ALIVE:
B01: Yoshio Akamatsu
G01: Mizuho Inada
B02: Keita Iijima
G02: Yukie Utsumi
B03: Tatsumichi Oki
G03: Megumi Eto
B04: Toshinori Oda
G04: Sakura Ogawa
B05: Shogo Kawada
G05: Izumi Kanai
B06: Kazuo Kiriyama
G06: Yukiko Kitano
B07: Yoshitoki Kuninobu
G07: Yumiko Kusaka
B08: Yoji Kuramoto
G08: Kayoko Kotohiki
B09: Hiroshi Kuronaga
G09: Yuko Sakaki
B10: Ryuhei Sasagawa
G10: Hirono Shimizu
B11: Hiroki Sugimura
G11: Mitsuko Souma
B12: Yutaka Seto
G12: Haruka Tanizawa
B13: Yuichiro Takiguchi
G13: Takako Chigusa
B14: Sho Tsukioka
G14: Mayumi Tendo
B15: Shuya Nanahara
G15: Noriko Nakagawa
B16: Kazushi Niida
G16: Yuka Nakagawa
B17: Mitsuru Numai
G17: Satomi Noda
B18: Tadakatsu Hatagami
G18: Fumiyo Fujiyoshi
B19: Shinji Mimura
G19: Chisato Matsui
B20: Kyoichi Motobuchi
G20: Kaori Minami
B21: Kazuhiko Yamamoto
G21: Yoshimi Yahagi

Pre-Game. 42 Remain.

Shuya Nanahara awoke slowly. For a moment he simply lay there, his head foggy with sleep, before noticing that something seemed decidedly . . . off. As he sat up, his back popped sharply from the sudden change in position and he realized what it was that had struck him as odd: he had fallen asleep at a desk. With one hand he reached behind his back to knead the stiff muscles and waited in the darkness for his eyes—and mind—to focus. After a few seconds he could see well enough to get a basic idea of his surroundings.

He appeared to be in some sort of classroom, and all around him sat the slumped silhouettes of his forty-one classmates, each of them sprawled across their desks asleep as Shuya had been only moments ago. Is this a dream? he thought fuzzily, his head still swimming. After a moment he noticed that the seating assignment was identical to that at Shiro Iwa High School; just ahead of him he could make out Yutaka Seto's mop of curly hair that he had grown so used to seeing the back of during class.

Bemused by the strangeness of the situation, Shuya tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. The overnight class trip. The long bus ride. Clowning around with Yoshitoki. Noriko offering them cookies. And then . . . everyone had begun to doze off? Had he fallen asleep as well? There was something more there, something buzzing just outside the reach of his memory like a forgotten dream. And all this had to be a dream, right? Shuya glanced to his left where Sho Tsukioka lay across his desk, deep in sleep. Sho's girlish lips were slightly parted, allowing a thin string of spittle to dribble out the corner of his mouth and pool on his desk. Shuya's eyes narrowed, a flower of inexplicable worry suddenly blooming in his stomach. His dreams had never been that detailed before. And the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that this didn't feel like a dream at all.

Anxious now, Shuya sought out the sleeping forms of his friends. Sitting in front of Sho was Hiroki Sugimura, the martial artist's lean frame looking odd bent over the desk like that. Past Hiroki was Shuya's best friend, Yoshitoki. Somewhere behind Yoshitoki, Shuya was sure, was Shinji. Shuya craned his neck to look over at the girls on the other side of the room, and managed to make out the shapes of Yumiko and Yukiko before his eyes fell upon Noriko Nakagawa. She had fallen asleep at an awkward angle, her shoulder-length hair obscuring her face and exposing a pale, slender neck. And that was when Shuya saw it.

The collar.

It fit snugly around Noriko's neck, the silver metal gleaming even in the low light. The side of the collar was studded intermittently with what looked to be tiny LEDs, though none were currently lit.

By now all traces of Shuya's former grogginess had vanished, replaced by a horrible, sinking certainty. He leaned over and pushed the sleeping Sho's head to the side to reveal an identical silver collar. Then, with trembling fingers, he reached up to touch the cold metal that encircled his own neck.

Oh shit.

The door to the classroom slammed open and a man strode in confidently, followed by three armed soldiers who flipped on the lights as they entered. The harsh fluorescents buzzed to life, and Shuya blinked unsteadily at the sudden flare of light. The man walked over to the teacher's desk at the front of the room, placing his briefcase on it before turning expectantly to face the class, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so. Shuya stared at the man, his features tightening with dull shock as he realized just who he was looking at. The man was in his early forties, short and thickly built. His hair was wavy, framing a face that was once handsome but now glowed with a sinister, impish glee. A small, black pin with red lettering was clipped to the lapel of his suit. The soldiers that stood behind him were nondescript except for the same black pin attached to their clothing. They held their automatic firearms loosely at their chests, faces blank.

The familiar man's twinkling eyes met Shuya's, and he smiled as he recognized the naked fear on Shuya's face. Around them, others began to stir and awaken, and the air was soon filled with cries of panic and confusion.

"Where the hell are we?" cried Ryuhei Sasagawa indignantly, his hands balled into tight fists.

Kyoichi Motobuchi nervously adjusted his thick glasses. "What time is it? Did everyone fall asleep?" he asked no one in particular, his quiet voice going unheard in the din.

