Future Diary (Mirai Nikki)
The Unlucky Thirteenth
First--A Waking Dream
Summary: Minene's protégé tries to brush up on her skills, not knowing she'll need them later in a certain time-telling game.
She wasn't alone, exactly. She had one person, and that was always enough for her. She prided herself on never needing others. She took solace in keeping a record of everything around her, including herself and the people she met. Even random strangers found their way into what some would call a diary. To her it was merely a hobby to help her try and keep her sanity--not that that was working.
She was never a good girl. She always got into trouble, but not too much. There was one thing the girl learned as her parents died--there was no slaughter without laughter. She expected it to be different, but she was wrong--proved in the worst way possible. She'd never belonged, but hey. Not like she cared. Yup.
Not like she cared at all.
She didn't need others. She could rely on one person to get her sorry ass out of a scrape, but that was about it. That woman was the only person who the girl associated with when she didn't have to. That probably should have spoken volumes about her introverted lifestyle.
She wasn't shy, exactly. More like she didn't need other people to keep her going. As long as her family was safe, she was fine. The blonde had to do this, do this for her remaining family to help with what needed doing.
As her knife found a home inside one of the dummies that her mentor had outside of her home, she yelled a raging shout of anger and hatred. It was then that the bullet was shot from the gun to signify that the teen needed to move on to the next round.
Her shoulder screamed in protest as she rolled into the ground to avoid another bullet that was shot. Her lithe frame darted over to the shooting arena, before picking up a shotgun and fitting the end firmly into her shoulder.
One praise the teen had gotten from her mentor was that she had one of the best forms the woman had seen in years. Of course, that was merely praise to herself. The woman had taught the girl, after all. She couldn't hit anything before she started out. The girl was complete and utter trash at fighting or committing acts of terrorism.
She fired several rounds into the dummies and targets, before hitting the dozen or so clay pigeons her mentor shot above her form. Perfect aim on every one. Perfect form, deadly accuracy. She was doing this for her parents with every shot and training step she took.
She did this for the only family she had left.
The girl let the pigeons fall to the floor, and hung the shotgun back up where it would rest for a while before she could come and take care of it later. Now for the final step--hand to hand combat.
She walked to the field determined to win today. She had never won against her mentor before, but she needed to desperately. Her mentor would never allow her to go on a mission if she didn't win first. The girl just wanted to help her family. She couldn't just sit back at the cabin and act like a weakling.
The woman's hair was left to dangle like it usually was. She was dressed in her usual style, athletic and inconspicuous. Her style was much like the girl's. A side of her the girl would never reveal to anyone but maybe her friend.
Without warning, the woman attacked. The teen dodged to her left, tucking into a ball. Her left foot planted itself in the dirt and she kicked out the woman's knees. However, she was prepared for that. The woman grabbed her foot and tapped it quickly to signal a hit.
"You left your back unguarded. There's an assailant behind you." The flustered teen spun, just to counteract a blow to her unguarded face. She ducked and grabbed the woman's arm before landing a quick have to her ribs.
The woman laughed, although she remained winded from the assault. She pushed back on her feet and kicked the girl back in the ribs as the novice aimed at her stomach. "You left your chest unguarded."
Frustrated, the teen backed up so she could think. No major weaknesses stood out to her. Then, she noticed. The woman left her elbow sticking out a bit; her liver remained unguarded.
The blonde immediately ran in, going for an imitation tackle. Of course, being as small as she was wasn't really going to help her. Instead, she ducked under one of her mentor's outstretched arms and landed a blow to her side. The woman stuck her foot out and shoved. The girl toppled, and the woman continued with her assault.
"Someone tackles you. You're dead." She got up and dusted herself off, before walking back to the house. The teen flopped on the ground in frustration. "Run your laps and we'll have breakfast."
She immediately rolled off the ground and began to run. Why couldn't she beat her? It seemed like the woman knew everything she was going to do before she did it! Of course, that was how she normally was. Her feet pounded as she moved closer to the house, running three laps as a cool down exercise.
