Title: Zuki's Nostalgia
Author: Dr Autux
Summary: Sho "Zuki" Tsukioka's recalls how he met Kazuo Kiriyama.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): None at all.
Feedback: Desired
Characters: Canon characters
Notes: This story chronologically proceeds Zuki's POV in the Takami Koushun's novel. It's wholly based upon the novel and features no influence whatsoever from the film (which I haven't seen for that matter).
Disclaimer: Battle Royale is written and (c) 1999 by Takami Koushun.
Copyleft Dr Autux 2004. This fic is hereby placed in the public domain.
'This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time'
- Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
Zuki's Nostalgia
So, finally taking a break are we? Sho Tsukioka (Male Student No. 14) thought as he slowly crouched down in the copse, eyeing Kazuo who was in front of him. He isn't exactly the boy known to take siestas, does he suspect that someone is following him? No, that's impossible, he thought and shrugged it off.
As he lain there keeping a constant watch on the boy with the neatly slicked-back hair, the only trait Sho could notice from this distance, his thoughts rushed back to his first meeting with Kazuo. One of his first impressions on had been his countenance. It had been stoical, almost boarding toward nihilistic if it hadn't been for those constantly frigid eyes of his. In short the countenance of Kazuo Kiriyama unlike most people reflected little or nothing of its bearers feelings.
Having been constantly involved in what he saw as sophisticated events during his whole upbringing Sho had learnt different ways of reading other people in order to determine crucial parts of their personality. According to Sho it is a fact that in these types of social events most people struggle hard to - at least ostensibly - appear as courteous and sincere as possible. And that this is especially true in their first encounter with someone. Sho, or Zuki as he was nicknamed took lightly of this trait of his, which he regarded something of a talent, and took it for womanly intuition. Mitsuru-kun on the other hand had floutingly described it as 'A sort of reverted and cynical "Don't judge a book by it's cover"-principle'. But Sho had dismissed him. He is a fool, Sho thought. A dead fool.
He let his thoughts afloat for a while. How did I really end up labelled a miscreant and delinquent? A thug of the Kiriyama-family -- which other members now has been reduced to a mere smorgasbord for flies? At this point he stopped his line of thought for a brief second or so becoming nauseous from the mental picture his analogy had projected; the thought of the blood-soaked trio having their flesh torn apart by flies laying their eggs. Although the corpses were still to fresh to attract hordes of flies which were present in Sho's mental projection, this require that they have begun to rot - a process not likely to take place within the timespawn of The Programme. Sho however, not having cared much for biology-classes, was ignorant of this.
Having shrugged it of he could almost swear that he had once felt that indescribable odious odour once again. He shivered once more before he blocked the image out of his heads and smelt his hands. The boy with the thuggish-looking face had spent a quantity more than justified of his rationed water in order to wash his hands. He had somehow become obsessed with the thought that the smell lay in his hands rather than in his head. The pragmatic part of him knew that water was invaluable during these harsh conditions but there was also another part of him that just couldn't stand that repugnant odour. But much to his fancy the lovely scent of his perfumed soap, which he kept along with his other essential hygiene tools such as his mirror and comb, filled his nose and calmed him.
Isn't it funny that of all moments I choose this particular one to reflect upon my 15-year old life? Zuki smirked and brushed aside part of his fringe which were in his eyes before continuing his journey down memory lane.
Sho didn't think that he hadn't lived up to the label put upon him, and besides with it came respect or at least authority. But deep inside he felt that it was unfair and that society had in fact plastered this label on him long before he ever became a member of the Kiriyama-family, even though the boy would never admit this to anyone, not even to himself.
The family company, his father's bar had practically served as a second home of his. Since he had no siblings (at least not any that he knew of) the other employees and regulars had served as older siblings to him, providing him with a valuable daily look into the worlds of adults. It had also been through his father's bar that he had first met, and become aquatinted with the infamous Kazuo Kiriyama.
When he reached adolescence he had become slightly shocked that what his father did for a living, managing a bar where people could enjoy themselves on their free time was outlawed and officially considered an utterly despicable and highly delinquent activity.
