Ohai
Disclaimer: onoess immma not Japanese so I no own this manga. I read fitness magazine instead. YAR YAR. I also own no song titles. Coz I am poor and enter shitka- i mean enter shikari arent very good ;).
Lolz I mean no...offense ;)
Sayanara Nanahara.
Sorry you're not a winner
Chapter 1: Roses for the dead.
"Thank you, for that informative out-look on solar energy, Jeremy."
"That's quite alright, Jenny."
"Next, our top leading story that has got Great Britain strapped around the throat. Will they or won't they pass the battle royale act in Great Britain? Ladies and gentle we can confirm that indeed Battle Royale will be making its grand appearance in the United Kingdom. An agreement has to come to terms with Japan to patch up the rocky relationship between the United Kingdom and Japan. Preparations are well und-"
"DUDE! I was totally watching that!"
"You already know the bill was passed. Get back to work; otherwise both of our jobs are on the line."
"I think somebody needs a hug!"
"Fucking Ralf! Get your dirty stoner hands off me!"
"Mannnn. That soo wasn't cool what you just said," exclaimed Ralf Bailey, "if you want to get into name calling, Norman. I will give you all the sugar in my pocket."
Norman Gabbitas was just a normal forty year old man, waiting for his retirement to roll around the corner. He like most men in the working world had an idiot for a co-worker. The portly, balding forty year old sat hunched over a computer screen. Typing up, important documents for the government while trying to defend himself against an 18 year old stoner from Manchester.
"Dude!" shrieked Ralf, "I was soo watching Jenny on the news and you come and turn it off. That isn't righteous at all. Our country is going to the dogs because of work-alcoholics like you"
"Unlike you, Ralf," sighed Norman, "I have a family to provide for. Maybe you should get some work done?"
Ralf just plopped himself down onto the worn out computer chair next to Normans, tapping lightly on the computer screen. His waxy features lit up once reading what had appeared on his screen.
"I still can't believe fucking Battle Royale is coming to the United Kingdom, man!"
"Neither can I, Ralf," smirked, Norman, his fingers typing at the speed of sound, while his eyes scanned the computer for any human error.
The only thing in common did the overweight, family man and the eighteen year old, lazy stoner was their mutual love for Battle Royale. The secret love of gore and violence was what usually passed their lips.
"American gets everything worthwhile first! We get all the bogus shit like plastic rulers and crap."
"Yeah, but we're getting it now!" smirked Norman, quickly glancing away from the computer screen to catch a sign of excitement in the boys eyes. Something that usually only weed could do.
"Hell yeah! Too cool! Very cool! I hope another Hannah Abbott appears this time! Crazy woman are just the badass killers that just fuel my wagon, how about yours Norman?"
"Sure. This old man has to get his kicks somewhere…"
"Can you remember the last battle royale in Japan? When that crazy chick, Sakura blew the head off her lover? Fucking, sweeeet."
"Yeah. Not as good as that Kazuki who slit the throat of that sleeping girl, whatsherface, the one with the big nose and bushy eyebrows?"
"I don't know man…all them foreign names mess me up. Especially, when I'm on the bong at 2 a.m. It's totally 2am right now, but I'm stuck here working, typing up useless shit for the government."
"Ahem, correction. I'm typing up useless shit for the government. Hold your horses though, Ralf," winked Norman, "look here."
Norman's porky fingers traced along the words on the screen, a small smirk danced on his lips. Ralf began to read, soon after a small smiled appeared on his boyish features.
"Awesome! This was well worth turning the fucking television off!"
"I know," smirked Norman, "but I don't know what my wife will say…she hates all this violence and gore. Gives her stomach cramps, ya know? Kinda puts a downer on sex lately. Plus going all this way to this little island in the middle of a pissing ocean…I can see myself getting homesick."
"Screw that man!" screeched Ralf, "man this is soo much bigger than your wife and her bowel problems! We have been offered to help with the first! I mean the first! Hello! The first ever battle royale in England! And you're going to turn them down? Fucking insane man! It's a fucking dream! Getting stoned, eating pizza, watching contestants screw the living day lights out of one another, blood and guts galore. My pot belly amigo." grinned Ralf, half-way through his speech he had leaped from the chair. His arms motioning his excitement for this killer TV show.
Obsession is a funny thing, you know.
"Ralf! I have a family. A wife and kids, the whole package. I can't just come in after a hard day at the office and be like, o dear I'm going to a mysterious island in the mist of an ocean we have never heard the name of. To help support the one TV show which you hate because your obsession with the Japanese won't allow them to be killed! Marriage just doesn't work like that Ralf. I tried it once in my youth. It ended with my first wife hitting with a large spade." sighed Norman.
Norman's eyes could see the faint distance of futures string dangling in his face. The chance to do a one of a lifetime thing. He wanted to do it, of course he did! He would be mad to turn down the government, then just look at all those zeros at the end of the cheque they were going to give him after the show had finished! Man, he could buy the whole of France with that. For once his technical knowledge had been recognising to something that mattered to him. But now it lay to waste. This dream wasn't going to happen without tricky, deceit or a break-down family in the making.
"Man! Come on! Think of the underage girls! Lying in blood! It would be sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet. I tell you. Your wife will understand, come on! She looks like a bulldog; she won't be going anywhere soon! Or you could just leave a note, saying some shit there and some shit somewhere. Whatever man, I'm going, they want my technical skills on board; I bet some babes will be there too! Flap material! So cool! Very cool! Excellent."
Ralf jumped on top of his office chair. His legs spread out on the seat, his arms playing air guitar. Just a normal day in the office for: Ralf Bailey.
"When you put it that way" Norman wondered.
Just one time. Just one time. Norman was going to do the right thing. Follow a life long dream. Just for him.
Deep in the heart of Japan. A small woman wiped sloppy bile from the corner of her mouth. Large lumps of raw fish slipped down her chin, her eyes vacant staring into the pit of the toilet. A small delicate hand clung onto a letter, smeared with thrown-up breakfast and spit from her mouth.
Her military uniform lay gauntly on a bathroom hook. The navy colours seemed deathly, something that could suffocate her tiny frame. A painful reminder. A painful reminder of her duty.
If she had no duty, she had no reason to live. No job, no glamorous flat overlooking a rippling sea. No glamorous flat containing expensive distracting goodies meant no way of dulling an ever-lasting pain.
The Battle Royale program had chosen her: Yumiko Fujiyoshi to instruct the first ever English battle royale.
Bile rose in her throat once more; the toilet was splattered with fear.