The woman already had breakfast on the table when the blonde marched in, sweaty and panting. As she slid the plate of eggs and bacon towards the starving teen, the girl flashed a crooked smile.
"Thanks, Minene." She nodded in response.
As she tore into the meal, the girl silently thanked whatever mystical creation watched. Most days they didn't have anything this good. Some days the two had nothing to eat at all. She thanked them for giving her what she had, and for sending her Minene.
The two of them weren't exactly on the best of terms. Some days they were ready to kill each other. Then, one of the two would say or do something and both would get over it. Frankly, they only stuck together because they were all each other had.
The blonde noticed Minene cleaning something. It was the gun she had hung up before sparring. The girl knew Minene would snap at her if she asked why the woman was cleaning it, instead of leaving it for her to take care of. She liked to deny that she cared at all, but the girl knew better. The two were were too much alike to hide those things.
They revolved around the basics in life, in many ways. The blonde could tell the woman liked older things. Especially older dresses. She knew because the terrorist denied she liked them. She did the same things the woman did. That was how she knew.
They both only had each other. The two may have denied they relied on one another or cared at all, but the truth remained black and white, trusth hidden behind lies.
Minene was the only family she had, so the girl was determined to do everything right.
"Have you eaten?" The girl mumbled with her mouth full. She swallowed quickly and began to cough. Served her right for--
"What type of shitty question was that? Of course," Minene said. Yup. The girl had asked a dumb question.
The plate was empty as the blonde's fork scraped against the surface. She silently got up and washed the dish, before taking care of Minene's as well. That was the least she could do. Minene cleaned the gun, the girl would clean the plates and forks.
The water slipped over her fingers, which were small and nimble. Sighing faintly, she slid the dishes out of the water and placed them back where they could dry for a few moments.
This wasn't exactly her house. Just a cabin in the woods for hunters to practice in. The two were crashing there for a few days before moving on. They weren't exactly being hunted at the moment.
The police didn't even know the girl existed, and she would have liked to keep it that way. She was nothing more than Minene's accomplice that was known to no one--which was a good thing. She could go and scope out the churches they were planning to hit next if the two could.
Of course, she always stayed away because she couldn't beat Minene, and therefore wasn't able to go help her. Maybe it was for the best. But the girl wanted to go.
She was never the type of person to sit back and let others do the work she herself could do. This was what frustrated her about fighting Minene. She was good, and the girl wasn't. That was all there was to it.
"Rest for about an hour. We'll talk then." The girl nodded and headed for the small room that contained several bunks. The one farthest from the door and closest to the closer was her own. Her muscles ached from the rigorous training day after day, but who was she to complain?
She was alive thanks to Minene, so the least she could do was--well, help her with blowing shit up. Besides, it was fun. No challenge for her.
She was a whiz at school until the death of her parents and when she went to live with Minene. She still kept up with things from salvaging old textbooks from behind schools, but was much farther behind than those her age. When one lived on the run, salvaging became second nature.
To be able to make bombs one had to be good at math and tech stuff and loads of other things. Good with tools, a knowledge of how things fit together, and a love of insanity.
Sure, the girl herself wasn't exactly one to talk. But she still knew. She knew because that was what she was.
She believed she was going insane.
Just small things really. A dwarfish girl with lavender hair. A thing made of stone. Flashes of color when there were none. The short girl, holding something out to her. A phone-ins object, if she remembered correctly. The stone abomination redirecting something where she walked.
She was slowly going insane, and not even Minene knew. She would try to keep her untroubled for as long as she possibly could. The girl owed her after all, owed her the girl's own life and everything else. Everything else her pathetic self could do.
She slipped her shoes off and collapsed on the bunk, too tired to change. She had experienced a fitful dream last night, one her mind couldn't make sense of. She turned it over in her head again, trying to comprehend what her wretched brain had spit out as junk this time.
There stand the dwarf girl and the stone thing. He's so much taller now. Our entire world can't contain him. I must be seeing his true form. The girl has a corn cob in her hands, and is munching on it. The...I guess he must be a god. The god sits on a sort of throne, floating up in the air.
"I dunno, I'm pretty fond of her. Should we really choose her?" The girl says with her mouth full.
