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vampiresuns · 3 years

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Creature Comfort

✴︎ CREATURE COMFORT ✴︎

2.9k words. In which Anatole learns the Band is in Vesuvia after Alec’s death and runs to them, pretending there isn’t one of them in specific he wants to see.

Leon (he/they) is @apprenticealec‘s, and this piece is brought to you after her last fic, January, activated the Janiverse brainworms. Please go read that if you haven’t already.

Nadia was never late for a meeting. Ever.

Anatole looked at his uncle with a questioning look, one of the many non-verbal communication cues they had developed while working together. They came in handy in moments like these. He shrugged at him, rolling his eyes and asking to be brought a wine glass and a very specific bottle from something Anatole didn’t even recognise, ignoring Lucio’s complaints about not being able to have wine himself. Anatole began to fidget with his quill, shaking it between his fingers, making it tap with his papers.

He didn’t want to be here. Not in Lucio’s room. It was too close to the plague. It was not safe enough. Him and Valerius could come in contact with it and bring it to the Palazzo. They could give it to anyone. They could get it themselves.

Anatole couldn’t lose more people. Paris, though for different reasons than Plague was gone, Anzano was gone — and with them, part of Amparo’s joy — and while his parents were here, which was always a comfort, he constantly lived in fear his mother who had volunteered as a doctor would get it.

What if Valeriy got it? His chest constricted at the idea. Things with him were tense right then, but it was nothing Anatole could blame on any of them, because saying that they were going through a lot was a gross understatement. He wanted to take his uncle’s hand, something he would’ve done if they had been in the comfort of his office, but instead they were in Lucio’s fucking bedroom. What if he lost them too, because this, this, this, negligent imbecile with it’s negligent court still didn’t listen, still refused help.

His tapping became louder. Probably, along with his aunt, the death which weighed him down the most was Alec’s. It didn’t feel just like losing her, but Ilya and Asra in the process, for their own different reasons.

At times like this, he wished the band was here.

“Hey, little Valerius, could you stop that tapping can’t you see it gives me a headache?”

Anatole tapped his quill one more time, on purpose. Lucio threw him a dirty look, but the Gods (whomever those were) knew Anatole couldn’t care less.

“You’re not going to apologise?”

“Did I give you the headache? With my tapping, or didn’t you say you already had one when we came in?”

“Aelius,” Valerius warned him. He didn’t actually care how he spoke to Lucio, he knew that, but now was not the best time.

Nadia arrived before things could escalate, excusing herself by saying she had taken longer with her cousin than she had thought she would take. Now, as a rule, Anatole never talked about his personal life when he was in Court duty. If he could pretend he didn’t have a personal life, the better. It was all out of professionalism, a defence mechanism and him being a naturally private person who wanted people who were not part of his circle to stay the fuck away from his personal business. He was good at redirecting personal questions he didn’t want to answer, and his own abilities allowed him to know beforehand when people had what he described as ‘icky interest’, unable to describe the leftover sensation his magic left him in any other way.

But it was late autumn, and he had seen so many Vesuvians die, his friend had died, his aunt had died, and for a moment his heart betrayed him, thinking that maybe, just maybe seeing Leon alive and well would be a comfort.

Why? He couldn’t tell. They had nothing that was serious, but right then he would’ve given anything for the comfort of his laughter. For allowing himself, for one moment, to focus on anything other than the impotence of his position.

Now, when Anatole got single minded, his ability to see consequences blurred a little, however, he had enough mind to change to Prakran when speaking to Nadia. “Was it Jamil? Is he alone?”

It was a way to loophole his own rule about no personal talk at work, and a way to keep Lucio at a distance. He would keep the Count at a distance no matter what.

“Aelius,” Valerius said, standing close to him, his voice no longer the Consul’s, but his uncle’s, “I don’t think now is the time.”

For Valerius to be speaking to him like that in public, Anatole must’ve looked frazzled. Valerius was a peculiar man: Anatole couldn’t say he had met many more people, if anyone at all, who were two distinctively different people in private and in public and managed to come off as authentic on both occasions. The cues were there in either scenario, but it made sense why people who only knew Valerius publicly couldn’t understand why someone such as Anatole put up with him for any other reason than personal ambition.

Right then, however, as Nadia replied that yes, it was Jamil and the Band, Anatole couldn’t listen to his uncle, but he pleaded to him silently — another of their nonverbal cues — when he passed on his quill and his papers to him.

“I have to go.”

“Aelius,” and, of course, the Consul was back. “Your duties.”

Anatole raised a single eyebrow at his uncle. He would rather get chewed back when they were home about this than staying; besides, what could he say? His Court performance was stellar. He cleared his throat. “Clean water sources, especially if we can get a way to pool the infected water back so we can study it are a priority, the chain supply for the flooded district completely broke, and you need to speak to the Guild of Merchants about it. A new group of nurses has been taken to the Lazaret this morning, and according to three different accounts we should get more court magicians to see whether or not this disease has a magical origin. Did I miss anything, Consul?”

Anatole didn’t wait for an answer. Bringing out a face covering from one of his pockets, he tied it with practice around his face, breaking into a race before anyone could stop him.

His steps echoed through the halls of the Palace as he ran. Outside, the sure clacking sound against the cobblestones travelled with him as he made his way through the City as fast as he could. He felt his chest burn from exhaustion and a frantically beating heart, but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t slow down until he was near the familiar street of Camia’s shop and dusk fell on the City.

He sat outside to catch his breath for a moment, something twisting inside him when he realised what he had done: he had almost snapped at the Count (again), he had barged the Countess with questions, and he had deflected a meeting he had to attend. Sure, his notes had all the information they needed, so Valerius could literally read them aloud and it’ll be just as if he was there, but he had been working in the Court for three years now. He should know better than shoving his sense of duty into someone else’s hands because he wanted—

What did he want? He felt the words freezing at his throat, a knot threatening to make all words escape him, forever, as he hanged on the cliff’s edge, refusing to look down because looking down meant admitting to himself too many things he didn’t want to admit. That he couldn’t admit.

He was there anyway, so he knocked on the door.

As soon as he stepped inside, he felt like coming here was a mistake, but once again, he couldn’t turn back. Out of stubbornness or true caring, he didn’t know. Perhaps both. Pulling through his impulsive decision was better than allowing the skin crawling sensation that he wasn’t wanted there win. No, he’d push down under a rug, and deal with it when he was alone. It wasn’t Camia, however, who made him feel that way. Camia had given him a half-hug, half-shoulder grab that was all the same full of affection that he was happy to retrieve as she asked about him, and he allowed himself to finally answer a personal question, and he asked about her and how she was doing, if there anything he could do.

