Flip through the channels on the television and refer to your broadcast guide for the air times of each mutual killing. You'll find a short informational on each game in the back of your guide, giving you the location and complete student roster of the mutual killing you're watching. If you really want to spoil yourself, you can call in to the station and ask who the mastermind is as well, though I've never been one to do that.
My parents named me Sparrow, after the Latin term, "spero" — to hope. Now that's a strange name, you might say, but it's quite fitting, if not ironic, for the times we're in. I suppose my parents decided on it before it all happened. They must have, because after everyone fell into despair, no one would ever come up with such a hopeful name. Not if they wanted to live, anyways.
For sixteen years, I've been alive in this world.
Despair took over Japan—no, the world—over twenty years ago. Twenty two, if you want an exact number. A select few still talk about what the world was like when they were children—when there was still hope—but most don't even mention it. Twenty two years ago, a girl by the name of Enoshima Junko locked a bunch of class council members in a school, promised to let them leave only if they killed a fellow member and got away with it, and ran the first ever game of mutual killing. Not too long after that ended (and I should mention it ended rather quickly), she ran the game again, only with her own classmates whose minds had been wiped clean of their high school memories.
Enoshima Junko participated in that second game, and died by the end of it.
Her death left a massive void in the rule of the despairing world. A leader was needed, to keep the world from recovering and getting back its hope before despair could settle into the cracks. Naturally, when there's a gap in power, people tend to fight over it.
Her replacements were supposed to be a group of children named, "The Soldiers of Hope". Their leader, a paraplegic girl by the name of Monaka, tried to create "Enoshima Junko II", a suitable, if not even more despairing version of the original Junko. She failed, which isn't really surprising when you consider the fact that Junko left her legacy up to a group of elementary school children. There are rumors that Monaka is dead now, like the other "Soldiers of Hope", but no one really knows. I sure as hell hope they're dead.
I should also mention the Ultimate Despairs. You could consider them Junko's henchmen, because when she threw the world into despair, they were right there beside her, laughing in the face of everyone's misery. Who knew a group of kids could be so destructive? Well, after their beloved leader's death, it wasn't long before they all vanished. According to the whispers of my past classmates, they were kidnapped by an organization named the "Future Foundation" and subjected to high-tech brainwashing in an effort to save them and bring them back to hope.
The so-called "Future Foundation" fell years ago. I remember seeing it on the news, when I was around six or seven years old. A bunch of its leaders, including survivors from the game that killed Enoshima, had been killed while attempting a rescue mission on the remaining Ultimate Despairs. The newscasters reported it with dark enthusiasm, as though it were a miracle that the world was finally rid of its disgusting hope. People exchanged wicked grins and haughty shouts between one another. The streets were lined with corpses that day, in tribute to Enoshima Junko's glory. For a little while after that, maybe a few weeks at most, there was just a bit more excitement in the world.
Despair seemed to have evolved over time, from chaos into a state of numbness. From the photographs I've seen, I can't imagine ever being able to survive in a time when riots and nonsensical violence roamed the streets. In one photograph, an entire city was burning, each building lit up by a very visible glow from the inside. Enoshima Junko must have been one hell of a senseless bitch, because destruction leaves the city in ruins, and allows few survivors. If she really wanted to spread despair, she should have left more of them to face the situation afterwards. They'd suffer more if they were all starving to death or dying of their injuries.
Our current system is similar to those tales the "hopeful" ones always tell, the stories of a world before despair. According to them, the world was just like it is now, but everyone was kind to each other. Corpses, and even splatters of blood, were rare sights. Hell, they say people even cried over a death they'd only heard about in the news. Sounds like bullshit if you ask me, though Lantern seems to fully endorse the concept. I can see why they'd endorse it, with all of those storytellers in there.
Lantern is an organization that came up a few years after the Future Foundation fell. It primarily consists of older generations, ones who haven't forgotten hope and want to restore the world to its "former glory", though there are a few younger recruits as well. The name, Lantern, generally comes off as strange to those who hear it. It's not as impactful as a name like "Future Foundation", but they claim to be the light shining through the darkness, the hope that breaks the despair. They're secretive, which is to be expected in a world almost entirely controlled by despair, but there are ways to get in if you know the right people. At first, this may seem like an easy way for despairs to infiltrate the party, but Lantern works in strange ways.