"Do you see any other suitable candidates?" The god rebukes the girl, gesturing to several different screens hanging in the air.
There are thirteen of them, and twelve are filled with a picture.
A boy with blue eyes. A girl with pink eyes and hair. A man with auburn locks. A man with a ponytail. A girl in a sort of cult robe, brightly colored. A small child with a grin that stretches wild. A man with glasses. A short woman with a puffy hat and apron. In one screen, a man and woman hold each other lovingly.
In the ninth square is a picture of Minene.
Each square has a name. I quickly study them. Yukiteru Amano. Yuno Gasai. Ai and Maru. A girl named Tsubaki. Hiyama Takao. Many others. I have a nearly photographic memory, so it won't be much of a problem if I need to recall this. When.
The last square is filled with static.
"There was no Thirteenth in the last Future Diary game," the girl says, finishing her corn cob and standing up on an oil drum. "Why do you want one now?"
"To humor a dying god. Why else?" The god says. He seems to be using sarcasm. "I believe she is one of the worthy. I've never seen anything like her. She is just a child, yet...so incredibly talented. So unique and interesting. She will make a good addition."
The girl sighs. "Sure, Deus." So the god's name is Deus. Interesting. "She can be Thirteenth."
"Put her in, Murmur." The girl clicks something and my picture and name appear on the last blank screen.
Deus closes his eyes and appears to be thinking hard. "You and I have complicated matters. We must see how these things play out."
"Yeah. I just hope this girl isn't a mistake."
"What is the worst she could do?"
The girl pauses. "She could destroy us all."
There was more to the dream, but she had forgotten. Something wasn't right about it. In fatigue she shrugged off the feeling. It was a dream. A dream was a dream was a dream. It wasn't real.
Her eyes began to grow heavy, before she slid into darkness, only to awaken in the chamber from her dream.
Thirteen pads, for thirteen people. All arranged in a circle. The girl blinked, hard. Eleven of the spaces were filled. She stared.
Everyone was just a silhouette.
She gaped around the place, looking around. She stood on the very last platform, and the one across from me was empty. The one on her right was...occupied by someone in a sort of costume with a round balloon covering their head. She couldn't see any detail. There was a man with glasses to his right.
Was this another dream, more random nonsense that her brain had decided to spit out? It somehow didn't feel right, not the same. Not the foggy quality that most dreams had, killing waves of madness--a waking dream. The girl's dreams sometimes ended, and sometimes did not.
"Now that we're all here, let the meeting begin." What? Why is--Deus? Why was he here? He was a figment of the girl's imagination. Not real. The character of a dream.
She scanned the room. The first and second places were now filled. The third held two words in bold red: DEAD END. What could that mean? A survey of the area led to the conclusion that Murmur, the midget girl, was not present.
"The objects you have in your hands are your diaries. Each has been altered so the object can predict the future up to ninety days in advance. Where you used to keep normal records, the records are kept for you.
This is a survival game. The other Diary Owners are out to kill you. The last one standing inherits my throne as God of Time and Space, Life and Death. When something is going to happen that will make you die, a Dead End flag is set up on your Diary. When another Diary Owner is going to kill you, the flag will be set. Try your best to avoid that.
When your Future Diary breaks-example, Third. He set the Dead End flag on First, but First reciprocated by shattering his Diary, therefore killing him. The Diary holds your future. When it breaks, your future is gone. End of the line. You die.
The Diary's future will change based on your actions and the actions of others. Whether you do something or not, the future may change.
First made a miracle in avoiding the Dead End flag and killing Third. The game very well may end up with him as the winner. My bets are on you, First.
As for the twelve of you left-find out who the other Diary Owners are. Kill them or be killed. This is my demand out of all of you. You cannot opt out. Even if you try, you will find yourself involved to the end." He paused, watching our responses.
"The meeting is now adjourned."
The man beside the blonde spoke. "Seems like all bets are on First." He shimmered and disappeared.
The two men to his right said something and faded away. The next woman who spoke had the girl gasping.
