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dangans-ur-ronpas · 2 months

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Chapter 12

UH OH

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trying to move away from writing toko like chunsoft and adding more to her character (she's traumatized she wants to be loved but she's going about it in the worst way) but in the end none of her actions are condoned. she's fucked up still sorry but written in a more sympathetic light i hope?

syo WILL be in this fic but i do my best to make her hand-wavy explanation ambiguous (fuck whatever canon says about 'textbook split personality' btw)

@moonlighttogami and @tokiwigiwi :)

Content warning tags: implication of stalking/blackmail, Toko-expected creepiness, use of violence, character death

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He’s not sure how much time passes when the door opens again.

“Finally,” He huffs, not bothering to turn. “Took you long enough. Honestly, how long does it take-”

He halts, as the intruder steps into the room, and quickly clicks his handbook shut. These weren’t Makoto’s footsteps. And - he surreptitiously covers his nose - that wasn’t Makoto’s smell. But he knows whose it was.

“...Toko. What do you want.” He turns and glares at the girl who has intruded on his space. She fidgets where she stands, a thin shadow of dark purple. The smell of her has grown stronger over the past few weeks, and hangs around her like a miasma.

“M-master Byakuya…”

He feels a full-bodied shiver of disgust run over his skin. “Don’t call me that.”

She ignores him, and carries on. “A-about last night…”

Right. To be completely honest, he was hoping that he had scared her enough the night before to make her leave him alone entirely. But he’s not surprised either; if she had the nerve to blatantly try and look at his secret, it wasn’t surprising that she had the boldness to try and confront him like this.

“What about last night.” He says stiffly, and she jumps as if shocked.

“I-I know about your eyes!” She blurts at last. “A-and, I know Ch-Chihiro knows it too…I, I heard you t-talking about it i-in the b-bathhouse last night…”

He feels his lip curling, revolted. Of course she had eavesdropped; she was quickly proving to be one of the more annoying stalkers he’d ever had the displeasure of dealing with. The number of people who were aware of his condition was also rapidly increasing against his will. At this point he might as well do the same as Fujisaki and announce it out loud.

Fukawa continues in her irritating stutter. “A-and…y-your envelope…” He freezes immediately, suddenly latching on to her every word.

“What did it say?” He demands, and she flinches - shivers? - arms crossing over her torso.

“I-if I t-tell you, y-you won’t w-want anything to d-do with m-me anymore…” She mutters, seemingly to herself, and he feels another wave of revulsion roll over him.

“Out with it. I already want nothing to do with you, but if you don’t speak up now-”

What will he do? He tries to come up with a threat that can hold actual weight, but they all sound pathetic, even to himself. If only Makoto were here, he could at least get him to chase her away…how long does it take to talk to three people, anyways?

Ironically, it’s Fukawa who saves him from having to think of something. “I-I know you’re r-really mad at m-me for r-reading your secret last night,” She continues, and she’s swaying slightly, as if drunk. “U-um, I-I promise n-not to t-tell anyone! About your eyes, o-or your envelope…a-and, I’ll t-tell you mine, t-too.”

“I’m not interested.” He says flatly. “Tell me what was written in my envelope. Now.”

She shakes her head instead. “I-I know th-there’s no way for you t-to have r-read yours yet, right? S-so only I know!” The light catches on her spectacles, and it gives the illusion of two, illuminated orbs on her face. “W-which makes me m-more special than M-Makoto, or Chihiro, right?”

She sounds deranged. Her voice is pitched with desperation, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes a step closer. “I-I know all your s-secrets, and once y-you know mine…s-so you can r-rely on me, m-more than Makoto, o-or Chihiro?” Another step, and the floorboard creaks. “I-I’ll do better than th-them! And, and I can accept you f-for all your secrets, s-so, you don’t n-need them, I promise!”

“Stay back.” He snaps, shifting backwards. The revulsion was curdling, mixing with fear, and crawling down his back like something physical, like the vile, unwanted sensation of fingernails, tickling over his skin. He hates this irrational panic - she was just a girl, and a pathetic one at that - but here he was, shying away anyways, unable to discern her next move, her intentions. “I’m warning you-”

She lurches forward, and he takes an inadvertent step back. His back meets the bookshelf; he was trapped. “S-so don’t get scared,” She says, though these words really only have the opposite effect on him. “D-do you remember the news, a few y-years back? A-about Genocider S-Syo?”

