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High School Death Games
Chapter 11 - Little Monsters

Chapter 11 - Little Monsters

The evening hue cast a dark, burnt orange glow through the clouds, blanketing the field as the game finally drew to a close. On the sidelines, Yuma clutched her trembling, bandaged arm, her face set in a brave facade as she cheered for Sakura, though every nerve felt frayed. “Sakura! It’s you or them!” she screamed with everything she had left.

Sakura glanced at her ID, her hand clenching around it. She looked away, unable to bear the weight of knowing which names might have been added to her tally. “I’m not a monster,” she whispered to herself, even as Yuma’s words pushed her forward, forcing her to muster a small wave in response. The ID stayed closed in her fist, her eyes refusing to meet it. She could feel the weight of the deaths from the last match pressing on her, suffocating.

Across the field, the presenter drone danced into place, its voice cutting through the silence. “Winner takes all!” it cheered, swooping over the field. Everyone’s IDs vibrated in sync, signalling one final, decisive round: 2 red players vs. 16 blues.

The remaining red players exchanged a glance, a mix of dread and hints of defiance flashing in their eyes as they jogged to the halfway line with the ball. Takanashi strode forward, his very presence enough to suffocate their remaining hope. With a low, taunting grunt, he said, “Hurry up. Let's get this over with.”

The blue players behind him yelled out encouragement, voices blending into a chorus of jeers. “You got this, Takanashi!” “End this!” “Screw them!”

Both the reds stood frozen for a moment, before flashing a glance at each other, drained of any remaining resolve they searched for any opening. With a final, defiant act, one of them struck the ball, sending it soaring over the heads of the blue players, as it cruised down the pitch.

The power behind the ball faded, and the ball rolled into the 18-yard box, to a young girl on the opposite side of the box to Sakura.

“Hurry up, pass it!” Takanashi’s voice cut through the noise.

With a weak kick the ball barely rolled to a nearby blue player, who then launched it back down the field over the heads of the two reds. Takanashi stepped between the two red players with a cold smile. “Sit this one out, boys. I’ll make sure it’s quick.” He shoved them aside as they crumpled to the ground.

With one powerful strike, Takanashi sent the ball rocketing toward the red goal. The siren blared, and lights flashed across the field as fireworks erupted above. The game was over.

A roar of relief and excitement rose from the blues as they crowded around Takanashi, their victory echoing around the school. The drone swooped in close, recording them. Meanwhile, Sakura slowly walked toward the sideline, where Yuma waited with a weary smile.

The janitor bots had already started collecting the red players, dragging them from the field as the presenter drone looped around the blue team, “Congratulations, your winning: 13,900!” it chirped, almost giddy.

One of the senior students swatted at the drone. “Hey! Don’t we get all the points?”

The drone buzzed above him, tauntingly cheerful. “Correct, it's evenly split: 817 each.” It spun in a showy loop before darting higher, broadcasting with exaggerated glee. “Please enjoy your victory, and thank you for playing!” The camera drone zoomed in close. “And tune in next time!”

Sakura finally reached Yuma. She was barely able to hold herself together as Yuma reached out. Without a word, Sakura collapsed into her friend’s arms. Yuma’s injured arm trembled under the weight, but she held on tightly as Sakura’s voice cracked, “I didn’t know, I didn’t know…” Her voice broke as she tried to hold back tears, her breath catching.

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Yuma’s voice was soft and steady. “None of us did, Sakura. We could’ve ended up against each other.” Her eyes flickered with the same horror that was twisting in Sakura’s heart. “Any of us.”.

While the blues were celebrating, Takanashi caught sight of them, his gaze lingering. He hesitated, watching the pair, but a sudden scuffle with another student snapped him out of it. A junior year was shoved into him, by a senior with a sneer crossing his face. “If I kill one of you, I get your points,” he joked.

“Just try it,” Takanashi responded coldly, positioning himself in front of the junior.

Another student nearby chuckled. “Hey, maybe they could pay us protection money?” he jeered. “Some nasty kids out there. Even the staff’s gone nuts.”

Yuma cast a wary glance at the group, noticing Takanashi’s imposing stance. She nudged Sakura. “Come on, let’s head back to the nurse’s office, maybe Reo turned up there.”

Intercom system split principal speaking into microphone “Well done, Students, Well done in deed, the patrons are very happy with your performs”

Just then, the intercom crackled to life, the principal’s voice slithering through the speakers, merging with static. “Well done, students. Well done, indeed,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Our patrons are very pleased with your performance.”

Sakura’s fists clenched. The principal’s words clawed at her, igniting a burning anger deep inside. Haruka’s face flashed before her eyes, boiling her blood. Without a word, Sakura shook herself free of Yuma’s hold, wiping away any tears, her face set with a dark determination.

“Sakura, wait!” Yuma called, clutching her arm as she followed her friend through the crowds as she approached the school. Sakura’s steps were steady, her focus unbroken, her mind only on the principal’s voice, still echoing from the intercom.

As they entered the corridor, the door of a fire reel box was gently swaying in the breeze. As they neared the fire reel box, Sakura stopped, eyes fixed on the debris of litter and paper under the box. She tore through the garbage, grabbing a gleaming red blade fire axe hidden under it. Yuma, out of breath, finally caught up. “Where… where are you going?”

Sakura didn’t answer, her grip tightening around the axe. Every step echoed down the empty corridors, the students cowering, parting silently as she passed, having watched the last game, fearful of her rage, piercing eyes narrowly focused. Yuma followed closely, still unsure of what had taken hold of her friend.

Sakura reached the principal’s office, bathed in the dim hue of the orange setting sun. Without hesitation, Sakura raised the axe and swung, the metal shutter ringing out as sparks flew with each blow. Her face twisted with each strike, her voice raw with fury. “I!”—clang—“Am!”—clang—“Not!”—clang—“Your!”—clang—“Monster!” Her final shout echoed as she turned, swinging wildly at a drone that had drifted too close.

But then she froze, the axe mid-swing, as her eyes landed on Yuma, who had stepped just behind the drone. Yuma’s face was pale, her expression unreadable as the two friends stared at each other in silence.

The axe clattered to the ground, and Sakura’s shoulders slumped. She slid to her knees, leaning against the wall as she buried her head in her arms. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice barely audible. “I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

Yuma knelt beside her, placing a steadying hand on Sakura’s shoulder. “We’ve been friends since freshman year, Sakura,” she whispered, her voice soft but unyielding. “I know you did what you had to. And I’ll be here. I owe you that.”

Sakura looked up, her eyes rimmed red, searching Yuma’s face. “That girl, Haruka… she showed us all. I’m a murderer.”

Yuma pulled her close, her voice steady. “No, Sakura. He turned us into this. But we’re still here, together, and once we get Reo, once Ichika gets the rooftop farm going, we can wait this out.”

A deep silence filled the corridor, Sakura’s grief and anger settling as she leaned into Yuma’s comforting hold. Yuma slowly stood, her injured arm looping around Sakura’s shoulders as she pulled her to her feet. With one hand, Yuma picked up the fire axe, its red blade still gleaming in the dim corridor light.

As they walked together down the empty hallway, Yuma kept her grip on Sakura, helping to steady her friend. The weight of the axe dragged against the floor, its dull scraping echoing around them. Yuma’s voice was soft, steady. “It’s not your fault, Sakura,” she said, her words carrying warmth and strength. “Let’s get you back to rest.”

Sakura let herself lean on Yuma as they walked, her steps heavy but grounded. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the exhaustion, trusting that Yuma would carry her through.