It was Leon.

The source of the skin crawling sensation grew just a little bigger, threatening to snap his gut in two.

“You too? I didn’t realise we were hosting a pity party.”

He had never been more thankful for Leon not to be able to see his face, and never more embarrassed that Camia could. He exhaled, letting a practiced neutrality settle on his own features.

“Right. Anyway—”

“What’s your excuse that you didn’t know and you were so very busy following the Consul around.”

“Leon,” Camia said, “Nana, I’m sorry.”

He gritted his teeth as he replied. “I did know Alec died,” saying it was more difficult that he wanted to acknowledge, “I knew almost immediately. I have ways to keep tabs on the Lazaret, or rather, I have to overview the death lists, if you wanted to know how I knew, Leon. There’s no need to apologise Cami, I just didn’t know you were still in the City. Asra mentioned talking to you, but him and I aren’t precisely on speaking terms at the moment.”

He took a deep breath, letting out a sigh. “But I didn’t come to bore you with my accommodated Court position troubles, of course, I came because grieving is a bitch, life doesn’t stop for it, and I’m sure you all need a hand.”

As he tried to make his way to the kitchen, telling Camia an inventory of things he was happy to help with, insisted to help with, Leon stood between him and his way. For the first time since he had arrived, and for the first time in what it felt like too long, Anatole allowed himself to look at Leon. He wasn’t going to lie to himself: Leon’s face had crept onto his memories too often, sitting too comfortably in the back of his mind as a source of ongoing, mental conversation between him and what he thought Leon would bicker about when he was tired of the Courtiers being terrible, or other people who worked in it being just as exhausting as them.

That Leon and this Leon didn’t look anything alike. He was thinner, his hair looked messier, he looked sad. He looked incommensurably sad. It made Anatole want to reach out and pull him close.

Leon wouldn’t want that, and even if Anatole gave into wishful thinking, his words were enough to cut that thread: “What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s called helping you, I mean your friends. So if you please let me go to the kitchen to make a list.”

“But why? Is it guilt, Anatole?”

He shouldn’t have come here. “I do not dignify stupid questions with answers, Leon. No matter who they come from.”

He stepped to the side, walking past Leon and making his way through the shop for pen and paper. He hadn’t been there too many times, but he had been there enough times to have a vague idea of where they were. He settled in the kitchen area to make a list of things he could get for them right then, and things he could help them procure regularly. If anyone came to ask about his own grieving, he already had an answer prepared as using his extensive, notoriously tightly knit family was always a good excuse. Two of his friends had come live with them, because it was safer. He had people.

They didn’t need to know how much he spoke of or he let himself feel around them. He would’ve liked to talk with them about Alec, talking helped him process things, but he thought it was unfair to ask, so he didn’t. He didn’t ask, and wrote his list instead, pretending he couldn’t hear Leon and Camia bicker about him somewhere else in the shop.

He left through the back door to go into the market, came back through it. Brewed tea for everyone, and cooked dinner bringing Jamil a tray with food when it was done.

“It’s been a while since I had to use a kitchen, but I want to think I haven’t turned completely useless,” he told an unresponsive Jamil as he squeezed his shoulder. “If you want me to tell Valeriy you’re here, I would be happy to help with that too, just let me know, will you?”

Jamil didn’t say anything, but Anatole didn’t expect him to.

Camia told him off for not asking for help with dinner and he shrugged, making nothing out of it. “It’s the least I could do.”

Leon spoke before Camia could reply. His tone was less hostile, but still far removed. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“You always do that thing where you do more than people usually would, and then call it nothing.”

“If you want to file a complaint, the booth is open from monday to thursday, from 11 am to 3 pm, and it’s well past that hour, so I don’t think I’m taking criticism at the moment. Look, I know you’re going to tell me that was my own decision, but I almost snapped at the Count and ditched a meeting to be here. I came as soon as I knew, and before you say anything else, Leon, I am well aware you are all more than capable than taking care of yourselves, and that you are capable of being responsible for once—”

“What’s that supposed to mean—”

“I think you’ve interrupted me enough. I’m not Nadia. I’m not someone you can chew because it’s easier to process what you’re feeling that way. It hu— it’s not fair.”

To his surprise, Leon didn’t fight back. Instead, he asked Camia if he could excuse him and Anatole for a moment. Leon surprised him again by apologising.

“I… what?”

“Take it or leave it,” Leon said, trying his best to emulate their playful bickering, but Anatole could tell in his words that he was far, far away. His mind was somewhere else, and he couldn’t do anything but respect that.

“You don’t have to entertain me, you know? I really didn’t come because I would get something out of it, other than lending a hand to people I care about. I believe I told you already what I believe about affection.”

They stood together in silence, Anatole wanting to reach out and hug Leon. All he allowed himself to do instead was run his finger over Leon’s forearm twice. Exactly twice.

“Leon, do you know that if you, you specifically, ever needed anything I would help you, right? If you let me be there for you, I’d be happy to do it.”

Leon put his hand on Anatole’s arm. Anatole, for a second, allowed himself to believe in every possible, positive outcome of the interaction. Thousands of Leon’s existed in that moment, as many as crossroads existed right then. Some thanked him, a heartfelt thank you he could feel through his words, his magic absorbing the warmth of it. Some hugged him, for long minutes until Camia came to retrieve them, and they knew they could all be sad together, but they would be together nonetheless. Others kissed him, kissed him like Anatole desperately wanted to, his treacherous heart screaming for Leon to turn to him at the worst possible time to ask for such a selfish thing that Leon couldn’t possibly want, but it didn’t matter. Because in that moment he allowed himself to hope for once in months and—

“Could you keep an eye on Asra?”

What he wanted to reply was who kept an eye on Leon, he could keep an eye on Leon. What he said was: “Is something the matter?”

“You both work at the palace, you see him more than we do and I’m worried about him. I’m afraid he’s looking into things he can’t control.”

Anatole stepped back, straightening invisible wrinkles from his coat, clearing his throat. “I will, but I need you to promise not to stretch yourself too thin… actually, I will anyway, I’m sure you don’t need me bossing around.”

Leon’s smile was weak, but sincere. “Will you take care?”

“Leon, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“You said you almost snapped at Lucio.”

“He wanted me to stop tapping a quill, it was nothing, he never means it when I’m bouncing stuff against things. Not that I’m making excuses for him, I have better things to do with my time.”

“I know he’s sick but—”

“Leon, I don’t want to talk about my insufferable boss.”

Anatole wanted to take a Gondola back home, he didn’t want to walk. He wanted to sit down on one of the boats and see the stars reflected in the water, swirling as the gondolier moved, and make inconsequential chatter with them, but he had never been very good at lying to himself.

