『Nakamura Hina 』
What would her reaction be when one moment she was visiting a coffee shop and the next, the entirety of Tokyo had disappeared?
Hina was minding her business with her little brother within a cute coffee shop that she had found onlin...
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After what felt like an eternity of walking in circles, Hina's patience was wearing thin. She glanced over her shoulder, certain that she'd passed the same couple making out three times already. Was this some kind of joke? Just as she turned back around, she slammed face-first into what she thought was a wall.
But it wasn't a wall—it was someone's chest.
"Oof!" Hina stumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on the ground. Blinking in confusion, she looked up to see a familiar face staring down at her.
"You're not a wall," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at Chishiya.
"No, I am not," Chishiya replied with his usual deadpan expression, hands tucked into his pockets. "I thought that was obvious."
Hina rolled her eyes, irritated by both the encounter and his smugness. "You're... never mind. Do you know where the cafeteria is? I've been walking around this place for, like, hours."
Chishiya's eyes swept over her with a clinical detachment, sizing her up in his typical nonchalant fashion. After a brief pause, he let out a sigh, turned on his heel, and began walking without a word.
Hina scowled, brushing the dirt off her knees as she stood. "Fuck you too then," she muttered under her breath, ready to walk off in the opposite direction.
"Not hungry then?" Chishiya's voice drifted over his shoulder, amusement lacing his tone.
Hina huffed and followed, knowing full well she was too hungry to care about his attitude. As she trailed behind him, she took the chance to study him more closely. His white jacket was crisp and clean, paired with swim trunks and the most impractical footwear: flip-flops. Who in their right mind wears flip-flops in a post-apocalyptic death game?
She found herself staring at his hair. Bleached within an inch of its life, she thought, stifling a laugh. I've seen fried chicken less crispy than that mess. Lost in her thoughts, she walked right into his back.
Chishiya glanced over his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "Look where you're going," he said dryly, continuing to walk toward a nearby table where a woman—Kuina, if Hina remembered correctly—sat chatting animatedly.
Annoyed, Hina brushed past him and headed toward the food line, grabbing a bowl of noodles and a bottle of water. Her stomach growled loudly in protest as she scanned the room for an empty table. She spotted one just as its occupants stood to leave. With a victorious smirk, she made a beeline for it.
As soon as she sat down, she dug into her noodles, practically inhaling the food. It was the first real meal she'd had in days, and she didn't care how low-quality it was. The last thing she'd eaten had been a crusty piece of bread scavenged from a dead player's bag. The thought alone made her shudder.
Mid-slurp, she nearly choked on her food as a shadow fell across her table. She looked up, groaning inwardly when she saw who it was.