They contact all their members individually. There are several divisions in the organization, and no single person has influence on more than one. Orders are passed directly from one commander to their subordinate, and to no one else. Don't even think about listening in on communications, because Lantern doesn't have a central communication hub. If a despair were to infiltrate, they'd receive only petty orders.
Naturally, they've become the world's prime targets. If you find out about someone who has associated with them, you're to report them to the Shades right away.
The Shades are just official despair enforcement. After the world was consumed by despair, the term "despairs" became too common to differentiate between high ranking officials and normal citizens who had fallen into despair. As a mocking contrast to Lantern, official despairs named themselves the "Shades". They work directly under… well, whoever the fuck's in charge right now. All I know is, they take orders from higher up, and don't seem to question them.
I got a good idea of their work ethic when they barged into my rundown apartment one evening and took me away. They aren't just your typical baseball bat wielding, Monokuma mask gangsters. No, of course not, they're the official enforcers of despair. They've got to be as merciless and hostile as possible, and I was no exception.
Those who are reported to have hope, who go against the well-established ways of despair, are the outcasts. That's who I am.
That's why I sat in a prison cell for a month, alone except for the occasional guard dropping off a tray of sloppily made food.
Because I had hope.
And now, I'm sitting in the back of a truck, steel handcuffs clasped around my wrists and an ankle cuff tethering me to the bench I'm sitting on. There's barely any light coming in from the ventilation holes on the raise up door, but there's just enough to make out the shape of another girl sitting across from me on a separate bench. Her form is relaxed, so I assume she was sedated by the guards before we left the prison. They only use sedatives on the really rowdy inmates, so I'm praying she doesn't wake up before we get to our destination, but more than anything, I feel like I understand her. She and I are the only two people in the back of this truck, and we've both been condemned to the same shitty situation.
I got a good look at her when we were being loaded into the truck, back at the prison. She's got long, straight hair that falls all the way down to her waist. In the current light, I'd swear it was black, but I know it's really just an incredibly dark red. She's got an open, red collared jacket with thick black horizontal stripes, and I mean thick, there are only six black and red stripes in total. Beneath that is a dark grey shirt and maroon shorts, as well as black ankle high boots. I couldn't tell if her shirt was long or short sleeved, since her jacket was covering it, but I did see that she was wearing some belts. Over all of this was a dark tattered black cloak, so thin it was partially translucent. Two gun holsters were attached to two separate belts, though they were empty, the weapons no doubt confiscated.
The empty holsters cause me to vaguely wonder what talent she's been branded with.
Those who are caught believing in hope, or are associated with hope, are branded with "Ultimate" talents. Typically, this talent relates to the actions of the individual and who they are in general, as a person, their identity, etc.. I'd once heard that before, having an Ultimate talent was a title highly sought after. Well, whatever it was in the past, it's not something you want to have now. Now, it means you'll soon have to participate in a game of mutual killing.
That's exactly where we're going. This truck is going to take us to our killing grounds, where we'll be broadcast on television as the producers try and get better ratings by subjecting us to various amounts of physical and psychological torture. Physical pain and screaming no longer does it for the audiences. It's become a cliche now, to use the students' secrets as a motive, or threaten to torture their loved ones. Every host, every producer, is looking for that "new thing" that will send their broadcasted killing to the top of the rating charts. In a rare case, the students themselves will make the game interesting.
We're just pieces in their game. Marionettes, whose strings can be cut at a moment's notice.
I was branded as the "Ultimate Vigilante". It's not that far off from what I would have chosen, had I been given a choice in the matter, but it does make me sound like a hero, which I detest. I strayed from the path of despair, sure, but I never thought I'd be called a vigilante of all things.
Suddenly, I see a faint red glow in the dim light. The girl across from me has cracked an eye open, causing her red eyes to stand out in the shadows. Many people wear red contacts for "cosmetic despair", but I have a feeling that hers are genuine. She doesn't speak, nor move, she just sits there motionlessly, watching me. I briefly worry that she's the type to start screeching and thrashing after I speak, but I do it anyways.
My voice is a bit raspy from disuse, and muffled by the rumbling of the truck, but it's otherwise clear. "Hello," I say.
That red eye just keeps on staring. She moves, and I flinch, already over predicting her moves. All she's done is lean back on her bench, her handcuffs clinking against each other gently.
