Battle Royale 0Aka an inevitable and brilliantly original concept that’s been done a thousand times before. This is just a little bit of rubbish written to amuse myself. Enjoy
The Second World War has ended and has been won – by Japan. Ignoring the utter chaos this will cause for the history monks of Discworld fame in order to get the world running with this new history all of a sudden, the country is getting out of control. The new ‘President’ of Japan has created unemployment figures that have reached into the double figures and the youth are creating gangs and groups to rebel against the new regime. In short, you’ve heard it all before in a few typed lines in a movie. But what was before the first few seconds of prologue created by some editing wizard who can make text fly across the screen on command, has now become a full blown fanfiction that will not be made into the most controversial film of the year due to (stolen) copyright reasons. Welcome to Battle Royale 0.
Notes on the text In the original Battle Royale novel, Mae’s Battle Royale takes place when Shuya and Nobu are very small children. In the film it isn’t stated when her Battle Royale takes place, we just see the news reporters swarming around her at the end. For the sake of this, let’s just assume that hers was the first Battle Royale (even though from the reporter’s words we can guess that it probably wasn’t).
The political situation (i.e. the president’s identity, the law enforcement e.t.c.) is entirely fictional in this fanfiction. This is for two reasons – firstly to avoid confusion with solid, historical fact (the real identity of the ‘president’ figure and so forth) and secondly because I don’t wish there to be an uproar at what I write. All characters are entirely fictional and any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely coincidental bleh bleh bleh. The character of Shinji is a gimp. He is not based on any leading Japanese, German, British, French, Russian, German or any other politician of the time or of this present time. Remember that this is also a fictional situation. Bear this in mind, and read it as fiction.
Apologies if the children seem a little too modern.
This fanfiction will have scenes of an upsettingly violent nature in them - once in the prologue, and certainly towards the end. Some bad language will be used throughout with regards to the 'coarser' kids of class 3B. If you have a problem with this, just don't read it. I won't insult readers by putting an age limit on this, but I would instead ask you to use your common sense and proceed with caution if you have qualms. Battle Royale 0 - Prologue ‘Shinji-san.’
‘Ah Mimamoto. Please, sit down.’
The young bespectacled man bowed deeply and sat in the leather chair, awkwardly balancing his briefcase on his knees. He gripped the handle with knuckles growing steadily paler.
‘You wished to see me?’
The other man did not reply directly. Instead he rose from his seat and walked to a dark cabinet that rested against the oak-panelled walls. Mahogany perhaps? Or maybe ash, thought Mimamoto as he stared at his lap. What am I doing thinking about wood at a time like this? He heard the chink of glass, expensive glass, and glanced up. Shinji placed one glass on the green cloth of the desk in front of him and held up another inquiringly. Mimamoto nodded stiffly.
‘Really, there’s no reason for you to look so worried.’ laughed the greying man as he lifted a shining decanter. ‘I don’t bite, despite what you may have heard.’ The younger one nodded again as the shining liquid poured from the lip of the carafe. Clear it seemed, twisting in the air as it fell momentarily without form before crashing in the base of the glass only to be greeted with more…an endless ribbon of water, the purest substance of all. And yet, it most certainly was not water in that glass.
‘Mimamoto, are you listening to me?’
He jerked his eyes from the glass. ‘What? Please, forgive me Shinji-san.’ He inclined his head as a bead of sweat coalesced on it. It didn’t do to upset Shinji. He was a man who disliked being upset. He also had a number of friends who shared this dislike, but you only found out about them once you were well clear of Shinji’s office and in a suspiciously unfamiliar area.
Shinji lowered himself back into his chair with both hands, being a portly man in his middle age, and picked up one of the glasses. He swirled it and chuckled softly at the reflections of light glimmering off the liquid. ‘Here. Have it on me.’
Mimamoto uncurled one set of fingers from his case and closed them around the tumbler. It chinked against a ring on Shinji’s hand when he released it. Shinji paused, flexing his fingers slightly and the two men remained locked in their positions for several seconds. Then Shinji leaned back and clasped his hands on his chest all in one movement, keeping his eyes fixed on the youth’s drink.