He was feeling too many things he couldn’t admit, he was feeling too much altogether and whenever he was overwhelmed, he cried. He could cry in silence, him and the City and his steps as he made his way back to the Heart District and pretended he knew what to do about his own. For the first time in forever, he wished he hadn’t taught himself to hope.

#the arcana #my writing #dani's ocs #leon #coincidence lovers #aelius anatole #nana just told me he was already in love with leon and didn't realise it and idk what to do about it but write #alec #jamil #camia #jamil and the pussycats #nadia #julian #asra #if you want more nana angst think about nana getting home and valerius just what the fuck was that until he sees nana is crying and to him #nana’s suddenly 8 again

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ofieugogyshz · 3 years

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Drabble; Time Trials

Title: Time Trials

Word count: 2100

Summary: The time trials were announced on Pasio! Sarah debates participating, when eir husband Lance and his cousin Clair find em staring up at the leaderboards, unsure of eir decision.

Notes/Content warnings: No cw comes to mind. This isn’t a serious piece, mostly an experiment/practice to work on writing with ey/em pronouns, and to show what the relationship between me and Clair is like. No limited-pov narrator. Not yet proofread, so as to avoid fleshing it out into something more. Potential consistency issues.

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Sarah was standing outside the building that the time trial events were taking place. The scores were being shown on electric screens outside, as well as the best times on another set of screens. Some of the current and previous timed battles were being displayed on the rest of the screens, as though to entice trainers to try their hands at it.

Ey watched the screens, glancing over every so often at the ones for times and the other for scores. Leon, the Champion from Galar, was listed as the top score; right below him was Raihan, a Gym Leader from the same region as well. Below that were a mix of names ey did and didn't recognize; trainers and gym leaders and champions from other regions.

It looked like some trainers were going in groups of up to three people. The screen with the best times would change to show the best times among the single, double, and triples. Very few of the group times ranked above the best singles, and it wasn't hard to guess why. More opponents was harder to take down. More opponents meant there was a higher chance of an offense-defense pairing, and or a pure defense team, and the more of those you ran into, the lower your times would be.

Although...

Ey looked up at the screens again. It didn't list the sync pair's Pokemon that were used in the best times, so unless you were familiar with them, or knew who their signature Pokemon was, you couldn't plan around them.

Sarah's Pikachu was getting bored with her trainer standing there. She knew ey was trying to decide on if ey wanted to join in or not, but the decision process was taking longer than usual—longer than it used to. If ey saw an event of any kind, ey would normally jump at the chance to try it. But now, here on Pasio, ey was hardly interested in participating in a lot of things. It was frustrating for Pika, because the more she saw the humans and Pokemon battle on screen, the more she was itching to jump in. Pasio was a place full of battles, and it was reigniting a spark in both trainer and Pokemon-- it just seemed to be taking longer for her trainer's spark to kindle.

“Hmm...” Ey had eir arms crossed, fingers tapping at an elbow, trying to decide. It would be a good way to get back into the swing of things, ey thought. But ey knew there was no way ey could get anywhere close to the best times, much less the top 100, with how many trainers Pasio had. There wasn't much point in competing if ey wasn't going to get close. But there was that tiny, determined voice that was always eager to try, even if it knew it was impossible. But then again... I'm not even interested in trying for the tournament. I'm just here because I wanted to see my husband.

As though on cue, Lance was walking with his cousin Clair towards the building that Sarah stood in front of. Ey hadn't noticed him; but his cousin had noticed eir, for he could feel her disposition change. A disgruntled noise, followed by a scoff under her breath. He knew about his cousin's dislike for his wife, but why that animosity was still there, even if mild, was beyond him. Still... An idea struck him.

“Sarah?”

Ey turned around to see Lance and his cousin. “Oh! Hi honey. And Clair.” Ey nodded towards eir in-law, who only made the barest acknowledgment of the greeting. Eir Pikachu perked up and waved towards the two dragon-type masters.

“Were you thinking about participating in the time trials?”

“Ah...” Ey glanced back up to look at the electronic leader boards. “...I don't know. Maybe? You know I'm not that competitive anymore,” ey said, trying to wave off eir discomfort. “I was curious to see what the times were like, 'cuz I heard that Leon's time was insane, and... well...” ey gestured to the board, where Leon's name was followed by the time of a minute and a half. “That definitely seems like a crazy impossible time. I don't think I've had battles that quick since I was traveling.”

Clair's eyes glanced up at the electronic boards. When she saw the time, she felt something in the pit of her stomach drop, but she scoffed and feigned confidence.

“A minute and a half? Please. I've beaten trainers in less than half a minute!” It was a boast, something that left a frown on her cousin's face, and an uncertain expression on his wife's. She quickly tried to smooth it over. “O-of course, those were all challengers that weren't ready for my gym! It's not something I'm particularly proud of, beating those people so easily!” she grumped, turning away so she didn't have to see their faces.

“Be that as it may,” Lance began, turning his attention back to his wife. “Would you like to join us? I'd be more than happy to have you on our team.”

“E-eh?” His wife faltered, unsure if ey should accept.

“WHAT?!” Clair quickly turned back to the conversation, all her frustration on display. She tried to quickly pick back up a proper disposition, but all she could do was huff her disagreement.

Lance turned towards Clair, a stern expression on his face.

“Is there a problem?” It was a challenge, daring his cousin to say anything unwell about his wife.

Clair finally recovered herself, and crossed her arms, breaking eye contact with Lance after a moment, deflecting the glare her reaction had earned her.

“Tch, I don't have a problem with adding a third person to our team. But it's a time trial. Shouldn't we pick someone who's still actively doing Pokemon battles? I don't want em to slow us down!”

Clair peeked a glance at her cousin and in-law to gauge their reactions from her words. She knew she couldn't get Lance to change his mind when it came to em, but she was hoping that her words might convince Sarah to not join them. Not that it would have been hard; her in-law and her had come to avoid interacting with each other whenever they could. And whenever Lance had asked Clair for a favor that involved her helping Sarah, the two in-laws tried to minimize the time spent around each other as much as possible.

Besides, she was trying to show her cousin how much she had improved. How could she do that if his wife was hanging around?

Alas, her words seemed to have only agitated her cousin more; he scowled at her, angry with her. Why was it so difficult to get the two of them to get along, he often wondered. At least it was no longer like the two of them clashing; Sarah had grown out of that when it came to his cousin, accepting that there was no changing her mind. And while Clair had accepted that Sarah was going to be part of the family tree, she still disliked em. The raging jealously over eir getting approval much easier than she ever did had waned to only a simmering dislike, but she couldn't fault em too much. Her cousin had spoken to her about it before the two married, and begrudgingly accepted the reasons for the differences. But that still didn't mean that she like em for it. It was unfair to her. Maybe if they had met before ey had met Lance, they could have been friends, or at least on a little better terms.

