I'll kill that fucking mascot.
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@shsltrucker
I'll kill that fucking mascot.
PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU RP
Oh, you there, sorry to interrupt, but since it looks like you've been here a little longer than I have, I was wondering if you've found anything!
It took a moment for Kotaro to register Takayuki was there; to snap out of whatever had brought his mind elsewhere. The trucker turned to the director and stared, wary of how he could be so indifferent.
"…Ishihara wound up like this after Yoshida. Look,” He replied, pointing directly to a bloody skid mark disturbing the edge of the pool of blood and ending at Chie’s feet. “She slipped and fell, without a doubt. I don’t know how or why…”
He turned to leave, keeping a suspicious eye on the other boy all the while, “But if you’re so calm about this, maybe you can find out. …I’m going to my room.”
Double the Despair [TOH Body Discovery]
All he'd wanted was a snack.
Kotaro had spent the past hour talking Aichi's ear off about robots this and trucks that, meaning for a bit of trucker cooking in the kitchen to have been the terminus of their afternoon, and a thank-you to Karada for putting up with him. The moment they entered the cafe, however, he could feel it in his gut that something was very wrong.
Maybe it was the scent of blood hitting his nose before he even realized it was in the air, but he dropped his conversation mid-sentence and left Aichi behind, each step toward the kitchen rising in pace with his dread. The faint hope his mind was just playing tricks on him faded all too quickly, and by the time he crossed the doorway into the kitchen, all the denial in the world couldn't wish away the scene laid out before him.
Yoku Yoshida and Chie Ishihara lay motionless, both in a pool of blood just wide enough that he could not reach out and grab them. With this the nightmare scenario clicked into place; it was not the smell of spilled blood that had chilled his bones, but the smell of enough blood such that nobody who lost so much could survive. He'd never forget it, and he wasn't about to forget it now.
Everything that had been in his mind up to that moment went blank. Hunched over the two frail bodies like a man at the edge of a cliff, he said something short and breathless - and then found the voice to raise into panicked shouting that didn't stop.
"Yoshida!!" He pleaded. "Ishihara!! Dammit, Wake up! This isn't happening!! I'm begging you, open your eyes!! Please!!"
Test of Hope: Kuroda Interactive Free Time Event #1
Why is everyone getting so worked up about being stuck here? This is nothing compared to sitting in the cramped space of a truck cabin, for eighteen hours a day!!
...Huh, but I guess even a big prison is still a prison, if you can't leave.
Spend time with Kuroda?
( A governor / The brake pedal / A flat tire )
Bingo, a governor. It controls the fuel intake to the engine to regulate the speed of a vehicle regardless of the load it's carrying. In most places, Japan included, they're required by law. My truck has one...
...Of course, it just happens to not be working properly. But my mechanic didn't tell me anything about that, so no harm done, right? Besides, I can handle my truck regardless of the state it's in.
Hey, you seem pretty knowledgeable, so I'm sure you get where I'm coming from about some rules being made to be broken. I mean, not everyone should be breaking rules all the time, because that'd be nuts... but it's good to have a rule-breaker or two here and there, right?
I mean, let's be real. We're in the middle of something really weird, and that mascot laid out a bunch of weird rules for us to be sure. We should go along with them for now, but...
A time will definitely come when we're all better off breaking them, and when that time comes, I'm counting on you to take off at the green light.
Let's call it a day before anyone thinks we're up to something. Someday soon, maybe, but not yet. ...Seeya later!
Kuroda jogged away in visibly higher spirits than before.
( A governor / The brake pedal / A flat tire )
Um... no. But does this mean you've driven a company truck before too? I mean, that's not the right answer, but ugh, it's so annoying.
Some of these places have so little respect for their trucks it makes me sick! Maybe that's why they all say they put their customers first. They sure don't care about their vehicles.
If you know that much about trucks, you should know what it is for real.
Something that slows a truck down, but not due to neglect. That's...
( A governor / The brake pedal )
( A governor / The brake pedal / A flat tire )
You...
I'm... going to pretend you didn't say that. You're welcome. Every vehicle on the road has a brake pedal. And they hardly ever work on company trucks. Downshifting is the way to go.
Give me a real answer this time.
Something that slows a truck down, but not because of the user...
( A governor / A flat tire )
A Road Less Traveled [Exploration 1 Open Starter]
She left the dorms in a bit of a huff, as searching her room up and down for thirty minutes had left her without any means at all of contacting the outside world. What kind of residential building wouldn’t at least have some sort of communal phone in it?
Of course, Hanako knew the answer to that—the type on a campus its inhabitants weren’t supposed to leave. But slight indignancy was easier to suffer through than seriously dealing with the issue at hand, or, even worse, being afraid.
As she exited the building and prepared to look elsewhere for a phone, she heard a bit of noise a few meters away. Near the back of the building… Oh, she’d met this boy before. ”Kotaro-chan, is that you? What are you looking for back here?” Hanako thought back to what he’d told her when they first met. “…And did you happen to find any news about your truck?”
