Off Script

Part 1: Pregame Entree

Thunder cracked over head. The heavy clouds that hung above the skyscrapers promised a destructive storm. Not that he minded. Everything was miserable here. The buildings he past sat forever in a dark grey. The pavement below his feet a slightly lighter tone. He looked up as the rain started coming down lightly.

The sky was grey, more black than the buildings he's grown up around. His grandfather used to tell him that the skies normally were a bright blue color before pollution got worse. He pulled the mask up tighter around his face. Next it was acid rain, not that it was common, but it has happened before. The stains from last month's fatal downpour still shown on the side walks. Specks of inorganic molecular substance.

He kept walking, not that he could stop. Hundreds of people crowded this over populated city. Even with so many crammed into the streets to follow their daily plan, it was always dead silent. With the occasional coughing and fabric rubbing against others as they pass them.

He turned off on a block to round the corner. He was tall enough to see over some heads to spot the door that he needed to enter. He took out his identification card and tapped on the glass door to get someone's attention. The doors were a thick foggy glass with no handle. A slit in the center of the door appeared and he slid in his ID card. There was a beep and it was spit right out.

The doors slid open and he promptly entered. They shut behind him and an assistant was right by his side. "Saihara Shuichi, correct?"

He nodded. The assistant gestured for him to follow her. She led him to a room with others and told him to wait. The room was large. With cameras and medical supplies in some corner of the room with two individuals that looked like doctors. A group of adults were conversing with one another, looking at other kids in the room. Saihara set his things down next to an empty seat.

He pulled off his mask and slipped out his phone to busy himself while he waited. Not one to be social, he watched other people his age chat calmly. He scrolled through his danganronpa application. This was going to be the biggest performance yet. Strange enough, or less surprisingly, the Storm brewing outside couldn't be heard. That must be thanks to the sound canceling walls. Each room was sound proof. Danganronpa goes all out when it came to keeping secrets.

It was quiet all by his lonesome until someone took the seat next to him. Probably his future coworker. Who seemed to be the shy type.

"...Oh, I didn't expect someone like you to be here."

Their words didn't make sense so he glanced next to him. A boy, rather short. Was looking at him. The moment Saihara looked into their eyes, a strong sense of pity took over him. These eye's shine were gone. Not that they weren't there. The eyes were so faded and... dead. His eyes were hollowed out with the dark lavender purple shading in the emptiness. In this world you can see and watch someone lose hope. It's pitiful, and he's never seen it so bad.

This program that he signed up for was for pristine yet neglected teen actors. Meaning all of them have talent, yet no one wants them. It was shocking to think this boy was an actor. Actors need to be able to feine any emotion, with eyes like that, it would be so difficult. That's probably why he was so unwanted.

"What do you mean?" He ignored the boys eyes and looked at his rather dark bruise peeking out of his uniform around his neck. The boy shrugged. "...D'know. You actually ...look cute is all. Everyone else here so far needs plastic surgery, and badly." He so nonchalantly called him cute. "Cute?" He repeated.

The boy's eyelids dropped halfway over his glossy hues. "That is what I said. Any way, ...I'm Ouma Kokichi, nice to meet you ...before we kill ourselves." Saihara grimaced. Sure this program had a history of suicides, but must Ouma highlight it? "I'm Saihara Shuichi." He plainly said. To flip topics, he gestured to his neck. "What happened?"