"I hope you aren't dead before I come to kill you." The words were directed at First, but as she faded she turned to me.
The woman was Minene.
She froze upon seeing the girl so familiar to her, but no more time was left remaining.
The blonde panicked, and surveyed the remaining Diary Owners before they faded away. She managed to get out just after Fourth said he would protect First.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up.
What the hell just happened? What crazy shit was that? Thrones and phones and Diaries and Futures and... I'm going to die.
I don't want to die.
She climbed out of bed and slipped her shoes on, before running a brush through a rat's nest of hair. Once she finished, the girl scrambled out of the room to Minene.
"Minene! Minene!" She yelled, nearly screaming. "Minene, where the fuck are you?"
Had another Diary Owner found her? Was she okay? What would she do? Would she kill her sole companion?
What the hell was the Thirteenth going to do?
She raced outside to find the woman cleaning another gun. A pistol. Her phone was next to her. The girl fingered the oblong device in her pocket, resisting the urge to pull it out and check for anything at all.
She was wearing a dress and her hair in messy pigtails. The dress she had shown up in one day, never saying where she got it.
"Minene, have you ever thought you were going insane?" The girl questioned. She held her breath. What would she say? Would she know what the teen was asking?
"Why were you there?" She asked the girl instead. She shrugged. That was a simple question, really. Minene already knew the answer. The woman was probing for how much the girl knew.
"Deus chose me. But that's besides the point. Why didn't you tell me you kept a diary?" The teen questioned.
"Why didn't you tell me about yours? The same reason I kept mine secret. Everyone has something they don't want to share, Squirrel." She said the nickname condescendingly like she always had since she started calling the gurl that.
"That's not my name," the girl whispered quietly. She was right. The girl had no reason to pry into the woman's private business. What type of person was she, the type that would just do that?
"You're right, it's not. Your name is what you've decided not to share with me. See what I mean, Squirrel? Telling me everything would be a shitty decision. Telling you everything would be even more stupid. Get that through your head."
The teen glared at her. She hated her name, that was why. She needed a fresh start. But with het name, that long-craved start was impossible.
"Don't knife me in the back just yet, Minene. I'm not ready to die." That being established, the girl turned on her heel and stalked back inside. She raised her hand and spun, catching the knife thrown in her direction.
"Practice with that. I'm teaching you how to fight properly in about an hour." The blonde glared at the woman's back and stalked off. The door slammed behind her.
No matter what Minene did, she was family. The girl owed the terrorist, and she could never, ever repay that debt. Not even with her own life.
But would her life be what she had to give? The girl hoped not.
So if her dream wasn't a dream...then she knew most of the Diary Owners and what they looked like. She knew their names and faces. Minene and the nameless girl could find them.
"Minene!" She had already forgotten her anger. The girl threw the knife on the kitchen counter and opened to door to outside. Minene was still cleaning the gun. "Minene, we have an edge in the game."
She looked up at that. "And this lead is?"
The girl scuffed her toe, suddenly awkward. "I had a dream. In that dream I was in this strange place of purple. Deus and a girl called Murmur were there.
"They had screens up of everyone participating in the game. Their faces, and names. Some I don't remember, but I know most of them. I know who First, Second, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Eighth are. I know the first names of several others." She paused to take a breath. "Minene, you're Ninth?"
"Just like you're Thirteenth." A pause. "I wish you hadn't been brought into this, Squirrel."
"Yeah, I wish that too. For both of us. Hey Minene. I've worked out how to use a knife already. You knew that. So how do I beat you in hand-to-hand?" The girl bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.
"Aren't you interested to see what your Diary does?" She asked. The blonde shook her head.
"I'm going to go on with normal life as much as I can. I wanna live life as much as I can in the time I have. So that means training. Training and cleaning and staying secluded from the rest of the world." Wickedly, the girl grinned. "So--a hidden life."
What did you think? I tried. Please comment on what you liked or disliked. Yes, this is an Akise X OC sort of thing. Take it or leave it. Okay, don't leave it. Please read it. Chapters will get better and longer. Please show your support by voting and commenting. Thank you all! I can't wait to hear from you!