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The bus was silent despite the people standing inside when Kazumi climbed aboard. The first seat to the right held several phones and the horrifyingly familiar sign; 'one per person'. Kazumi took one before looking at the other players already gathered within the vehicle. To her surprise, two of the faces staring back at her were ones she recognized.
"It's you! From the tag game!" The shaggy haired man from said game spoke, the climber standing next to him.
Kazumi nodded before introducing herself, putting out her hand. "Kazumi."
He took it, giving a soft handshake and responding. "I'm Arisu."
The woman beside him stepped up and similarly took Kazumi's hand, her grip firmer presumably from years of climbing experience. "Usagi."
Three men sat behind the players who knew each other, one awkwardly trying to hide his bandaged leg. "You know each other?" One man questioned.
Arisu was the one to answer, turning towards the three and nodding. "We all helped each other survive a game."
Kazumi took note of the fact that Arisu's friend she had seen with him during the tag game was no where to be seen. She had been in this world long enough to know better than to ask. Not that she would have had the chance to regardless as the chime marking the end of registration went off.
The four of clubs card stared back at the assembled players when they checked their phones. The announcer began to explain the rules to the game, the first being to 'endure the trial and reach the goal within the time limit'.
Kazumi frowned. An endurance game? This wasn't a physical trial, there must be some other factor at play, a second tagger they had to discover.
It wasn't revealed by the clear condition, which simply told them to reach the goal safely, leaving her on high alert. The usual pre game nerves were certainly dimmed by the comfort of familiar faces, but they still hummed just beneath the surface like a roiling snake. Arisu and Usagi were not her friends, she reminded herself, if it came down to it she would prioritize her survival over theirs.
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The name of the game, both literally and figuratively, was distance. As a two hour timer began to count down the players exchanged worried looks towards the man with the injured leg. His companions attempted to convince him that everything would be okay but by the look on his face it wasn't working.
One of the three men moved up past the players from the tag game to the front of the bus. "This bus has a carburetor model from the early 1970's." Inspecting around the steering wheel he discovered a key. "If I can just get the engine started," Turning the key in the ignition he waited for the sound of the bus rubbing to life, but it never came. "Damn it, no gas."