‘So…’ He snapped his fingers at Mimamoto. ‘Drink man, drink. I won’t charge you.’ He smiled in a warm way but it contrasted sharply with his eyes which were not smiling at all. They looked dark. They looked almost hungry.
Mimamoto lifted the glass to his lips and tilted it so that the liquid inside moved with the motion. He kept his mouth firmly sealed however and when he felt some moisture lingering on his face he fumbled for a handkerchief and brushed it away. You didn’t get his kind of job by being completely stupid.
Shinji’s smile broadened, but his eyes narrowed, as was always the case with him. You didn’t get his kind of job by being stupid either.
‘Good man. Now, as I was saying beforehand…’ Shinji leaned forward and steepled his hands on the desk. ‘What do you think of this country Mimamoto?’
Mimamoto blinked at the question. ‘Th…this country Shinji-san?’
‘The one and only.’
‘Well I…’ His eyes flitted over the objects on the desk, steadfastly avoiding Shinji’s gaze. He didn’t need to look. He knew what expression he would have.
‘What do you think of our country’s status? Our situation? Our economics? The educational system? Your drink does not seem to be any lower Mimamoto.’
Mimamoto looked up and saw one of Shinji’s grey-flecked eyebrows climbing a fraction higher on his knarled brow. He had seen. Breath rasping, sweat beading he grasped the glass again and in one jerky motion swallowed a mouthful, almost slamming it back down on the desk for fear it would attack. He slowed down his gasping lungs and flying pulse. Nothing untoward happened. It was a good drink. No particular taste, but it was calming in its way. And perfectly chilled from the cabinet.
Shinji idly flicked his eyes at his watch.
‘Well Shinji-san, I…I would say that country is run extraordinarily well-’
‘Do you remember Mimamoto that I assigned you a task?’
Mimamoto swallowed but didn’t reply. The drink had been very cool.
‘Hmm?’
‘Ano…yes, you did.’ Very cool.
‘And what was it?’
‘The youth Shinji-san.’
‘Quite correct. I was sure that you be able to…ah…reach them far more effectively than I ever could.’
‘I…I have been organising seminars Shinji-san.’ It was cool even to hold in the stomach. Mimamoto ran his tongue over his lips.
‘Seminars?’
‘On good conduct and good…good-will Shinji-san.’ There was no way he could look into those eyes now.
‘Indeed. But it seems that only this morning I have received news of a new school boycott in Tokyo.’ Mimamoto said nothing. ‘It seems that your plan is not working.’
Mimamoto crossed his thumbs on the handle of his case. His stomach felt as though it has been packed with snow. This wasn’t what alcohol was supposed to do.
‘Shinji-san…’
Shinji leaned forward with an odd smile, an expectant smile. ‘I’m afraid that young people do not seem to react well to discussion Mimamoto.’
Mimamoto finally looked fully back at Shinji.
‘They need action.’
Mimamoto’s pupils widened as he slumped forward, knocking his glass to the floor with a clatter.
Shinji’s expression didn’t move.
After a minute or so he leaned forward and grasped the now limp wrist. Nothing. He sat back again and sighed with the contentment of another stage completed.
There was a knock at the door, and a thin man with similarly inclined hair peered in. He took in the corpse and put his hands together. ‘Another clean one Shinji-san?’
‘Fairly. He did take rather a long time however. It could have raised annoying questions if anyone had come in.’
‘Point taken Shinji-san. I shall make it stronger next time.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Time?’
‘Thirty-seven seconds. As I said, a little slow.’
‘Of course. I shall see to it immediately.’ He made to move out of the door, but was stopped by a wave of Shinji’s hand.
‘Oh, Kikuta? Telephone Dr. Keko and inform him that another one of my employees has suffered a collapse would you?’
The man named Kikuta bowed. Shinji lowered his eyes to the corpse on his desk. Clear liquid was dripping from beneath the face where the glass had been struck and was already making a stain on the carpet.
‘You know, I really did have high hopes of this one.’
‘You can never tell at the beginning Shinji-san.’ Kikuta bowed once more and left the room. Shinji rubbed a hand across his chin, his skin catching on his ring. He looked at it carefully, a simple band of silver with a wider square on the top. The new ring of the president of Japan.
‘No,’ he murmured to himself. ‘You never can.’