Still... the answer Clair had been a poor one, earning the wrath of her cousin; something that she could feel emanating off of him. He took a step towards his cousin, who carefully took a step back, trying not to show weakness but caution and past experience taught her otherwise.

“Sarah is more than capable of proving emselves in battle.” His voice was level, but Clair could pick up on the anger it held in check. “Ey is a quick thinker, and I believe ey will be able to keep up. If you think that might be a problem, then I suggest you to find a new team.”

Clair gulped.

Sarah grabbed eir husband's arm, embarrassed. “Sweetheart, please, it's fine. I can cheer you and Clair on. It's not a big deal--”

“It is a big deal,” he interrupted, looking back at em, his expression softening at eir. “It matters to me when someone talks ill of my wife. And I will not allow it.”

Ey stopped, eir face flushing softly as eir memory flashed back to eir youth. Terrible things ey said about emself, hurt and crying and frustrated. And how he wouldn't let em talk about eirself like that. Sarah's eyes watered now, the memory briefly awakened by his words. Ey fell silent, eir hand slowly falling until it rested next to his. Ey looked down at the ground, but a soft smile was on eir face. Ey nodded; there wasn't anything ey could say in response.

Right. That sickeningly sweet romance between them was part of why Clair didn't like em, but she kept that eww to herself. Even as a woman in her early thirties, that sort of weak spirit that came from getting too soft when one's partner was around had bothered her. And maybe that was why she hadn't kept one around for too long.

That thought was all but a flash reminder to her of her dislike and jealously towards Sarah, as Lance addressed her again.

“Well, Clair? Is it going to be an issue?”

Clair looked away, the pressure from his glare feeling as intense as any dragon's. It was more than enough to make her question herself—only for her to catch those thoughts and stop them. She shook her head to get rid of them; and it provided her answer too. She took a calming breath to give Lance a verbal answer.

“...No, it shouldn't be an issue,” she said. Resentment started to build, and she kept her cool this time, pushing it down... for now. “I'd be happy to have your wife on our team.”

“You don't have to lie about it,” Sarah muttered.

“Fine, sorry,” Clair grumbled.

Lance looked down at Sarah, then at Clair. Ey was right, but addressing the animosity Clair had never left a good taste in his mouth. He'd rather get this done and over with, so the three of them could work together and train for the time trials. It had been a long time since all three of them had trained together; he and Sarah were still dating at the time. Clair had said some harsh things, and Sarah had stormed off, angry and hurt. He didn't want a repeat of that; and hoped that they could behave themselves so as to avoid that.

Lance sighed. The tension he held slowly went away, and he addressed his cousin again.

“Are you really going to be cooperative on a team with my wife?”

“Tch, I can handle being around em for a few hours! It's not like you're asking us to be best friends.”

“Are you sure you're okay with that?” Sarah asked, looking at eir cousin-in-law. “I'd rather not get involved if you two were going at this seriously.”

Clair gave Sarah a hard stare. How could her cousin marry someone so weak-willed? Or, she didn't remember em being so weak-willed.

It annoyed her.

“Well, pick or choose if you're going to join us or not! We're going all in, so if you're not interested in that, then I suggest you back out now.”

“Clair!” Lance snapped.

Sarah could feel Lance squeeze eir hand. Ey knew how important it was to him, to both cousins, that one make a decision and commit to it. It didn't seem like he wanted em to leave, at least not because of his cousin's words. Sarah looked up at the electronic boards again, watching it scroll down the best times for a three-person group. Somehow, the times listed now seemed too slow. Battling alongside the two of them, and eir desire to do eir best, stirred up that little voice from earlier, that told em it could be possible. To give it a chance. Maybe ey might surprise emself, if ey tried.

“...You know what? Sure, I'll give it a try. It might be fun to battle like that.”

“'A try'?” Clair repeated. “I'm not interested in trying, I'm interested in winning!”

“Well, good thing I like to win, too. Let's do this!”

Lance found himself thinking that it would go better this time.

#writing #i'm not tagging official tags cuz it's just a dinky little drabble to experiment with #i haven't even read it back so there are probably errors #pasio au #my champion #tsundere cousin #fun fact: this is my 8001 post

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pyropsychiccollector · 6 years

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Danganronpa: Another IF (Chapter 1, Part 3 - Final)

‘Well, we finally get to find out what’s behind these doors…’ Naegi thought to himself as he, Sayaka, and Asahina made their way through two ornate red doors in the school zone of the academy. It was a small room with an elevator directly across from the doors, and nothing else.

They weren’t the first ones there. Ishimaru, Togami, Junko, and Chihiro were present, and it didn’t take long for the rest to trickle in. Once Sakura brought up the end of the pack, it became obvious that many were wary of each other as they stood there in that compact space. That trust they all possessed in the beginning had been shattered like glass. One of them had succumbed to Monokuma’s motive. One of them had become a murderer.

A lot of suspicious glances were directed at Celes and Togami, and Kyoko got her share as well. No one said anything outright because, at least how Naegi understood it, there hadn’t been a clear “most likely suspect”. He knew Asahina wanted to say something to Togami just by looking at the glare she was sending him, but even she kept silent. Leon appeared irritated, indicating Ishimaru’s alibi probably checked out. And some, like Yamada, Chihiro, and Hagakure, looked as though they were weighed down by the oppressive atmosphere.

Unsurprisingly, Monokuma was the one to shatter the uneasy silence, appearing on the screen next to the elevator.

“Upupu, you all here? In that case… Please board the elevator at the front of the room. That will take you to the courtroom. The courtroom will determine your fate. Upupu… I’ll be one step ahead of you, waiting for your arrival!” The screen went dark.

“A courtroom? They’ve even gone so far as to prepare a goddamn courtroom?” Mondo muttered under his breath. Next to him, Hagakure sighed morosely.

“Come on, dude… They’re seriously holding a Class Trial?” He held a palm to his head and smiled shakily. “If the killer’s gonna come clean, they better do it now!”

Naturally, no one came forward. Fujisaki bowed her head shamefully.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t any help during the investigation… Do you think Fukawa would want her killer to be exposed like this?”

Junko scoffed next to her, examining her nails.

“Kinda, yeah… I mean, she was always petty like that.” The blonde looked at Fujisaki strangely. “And what’re ya talkin’ about? You were loads of help!”