Genocider Syo? The name sounds familiar, but it takes him a moment to place where he’s heard it before. It was a few years before he enrolled at Hope’s Peak, while in transit to some social gathering or another; Pennyworth had left the car radio tuned to the local news.

“The serial killer?” He asks aloud, as he subtly searches the shelves behind him, trying to find something to use as a weapon. The tip of his index finger catches on the spine of a large, plastic-bound copy of some textbook or another, and he leverages it slowly out of the shelf, feeling sweat beginning to slicken its cover.

She nods eagerly, her braids bouncing. “I-I knew you’d kn-know about it,” She sounds relieved, somehow, voice breathless. “Y-you know, th-the first place Syo turned up was the town w-where I was b-born…i-it was my f-first crush that was the f-first victim, y’know?”

It clicks together quickly for him. The radio announcer had described bloody and ugly scenes of murder, the displayed corpses of young men and boys, all attributed to a mysterious killer with a penchant for stabbing their victims. And now standing before him was a clearly-deranged, unwell girl, well-known for her romance novels, and apparently obsessed with him.

“I-it’s okay!” She says hurriedly, as he presses himself closer to the shelf. “Sh-she only c-comes out when I-I’m really t-tired, o-or if I see b-blood…b-but, I c-can control her! I am controlling her, I promise!” She steps forward again, and this close, he can see the sickly flush on her face, the shine of sweat - tears? - down her cheeks. “I’ve b-been working s-so hard, s-so she won’t h-hurt anyone again…so it’s o-okay! I c-can be good! See?” She hiccups slightly, she must be crying. He can’t imagine why. “S-so now we can be equal, r-right?!”

She staggers towards him again, and he reacts before he can even think twice about it, yanking the book from its shelf and swinging blindly. The edge catches her across the face, whipping it sharply to the side with a sickly crack and a squeal - there’s a crest of blood, splattering up the length of the book, he can feel a few warm drops splash his hand, the skin crawling where it landed - and she crashes against the shelves with a shriek, stumbling.

“Why?!” She wails, hands shooting to her face. She sounds genuinely distraught, and she shakes as she scrubs at her nose with her palms. “I-I told you m-my biggest secret, a-and I kn-know yours…w-why won’t you tr-trust me?!”

“Trust you?!” He laughs, mirthless and a little frenzied, pitched wildly with his thudding heart. “You repulse me.” He steps forward now, book still clutched in his shaking hand. “Why would I ever trust a murderer in a killing game?”

She flinches as if his words were more physical blows, stumbling away from him and knocking against the shelf. A few books rain down, thudding open on the floor. “I-It’s not me,” She babbles, clutching at her head. “S-Syo - she’s j-just s-someone else, she’s in m-me, b-but I can c-control her, I p-promise - sh-she’s not me, she’s not me, she’s not!”

It sounds vaguely like some dramatized description of a split personality, though Byakuya had never heard of any such disorder that matched Fukawa’s apparently extreme case. Whatever the girl had going on would probably warrant its own DSM volume, but he wasn’t particularly interested in that. “I don’t care if she’s a ghost that’s possessing you or a secret twin taking your place. I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“B-but-”

“Get out.” He snarls, chest heaving. “If I hear anything - anything - on my condition, I will make you wish you were dead.” She doesn’t move, and he feels his teeth clench enough to creak. “I said, OUT.”

She darts, stumbling and stepping through one of the piles of boxes on the floor, completely breaking through the lid. Whatever was inside it stays looped around her ankle as she kicks the lid off, and clicks against the floor as she sprints away, her sobs fading as she goes.

___

For safety, he blocks off the door to the library with the chair, jamming it beneath the handles.

Then, he waits for Makoto, pacing, agitated. Really, how long could it take to accompany one person to talk to three people? His clock in his handbook stated that hardly an hour had passed since Makoto first left, and ten minutes since he sent Fukawa away. Surely, he had to be coming back eventually?

Not that there was anything keeping Byakuya in the library, other than his own uncertainty regarding his safety. Considering that he knew Fukawa’s alternate identity, and her apparent infatuation with him, it would be foolish to make the trek back to his room alone.

He stops pacing, frustration and restlessness boiling over. And returns to the files, shuffling through them, handbook held aloft to read the names printed on the edge of each folder, ignoring the ones that clatter to the ground after he shoves them haphazardly back. Finally, he comes across the one he's looking for, and slides it out of the shelf.

The front of it is stamped with the title in silver: ‘The Murder Cases of Genocider Syo: Top Secret’. He flips it open.

