『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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Hina stood in the darkened room, the light flickering dimly from a few scattered candles. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the weight of the Beach itself had settled on her shoulders. Across from her, Hatter sat in his oversized chair, lounging with a calmness that only made him more unnerving.
"You're quite the survivor," Hatter remarked, his voice low, carrying a lazy menace. He twirled his glass, ice clinking softly. "You've managed to last longer than most, without making too much noise. That's rare, you know?"
Hina stayed silent. She wasn't here to stroke his ego, and any misstep in a conversation with Hatter could be fatal. His words might sound complimentary, but they dripped with suspicion.
"I wonder, though," he said, rising from his chair slowly, stepping closer to her. "Survivors like you... you either have something hiding beneath the surface, or you're just waiting. Which is it?"
Hina clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the urge to look away. "I'm just trying to survive, i thought we've been through this?" she replied, her voice steady.
Hatter chuckled softly, but his eyes were cold. "Everyone here is. But not everyone here matters." He circled her like a predator, watching her every movement. "I need to know, Hina... are you just another player, or are you trying to be something more?"
She met his gaze, refusing to let fear show. "I'm no threat to you."
The smile that touched Hatter's lips was thin, almost serpentine. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good. Because if you were... you wouldn't last long. Keep your head down, Hina. Play your part."
The tension between them simmered, but Hina held her ground. Hatter stood back, his smile returning to its usual, easy grin. "Good luck in the game tonight. We'll all be watching."
Hina gave a curt nod before turning to leave, her heart pounding. The conversation felt like a blade held to her throat—a warning, a test. And she had to pass.
The Beach pulsed with its usual chaotic energy as Hina weaved through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning the familiar faces milling about. The air was thick with music, laughter, and the constant buzz of people living like tomorrow didn't matter. But Hina knew better. Every day was a fight for survival, and here, at the Beach, everything felt like a fragile illusion—one wrong move and it would all come crashing down.
Hina wasn't just another face in the crowd. She had carved out a place for herself within the Beach's inner circle, though it had been a fast process. Her tactical mind and survival instincts had earned her respect from both players and the militants who patrolled the perimeter, enforcing Hatter's twisted rule. Despite the madness around her, she had managed to stay ahead, surviving not just the games but the intricate power dynamics that governed the Beach.
As she crossed through the grand archway that led into the lobby, a hand reached out, gripping her arm. Reflexively, Hina twisted, ready to defend herself, but the sight of familiar white hair and a knowing smirk caused her to relax—slightly.