Celes folded her hands in front of her face as she addressed Kirigiri.

“How did it go? I trust the crime scene was illuminating.”

Kirigiri ran a hand through her lilac locks, face betraying no emotion.

“… Let’s go.”

“It’s time.” Togami concurred.

“I did what I could, I’ll leave the rest to you guys!” Leon rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

�� With all of that said, the teens began boarding the elevator. Sayaka took one of Naegi’s hands in hers at the last moment and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The Luckster smiled gratefully, and they got on the elevator after Celes before Mondo got on last. They then began their descent…

~*~

The “courtroom” was comprised of sixteen “witness stands” arranged in a circle – and the room itself had a gaudy interior that, quite frankly, made Makoto feel physically ill. It’s not like he was expecting Monokuma to respect Fukawa’s death, but this was downright treating her sacrifice like it was an amusing affair. When prompted, the fourteen of them took their assigned places; Yamada and Sayaka were to the right and left of him respectively. On the other side of Yamada was a crossed out headshot portrait of Fukawa, which Naegi deduced was her place to stand, had she lived. Were they all going to be subjected to the same humiliation, if they died?

“Let’s start off with a simple explanation! Your votes will determine the trial’s outcome. Finger the true villain, and only the villain gets punished! But make the wrong accusation… and everyone else gets punished, leaving your deceiver freeee and cleeear!” Monokuma declared in a singsong voice.

“Is one of us… really the culprit?” Naegi grimaced. He still didn’t like to consider that possibility.

“You betcha!” Monokuma tauntingly answered back.

Crossing his arms proudly and with quite the serious face, Ishimaru addressed the whole group.

“All right, everyone, close your eyes! Then, raise your hand if you’re the culprit!”

Mondo rolled his eyes.

“You a dumbass? Who’d raise their hand?”

“Can this wait?” Kirigiri broke through the banter. “There’s something I’d like to ask before we begin… What, exactly, is the purpose of that?”

As one, the group looked to the crossed out portrait of Fukawa. Monokuma giggled.

“Isn’t it sad to be left out just ‘cause you’re dead? Friendship overcomes life and death!” The bear’s words were of no comfort.

“Coming… over… friendship?!” Yamada exclaimed.

Hands on her hips, Celes spoke next.

“In that case, what about that empty seat? There are fifteen of us, so why are there sixteen seats?” A reasonable question, and one that the bear deflected rather unconvincingly.

“No reason in particular. It just means the courtroom can accommodate up to sixteen people. Welp, that should do it for the intro… Let’s get this party started! First, how ‘bout a summary of what went down! Go on, get crackin’!”

Forced to set aside that matter for now, the students reluctantly collected their respective thoughts together. Apparently, this “trial” would be a series of nonstop debates where anyone and everyone could speak up. It would be quite easy for the culprit to steer them down the wrong path at any given moment, so Makoto resolved to stay attentive. If he didn’t, they could all be killed.

“Let it be known, Touko Fukawa was murdered!” The Ultimate Prefect started things off.

“Dude, we know that much already…” Hagakure groaned.

Togami held up a pointer finger to his temple arrogantly.

“The body was found in the laundry room. This begs the question: Was she killed there, or was she brought there later?”

“Well, if she was killed elsewhere, it wasn’t in her room.” Junko asserted with conviction.

“Why do you say that?” Yamada questioned, stroking his chin.

“Because there weren’t any signs of a struggle in her room… Me and Junko checked real thoroughly.” Fujisaki replied, looking down sadly.

“So the killer might’ve cleaned up any evidence, that’s all!” Leon rebutted. Hagakure sighed again.

“You seriously think Fukawa would let anyone in her room, dude?”

“So the killer forced her into their own room! No one saw her go near the laundry room!” Mondo snarled. And that’s where Naegi cut in.

“You’ve got that wrong!” The brunet tried to not come across as too forceful. “Asahina, you saw her, right? She was carrying some laundry, and trying to stay far away from you and Sakura?”

The swimmer blinked in astonishment before nodding quickly.

“O-Oh, yeah! While we were taking a break!”

“True… she did leave her room.” The Ultimate Fighter concurred.

“But did she ever go back to her room?” Leon pressed. “Just seein’ her go to the laundry room doesn’t make it the crime scene!”

Asahina appeared downtrodden at being asked that.

“Oh… We wouldn’t know. We went to the school zone to continue our exercises. We didn’t stay near the dorms.”

The Luckster hadn’t known that, nor had Sayaka; naturally, they were disappointed with this revelation. Sakura hummed thoughtfully.

“It was only after completing our exercises did we go to the laundry room and discover the body… I hazard it was maybe fifteen minutes after we saw her in the hall? Twenty minutes at most.”

Despite the setback, Naegi maintained his usual bright optimism.

“W-Well… That narrows down her time of death, at least! Most of us hadn’t seen her since breakfast!”

“And yet, fifteen minutes is still a rather large window…” Celes pointed out. “To suffocate a person to death, one must hold their breath for at least three minutes. I would think twelve minutes would be more than enough time to tidy up, and give themselves an alibi. That is, of course, setting aside the matter of the crime scene, which is still up for debate.”

Kirigiri was tilting her head in thought, with her eyes closed.

“… For the time being, let us assume the crime scene was the laundry room.”

“Why?” The Ultimate Affluent Progeny’s tone made it sound like more of a demand than a casual question.

“There are at least three reasons.” The mysterious girl explained smoothly. “The first two sort of run hand-in-hand, but I will explain. The first is that forcing Fukawa to enter their room would have been far too suspicious. Anyone could pass by at any moment, and they immediately would have been suspected. The second is that transporting the body, while possible if you wrapped it in a bedsheet, would have drawn attention to them as well. In addition, if the crime scene was elsewhere, there would have been little reason to place the body directly in the washing machine; they could have just dropped the body in the laundry room, and then left as if nothing had happened.”

“What’s the third reason?” Sayaka asked curiously.

“Fukawa did not have her dorm room key on her.” Kirigiri revealed. She didn’t really need to outline why that was unusual. Even if you were planning to your room right away, leaving it unlocked for a few minutes would’ve been just asking for trouble, especially after the motive videos that Monokuma forced on them. Fukawa was not the type to be reckless like that.

Junko nodded her head.

“That is weird! ‘Cause the key wasn’t in her room either!”

“And it wasn’t anywhere in the laundry room… Me and Sakura had a good look around.” Mondo corroborated them both.

Ishimaru clenched his jaw as his eyes narrowed.

“Okay… So the killer must have taken Fukawa’s key with them, but why would they do that? They could have just left the key in her room, if they had to access it for something.”

