Enatsu’s face in particular is a mask of shock and grief.
It pains you think that this is probably what she’ll remember most when thinking back to the day of her idol debut.
The fan staggers backwards, out of breath, but standing upright.
He laughs between breaths, “Haha!” he says, high on victory, “What a bitch.”
The fan kicks the hunched over Muratagi in the side for good measure.
“Man, this reminds me of high-school,” he says, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on the fallen Muratagi, “Those were the days… People at least had some respect back then.”
He takes in a deep breath, “Talking about respect…” he says, looking over the gathering of girls until he spots Handa Ako.
You look towards Muratagi with tear-rimmed eyes, he’s breathing slow, shallow gasps.
The blood from his open mouth mixing with the soil.
You got him involved in this and now look at him.
With effort, you manage to push yourself off the ground.
The man is walking towards the idols, most putting steady distance between themselves and the man.
Handa Ako, however, seems frozen in place – like a deer caught in the headlights.
”I didn’t m-mean to… I j-just… I….” she says, stammering into silence.
“Leave her alone!” shouts Enatsu from a short distance away, only to receive a glare that shuts up her up immediately.
The girls want to help, but they don’t know how.
Some of them are clutching their phones in their hands, the cops have already been alerted.
What can you expect them to do? Put themselves in harms way?
They’re just teenage girls, the lot of them. Confronted with a situation they’ve never been in before.
Their bravery lasted up until the point they witnessed a man beaten into the dirt.
Watase, however, seems ready to kick the man’s teeth in, but she took a nasty fall earlier.
She tried to play it off, but you couldn’t help but notice how she was clutching her shoulder.
If she intervenes, things might not end up much better for her than it was for Muratagi.
Should Watase receive a similar beatdown it could take her out of the running for weeks.
Months, even, if the man decides to break a bone or two.
The way he kicked the prone Muratagi already tells you there’s not a shred of morals in him.
He'll absolutely cause lasting injury if only if it means that he gets to brag about is afterwards.
You should probably call Watase off and try something else, right?
Still, you have to do something.
The man seems to almost relish in the fear that his presence is causing.
Judging by his high-school comment, it's probably a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time.
The cameraman and broadcasters are far off and will not make it to Handa in time to help unless you do something.
In any case, it seems like the take-home gift of today’s event is trauma.
> Decision
>
> >1 - Somebody must’ve called the cops by now. Try to stretch for time yourself. (Risk)
> >2 - Tell Handa Ako to run. Hopefully the hit the fan took will slow him down. (Contested roll)
> >3 - Say nothing. Watase’s your best bet by now. (Fight)
> >4 - Write-in
>
> Winner
> >1 - Somebody must’ve called the cops by now. Try to stretch for time yourself. (Risk)
Seeing him approach the shivering Handa-san, you’re reminded that right now all these idols have is you.
When you hosted this event, you became responsible for the well-being of these girls.
You get up and your body informs you of a bunch of bruises and scrapes you didn’t notice until now.
”Hey!” you shout, trying to get the man’s attention.
Watase looks towards you, but you shake your head.
Telling her to not do whatever it is she was planning.
You can’t risk injury towards her or any other idol.
The man’s attention is fixed on Handa-san, steadily approaching her.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
”I don’t get why you’re scared, I just want to talk,” he says.
“Stay away!” cries Handa, taking a step back.
“I suppose you’re like my younger sister in this way, too,” he says, annoyance clear in his voice, “She never listened either.”
Handa has passed the point of dialogue and instead opts for a simple scream. Just noise.
The kind of high-pitched, fear-induced screech a singer shouldn’t have to use their voice for.
The fan grimaces, “God!” he says, his face tightening in pain under the unrelenting scream, “Will you shut up!?”
Handa’s not stopping.
It’s fear, plain and simple.
When you run out of options, what else can you do but scream?
“I said,” cries the fan, moving to hit Handa across the face, “SHUT. UP.“
The man stumbles forward a single step as a soccer ball hits him on the back of the head.
It wasn’t a hard hit. There was no power behind it.
