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bucket-girl · 5 years

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Chapter 2-1 Personal Info logs

In chapter 2, it’s possible to buy the personal info of Nao, Reko, Gin and Q-Taro with tokens, but it’s easy to miss. Reloading saves and redoing minigames is a hassle so I wrote them down for convenience. Most of them are in the form of conversing with AIs, I’ve put Sara’s lines in italics. Text under cut.

Gin > History ...History? What should I talk about, woof? "Hm... Just an introduction would make me happy." Gin Ibushi from Heiwa Elementary Class 6-3! I'm 12 years old, meow! I take care of the animals, meow!! "Is school fun for you?" Hmm... It's not that fun 'cause of some guys I don't like, meow. But it's fun to meet friends, woof! We play games together, meooow! "Do you wear that outfit to school, too?" Nah, because people get mad. It's only when I'm at home, woof! ...It's kinda easier to talk when I wear this, meow. But I can't wear it to school, so I get uneasy, woof. So people at school tell me I'm obedient, woof! But that's wrong... meow... My aspirations are to live with animals all the time, meow! "Heehee... What kinds of animals?" I'm way into gators right now, meow! They're cute, wooooof!

> Physical Info I'm 138 centimeters and 35.5 kilograms, meow! That's 4 foot 6 inches and 78 pounds, woof! And I grew 2 centimeters at my last checkup, meow! "Your growth spurt and voice change must be coming up soon." Obviously, meow! I'm gonna be bigger than you, big sis Sara! "Ahaha, I'm sure you'll look really cool. I've got high hopes for you." Yeah! I'll sweep you off your feet, meow! Be grateful, woof! "Okay, let's make it a promise." Got it, meow! A promise for when I outgrow you, woof!

> Relatives My family's a double-income household, meow! I don't have siblings, so... It's lonely when I'm there by myself, meow... My mom's super nice even when she's exhausted, woof. No matter how late she gets home, she always makes dinner... And no matter how much I tell her not to overwork herself... "Do you like your mom?" I love her, meow! I'm worried how she's even busier lately, woof... "What about your dad?" I don't like some things... but I like him, meow. But I super hate when he's a drunkard who causes trouble, meow! It's embarrassing, woof! And he's always getting yelled at by mom and apologizing, so it's like he's got no dignity, woof. I don't wanna be that kind of pathetic grown-up, meooow! ...But I'm sure I won't, meow. 'Cause I'm not blood-related to dad, woof. "Huh...?" I heard he married mom when I was 2, meow! So that genetics stuff won't make me turn out like him, woof! "Is that so...?" Well, it's not like I hate dad, woof. It's true, meow!

> Death Game info I dunno, meow... It's scary, woof... What's dying feel like, meow...? "I... don't know either." I don't wanna never meet mom and dad again, meow... Big sis Sara... are you scared too, meow? "...Yeah, I am." "...Really scared..." .......... I'll definitely protect you, meow! Come see me anytime, woof! "Heehee... Thanks..."

> What he holds dear What I hold dear...? That's hard, meowww. Hm... It's gotta be mom and dad, meow! I'd be sad if they went away, woof! Ah! And the Mew-chan cushion I'm always with! They're super precious to me, meow! We're always together, so I forgot, meow! Sorry, Mew-chaaan! Woof... "Mew-chan is family to you too, huh?" That's right, meow! I got seriously mad when dad was gonna throw them away, meow! Unforgivable, woof! Get me a new one?! No way, meow!! You're a dummy, woof! I'm getting furious just remembering, woof! Mom should yell at him again, meowww!

Q-Taro > History I was raised up in an orphanage that's just a mite bit weird. Had people from all sortsa countries. I got a lotta dialects and stuff mixed in me... 'Course, they sent me to compulsory education up 'til high school. Can't thank the place enough. An' now, I'm a pro baseball player. ...Kiddos at the orphanage root for me, too. I wanna hurry up and show 'em... That even guys in situations like ours can get on a mound and have the stadium roarin'... Well, point is, I got no history yet. I'm about to be makin' some radiant records! Better get yer autographs early, Sara!

> Physical Info 6 foot 4 inches! 230 pounds! And lemme tell ya, it's all muscle, not fat! My position's pitcher, but I got confidence in my batting, base-running, and fielding! But my greatest weapon's my head. Gotta be smart to be a first-class athlete. "Is that how it is?" 'Course, I'm reflecting on the time I tore apart those puzzle rings by force, but...