Kirigiri hummed.

“And what if they were afraid that would have drawn suspicion to the room itself? Say, for example, that the killer left some evidence there that they didn’t want found on their person. They had to know we would investigate that room. But what if we knew something was returned there...?”

“You’re saying… the killer took something else from Miss Touko Fukawa?!” Yamada sounded a little too excited than the situation warranted. Leon groaned exasperatedly.

“Not now, sleezeball! Can’t you keep your mind out of the friggin’ gutter for thirty seconds?!”

“Well now, I think that would depend on the gutter’s contents.” The fanfic writer unashamedly admitted. Leon, and several others, was simply at a loss with how perverted the otaku was.

“Um… anyway…” Naegi scratched his cheek. “To answer your question, Kirigiri, I would guess we would specifically look for stuff that might’ve been brought there from the laundry room. But what are you thinking about?”

The mysterious girl cupped her chin in her gloved hand.

“I wonder… Fujisaki, Junko, did you find any small blades? Anything small with a cutting edge.”

Junko crossed her arms and cocked her head in thought. A flash of revelation crossed Fujisaki’s face first.

“Ah! There was some scissors on her dresser!”

The Ultimate Fashionista nodded in agreement.

“Yeah! There were four of these totally small weird scissor things! You think she cuts her own hair?”

Realization dawned on Sayaka’s face, just as it did Naegi’s.

“Scissors… so that’s it…”

Togami gritted his teeth as his hand gripped his elbow in frustration.

“Would someone mind explaining? Fukawa was suffocated, not stabbed!”

“Before she died, Fukawa managed to injure her attacker.” Kirigiri intoned. “How badly she hurt them is unknown, but there were traces of blood left on her hand, her body, and the bedsheet. Since Fukawa suffered no other injuries, only the killer could have left that blood.”

Asahina looked at Junko skeptically.

“When you saw bloody scissors, you didn’t think they were related somehow?”

“There wasn’t any blood on ‘em!” Junko snapped. “The killer probably cleaned ‘em off!”

Celes had her hands on her hips again.

“This is all very interesting, but I have a question of my own. Why was the killer so reckless? Instead of attempting this at nighttime, when we all should have been in our rooms, this murderer waited until after breakfast to try and escape. If they were after Fukawa alone for her frail body, that might make sense, but they could have targeted anyone else, if they were foolish enough to break the curfew.”

Mondo rubbed the back of his head, looking down.

“Maybe because at night, their alibi couldn’t checkout? Like… We were all ‘supposed’ to be in our rooms, but that doesn’t mean jackshit when everybody suspects everybody.”

“That, and I am starting to wonder if Fukawa’s murder was premeditated at all…” Kirigiri mused. “The crime scene, the method of killing her, even the cleanup afterward… All of it seems to be done in haste.”

“If the pressure got to ‘em after watching their video, I’m not surprised!” Hagakure laughed hollowly.

“Does anyone have any ideas who the killer could be?” Fujisaki asked, her voice quivering. Of all the things they talked about until this point, not a single name had been dropped as a suspect.

“Well, I’d say since Asahina ‘n Sakura were the last to see her, and the first ones to find the body, I’d say it coulda been one of them, the other bein’ an accomplice.” Leon asserted, crossing his arms and scowling.

The swimmer, understandably, took a step back, aghast.

“What are you saying?! There’s no way I’d kill someone, even if she was a jerk to me!”

“I can vouch that we did not go to the laundry room until we discovered the body.” Sakura folded her arms and glared straight back at Leon.

Before the three could start arguing heatedly, Sayaka played peacekeeper.

“Guys, guys! Before anything else, we should ask Monokuma if it was even possible for there to be an accomplice!”

Naegi nodded in agreement.

“Yeah! ‘Cause we don’t even know if the accomplices would become ‘blackened’, too!”

Unsurprisingly, Monokuma didn’t sound too thrilled to be put on the spot like that.

“Alright, alright! If you all must know, it is always possible for a blackened to bring in an accomplice, but only the killer themselves would get to graduate! So there’s no sane benefit for the accomplices.” The monochrome bear paused thoughtfully. “Besides, there wasn’t any accomplices in this murder. … Whoopsies.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Monokuma meant to let that slip. Though he did want to keep the game “interesting”, he probably also wanted to make the killer sweat. That was just how the sadistic bear operated.

“I suppose our first order of business would be to look into the people doing their ‘laundry’ today…” The Ultimate Gambler mused. “If this was spur-of-the-moment, then it is likely sheer coincidence they went to the laundry room the same time as the victim…”

“Wasn’t there a bunch of people doin’ it today?” Leon scowled.

“Other than me, Sakura, and Fukawa,” Asahina remarked, “there was Togami, Yamada, Mondo, and Hagakure. Yamada and Mondo stepped in there with stuff before breakfast, and Togami and Hagakure went there right after breakfast. I wouldn’t know if any of you guys returned there after me and Sakura went to the school zone...”

“Kuwata and I were in the entrance hall killing time.” The biker grunted.

“Aye, and Mister Kiyotaka Ishimaru escorted me to the school zone after Miss Touko Fukawa said some… rather unsavory things…” Yamada’s eyes darted back and forth unhappily.

“That still leaves Togami and Hagakure~…” Junko sang tauntingly as she leered at the two of them.

Obviously, it was the clairvoyant who spoke up in a panic first.

“H-H-Hey! My laundry wasn’t set to be done ‘til another hour! I killed some time goin’ to the gym!”

Ishimaru nodded firmly.

“As my patrol route took me to the gym, I can confirm that Hagakure was indeed leaving there!”

It did not go un-noted that Ishimaru said ‘leaving’ the gym, but no one else pointed that out, in favor of turning their attention to Togami.

“After placing my bedsheets in the washer, I returned to my room.” The heir coldly answered the suspicious glares “I did not even see that repulsive bookworm, and I haven’t had the chance to retrieve my bedsheets yet.”

“Hmmm… Could it be… Mister Byakuya Togami used his own bedsheets as a red herring?!” Yamada accused the wealthy progeny.

Togami coldly turned on the otaku.

“Philistine. When I make my move, there will be no sloppiness. There won’t even be an atom-sized piece of evidence that will implicate me!”

“What about other people, dudes?” Hagakure nervously chipped in. “I mean, does Celes-chi or Kirigiri-chi have alibis?!”

A dark aura surrounded Celes as she smiled pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

“I was in my room the whole time after breakfast. I had no business with any of you.”

Hagakure did not give up so easily.

“W-Well, yeah… But maybe-”

“I did not have any fucking business with anyone, shithead!”