The text is interspersed with images of the victims before and after their unfortunate encounters with Fukawa. He can’t make much out about them, other than the fact that all the murder scenes seemed similar enough; photos of pale bodies, stretched out as if crucified, splattered with blood. Their faces, which must have been twisted with agony, are merely dark smudges.

“...As with the other cases, at the scene of the crime the word ‘BLOODLUST’ was written with the victim’s blood,” Alter Ego reads aloud. “The scissors used in the murder were apparently custom-made, with every pair left at each murder scene seeming to be of the same material and construction…”

How vile. He flips through the pages (one of which is annoyingly wrinkled, and furthermore, smudged with dirt), reading through the victim's descriptions. There was a sort of morbid curiosity that drew him to read further, even as his stomach turned with the knowledge that he could end up like one of these men; pinned like a butterfly for the killer to admire and laud over.

He snaps the file shut at last, feeling nauseous, and sinks down with his back against the shelf, suddenly exhausted - the adrenaline from Fukawa’s confrontation is gone, leaving behind a bone-deep fatigue. Sluggishly, he categorizes what he knows:

One: Fukawa was also Genocider Syo, a notorious serial killer who targeted young men.

Two: Fukawa both knew he was blind, and the contents of his envelope. He reaches into his pocket and feels for it, the paper now crinkled and warped. He still can’t bring himself to try and use Alter Ego to read its contents, but so long as Fukawa knew…there was little he could do about it.

That brought him to three: Fukawa was apparently obsessed with him. That was clear from the start, but he underestimated how dangerous her infatuation was. What she wanted from him was, apparently, some kind of romanticized relationship, if her mutterings about mutually sharing secrets and calling him ‘master’ was anything to go by, but nothing that could possibly be built on equal footing. Not if she was trying to leverage the envelope’s contents and his blindness against him.

He pauses at that. Did Fukawa know he was capable of using Alter Ego through his handbook to read? If she did, then there was no point in her trying to hold it over him. But then that meant she might try to manipulate him in other ways, the most simplest being blackmail. For that, he’d need to silence her…

And to do that, I would need to kill.

He drums his fingers against the hardwood floor. It’d be hard, but he could do it. She was already fixated on him, it should be easy enough to lure her somewhere and take care of her, either with a blunt-force weapon or strangulation - stabbing was too messy with the blood splatter - but the real difficulty then was how to conceal his tracks.

He thinks for a moment of Maizono, and how she had swapped rooms with Makoto solely for this intention. He thought her foolish then, but in hindsight, it really was an impressive display of quick thinking…though, it wasn’t one that he could copy.

What if he did it in a shared space? In one of the empty classrooms? People hardly went into these rooms, and it’d be harder to pin down the culprit. But he’d have to be fast about it, and careful; anyone who sees him or Fukawa entering that space, or leaving it, could easily identify him as the suspect. It’d have to happen at night.

But, she’s also smarter than she looks… He rubs at his temples now, frowning. She might see the similarities between this and Maizono’s attempt, and realize it’s a trap. I can’t risk that. It’d be easier if I could easily pin it on someone, but the amount of people who might be stupid or willing enough to let themselves be used…

The list was very short. Makoto, who was already a non-option. Yamada, who was too closely allied with Celeste to be trusted. Hagakure, who was too paranoid to be easily led into anything anyways...

And Chihiro.

He’s suddenly struck with the realization that if he succeeds, the others die. It would not be just one person’s blood on his hands, it would be multiple, including those he chooses not to directly involve. He hesitates, for an instant - and then lowers his hands slowly, a sense of defeat settling over him.

He’s already failed before he even started. This game could only have one winner, and if he could not fully commit himself to that role and accept the consequences of it, then he was never a real competitor to begin with. Circles within circles. He was back to the start.

Frustration isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so overwhelmed with it, as he tilts his head back, knocking it against the shelf as he stares blankly at the brown fog of the ceiling. And then slams a fist against the floor, hissing venomous, ugly curses under his breath. If only he had his eyes, again - he wouldn’t need to be so concerned with such things, wouldn’t need to waver - and yet.

Where the hell is Makoto? He thinks numbly, exhausted with it all. He was sick of being left with nothing but his nerves, and how long did it take to talk to just three people anyways?

Thump, thump, thump.