> Relatives .......... "Is it hard to discuss?" Nah... there's just nothing to discuss. 'Cause I've never seen my birth parents' faces. Only place I knew was the orphanage. That's why... the people there were my moms and dads. Doesn't matter our blood relation. But, well... I do get thinkin' sometimes. What kinda people was I born to, and what kinda genetics do I got...? I started baseball jus' for fun, but... I've thought how if I pitch as a first-string pro... maybe my birth parents'll be watchin'. "...Do you want to meet them?" If we could talk and laugh it up, that'd be the best. All at ease, like "I'm havin' a great life"...

> Death Game info Huh, you're doin' this Death Game, right...? Knowin' me, I doubt I got even the slightest notion of dyin'. Hell, to a second-stringer, baseball's a Death Game with my life as a player on the line! But to do some self-analysis... I wonder if maybe I'll try an' win within the rules of the game... In the saga of a sports player, ya tend to forget about breakin' the rules. Maybe somebody like you, young and not knowin' fear, is more suited to findin' a path to survival. "...Is that so..." ...Sorry to make it sound like it ain't my business. I mean look, I'm an AI, y'know?

> What he holds dear Hold dear, huh... The caretakers at the orphanage, the kiddos... Of course, baseball, and... Myself... probably. I ain't gonna sugarcoat it. I don't wanna die, and I don't want the people I like to die. So I don't like to kick people... But if I gotta, I got the resolve. But I hate the kinda asshole who's got that as their first thought! ...Sorry for gettin' all fired up. Shouldn't have said that all cocky-like when you're involved in it... Don't you mind me.

Reko > History Err... I'mma super cool, 23-year-old singer-songwriter... Something like that? I've liked music since I was a kid. Classical, folk, heavy metal... I listened to all of it. Think around grade school, I found myself starting to compose and write lyrics. My instincts moved my body. That was a fun time... People praised me, and my parents were just plain happy... Once they started calling me a gifted kid... Then there started being more noise. Old bastards in the music industry wanting money... My pops craving the limelight... Before I knew it, I was making music that my heart wasn't in. In middle school, I rebelled. I was a rocker! I made tons of songs nobody even wanted! But even then, noise swarmed around me. Man, even my spirit had to give in. From high school on, all the spice was gone... Didn't even have anger... My activity dried up. I had tons of chances to be famous. But I smashed 'em all. I was totally just the industry's problem child. Everybody kept their distance from me. Once I couldn't even gather members, I borrowed Alice to make a band... Hahaha. Then two and a half years ago... He caused that incident... ... Well, at any rate, I am who I am now 'cause of that shitty past. Learn something from that, Sara?

> Physical Info 5 foot 7, 121 pounds. Pretty proud of my reflexes! And I can remember choreography in a snap, so... My memory's bangin'! Well... I'm not great at baseball and stuff... Hell, maybe I'm not great at anything that's got nothing to do with music. "By the way, what are your measurements?" N-No reason to tell you that, right?

> Relatives Family... Well, uh... ...I like my mom. Though she's a little weird. She's affectionate... and I cause her lots of trouble. Yeah, I gotta show my appreciation more. My old man... Well, he's a good guy... But let's say he gives in to temptation. He's not the most true to his convictions. I hated him for the longest time... But he's woken up now, and gone back to his plain and simple personality. After them is... Alice, huh. He's... what should I say? Why'd he do something like that...? A while after he got arrested... I left music Ahh... I just remembered. At the time, I wrote in my diary, which is rare... I wrote that music, the thing I'd poured my soul into all this time... suddenly felt like a cold series of notes... this inorganic thing. I wondered, was this how music sounded to people who didn't care about it...? ......... I always thought I didn't care about my brother, and never listened to him, but... Truth is... Maybe I was a little jealous of my normal brother. And acted that way out of spite. ... ...You shouldn't ever murder somebody...

> Death Game info Why do I gotta go through this shit...? Do we have anything in common...? I haven't got a clue...

> What she holds dear Believe it or not... I think family's important, right? I wanna show appreciation to my parents. But like, right now... The original me is being put through this Death Game, yeah? If she dies, she can't do... anything. So when you think of it like that, what's important's my own life, ain't it? "...What about your instruments?" Instruments...? "When I first met Reko... I heard she treasured her bongos." Bongos...? Well, sure. I'm playing bongos in my new band, but...