… That was the end of that line of questioning…

“Umm… How about you, Kirigiri?” Sayaka tentatively asked to get the conversation moving along again, now that Hagakure was scared shitless of the snarling gambler.

“… The entrance to the gym.” The mysterious girl answered simply. She had been aware of Hagakure, Ishimaru, Sakura, and Aoi all passing by her at various points, but right now her mind looked to be elsewhere.

“W-Well… I guess that still leaves Togami and Hagakure…” Naegi nervously scratched his cheek, and again Togami spoke up haughtily.

“I think not. What about Fujisaki?”

The poor girl seemed on the verge of tears at his accusation.

“M-Me…? There’s no way I…”

“Togami, you jackass! Do you really think Fujisaki would be able to suffocate Fukawa?!” Mondo roared. “Obviously, it was a fucking guy that did her in!”

“And before you suggest it, me, Naegster, and Sayaka were all in the A/V room.” Junko growled out. Sayaka scowled a little at Junko giving a nickname, but did not contradict the fashionista.

The heir harrumphed before proposing another theory.

“Very well… then how about this. Ishimaru’s patrol route brought him back to the dorm area, where he cornered Fukawa and killed her. That is certainly possible, correct?”

“No.” Kirigiri ran a hand through her lilac hair. “Ishimaru tried to stop Sakura and Asahina from being too disruptive in the gym.”

“That is correct!” Ishimaru affirmed, arms crossed. “That ate up much of my time, and I had to make haste back to the hallways to make up for it, but I did not set foot back in the dorm area of the academy until Fukawa’s body was discovered!”

“In other words, you and Hagakure are still our prime suspects, Togami.” Leon taunted the heir, who looked none too happy.

“I did not lay a finger on that disgusting cretin!”

“It wasn’t me, dudes! True as truth!” The clairvoyant was clutching his head fearfully.

Celes was scowling as her hands were back on her hips.

“This is getting us nowhere… We could try to guess which of them it was by majority vote, but there is still a fifty percent chance of being wrong.” Not even she would make a bet on those odds.

Sayaka frowned and looked toward the Luckster next to her.

“You’ve been quiet, Naegi… Can you think of a way to break this stalemate?”

Naegi raised an index finger to his lips in thought.

“If we could find out what the killer used to suffocate Fukawa, that might tell us something… ‘Cause, I don’t think they used the bedsheet. It’s a little too… big…”

“How about the killer’s wound?” Sayaka proposed. Monokuma butted in on their conversation at that point.

“Ah, I hope you aren’t thinking of having the suspects strip down~… Because if you propose that, then I will immediately call for voting time after your search, regardless of what you find out!” The monochrome bear cackled at all their uneasy expressions.

The general consensus was… they couldn’t risk it. They could try and call Monokuma’s bluff, but if Togami and Hagakure both had relatively fresh wounds, nothing would change.

“Let’s go over the crime scene one more time, and elaborate on our reasons for suspecting these two.” Kirigiri decided. They wanted to leave as little room for doubt as possible.

As they started going around the room again with everyone talking, Asahina kicked things off.

“I think it’s Togami! He hated Fukawa!”

“If that’s your only basis, you sign all of our death warrants.” The heir scoffed.

“There’s the issue with the bedsheet, too!” Asahina growled. “Hagakure just had some of his clothes!”

“And it doesn’t strike you as possible that the killer rifled through a random washing machine to find something to use to pin the crime on someone else…?” Togami condescended.

“It would be quite the extraordinary coincidence that the killer would have pinned the crime on you, who has no solid alibi…” Sakura intoned.

“Celes does not have a ‘solid’ alibi either, if we are saying those who stayed in their rooms cannot be trusted.” Togami argued.

Junko hummed noncommittally.

“Y’know, while I can see why you guys think it was Togami, I’m startin’ to think it was Hagakure who flipped. I mean, you wanna talk about ‘desperate killer’, that guy would do something crazy like shove Fukawa in the washing machine after he was done...”

“Junko-chiii! I didn’t kill her!” Hagakure whined.

“That’s not a convincing argument, dumbass!” Leon grunted.

“Well, how about this! If I was the killer, I’d have gotten some kinda scar, right? But I didn’t have any on me when I came to check out the body with you guys!” Hagakure cupped his chin and nodded firmly.

“If the killer used their own jacket to suffocate her…” Kirigiri argued. “… Then when Fukawa wounded you, the cut could have been on your upper arm, and all you would have had to do was resume wearing your coat. Lack of a visible wound does not clear you.”

This obviously applied to both teens in question.

“Are there any other clues…?” Fujisaki asked sadly, fearing there wouldn’t be any.

“Glasses.” Togami answered crisply.

“Say what now?” Mondo growled at the heir.

“Fukawa’s glasses were broken right outside the washing machine she was stuffed in.” Togami clarified. “I do not think we have established that yet, let alone how they came to be broken…”

Hagakure nodded sagely at the blond’s input.

“Oh yeah… They looked like they were broken clean in half, dudes!”

Naegi sucked in a breath as he heard that claim. He knew the glasses would come up at some point, though he never would have imagined they would actually be “case-breaking” pieces of evidence… But it was too late to feel any regrets, and he needed to point out the contradiction…

“You’ve got that wrong!” The Luckster shouted out. Hagakure blinked in surprise at him.

“H-Huh? What is it, Naegs?”

“The glasses were broken, but the way you described them…” Naegi clenched his teeth as he looked down in shame. When he looked back up, he gazed around at everyone. “Can you guys recall what state the glasses were in when we saw them?”

Fujisaki poked her index fingers together.

“Th-They were… shattered… “ She gasped as she realized the same thing that everyone was just now seeing.

“S-So I misremembered the crime scene! Happens all the time!” Hagakure laughed loudly.

“That’s not the only thing.” Kirigiri coolly contradicted the clairvoyant. “Those glasses were broken twice. We all saw the state they were in the second time they were broken – after Asahina had accidentally stepped on them – but there was a bit of tape on the bridge piece. This implies they were cleanly snapped in half at some point; we just never worked out how or why, because Fukawa’s glasses were fine at breakfast.”

Togami’s index finger was on his temple again.

“I see… Those of you who investigated the crime scene only figured that out by closely examining them… The rest of us shouldn’t have had any idea about the ‘first’ time they were broken.”

Hagakure was clearly sweating now.

“I- Of course anyone with eyes could see they were broken twice, dudes! I couldn’t look at Fukawa’s body for long, so I ended up lookin’ at the sh-shattered glasses closely! Yep!”

… No one was buying that.