A rhythmic banging snaps him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he thinks it’s coming from the door, and clumsily pushes himself up, while fumbling for something, anything, to use as a weapon - his hands find the hard, stiff cover of a case file, still on the floor - and stares down the door, waiting for someone to break through it-

But nothing. The chair that’s stuck under the doorknob hasn’t even budged, from what he can tell. The banging continues, and he realizes it sounds more like hammering than knocking. It wasn’t even against the library door.

Construction? Hagakure did mention hearing construction sounds earlier. Was Monokuma building something again?

The sound ends, replaced by footsteps approaching his door. He tenses, taking a step back, but a moment later, the footsteps patter down the hall and away, fading out of earshot.

He stays where he is for a long moment, caught between terror and curiosity. Curiosity wins out, and he steps slowly to the door, hesitating once more with one hand on the chair.

But before he can even do anything, the air is pierced by a blood-curdling scream, and he throws the chair away, yanking the door open-

Only to be met with the sight of Chihiro Fujisaki’s corpse.

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#thpff chapters #thpff #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #hi....sorry for the delay...#in my defense i was waffling a while about posting this bc once i do it means im locked into my trial 2 case and scene etc #and im still writing the trial 2 scene WHOOPS....#also was feeling very bleh this past week. whatever im fine now #byakuya full on plotting a murder before realizing. wait a minute. i care about people now.#and then having a mild crisis about it. prince zuko style except instead of getting a fever he starts swearing in french #hitting a girl? not cool byakuya #im so sorry chihiro i love you tho #the scene were toko gets makoto to go with her to talk to byakuya doesnt happen here #and also toko has been watching byakuya hang out exclusively with makoto #and hearing the rumors that they were having a scandalous drauma-fraught romance #so she ended figuring that the best thing she could do was corner him herself. hence the gathering of blackmail material etc etc #not necessarily the most romantic thing but she sees it as creating a level playing field where he's forced to acknowledge her at all

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time-is-restored · 1 year

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fellas that last ted lasso episode. hmm.

listen i'll be real no matter what im gonna be out here gushing abt trent crimm cause he's my special little guy and im obsessed with him, but considering the Literal Paragraphs ive been writing abt all the shit i LIKED about the show, i didn't know how else to process these Less Good emotions than by blurting it all out over like two hours (instead of doing the dishes, lmao).

tldr; s3e2 was such an emotional high point for me, since i really felt like it had something concrete + specific to say about physical violence + social/emotional violence, and how they're BOTH highly valued as masculine ideals. but the episodes since then...

it kind of feels like im watching the result of a long and bloody fight between different writers? writers who, apparently, wanted Very different things from this last season, so now we're getting this. bizarro world mish-mash of two hypothetical shows, where tone + content + themes vary WILDLY and inconsistently from episode to episode - and even scene to scene!

[cw: discussions of sexism + racism, in a doylist context, also s3e5 spoilers]

specifically, i feel really disappointed and hurt that they went that direction with shandy's arc. i understand that we're only half way through the season, and obviously anything could happen between now and then but... really? like, is there some kind of budgeting issue here? we can't afford for there to be more than three (complex, not sexy lamps) women in any given episode? is that why the second jack appears, barbara loses any depth (what happened to that lovely moment of connection with the snow globes????????), and THEN the second SHANDY goes off her head it's. jack time? apparently???? like. this would feel a lot better as a viewer if at this point the show hadn't PRIMED me for jack doing something insanely stupid + cruel for no reason except 'haha Keeley Bad At Her Job'.

like. the first thing we see of shandy fine is her pride in keeley, and genuine appreciation of her hard work and skill. she's CLEARLY not stupid, otherwise why would the rest of her introductory scene be her helping keeley out with filmmaking advice (the extras thing) AND random, life experience shit (knowing how to deal with goat shit)?? she knows her way around a set, and she doesn't make any of the footballers feel judged, even when she's clearly thrown by the clips they're providing her.

so why in the space of like, barely a few weeks, does ALL of that get thrown out the window? 'condoms for balls'??? why are we supposed to just take for granted that she's stupid + overly ambitious (other than the Fucking Obvious!) when the show put NO effort into actually setting that up???? like, if her first scene was her monstrously fucking UP the shoot for keeley, and keeley hired her on pure sympathy then like. sure. whatever. no room for bleeding hearts in business. but that ALSO sucks as a story line for ted lasso, a show that (according to its OWN press releases!) is supposed to be about kindness and human connection and breaking cycles!