Sho's first meeting with Kazuo had taken place at one of those boring fancy-dress parties that his father held a few of annually, officially the club wasn't a club but mere a place you booked in order to host your own fancy-parties. And of course his father had to have his son present, mingling with the crowd, to make the charade somewhat believable in they eyes of outsiders.
In order to amuse himself, and more importantly make some money and thus not spoil the whole evening, Sho had arranged a little contest of his own. A chess-contest to be more precise. He had spent an hour or two at the local library ogling through chess-books looking for the hardest possible chess problem he could possibly find. And he had found a hard one, it had been constructed by a Soviet - now part of the Greater Easter Asian Republic - chess prodigy more than forty years ago. One had the vast number of five moves, which is a lot for a chess problem, to check mate black's king. There were hundreds of possible moves but only a given sequence worked. Sho was certain that no one would be able to find it and therefore he had set the price money to 500 000 ¥ and the entering fee to 1000 ¥.
To make a long story short he'd lost 500 000 ¥ that night. He lost it to a handsome boy of his own age, around 13-14 years old. Dressed in a fancy imported suit, Sho thought that the brand was called Arman..-something - he'd never seen one until then. He'd also worn matching new-polished shoes and had his hair uniquely slicked-back. He had walked up to the touch-sensitive chessboard connected to a pre-programmed chess-computer, which had the solution and every possible countermove, and checkmated in five moves. Whilst solving the actual problem and receiving the price cheque the boys face had remained deadpan. The boy was no other than the infamous Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6).
Sho later met up with him that evening and got to talk a little to him. Not exactly garrulous like himself but he kept the conversation going. Obviously since he sensed my invaluable talents by instinct, Sho thought. Kazuo had joined their class two months later. And once Mitsuru Numai (Male Student No 17) abdicated and became a devoted underling himself the rather loose group transformed into the welded-together Kiriyama-family and their once so marginal authority had skyrocketed.
Once again Sho brushed his fringe out of his eyes, this time a bit more irritated. And as a leaf fell down from his hair he froze his line of thought and began ransacking through his rucksack. I'm getting tangles! Where in God's name did I put my comb?
Author: Dr Autux
Summary: Sho "Zuki" Tsukioka's recalls how he met Kazuo Kiriyama.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): None at all.
Feedback: Desired
Characters: Canon characters
Notes: This story chronologically proceeds Zuki's POV in the Takami Koushun's novel. It's wholly based upon the novel and features no influence whatsoever from the film (which I haven't seen for that matter).
Disclaimer: Battle Royale is written and (c) 1999 by Takami Koushun.
Copyleft Dr Autux 2004. This fic is hereby placed in the public domain.
'This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time'
- Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
Zuki's Nostalgia
So, finally taking a break are we? Sho Tsukioka (Male Student No. 14) thought as he slowly crouched down in the copse, eyeing Kazuo who was in front of him. He isn't exactly the boy known to take siestas, does he suspect that someone is following him? No, that's impossible, he thought and shrugged it off.
As he lain there keeping a constant watch on the boy with the neatly slicked-back hair, the only trait Sho could notice from this distance, his thoughts rushed back to his first meeting with Kazuo. One of his first impressions on had been his countenance. It had been stoical, almost boarding toward nihilistic if it hadn't been for those constantly frigid eyes of his. In short the countenance of Kazuo Kiriyama unlike most people reflected little or nothing of its bearers feelings.
Having been constantly involved in what he saw as sophisticated events during his whole upbringing Sho had learnt different ways of reading other people in order to determine crucial parts of their personality. According to Sho it is a fact that in these types of social events most people struggle hard to - at least ostensibly - appear as courteous and sincere as possible. And that this is especially true in their first encounter with someone. Sho, or Zuki as he was nicknamed took lightly of this trait of his, which he regarded something of a talent, and took it for womanly intuition. Mitsuru-kun on the other hand had floutingly described it as 'A sort of reverted and cynical "Don't judge a book by it's cover"-principle'. But Sho had dismissed him. He is a fool, Sho thought. A dead fool.