Hanako wound up catching Kotaro in a bit of an awkward situation, right in the middle of hopping up and down as if to gauge how far it was from the ground to the nearest visible window. He spun to face her, and hid any embarrassment from the situation behind a tactical adjustment of his cap.
"...I dunno, Amasan," He replied gruffly, "I'll tell you when I find it." Then he added as an excuse: "I didn't want to explore anywhere else someone else might have covered already. And about my truck, nothing yet... I tried to raise someone on my radio, but..."
Kotaro reached over and turned the dial of the device clipped to his shirt. Nothing. "...No batteries." He assumed someone had run the thing out during his going-away party and he'd used the last of it getting to Hope's Peak. Normally changing them wouldn't be such a big deal, but with the mess they found themselves in...
"...I put looking on hold for now," He concluded as a way to set aside he really had no clue, "We have bigger worries. What about you?"
A Road Less Traveled [Exploration 1 Open Starter]
"Yeah, right, asshole! You'll have to do better than that. Every single one of us just met today and we've got nothing against eachother, and you expect us to kill? Get fucked and get real!..."
...Is what Kotaro Kuroda would have wanted to say, but in the chillingly tense aftermath of the announcement of mutual killing, he couldn't find a way to get that tough talk out of his mouth.
His road experience had given him a pretty good idea of how to read whether someone was all trouble or all talk, but none of that prepared him for this mascot, whatever it was. For that reason, he didn't know what to think of the ultimatum, and if he didn't, neither could these strangers... and just like that, the wedge of distrust meant to drive them apart had hit the bullseye. He ended up mumbling some useless cliches and left the gathering with his figurative tail between his legs.
As Kotaro was someone who wouldn't be caught dead not pulling his weight, he set out to explore the campus like the rest - the circumstances being what they were, though, the trucker wasn't eager to rub shoulders with anyone just yet. This meant choosing a route a bit off the beaten path, and so Kotaro had chosen to circle the outside of the Dorms, inspecting the back walls for any windows or side doors he could find.
Of course, his paranoia didn't make him antisocial. If he happened to run into someone... well, whatever happened, happened.
Free Literature Tutoring!!! (open starter)
She looked around, checking that the clock was close enough to the specified meeting time, and to see if anyone else was going to come in. The answer, evidently, was no. This strapping young man was to be Chie’s sole pupil for the duration of the night.
Quietly, without responding to his other statements, she gathered her things, and put them into her briefcase. After having snapped it up, she walked the several feet to the back of the room where her student was seated, and meticulously unpacked again.
She took a thick folder from her briefcase, and began rifling through it, until it was cracked open about to the midway mark of the papers. If one had peeked over her shoulder while she did this, they would have noticed many small black and white photos lined up next to minimalist information concerning grade, age, title, and the School Board’s official remarks on the student.
She looked back at the boy, and offered him a smile.
"What is your name?" she asked. "The Literature Board has told me that I am only allowed to do these meetings should I take note of who comes under my tutelage," she explained. "If you want, I will let you look at your thumbnail, as well."
While she spoke, her eyes wandered off of his face, attracted to the red pen parks on his crumpled assignments. She had always disapproved of red pens for grading papers—it seemed too condemning. Green, however, was too appeasing, and she felt students did not learn from their mistakes if their work was graded in green pen. Blue, however, was problematic because some students enjoyed writing in blue pen for their assignment. Therefore, pink was the logical solution to the problem. She was very proud of this innovation, though it was unlikely that she should ever mention it to another.
"What would you like to work on?" she asked as an after though, dragging her eyes away from his initial assignments and looking back at his face. "I am skilled at anything literary in nature, so any essays are accepted. Science, history, politics, Literature…mostly I avoid math, obviously…"
The boy looked at his own thumbnail - specifically, the one on his right hand - before bringing his head back up to look her in the eyes no more confused for wear. "I'm Kotaro Kuroda," He answered firmly, with one hand brushing some hair aside beneath his cap. "And you, sensei, I might have seen your name on the flyer, or I might not have. In any case, since we're doing introductions," He smiled, "Whenever you'd like. But for now..."
He parted the two papers he'd singled out with each hand and spread them to either side of his desk. "It's these here."
"First," He lifted his left hand, "Is this writing assignment, and I don't know why it was failed. Fukuzawa Yukichi is one of the greatest Japanese of all time because they put him on the ten thousand yen banknote! How could the teacher have a problem with that?!" The man had indeed founded two universities and a newspaper, but Kuroda made the source of his confusion of achievement and recognition clear soon enough: "It's all about the money anyways, right??"
Now having worked himself up somewhat, he raised his right hand. "And this was a radio ad I was trying to make, and it got rejected because they said it was too long! How are people supposed to believe I drove through a tsunami if I don't explain it thoroughly, huh?" As he leaned forward as if to challenge Chie to answer, the fully-covered page slid off the table, landing to reveal a fully-covered flip-side.
"...Ah," He leaned backwards and closed his eyes, getting something of a hold of himself, "At least if it was math, I could tell when I'm wrong. I think all these problems are just opinions..."
