself for it.

He had just finished yet another round of beating the shit out of yet another punching bag. He’d managed to tear the bag, and tear his knuckles. He’d changed his wrappings yet again. And then he’d showered, and then meticulously combed and gelled his hair, because for fuck’s sake, everything was going wrong, and he deserved some goddamn level of decency and routine in this hell.

And so, Aiichiro Koibuchi found himself in the dining hall, working his way through a post-workout meal, too tired to feel angry. He just felt numb, Spent. He didn’t even care that someone was approaching him.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” he muttered, weary and irritated.

[shslseitokaikei]

Hit the Deck | Investigation

[shslseitokaikei]

digadigatunnel:

“… Do you think he was poisoned?” Dimara asked after a short pause. … Respiratory failure. That meant he stopped breathing, didn’t it? He was all sweaty and gross, too. It was probably for sure that he was in fact poisoned… That was something she didn’t want to think especially hard about.

“We should split up for a while, then. There’s three of us, and three places to look, right?” she asks, bringing up her fingers to count them out. “He can go look in Michi’s room…” she notes of Aiichiro, “You can see if there’s anything weird in the bar…” she asks of Yoko, “And I can check the medicine place!” she finishes with a soft smile, no doubt proud of her line of thought.

“Then, in a little while, we can all meet back here and talk about what we saw, is that a good idea?”

“Aight,” Aiichiro shrugged. It was as good as any idea. He felt like he should be taking the leadership role here - that was kind of his job back home - but he was feeling a little stunned about this whole murder thing. Once he got hi feet back under him he’d probably function a little better.

He made his way to Michi’s bedroom, shared with that lawyer guy. Normally the idea of barging into another guy’s room would have crossed is mind momentarily, but he had no qualms about going into the lawyer’s room at all. He didn’t like lawyers, or cops, or any of that shit.

Well, he rummaged through Michi’s room and couldn’t find much of anything. Spent a good ten, fifteen minutes looking through things, but there just wasn’t much to be found. Maybe someone else had already gone through and swept it of clues. He did find the rest of the tarpt deck, but those cards were meaningless to him anyway.

On his way back he couldn’t help but think about the murder. Michi must have been poisoned, there was no other way, he decided. Respiratory failure, no visible wounds. Probably wasn’t strangled. Mabe suffocated? But he was sweating, maybe that was a side effect. Or maybe it was something to do with his anxiety meds?

Aiichiro shook his head. He was bad at this puzzle shit. Numbers he could do no sweat, numbers made sense to him. You added them up, and got a new number. This murder shit, putting little clyes to gether, that was beyond his ken.

[shslseitokaikei]

Hit the Deck | Investigation

He knew it. He fucking knew it. His heart was seized up in his ribs, unmoving, as he stared down at the corpse that used to be Michi. He swallowed hard, throat dry. It had happened, really happened.

Aiichiro had seen his fair share of shit, to be sure, but not murder. It was low, lower that low, and he felt his vision going red. He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms. He need to stay calm. This- this was not the time.

He left the room, paced all the way down the hall. A loud thud was heard, the walls rattled, and then a few more of the same. And then he returned, knuckles oozing blood, and was calmed again. Time to- get to work, he supposed. He wasn’t scared of a corpse. Death, maybe, but a corpse was just a thing, not a person anymore.

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered, and made his way toward the body. He peered at the junk on the table in front of Michi and then gave his body a patdown, looking for anything on the body.

A bottle of anxiety meds in one pocket. He turned back to the table and saw that he’d laid out a few specific tarot cards. But Aiichiro knew jack shit about tarot. And- he frowned. Was Michi sweaty? Clammy? Maybe he’d been stressed, or maybe poisoned. Hmm.

He turned to someone lurking behind him. “You just gonna gawk at me or you gonna help out?”

[shslpaintedprincess-blog-deacti]

Yoko, of course, had her worries that someone would crack, but she didn’t really believe someone would….someone would kill. Take another life. 

She only stared at the body, convinced the poor thing would wake up at any moment, just as Xiao Jiang had before. Maybe someone had failed their attempt…again. Maybe Malice was trying to scare them all again. The blood on his cards glaringly proved her wrong. She was…thankful it was only a drop. If the whole room was a mess of gore she’d probably faint.

She started and cleared her throat when Achiiro addressed her, cautiously stepping toward the table. “Certainly.” She did not sound so certain.

Her first order of business was to not go near the body. She could barely keep herself together looking at it-…him. But the cards on the table intrigued her. She gently nudged the cards away from his hand to gain a better view, brow furrowing. Her knowledge of tarot cards were rusty, but…She frowned. Something told her the cards Michi had left them did not offer anything kind. She only understood one of them…and it left a twisting feeling in her.