He let his thoughts afloat for a while. How did I really end up labelled a miscreant and delinquent? A thug of the Kiriyama-family -- which other members now has been reduced to a mere smorgasbord for flies? At this point he stopped his line of thought for a brief second or so becoming nauseous from the mental picture his analogy had projected; the thought of the blood-soaked trio having their flesh torn apart by flies laying their eggs. Although the corpses were still to fresh to attract hordes of flies which were present in Sho's mental projection, this require that they have begun to rot - a process not likely to take place within the timespawn of The Programme. Sho however, not having cared much for biology-classes, was ignorant of this.
Having shrugged it of he could almost swear that he had once felt that indescribable odious odour once again. He shivered once more before he blocked the image out of his heads and smelt his hands. The boy with the thuggish-looking face had spent a quantity more than justified of his rationed water in order to wash his hands. He had somehow become obsessed with the thought that the smell lay in his hands rather than in his head. The pragmatic part of him knew that water was invaluable during these harsh conditions but there was also another part of him that just couldn't stand that repugnant odour. But much to his fancy the lovely scent of his perfumed soap, which he kept along with his other essential hygiene tools such as his mirror and comb, filled his nose and calmed him.
Isn't it funny that of all moments I choose this particular one to reflect upon my 15-year old life? Zuki smirked and brushed aside part of his fringe which were in his eyes before continuing his journey down memory lane.
Sho didn't think that he hadn't lived up to the label put upon him, and besides with it came respect or at least authority. But deep inside he felt that it was unfair and that society had in fact plastered this label on him long before he ever became a member of the Kiriyama-family, even though the boy would never admit this to anyone, not even to himself.
The family company, his father's bar had practically served as a second home of his. Since he had no siblings (at least not any that he knew of) the other employees and regulars had served as older siblings to him, providing him with a valuable daily look into the worlds of adults. It had also been through his father's bar that he had first met, and become aquatinted with the infamous Kazuo Kiriyama.
When he reached adolescence he had become slightly shocked that what his father did for a living, managing a bar where people could enjoy themselves on their free time was outlawed and officially considered an utterly despicable and highly delinquent activity.
Sho's first meeting with Kazuo had taken place at one of those boring fancy-dress parties that his father held a few of annually, officially the club wasn't a club but mere a place you booked in order to host your own fancy-parties. And of course his father had to have his son present, mingling with the crowd, to make the charade somewhat believable in they eyes of outsiders.
In order to amuse himself, and more importantly make some money and thus not spoil the whole evening, Sho had arranged a little contest of his own. A chess-contest to be more precise. He had spent an hour or two at the local library ogling through chess-books looking for the hardest possible chess problem he could possibly find. And he had found a hard one, it had been constructed by a Soviet - now part of the Greater Easter Asian Republic - chess prodigy more than forty years ago. One had the vast number of five moves, which is a lot for a chess problem, to check mate black's king. There were hundreds of possible moves but only a given sequence worked. Sho was certain that no one would be able to find it and therefore he had set the price money to 500 000 ¥ and the entering fee to 1000 ¥.
To make a long story short he'd lost 500 000 ¥ that night. He lost it to a handsome boy of his own age, around 13-14 years old. Dressed in a fancy imported suit, Sho thought that the brand was called Arman..-something - he'd never seen one until then. He'd also worn matching new-polished shoes and had his hair uniquely slicked-back. He had walked up to the touch-sensitive chessboard connected to a pre-programmed chess-computer, which had the solution and every possible countermove, and checkmated in five moves. Whilst solving the actual problem and receiving the price cheque the boys face had remained deadpan. The boy was no other than the infamous Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6).
Sho later met up with him that evening and got to talk a little to him. Not exactly garrulous like himself but he kept the conversation going. Obviously since he sensed my invaluable talents by instinct, Sho thought. Kazuo had joined their class two months later. And once Mitsuru Numai (Male Student No 17) abdicated and became a devoted underling himself the rather loose group transformed into the welded-together Kiriyama-family and their once so marginal authority had skyrocketed.
Once again Sho brushed his fringe out of his eyes, this time a bit more irritated. And as a leaf fell down from his hair he froze his line of thought and began ransacking through his rucksack. I'm getting tangles! Where in God's name did I put my comb?