Nao Unlike the others, Nao's personal info comes as documents you can read wherever. > History Egasaki Elementary School ... Graduated Egasaki Middle School ... Graduated Third Kurotsuki Private High School ... Graduated Takesasa Private College of Art ... Currently 1st year Middle-class, born and raised by a very ordinary family. School grades below average. Focused on art starting in high school, and now seems interested in pursuing only that. Looks up to an art club advisor she met in high school, staying deeply intimate with him even post-graduation. Often seen going to the man's atelier. Doesn't appear to have many friends, but has a long association with most she does have, so it's suspected she values relationships. Also, refrains from going out at night, generally staying at home even on days off. No information known on what men she associates with.

> Physical info Nao Egokoro Age: 19 Gender: Female Height: 162cm (5'4") Weight: 55kg (121lb) Has little experience in sports and the like, limited to P.E. classes in compulsory education. Even so, her reflexes are poor. Perhaps due to her inclination toward art, she has very good eyesight. Her ability to remember a scene for a long time or recognize the individual flaps of a bird's wings is within reason, yet superb. Since much of this comes from practice, about the only thing that can be called a born talent, it is thought, is her passionate love for art. No other notable characteristics, although she has a large bust. (Sara will remark that the last line is harassment and tear it out)

> Relatives Born to a middle-class, extremely average family. Both parents are in good health. Having good relations with them, her situation is common yet happy. The father has been an office worker for 20 years. The mother has carried various jobs. No siblings. The father is under his wife's thumb. When they fight, it appears Nao Egokoro often defends her father to resolve the conflict.

> Death Game info Safely cleared the First Trial. Survived the first Main Game. Greatly affected mentally by death of her teacher. Took off with teacher's head and ran amok. This could be taken as mental weakness, but endurance of great shock could make her that much more mentally sturdy going forward.

> What she holds dear Most likely, Nao Egokoro treasures the artworks she has created, and brushes et al. received from her high school teacher. Due to minimal desire for money, she does not seem the type to want expensive things.

#your turn to die #kimi ga shine #yttd #gin ibushi #q-taro burgerberg #reko yabusame #nao egokoro #yttd spoilers #I'm not sure how to structure this any better #my posts

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

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the chocolate war

aka race is hella dramatic and spot wants death

ship: sprace

warnings: none, cept for milk choc being stanned

editing: i skimmed it

word count: 1195

From Race: we need to talk when you get home.

Spot frowned down at the text, anxiety pooling inadvertently in his gut. He rifled through his mind, trying to recall anything he might have done to anger Race, but nothing came to mind. Sure, he’d forgotten to do the dishes last night, but he had been really tired. Besides, Race knew he had a big case meeting today, so he’d figured he’d be sympathetic towards his reasoning.

To Race: if it’s ab the dishes, im sorry. ill do them the next two times

He bit his lip as the text bubble appeared and disappeared a few times. Whatever was bothering Race was clearly eating at him.

From Race: it’s not ab the dishes. we’ll discuss later.

A nervous lump formed in Spot’s throat and he typed out a response with trembling hands. This exchange was every bit as vague and scary as a breakup conversation. Did Race want to break up? What had he done?

To Race: okay

He waited for another minute to see if Race would follow up, but he’d left him on read. Taking a breath to compose himself, Spot pocketed his phone and turned back to his desk. No matter what was happening with Race, he needed to get work done. Especially if he’d inevitably have to move out after breaking up.

XXX

By the time he got back to the apartment, Spot’s heart was hammering painfully in his chest. He hesitated with his key in the lock. Part of him didn’t want to go in. He was too afraid of what he may face. Throughout the day, he’d utterly convinced himself that he’d done something major to fuck things up and the end of their relationship seemed imminent at this point. But that didn’t mean he’d come to terms with it. He wasn’t ready for things to end.

Before he could chicken out, he unlocked the door, reminding himself to breathe as he entered. Race was sitting on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. His arms were crossed and vague disgust was written across his face. He looked up at Spot, scowl growing as he walked over.

“Explain that,” He pointed to the coffee table and Spot followed his finger to where a package of Hershey’s dark chocolate lay, perfectly unopened on top of a magazine.

