Yes, I am starting another chapter fic. And yes, I am an idiot. But what the hell! Please R&R?

Summery: Inspired by the film and manga series, Battle Royale. Shinn Asuka is in ninth grade. He has friends, is fairly popular, keeps up with his school work, though he acts like a bit of a rebel. He's got a fairly comfortable life, even with Japan's slowly dissolving law and order. He never expected any of this. I mean, who would? It was just a study trip, right? Wrong. It's hell on earth. And why does the blue haired transfer student seem to understand what's going on? Who is he? And what the hell gave him that scar? Horrible summary, I know. But the story's much better. Promise!

Discalimer: No, I don't own either Battle Royale or Gundam SEED

Chapter one: Transfer Student

The class was so normal looking. So sickeningly normal it made him want to scream at them. His hands clenched themselves into fists, and he felt the thick scar across his palm stretch. He remembered a time when that would have hurt like hell. Like, maybe up until a month ago. The class noticed the change in atmosphere, they noticed his sudden appearence of anger.

And they appeared not to give a flying toss.

The redhaired girl in the front row leant back against her seat, observing him in such a manner it made him want to hit her. He could almost see her weighing up the odds, taking his anger to mean a challenge. It made him sick.

But by God would that girl last. She would play Meer's game. Use that disgustingly well designed body of hers to kill as many as she could. That was, until someone like him came along, and blew her into next week.

Now who's the disgusting one, Zala? She's a slut, she's thinking about fucking you. You're thinking about killing her. Do the math.

He shook his head, causing his already messy blue hair to stick up at random angles. It hadn't sat down once since he'd gotten back. It might help if he cut it, but she had liked it long, so it remained at its shoulder length, blue tangle.

The teacher was glaring at him. It appeared he'd been gesturing at a chair for some time now. He returned the glare, with so much hate that the man backed down, and pushed past him to flop into the chair.

Adults. The goddamn bastards that had designed the whole fucking mess that had lost him everyone even remotely worth caring about. That had lost him her.


Shinn had always considered himself a rebel. But he'd also always been a reasonably good kid. He'd never even have considered giving the teacher a look like that transfer student just had. The boy flopped into the seat next to him, slumping forward on the desk and leaning his cheek on his fist. The green eyes glazed over, as though the mind under the shock of blue hair was miles away. He sighed softly, and leant in closer to the boy.

"Name's Shinn. You?"

The boy showed no sign of hearing him, except by lifting his head slightly to unclench his fist. Shinn almost, almost, gasped. His palm, it looked as though it had been slashed almost in half. A thick, line of red marred the white skin. He stared at the scar, a feeling of uncontrollable fascination rising in his stomach.

"It's rude to stare."

The voice burst through his shock like a bullet. So harsh, and yet so very soft. Something about it shook him to the core. He shrugged off the nervousness, and humphed at the boy.

"And it's also rude to ignore someone!"

The words came out too loud, and the teacher swung his gaze around so it rested on his face. Shinn groaned. The teacher already hated him for some bizzare reason.

"Mr Asuka, would you care to repeat that?"

Shinn sighed. "I said that it's rude to ignore someone, sir."

A humph from the chair beside him, so low and inconspicuous that it could have easily been disguised as a sneeze. The boy, however, seemed to want the teacher to hear him. And those steely grey eyes turned to settle on the transfer's cold, glazed green ones.

"Something to say, Mr Zala?" The teacher sounded undeniably angry, something shockingly like resentment in his tone. The boy humphed, this time louder, and then looked away, something halfway between a smirk and a grimace creeping onto his face.

"If I had, you would've heard it by now, sir." The teacher drew back, as if he'd been struck. And then his gnarled hand lashed out and gripped the boy's chin, bringing his head back so their eyes locked.

"You humphed at me. It seemed you didn't approve of something I said. Now why don't you tell us so me and Mr Asuka can finish our chat?". The boy stared at him for a few more moments, then a gleeful spark ignited within the glacial green depts of his eyes.

"Mr Asuka and I. I think that's what you mean sir."

The class froze in a tone of stunned disbelief. Never before ... even with the things some students had done, never had someone spoke that way to a teacher. Not once. It was stated somewhere in an unwritten code that you could do anything expect give cheek like that to a teacher.