You’re not confident you could’ve hit such a small target if you had kicked the ball.
So, you threw it. The best you could hope for a minor headache.
“What the hell was that for?” says the fan, turning towards you.
But you got his attention.
> Need 1d100 roll to calm the man, stall him, and keep him off your idols.
> No hard DC, just degrees of success.
> Higher is better.
>
> Rolled 44 (1d100)
“Go home!” you shout, “You’ve done enough!”
“No I haven’t,” replies the fan, as the fan walks towards you, “I haven’t done shit. You’ve all been getting in my way.”
His steps heavy and determined, like a man walking into a fight he’s certain he’ll win.
He looks down towards where Muratagi is still recovering, “Like him. Had to deal with this clown.”
How long will the police take to get here? How much time has passed to begin with?
You’re in Tokyo, one of the busiest places in the world. Surely, there’s police nearby?
Just a few more minutes. Keep him focused on you. Taunt him.
“So you attacked an innocent guy,” you say, pulling up to your full height of five feet, “What a brave man you are!”
You’ve never gotten to play the role of the hero before.
These things usually end well, right?
“Hey!” replies the fan, pointing towards Muratagi, “The fight was mutual. I bet you wouldn’t have given him this shit if he’d won. Wouldn’t have shown this concern for me, would you?”
“The fight wouldn’t have even happened if you hadn’t shown up!” you say, “Or left when we asked you to! Why’s an adult man like you coming here to creep on teenage girls anyway!?”
The sound carries over the open field, the sharp clap of the man’s open hand connecting with your cheek.
It hurts.
You’re really not made for fighting.
Eyes watering up, you have to struggle to keep your voice from cracking.
Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“You don’t know shit about me,” he says, looking down at you in disdain.
“I know you spend your time harassing and intimidating teenage girls,” you say, forcing a smirk on your face, “And hitting women.”
“Manager-san!” shouts Enatsu, “Stop! Please!”
Yeah, provoking him any further is probably a bad idea.
But you can’t let him leave. This mess needs to end, correctly and completely.
If you let this man inflict any harm on your idols or if you let him walk away from here…
Then there’ll be no justice.
None of the girls here will be comforted by the fact that, although bad things do happen, ultimately the bad guy got caught.
That he won’t be out there anymore to pop up at any other time.
People like him will get what they deserve.
Police should be here any moment now.
“I bet your younger sister will be so proud of her older brother!” you say.
A fist finds itself deep in your stomach, causing you to stagger backwards, coughing.
Your breathing reduced to a guttural wheeze. Organs heaving like you’re about to throw up.
“She’s dead,” replies the man.
Ah. You want nothing more than to clutch your stomach and ball up.
The pain you were so proudly trying to keep from showing is definitely painted on your face.
Makes you wonder if he held back at all. Did Muratagi have it worse?
You wonder if organs can bruise – you never had reason to check.
The nearby idols scream in alarm, shout profanities.
Though none of them dare to act. Fearing they might be next.
It brings to mind those news reports where somebody got murdered at a busy train station.
A hundred people or more standing by, struggling to belief what’s happening.
Watase is simply frozen in shock, you can only wonder what’s going through her mind.
Has she been in a situation like this before? Watching a friend get beat up?
The fan turns away.
You try to speak up, keep him fixated on you, but your breath catches in your throat.
It’s hard to talk when you’re trying not to throw up.
In the distance – sirens.
The man takes a few steps, then stop, her ears angled towards a far-off sound.
A sound that is gradually getting louder.
“…You called the cops?” he says, incredulously.
Have you accidentally violated some unwritten hoodlum law?
Well, too bad. None of that applies to you.
Screw whatever he gets up to in his spare time and what rules they follow.
This is real world, with real laws, and real consequences.
Though your face is a mask of pain, you smile.
[https://assets.legendkeeper.com/59b73294-b274-4d58-9190-45508b3a712e.jpg]
“…You fucking bitch…” snarls the man.
He clicks his tongue, his head is on a swivel.
Looking for a quick exit.