He blinked, dumbfounded, “Race, what-”

“Lemme set the scene,” Race spat, cutting him off, “There I was, craving something sweet on this fine Tuesday morning, but I didn’t want to go out of the house to get anything. So, I went to our lovely pantry and was delighted to find that we had chocolate! It seemed too good to be true,” he paused, closing his eyes in anguish, “And it was. Because, you see, as I was about to unwrap the glorious treat, my eye caught something on the label!” He held a hand over his heart and fixed Spot with a betrayed look, “It was dark chocolate,” he finished, his voice dangerously low.

Spot stared at him for a moment, confusion and relief spreading through his chest, “So...you’re not breaking up with me?”

Race grimaced, “I might have to unless you tell me that you weren’t the one who bought the dark chocolate.”

Spot scoffed, leaning down to pick up the chocolate bar, “What’s wrong with dark chocolate? It’s better than that milk chocolate shit.”

Race let out an offended squawk, “better than milk- Sean Conlon what kind of bullshit are you on?”

Spot shrugged, unwrapping the bar and popping a piece in his mouth, “Milk is too sweet. Dark is pleasant.”

“Dark tastes like dirt and sadness!” Race yelped, wrinkling his nose and backing away when Spot held out the chocolate bar in a silent offer, “No, get that shit away from me.”

Spot rolled his eyes, sitting next to Race on the couch and biting off another piece of chocolate, “What’s your deal, anyway? I’m not forcing you to eat the damn chocolate or anything. More for me if you don’t like it.”

“My deal is,” Race hissed, poking Spot in the side with his foot, “I’m dating a dark chocolate stan and that goes against every single one of my morals.”

“Dark chocolate is good, though!” Spot countered.

“No, it’s not!” Race sat up, waving his hands wildly, “Dark is shit! You’re eating literal dirt!”

Spot eyed him, mildly amused, “God, you’re dramatic.”

Race huffed, standing, “Sleep on the couch tonight, stronzo.”

XXX

“Spot likes what!?”

Spot resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall behind him as Jack’s loud voice carried across the table. Their group was gathered at Jacobi’s, having decided to meet there during their various lunch breaks, but Spot was regretting coming now. He should have known Race was still hung up on his affinity for dark chocolate.

“It’s true,” Race said solemnly, “He actually likes dark chocolate.”

Jack gawked at Spot, “I feel like I don’t know you anymore,” he muttered, “my own brother.”

“God does milk chocolate have like some drama queen chemical in it?” Spot asked, picking up his glass and taking a long sip from his Coke, not once shifting his gaze from Jack’s exaggeratedly offended one, “I mean, it would make sense since you and Race both like it so much.”

Race shook his head, “Ah, it all makes sense now.”

Jack looked over at him, cocking his head, “What does?”

“Spot likes dark chocolate ‘cause it’s bitter,” Race stated, matter-of-factly.

When he was still met with blank stares, he sighed, “Spot is bitter and dark chocolate is bitter. They’re one in the same!”

“I’m going to break up with you,” Spot deadpanned.

“Not if I do it first,” Race retorted.

“I dunno,” Davey piped up from where he sat next to Katherine, “Dark chocolate is pretty good and it has a lot of health benefits.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Katherine added, “It’s really good for your heart- I wrote a whole blog article on it.”

Race’s eyes travelled around the table, completely bewildered, “I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Race and Jack,” Crutchie said, “Milk chocolate is infinitely superior to dark chocolate.”

“Untrue, dark chocolate’s better,” Spot said, firmly.

“Nope, milk chocolate,” Jack shot back.

“Yeah,” Race lifted his chin defiantly, “Milk chocolate for the win.”

“Dark!” Davey exclaimed, “Dark is better.”

“Milk!” Crutchie said, leaning across the table and flicking Davey on the ear, “You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“No, Davey’s right and I’m going to go down with this fight.”

“Thank you, Spot.”

“You know,” All their heads turned when Albert spoke, “White chocolate is pretty bomb.”

No one spoke a word for a moment, then Race stood up slowly and walked to Albert’s chair. He waited for a moment, maintaining murderous eye contact with Albert before rearing his fist back and punching him square in the nose. Albert let out a pained shout, the force of the punch sending his chair backwards and he fell to the ground, sprawling out unceremoniously.

“Asshole!” He yelled, gingerly holding his nose, “What was that for!?”

Race shrugged, “White chocolate is invalid.”

dark choc is good

fight me

this fic is directly made out to @ispeekfluentshowtunes also thnx for some opinions on the fic dude

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies #newsies fic #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #sprace #albert dasilva #chaotic boys #jack kelly #davey jacobs #katherine plumber #crutchie morris #hnnnng

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