The air felt tight and uneven, as if some invisable giant was sucking in great shallow breaths. The teacher's face was a spectacular beetroot red, his grey eyes bulging ever so slightly. The boy sitting in front of him hadn't changed in the slightest. He seemed merely bored, his green eyes glazing again. And then, the tension broke. The man calmed, and even went so far as to stroke the boy's cheek. The boy quivered, just slightly, in distaste.

Shinn noticed the second scar then. It was smaller, paler, but it was there, resting along his cheek bone like a brush stroke. What in the name of Gods green earth had happened to this boy?

"Well, Mr Zala, I was told to expect no better from the likes of you. Get yourself up to the princible's office. I'm sure you'll come to an arrangement with her about this."

No argument. No cheek. No nothing. The boy just stood and walked around the desk so that he stood in front of the man. The tension rose again. Shinn found the breath he'd been drawing freeze in his throat. And then the boy's scarred hand raised, forming the shape of a gun. The tip of his pale index finger coming to rest between the teacher's eyes.

"The last thing you ever hear will be a bang. I promise you that." The whispered words were so quiet, that no-one but Shinn and the teacher seemed to hear them. People all around them were asking each other frantically what the transfer had said. The boy turned then, the movement flowing as if he were composed of completely of water, and strode out the door.

Shinn watched him go, frozen to his seat in shock. The teacher let out a low growl and turned back to the board. He seemed to have forgotten completely about what had started all of this.

"As I was saying," the words were barked, and so angry, that all the whispering stopped. "Next friday, you will all be leaving on an overnight study trip. It will be free, the state is finally giving us the money we deserve, so I expect all of you to attend. And someone had better inform Mr Zala about this."

Normality finally resumed. Shinn sighed, his black hair ruffling as he blew upwards. Some morning, he thought. He swung his gaze back and met the eyes of his best friend. Vino shrugged at him, that doppy grin he always had sliding onto his round face. Shinn smiled as well, and turned back to his work.


He sighed as the smoke burned its way down his throat. He'd only really started smoking since he'd gotten back. Before, it had been the odd one that Yzak had shared with him when there'd only been one left and they'd both been too drunk to care about who they shared with. A pack of cigarettes, the last thing Yzak had ever given him. A sad smile played its way onto his face.

"Smoke your own damn fags Zala, and stop nicking mine!"

Yzak had been killed, along with her when Meer had gone completely crazy and started swinging that hatchet around like a girl possessed. Unconsciously he clenched his fist again, feeling his finger nails digging further into his palm. Into the scar.

His weapon hand hanging limp, drenched in blood. Her lying dead on the ground, her throat savagly slit by the wild swing that had been meant for him. And Yzak, his rib bones open for display, pulling that trigger in a last ditch attempt to save someone! And fortune had smiled. The bullet burst through the front of Meer's gorgeous features and red streaks joined the hot pink ones in her raven hair.

The smell of the blood in that room lingered in his nostrils. The coppery taste in his mouth was still there. Another reason why he smoked so much now. Yzak's last words.

"Damn, I could use a fag." Well, I'm probably smoking enough for the two of us.

Rustling erupted from somewhere behind him, followed by a loud thump and a grunt of pain. He turned his head, his cigarette poised between slightly parted lips. Behind him, in a heap, was the black haired boy he'd sat next to that morning, and another boy with brown hair streaked with orange.

The were laughing, sounding so young and carefree that he felt compelled to tell them to shut the hell up. No point in laughing. Life was too damn brutal for laughing. He sighed, and drew in another lung full of smoke. The two didn't notice him, instead the black haired boy laughed something about 'kinda' having a name. The other boy was blushing furiously, yelling for his friend to shut up.

He turned away, the light of the cigarette snuffing out. He spat the butt out, watching it bounce away through the grass. Just like bullet casings did in their hundreds when about seven submachine guns went off at once. He sighed.

Look what these adults have done to me. I can't even look at a cigarette butt without thinking of something related to violence. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. This whole damn country's pathetic!


OK, before you start flaming that Athrun is majorly OOC, I know. He's meant to be. And if Shinn is as well, then I'm sorry. But, just so y'all know, I'm going by the flash back version of him, not the series version. Well, apart from that, advice? Reviews mean the world!