"Greetings comrade," she answers in a cool, smooth voice. I swear, if it was possible to hear smirks, I would be hearing one right now. I can't help but feel that she's been watching me for a while.
She fazes me, but I lower my own voice, which is similar to hers in both smoothness and tone, and try again. "Who are you?"
"Must you know?"
"No," I reply curtly. "But I'd like to. We're going to be in the same mutual killing, after all."
She considers this for a moment before I hear her try to cross her arms, only to be stopped by the restraints around her wrists. "... one would be considered rude," she responds at last. "If they were to ask for another's name without first giving their own."
There's something in her tone that says, I'm not just going to give away my identity. She's intelligent, definitely. A lot of times in broadcasts, I've seen some of the more excitable students in the killings just run up to the other participants and give their names and life's stories away. It's not particularly dangerous, but there's something that tells me you shouldn't associate with the people who are trying to kill you.
"Sparrow," I answer, hoping she'll give me her name if I give her mine.
She scoffs. "I requested the name given to you at birth, not your codename nor whatever alias of yours that may be."
"It's no codename. That's my birth name: Sparrow Mayurida."
There's a pause in our conversation. "Intriguing," she comments. By the way she says it, I have a feeling she doesn't entirely believe me. "Very well. A name for a name then. My name is Jun."
Jun, huh? That's an interesting unisex name. In translation, it means "truth", which makes me wonder whether her talent is associated with honesty. I draw a breath to ask her what talent she's been branded with, but I'm stopped short by the loud screech of the truck's brakes. Despairs really hold no regard for traffic laws. Not like they regarded laws in general though.
I hear Shades climbing out of the front of the truck, and by the way their voices are nearing us, there's no doubt that they're coming to let us out. I look at Jun, and she says nothing, only sparing me a side glance before she stares at the truck door for the inevitable. The Shades are chatting amongst themselves, probably waiting for the signal that says to go ahead and release us. Broadcasters typically like to unchain us all at once. It makes us look more unified, and the looks of surprise on people's faces when they finally see their killing grounds combine to make a good montage.
I hold my breath. Finally, there's a pause in the chatter outside. They must be confirming the order with their higher ups. Someone grabs onto the handle of the slide up door, and it causes the panel to rattle noisily as Jun and I wait. There's a quiet countdown outside, because they don't want the cameras to take in the production noise, but it eventually hits zero, as most countdowns do.
The back of the truck unlocks, and the door is pulled up to reveal our new killing grounds.
A/N: Hello there, I hope you all enjoyed the prologue. As most of you have likely read from the story's summary, this is an SYOC. I'll do my best with it, and the form will be on my profile, but please do follow a few rules when submitting.
Do not submit any reused or recycled characters. This also includes just renaming your old character and trying to submit them. Please, don't do that.
Do not submit any characters through reviews, there are too many spoilers in regards to secrets and what not. PMs only, please.
I won't reserve slots (how can you tell if your character will make it in for sure?) but feel free to shoot me a PM saying you're going to submit; that way I won't make final decisions too early.
Suggestion: Canon talents are permitted, but your character is less likely to be chosen. There are tons of hackers/archers/artists out there. See what you can come up with.
Suggestion: This story takes place in Japan, so hopefully a majority of the submissions will be Japanese, though I'm sure the despairs would have no problem dragging someone over from the other side of the world. If your character is NOT Japanese, please put that in the "Other" section.
Without further ado, here's the form:
Name (first, last):
Age (10-30):
Ultimate/Talent (remember, they are BRANDED this; it is not necessarily what they want to be, though it is based off of their skills/visible traits):
Gender:
Appearance (including clothing; specific heights/weights aren't needed, just "tall" or "average height", natural facial expressions and posture are nice too):
Personality (the less you put, the more I'll self-interpret; list quirks and special traits here as well please):
Speech Pattern/Mannerisms (stutter, quiet voice, put their hands in their pockets?; describing your character's voice helps as well):
Family (family members, what happened to their family? remember, almost everyone has fallen to despair):
Backstory (general history, what hopeful things did they do to get captured, how long were they imprisoned, how did they react to despair?):
Skills (what are they good at):
Likes:
Dislikes:
Reaction to "Ultimate" Title/Imprisonment:
Role During Investigation/Trials:
Other: