𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈 ━━ 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗠 | ✓

⟨ 012 ⟩

「 Kiss 」

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎
BLOOD COATED THE knife in Shikami's hand, twirling it as if it was a simple pencil. Underneath his mask was a gaze so piercing and intense that finally, after several months of surviving the torturous game he made, the prisoners in the ring saw him and shivered, stumbling over thin air and their own feet as they scrambled away from him, not even attempting to tackle him even for his small build.

With each step he took, the atmosphere became heavier and thicker, fear enveloped each and every single one of the players as they tried to remain a wide distance from the only executive inside the ring, fearing not only death, but Shikami.

They all only had thirty seconds left before the timer stops, indicating that the game is over and they have all survived. Once a hundred players, now remained only four, and most of them fell victims of Shikami's game.

All the audience were screaming at who they bet on to run for their life, or to tackle Shikami to the ground, or to fight him to death, but none of them made any moves as they were now all frozen in fear as he flicked the knife effortlessly, holding it like a dart ready to be thrown.

One player plucked enough courage to do something, but just as he was about to take a step from his spot, a knife lodged itself into his neck. Soon, his lifeless body fell to the ground, earning another round of screams from the audience.

The three players made the mistake of turning their eyes away from Shikami, and now, there were only two remaining players as another prisoner became victim to his blades.

Just as Shikami was about to strike again, the timer dinged for everyone to hear, so he stopped in his tracks and bowed to the prisoners, though he doubts that they were even paying attention. He was certain they were all too busy thanking whatever God or Deity they believe in that they were still alive.

All was good now that Shikami was doing field work again, or dirty work to be specific. He gathered all the knives and blades he used in a plastic container, blood now coated the translucent box he was holding as he walked to the elevated area Mitsuki and Ryuhei were in.

"Aren't you gonna wash that?" Mitsuki asked once Shikami finally arrived, pointing at the bloody box and looked at it with disgust on her pretty face. He shrugged and set the box on a table, taking a water bottle and drinking from it. "I'll do that after I eat, I don't want my hands to smell like someone's dirty blood while eating my favourite food."

"Ah, speaking of favourite food." Mitsuki pulled out a paper bag filled with snacks then giving it to the shorter. "Yoojin came by and told me to give you this after your game. He was watching you, by the way. He said you looked great from above."

"Thank you," Shikami spoke softly as he looked through the snacks, finding a piece of paper folded neatly with Yoojin's handwriting on it. He opened it to see that he had written him a small note, a smile creeping to his face as he hastily fixed his mask so the other two couldn't see his expressions.