it just. it hurts? in a way where its like, i don't believe even a little bit that this was what the writers were aiming for with those scenes, and it frightens me that there could be such a wide gulf between intent and result. especially when bonding about The Shandy Incident is what got keeley and jack together (which i am trying... So hard to feel positive about, because explicitly confirming keeley's bisexuality is amazing, least of all bc it makes her jokes with rebecca feel a lot less mean-spirited on the writers' parts, retroactively)... like how am i supposed to be enjoying their moments together when i feel like the show's whole premise has been betrayed???

and really? the one moment nate gets to feel good in this WHOLE season, it's bc the server at the restaurant who previously could not care if he dropped dead right in front of him showed him some affection + validation?????

like, sure, i GUESS im happy that this random excuse for an arc has lead to a slightly more sympathetic female character existing at least in the PERIPHERY of the show's main storyline, except no im fucking not? i don't care about this fucking restaurant, and even though ive been DESPERATELY trying not to hate jade (even though the writers themselves can't seem to decide if she's Literally Racist or just a depressed service worker) NATE shouldn't care about jade! the ONLY way i can see this being an actually interesting arc for nathan is if its another exploration of his inability to leave behind the things + people that have hurt him, combined with years of conditioning where he's never allowed to express being annoyed/upset at anyone (which richmond!!! contributed to!!!!!! 'if you're mad, count to ten. if that doesn't work, count again'??? cool speedrun tips for resentment ted!). like, an arc where we see that distance away from richmond hasn't helped nate as much as it's removed some of the worst triggers, so a taste of athens ends up in the same awful pit of resentment + loathing as ted did. which nate clearly hates! he doesn't LIKE being that person! he apologised to a PAINTED DOLL of ted!!!! but when he doesn't have the framework or tools or SUPPORT to do anything else...

like. where is his team? obviously im not expecting the show to start being about a bunch of football players that AREN'T from richmond but? even just a small moment of appreciation? or hell! maybe they hate him! if we could see LITERALLY ANYTHING abt the sport which nathan has dedicated his life to, and how his Actual Coaching style is positively or negatively impacted by the lessons he learned at richmond? this is a show ABOUT football!!!!!

i just. a taste of athens? again? a-fucking-gain?????

and honestly, the worst part is that i REALLY liked the little monologue that nate got to give about how important the restaurant was to him! as much as it showed that nate is still just as passionate + earnestly defensive of the things he loves, it ALSO shows that he 1. spends that energy explaining his passion to people who don't deserve it/won't care, and 2. gets attached to things that really fucking hurt him! and like. i am on my hands and KNEES for that to be the 'point' of this arc but at this point i feel like that's me being naive! but if fucking JADE from fucking ATHENS is the civilising white gf who FINALLY talks nate down from him ~ ignorant, vengeful crusade ~ against the absolute ~ matyrs ~ of goodness at afc richmond, i just. like. what are we even DOING here gang?

i don't know. it hurts that sam's gone from being an almost principal character in s2 to only getting passing lines in s3. it hurts that rebecca's off in her own world, talking to strangers, having life-changing revelations on her own, surrounded by sets we're never going to see again, where every scene she DOES get to spend w one of the richmond members feels hasty and rushed, like the episode wants to get a few characters obligatory appearances out of the way asap. it hurts that all the chekov's guns around zava's arc (jamie's resentment, ted's lack of guidance, dani being 'demoted' + colin being benched) were apparently all just blanks, to be hastily plastered over with one big long speech about... ted wanting everyone to have higher self esteem, or something?

and listen, more the fool me if another episode comes out next week that i completely adore, and i spend like five days singing its praises. im mostly writing this so i can go INTO the next ep without feeling resentful + upset! i'll be STOKED if i was wrong and all of those little details ARE actually important, and these arcs have more to them than this! but for now im just sad and annoyed :(

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso critical #<- this tag has like five posts in it total so i sincerely doubt anyone here needs it but i also Definitely don't want it showing up in the #main tag so??? fr pls lmk if anyone needs a specific tag for this #also. i swear im gonna stop malding and go to bed any minute now but #would rlly love if we got more than one episode dedicated to keeley doing her job. would love if we got more than one episode of ANY of #these characters doing their jobs?? hey what the fuck it just hit me there's been no training scenes since ep 1 #(not counting jamie + roy since that's JUST jamie and roy - not all the coaches and not all the team)#like . remember how that's how ted won over the players to begin with? his coaching style? and how energetic + involved + earnest he was?#the way he ran laps WITH the team and then made a joke out of how they all beat him?#its just. lots of telling and not showing this season which im really hoping changes soon

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