Free Literature Tutoring!!! (open starter)
As the footsteps approached, she stiffened, and pawed nervously at her face to rid herself of residual negative emotion, before sitting up with such force that it would give a witness sympathy back pain. Luckily, this all happened in a heartbeat before the young man entered the room.
She opened her mouth to greet him, but closed it again as he settled down, facing away from her, and avoided eye contact. He had taken out papers, and she knew of no other meetings in this room, so she could only assume that he had come to speak with her…yet…that body language!
She shuffled her papers, trying to attract his attention, but found that he wanted nothing of her. She cleared her throat, bewildered, and eventually decided that she must speak up. If nothing else, she ought to let him know that he was in the wrong room.
"Excuse me, senpai, this is the room I have been promised for the Literature Tutoring sessions," she told him, her voice strong and carrying across the room.
"If you are here for that, then, I can h—I will be your tea—I will be your instructor!" she managed out, fixing her phrasing a few times too many for it to have sounded at all natural. She was losing steam fast.
"If not, th-then I suggest you find your way to the correct room!" she ended in an embarrassing stammer and squeak, and her face coloured a deep pink as she tried to maintain her sombre face.
"...Eh?"
Kotaro grunted at the louder-than-expected voice, her poorly-restrained anxiety reminding him of a younger version of himself, baffled at his father's insistence he start driving the family truck. It was sort of nostalgic... but at the same time, he was also a bit annoyed that everything about how she talked suggested the small girl was intimidated by him somehow. He was only two heads taller than her and twice as heavy, what could she possibly be afraid of?
"Yes, I'm here for the tutoring," he finally productively replied (although his continued cool gruffness likely didn't help matters, "But doesn't it not start for another few minutes? I'm going over my stuff."
He ruffled his papers; in contrast to his loud voice, they were quiet; repeat folding and crumpling had taken away their crispness. "I'm not going to give you all of these. Look at it my way: A man's got to take care of his problems on his own... so I'm gonna let you help me, but I'm only gonna show you a couple good ones. Then I'll learn from you how to do it on my own."
After a bit of shuffling, Kotaro finally had his two candidates at the top of the pile: a literature essay, and a draft of a radio ad for his trucking services. Both of which were riddled with the red pen-marks of failure, the essay for its poor structure, and the advert for... well, everything.
Kotaro folded his hands in his lap and finally decided to smile. "Ready for when it starts. I'm in your care, sensei."
Free Literature Tutoring!!! (open starter)
Chie looked at the sign she’d posted on the bulletin board in the commons of Hope’s Peak with pride. Of course, she hadn’t made it. She’d commissioned it’s creation as an alternative payment for her extensive editing on a particular graphic designer’s history paper. It was an evenly spaced design, on a pale green sheet of paper, with black font and blue graphics, and Chie was very satisfied with it.
It advertised an opportunity to improve one’s grade in any class requiring frequent essays or papers. It advertised a way to make sure that every teacher was equally impressed with their essays. It advertised an opportunity to unlock one’s true narrative potential. Basically, it advertised Chie.
She had acquired permission from the literature board at the school to arrange revision sessions, as long as she claimed them as tutoring, and this was exactly what she was setting about doing. At precisely 6 pm, she would meet with anyone who felt compelled by the flier in the 1-2 classroom, and would appeal with them to assist in achieving the best they could possibly be.
Chie Bunko sat with folded hands and an array of pink, blue, green, and purple pens on her desk. Her briefcase was carefully tucked against the side of her desk, and she was, in her own opinion, the picture of maturity and responsibility. It was 5.50 pm, and she was awaiting any early comers. Her grey eyes flicked back and forth between the clock and the door as the clock ticked to 5.51 and panic began to arise in her. If no one came early, then it was very likely that no one would come at all! She would be a failure! She would have failed every student without a passing grade in all of Hope’s Peak Academy!!
Tears began to well up in her eyes at the prospect, but she forced herself to get them under control by means of heavy sniffling and excessive panting, needing more than anything to appear mature. Still, she found that she was very red in the face.
5.52 now. Would anyone come?
Kotaro's academic track record and relationship with the faculty was as checkered as his flannel shirt.
Vowing that a man should always solve his problems his own way, his schoolwork always showed frequent and painful signs it was completed in isolation, without reference to fact checking and even appropriate grammar. Sometimes and most distressingly, his handwriting carried the unmistakable bumpiness that it was done while he was driving, and the young man couldn't be convinced this was a problem.
The faculty had finally approached the problem of Kotaro's lackluster schoolwork a different way, and it had almost worked: Solve your problems on the road your own way, Kuroda, but at school, let us show you ours. They had enough of a point that he was nearly about to bend a knee to to them - fortunately, he'd been rescued from the humility at the last minute when he noticed a certain green and blue flyer on the notice board.
At precisely 5.53 - fashionably early, as he liked to call it - Kotaro stormed into classroom 1-2, and with a mittfull of loosely-organized papers in hand, he sat down at a desk at the very back. He didn't acknowledge Chie at all - yet. It was 7 minutes too early for that.
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Looks like I'm delivering cross-country this weekend. Anyone want souvenirs?
My student photo. Cheese.