"Is that...?" Haruka Tanizawa trailed off, gaping first at the man at the front of the room, who continued to grin charmingly, and then at the soldiers. Haruka, like several others, had begun to realize exactly what was going on. Some, like Sakura Ogawa, had figured it out almost immediately. Sakura sat quietly, one hand touching her collar and silent tears rolling down her face.

The volume in the classroom reached a deafening crescendo as everyone awoke, and after a few moments realized the gravity of their situation. Some people began weeping openly, while others stared blankly ahead in shock. A few such as Shogo Kawada and Kazuo Kiryama, who were sitting side-by-side, showed no response at all, simply waiting patiently for the smiling man to speak. And when he finally did speak, it was with the pleasant but somehow smug voice that they had all heard before, either on the television or in numerous radio adverts.

"Welcome, class," the man simpered, "to Battle Royale!"

There came a burst of nervous, screaming laughter from the back of the class. Everyone turned to see a Kazushi Niida, who was blushing furiously but also looked close to vomiting. The man at the front of the room cleared his throat and began to speak again.

"My name is Yonemi Kamon," he began, quite unnecessarily. They all knew his name. "You may call me Sir. I do hope all of you are feeling well; the gas we used was designed to have no lingering effects, but you never know, hmm?"

The class simply stared at him. Megumi Eto began to cry in the front row, panicked, hitching sobs. Kamon leered at the group.

"Attentive. Very good! On the whole you show a lot of promise, but I guess we'll see, won't we? Now I'm sure you all know why you're here---"

Kyoichi Motobuchi's hand shot up frantically in the back of the class; Kamon ignored it.

"---but in case you don't, I will explain. Your class has been chosen to participate in this year's Battle Royale competition. Forty-two of you will compete until only one remains. Survival of the fittest. Kill or be killed."

Though they all knew the premise of the Battle Royale program, some of them were less-than-prepared to hear it so bluntly put. To hear it apply to them. Yoshitoki Kuninobu glanced frantically back at Shuya, who returned the expression. Yuka Nakagawa reached under her desk for her friend Satomi's hand, and squeezed it tightly. Kyoichi Motobuchi, tired of his waving arm being ignored, stood up.

"There must be a mistake!" he fairly screamed. Sweat dripped from his nose and brow. "My father works for the government! There's no way my father would allow this! I-I can't be chosen!"

There was a moment of pregnant silence, and Kamon suddenly began to laugh heartily, waving at Kyoichi with his hands. "Sit down, Mr. Motobuchi. There has been no mistake. Equality, you see? No one is exempt from Battle Royale. Not even the sons of," he sniffed disdainfully and rolled his eyes, his sudden jollity now gone, "minor Environmental officers."

Kyoichi collapsed in his seat, his face ashen.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, Battle Royale is the highest-grossing reality television show in the country, authorized and run by the government. You've all been in holding for a little over three days while we've made the necessary preparations: making sure you're all in acceptable physical condition, and of course," Kamon continued, "making the press release and drumming up publicity for this year's season. I'm sure it will please some of you to know that right the country is in a frenzy, placing bets on which of you will win! Trading cards are being printed! Lunchboxes will have your faces on them! Exciting stuff, huh?"

His enthusiasm was met with dull, shell-shocked silence. Unfazed, he went on.

"We notified your parents and guardians before the press release to spare them the shock of suddenly seeing you all on TV, and of course they all send their best wishes! So make them proud!"

Yoshitoki turned, shooting another glance at Shuya. They had lived at the local Catholic orphanage together for several years, and neither of them had any relatives to contact. So who had Kamon notified about Shuya and him? The face of Ms. Anno, the beautiful and kind orphanage caretaker who had raised them, rose in his mind, accompanied by a sick apprehension. Ms. Anno, who had always, in her own quiet way, resisted the barbarity of the program. How well could she have reacted to hearing that he and Shuya had been taken to participate? Yoshitoki raised his hand warily.

"Yes?" Kamon purred.

"Shuya and I… Who did you contact for us?" Yoshitoki asked, his voice wavering with uneasiness.

Kamon's smile grew, his lips pulling apart hungrily. "Ah, the orphanage bitch. Such a delicate beauty, don't you think?"

Yoshitoki began to tremble, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his desk. "What did you do to Ms. Anno?" he whispered.

Kamon's smile grew wider still, until it seemed to stretch across his entire face. "She very adamantly protested your selection for Battle Royale, to the point that we had to…subdue her."

Yoshitoki stood up, only vaguely aware of Shuya getting out of his seat as well, and when he spoke his voice was no longer a whisper, but a full-out scream. "What did you do to Ms. Anno?"

"Tough love, Mr. Kuninobu," Kamon smiled, lost in the memory. "At first she resisted, but in the end she was more than willing to…share herself. And so tight…"

"You motherfucker!" Yoshitoki roared. Though he was slight of build and not at all physically threatening, Kamon winced slightly at the scream. "I'm going to kill you, you piece of shit!"

Regaining his composure, Kamon simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled maddeningly. "I only did what I had to do, Mr. Kuninobu. If you want to blame anyone, blame the bitch. If she had only complied---"

His words were cut off as of the students rushed at him, screaming in fury.