Yoko quickly took her hand away and knelt down to look under the table, both to investigate and to take her focus off of Michi. Sadly, there was nothing that could lead them anywhere under the table. 

She sighed and stood, turning to the other who had joined them, smiling her best encouraging smile but saying nothing.

[digadigatunnel-blog]

Standing a short distance away, Dimara watched over the beginnings of an investigation with a frown that was slightly distant. No matter how she tried to look at things, they came up the same… Michi was… Almost certainly dead.

It wasn’t as though it was the first time she’d seen death. That much might have been apparent in that she didn’t cry out or cower from the sight. But it was certainly the first time she’d seen murder… A corpse that was created intentionally, life ended by a fellow human being. … Of course, a death was terrible, no matter what had caused it, and just because she wasn’t unfamiliar with death didn’t mean her stomach wouldn’t be churning and tightening up if Michi had passed away from an accident of some sort. But in this case, in particular, things were made much worse. One death was bad enough, but the scenario (according to MAL-1C3) guaranteed at LEAST one more…

Her common sense dictated that the students had to do as MAL-1C3 bid and find the culprit… But Dimara did little more than stare at the corpse with a deep frown, face slightly pale… She hardly even noticed Yoko and Aiichiro nearby as they got a jump on the game, but Yoko’s smile reached her soon enough. She tried to return it, but… It was difficult to look past what was still right in front of them.

“… What should we do, now…?”

[shslseitokaikei]

Well, it didn’t look like there was much to see right there around Michi’s body. Aiichiro took a few steps away and scanned the rest of the room. Nothing. It was exactly as it usually was, except that there was a dead person in the middle of it.

He frowned. Didn’t-? In all the crime shows he’d ever watched, the murder scene had lots of shit that the detectives found interesting and whatnot, but there was nothing here. Shoulkdn’t there be clues? Maybe Aiichiro didn’t actually know anything about murder investigation. Actually, he didn’t, and he knew it.

“Beats me,” he shrugged, “Ain’t nothin’ here.” He clenched and unclenched his right hand. Still sore, still bleeding, he could feel it. He made sure not to touch anything and get blood anywhere. “Nice to have y’all on board though, I guess.”

“I think we oughtta look somewhere else. But shit, I don’t even know where to start.”

[shslseitokaikei]

Hit the Deck | Investigation

He knew it. He fucking knew it. His heart was seized up in his ribs, unmoving, as he stared down at the corpse that used to be Michi. He swallowed hard, throat dry. It had happened, really happened.

Aiichiro had seen his fair share of shit, to be sure, but not murder. It was low, lower that low, and he felt his vision going red. He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms. He need to stay calm. This- this was not the time.

He left the room, paced all the way down the hall. A loud thud was heard, the walls rattled, and then a few more of the same. And then he returned, knuckles oozing blood, and was calmed again. Time to- get to work, he supposed. He wasn’t scared of a corpse. Death, maybe, but a corpse was just a thing, not a person anymore.

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered, and made his way toward the body. He peered at the junk on the table in front of Michi and then gave his body a patdown, looking for anything on the body.

A bottle of anxiety meds in one pocket. He turned back to the table and saw that he’d laid out a few specific tarot cards. But Aiichiro knew jack shit about tarot. And- he frowned. Was Michi sweaty? Clammy? Maybe he’d been stressed, or maybe poisoned. Hmm.

He turned to someone lurking behind him. “You just gonna gawk at me or you gonna help out?”

[shslseitokaikei]

Rip ‘em a New One // Dimara

[shslseitokaikei]

digadigatunnel:

Though Aiichiro’s disapproval seems to bother the girl just a bit, the reasoning behind it doesn’t quite get through to her. “It’s okay, it didn’t get blood on it or anything, see?” she insists, holding out the pouch to prove her point… Just good old-fashioned, perfectly good (if somewhat stale) popcorn!

When her motivations came up, she just smiled a little. “I was just looking around, but you looked really mad…” she noted, looking over to the pulverized punching bag once again. “… So I was kind of worried.” she frowns. “Are you gonna be okay? … Hey, what’s your name?” she seems to add as an afterthought, “Mine’s Dimara!”

Aiichiro’s lip curled at the sight of the offered popcorn. Disgusting, really. She just didn’t get it, did she? She was so unconcerned about all of this. What was wrong with her? In case his expression wasn’t enough of a deterrent, he shook his head with a grunt of declination.

His eyes followed her to the punching bag hanging beside him, and to the rip that was dribbling sand. He should probably patch that. Not that he really cared. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he muttered, “Unless yer a punchin’ bag, of course.” He wiped a few errant strands of dyed pink hair from his forehead that had fallen down again. He hated the feeling of hair against his face. “I’ll be fine. Just needed to blow off some steam.”

His eyes flickered back from the punching bag to the girl in front of him as she introduced herself. Dimara, huh? Not a name that sounded really Japanese to him. Must be a come-from-away.

He nodded his acknowledgement. “Name’s Koibuchi,” he replied. The thought of shaking her hand flicked through his mind and then back out. He flexed his fingers to find them sore, as ever. Hated how that happened. 

[shslseitokaikei]

Rip ‘em a New One // Dimara

[shslseitokaikei]

digadigatunnel:

While the expression bearing down on her was intimidating, to put it lightly, Dimara didn’t seem especially worried. There were plenty of things to fear without having to worry about each other. She almost seemed comfortable around him. Whether it was his straightforwardness, that he was likewise scarred, or if she just did the same for every last person she met was anyone’s guess.

‘The diggin’ girl’… She seemed to enjoy the title, returning to a smile and nodding, “Yeah, that’s me! And you’re the… Uh… … Actually, I don’t know…” she admits after a few moments of racking her brain, frowning and looking skyward for a moment though no answer would come. How could it, through countless inches of reinforced glass and steel, to say nothing of the ocean’s depths. Being reminded of the ocean above wasn’t exactly reassuring, however, and she quickly brought her focus back down to Aiichiro. Just in time to be grilled on the origin of her salty snack.

“… What, this?” she holds out the pouch of popcorn with quite a bit of nonchalance, “You want some?” she offers cheerily, having apparently seen no other reason to ask the question.

His scowl sank further as the girl spoke. How could she be so... calm about everything? Aiichiro was almost jealous. But at the same time this was no time for calmness, someone nearly died and someone surely would die, and soon. It had come to it. Anyone who thought that this was all a prank had been quite wrong.

“No, I don’t want any o’ that shit!” he spat, “Why the fuck would I? That’s- it’s-” He couldn’t actually verbalise why he was so grossed out. Something about murder attempts. He muttered, “It’s fucked up, man.”

He took a few breaths, calming himself. His arms and core burned from the flurry off activity moments before, and sweat still dripped down his body. It was a good burn. He needed- he needed his body to hurt when he was like this, needed to feel something. It made him feel a bit better.

“So whaddaya want,” he said, his tone a little more even now, “Here to watch, or what?”

[shslseitokaikei]

Breathless | Rxn

He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to bury his head and pretend it wasn’t real, he wanted to beat the shit out of something, he wanted to do anything but open this envelope, but one foot dragged forward in front of the other and he stumbled to his room through a haze of fear and anger.

Fingers shaking despite himself, Aiichiro tore the envelope open and photos spilled out. Photos of... oh, god, he felt sick, felt the bile rising in his throat. These were-

That one was Isamu, walking home from school. There was a picture of the Maeda and Suzuki from the council. Ogawa and Shirozaki tuning up their bikes; he could see the garage behind them. That one was all of the boys. None of them were looking at the camera. They had no idea these pictures were being taken. 

“Wh-what the hell is this-”

He dropped the photos, nearly tore them up, changed his mind, shredded the envelope, and buried his fist in the wall with a resounding thud. Again. And again. And again. Felt the impact each time, felt his knuckles strain, felt the skin break and the blood leak, and he needed it. He needed the pain, needed it because his heart stung with terror.

He didn’t- he never really thought of himself as having friends. Felt he wasn’t friendly enough to have friends. But seeing these- seeing these reminded him that he did care about these people. And now this sick fuck was going to hurt them.

He flexed his fingers. He was going to have to change his wrapping now. He took a deep breath, and another one, and then gathered up the photos. Creepy as they were, they were all he had of them down here.

And then, there, he knew that he was going to see the back of this place. He was going to survive. He promised himself, and he promised the people in those photos, that he would leave this dome still breathing. One way or another.

[shslseitokaikei]

Rip ‘em a New One // Dimara

[shslseitokaikei]

digadigatunnel:

Circumstances surrounding the attack were pretty bad… Or at the very least, they seemed to be. All the same, Dimara didn’t seem to be affected very much… Or rather, not in the same way the others were. Instead of anger or panic, she’d only become somewhat pensive… Considering the consequences of the event against her own optimism. 

By the time she entered the gym, she was almost finished with the popcorn she’d acquired from… … Was that the same pouch from the scene of the crime? It wasn’t bloodstained or anything, but…

She had plenty of time to size up the situation she’d walked into before she’d finally been noticed, and her usual smile was replaced with a soft frown as she touched at her scar just above her nose before speaking. “… Hey, are you okay?” she asked after a moment.

Of course, he clearly wasn’t. Even she could assume that much. The state of the punching bag in particular spoke volumes. The situation among the students altogether was starting to become worryingly familiar to her, and when she thought on it too hard she’d start to feel sick to her stomach… She hadn’t been able to fix things, that time… Or even realize they were falling apart, really… But this time… Maybe it would be different. It was obviously different in a few respects, such as being at the ocean’s floor and the fact that it PROBABLY wasn’t all her fault (she was pretty sure, anyway).

But this time, maybe she could help things, and people…

“You don’t look so good…”

The vigourous movements had shaken his hair despite all of the spray and gel, and Aiichiro wiped loose strands from his sweat-dripping face. He glared at the newcomer, probably looked scarier than he felt. He wasn’t angry at her. He was angry at Yotsuya, at this whole damn dome.

“Ya think?” he said, still breathing heavy, “Ya think I ain’t good?” He didn’t ave anything more to say on that, his head was still hazy with anger. He hated feeling like that. Couldn’t think. Could barely see. Fists clenched, and he hauled off and gave the bag another hard whack.

Alright, he was feeling a little better now. Less pressure inside, less liable to burst again. Maybe a little volatile, but he’d taken a lot of it out on the bag. Yes, he could see who it was. “You’re... the diggin’ girl,” he said. Seen her around, never really talked to her, and couldn’t be bothered to remember her name. Digging girl was as good as his memory was gonna get. 

He squinted at her and rubbed a thumb against his own nose scar. “You’re- you ain’t actually eatin’ the-” Apparently he still couldn’t think straight. Threw a vague hand gesture toward her. “Is that the shit from the bleedin’ guy?” So eloquent.

[shslseitokaikei]

Rip ‘em a New One // Dimara

[♫♫♫]

Beating the shit out of things was actually, as it turned out, very good for one’s mood.

The thing in question was a punching bag, dug out of a corner of the gym. Not that there was actually any room for a punching bag, but Aiichiro had made room, pushing aside the big workout machines and clearing a large space in the middle. That meant all of the machines were now in a cluttered heap, but he honestly couldn’t care less.

He wrapped an extra layer of cloth over his knuckles, threw off his jacket, kicked off his boots, and went in hard. With ever hard punch, every burning fibre in his body, he slammed his frustrations into the punching bag again and again.

Why!? Punch- Why was he trapped here!? Punch- Why were they trying to murder each other!? Punch- What had he done to deserve this!? Punch- He wanted to go home! Punch- To see Matsuyama again! Punch- He should never have listened to the letter! Punch- Isamu was right, he was always right, and Aiichiro should have listened to him-!!  Punch- Punch- Punch-

He imagined the was bag was- whoever was doing this to them, and he beat that fucker as hard as he goddamn could.

It was only after a number of minutes that he awareness returned to him. He’d gone red again, and what he’d done to the punching bag could only be described as savage. He’d even torn it open, there and there. And, dripping sweat and breathing hard, he noticed someone else in the room with him.

“What... whaddaya want,” he said darkly.

[shslseitokaikei]

A Quickening // Rxn

He approached with caution. Anything involving screaming was probably something to be avoided. But... no, those screams sounded bad. Belatedly, he picked his way through the dome to the source of the noise. What the shit...

Jiang was already picking himself up by the time Aiichiro arrived, but the aftermath was clearly visible. The injury, the sharp stench of blood- a murder attempt. Already? He felt his heart quicken. People were already scared enough to break. He knew how this would play out. The ball was rolling, people would be scared, and scared people made mistakes. He’d seen it happen before. Not long now before someone actually-

He clenched his fists and removed himself from the room. There were dozens of people here, someone else could attend to Jiang. Aiichiro needed to cool off somehow.

Now that Yotsuya had shown his true colours, Aiichiro idly wondered how long it’d be ‘til someone took preemptive measures. How long would that boy live, he wondered. 

Not that he really cared, right now.

[doodlegost]

[shslseitokaikei]

superlegalactivities:

doodlegost:

snorts very very loudly

12 ocs, six a day

from a dorky rp group i love very much <3

Actual size here:

huEHUEHEHEEHUEHEUE ))

[shslseitokaikei]

before listening to that song link, please note that aiichiro’s voice sounds more like this, with the exception that he sings more from the front of his mouth and nose rather than back into his throat. the depth of pitch and the way his voice strains when he pushes against notes are spot on, though.