Deciding to put an end to everything, Naegi made a closing argument that would attempt go over all the events that happened. First, after they all broke off after the breakfast meeting, Hagakure decided to do some laundry, and then kill some time by hanging out in the gymnasium. While that was going on, Fukawa was having an altercation with Yamada over his doujinshi, which was swiftly broken up by Ishimaru, who guided Yamada to the school zone. A short while later, Fukawa decided to do some laundry of her own, warily passing Sakura and Asahina in the hall. Sakura and Hina would move onto the school zone after this, and Hagakure would likely pass them by, as he had since left the gym by that point.

For whatever reason, be it coincidence or boredom, Hagakure headed for the laundry room. That was where he encountered Fukawa. Now, having walked through the school and dorm zones, Hagakure happened to have a general understanding of where everyone was and what they were doing. Monokuma’s motive video must have been plaguing his mind, because the clairvoyant inevitably snapped and used his jacket to try and suffocate Fukawa. However, Hagakure had no way of knowing that Fukawa carried some scissors on her; whether they were her personal possessions or something that Monokuma gave to her, it didn’t really matter. She struggled against Hagakure, and managed to wound him… But it wasn’t enough. Hagakure still overpowered her, and he managed to suffocate her.

Wasting no time, Hagakure started rearranging the scene. He looted through Fukawa’s clothes, making sure to take all the scissors and her room key, and then he shoved her body in the washing machine in case anyone else came in after he’d left. In his haste, or perhaps it was Fukawa during their struggle, Fukawa’s glasses were broken in half. After cleaning off the scissors and planting them in Fukawa’s room, he returned to the scene and hastily taped Fukawa’s glasses back together, likely forgetting in his frenzy that he didn’t need to bother since they were broken and Fukawa wouldn’t be needing them anymore. Still, the mistake was made, and he did one other thing to try to obfuscate the events. He took what was likely Yamada’s bedsheets out of the washer, in the hopes of pinning the crime on him and making it look possible that the body was transported to the laundry room. In the end, Togami wound up being the one most suspected, but that worked to his advantage as well.

What proved to be his undoing, however, was the fact Asahina would step on the glasses, as well. Whether he was trying to draw an eventual witness to the washing machine Fukawa was in, or if it was a genuine mistake that he left them on the floor, it didn’t really matter. Hagakure still made that ‘slip of the tongue’, and let everyone in on the “first” time the glasses were broken.

“Yasuhiro Hagakure! You killed Touko Fukawa!” Makoto accused the clairvoyant with conviction. Yasuhiro was quivering like a leaf, and yet he looked like he was going to blow up at any moment. That moment came shortly after the closing argument was presented in full.

“Naegs! I can’t believe you doubt me that much, dude! There’s no way in hell I killed Touko!” Hagakure raised his pointer finger and gnashed his teeth. “It mighta hit me real hard that this isn’t some sick joke set up by the school, but there’s no way I’d stoop to murder! And you don’t have a shred of evidence to say otherwise! All you got is one measly little ‘slipup’ I said!”

For the first time throughout the Class Trial, Kirigiri grinned, her eyes closed.

“I’d say he has a lot more than that… But if you’re really so eager to prove your innocence, take off your coat. And I do mean both of them.”

Hagakure winced, his eyes darting about.

“Don’t forget, once you do that, voting time happens~.” Monokuma chirped. Hagakure gaped at him, dumbfounded.

“I don’t even get a chance to explain?!”

“Nope!” The bear immediately shot him down.

“What’s the matter? You’re talking as if you’ve already folded…” Celes said as she leaned forward intimidatingly.

Hagakure took a step back, eyes wide and mouth desperately trying to work.

“N-NO! I…!”

“Man the hell up!” Mondo roared. “If you killed her, ‘fess up!”

Hagakure could do nothing as he stood there, rooted in abject terror. This wasn’t the fear of someone being misunderstood – it went beyond that. Hagakure had the face of the damned, and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this no matter how hard he tried. In the end, Monokuma had to get things moving again.

“Oh well, time’s up~. It appears you’ve reached a conclusion. All right, then! Let’s begin ballot time! Please cast your ballot using the switch in front of you~! Ah, and just for the record… Make absolutely sure you vote for someone! You don’t wanna get penalized for something so silly~. Alrighty. Let’s end this with a bang~! What’ll your verdict be? Who’s tonight’s villain?! Will you be right, or oh so wrong?!?!”

Once all the ballots were entered, a slot machine activated, spinning all the faces of the students until three faces of Hagakure lined up, and Monokuma Coins poured out in droves.

While the students stared horrified at the correct result, Monokuma chuckled and jumped off of his throne.

“Ohoho! You’re absolutely correct~! The villain who killed Touko Fukawa… was Yasuhiro Hagakure!”

The Ultimate Clairvoyant backed up nervously as all eyes had turned to him expectantly.

“Wh-Wh-What?! H-Hold on… a sec…”

“Hagakure… You really… murdered… Fukawa…?” Naegi grimaced as he looked down miserably.

Asahina covered her mouth in horror.

“H-How could you…?!”

“You son of a bitch!!! The fuck did you do that for?!” Mondo expressed righteous anger.

Hagakure’s mouth opened and closed, like he were a fish on dry land.

“I…! I had no choice!” The clairvoyant whispered. “I… She was gonna kill me! She pulled those scissors out of nowhere! So… So I had to kill her! One wrong move, and this coulda happened to any of you guys! Fukawa just happened to target me… Just my luck…”

Hagakure sounded righteously angry as well, toward the end. Naegi honestly didn’t know what to think. It was true they didn’t know ‘who’ attacked first… They just assumed it was Hagakure because he’d been prone to panic in the past, but if Fukawa really had tried to kill him first…

“On the contrary.” Celes replied, stunning everyone. “Even if you could make a case that she attacked you first, you had a choice to make, Hagakure. You could have just suffocated her until she blacked out, but you went all the way. You murdered her. You could not possibly argue a case for justified self-defense.”

Hagakure trembled as he clutched his head, moaning. Apparently, he had no rebuttal to give to that.

“No…” Makoto muttered as he looked back up, clenching his fists. “We shouldn’t blame Hagakure. After all, the catalyst behind all of this… was those videos, right? They made Hagakure, and maybe Fukawa, act irrationally! They never would’ve attempted murder if you hadn’t forced those videos on us!”

Hagakure seemed to regain some color from the Luckster’s impassioned speech. He gestured toward Naegi emotionally.

“Y-You… You get it, Naegs!” The clairvoyant looked down shamefully. “The truth is… when I saw my video, I was scared. For as long as I’ve been fortunetelling, I’ve been chargin’ people a ton of money to tell their fortunes.”

“In other words, you extorted them for your lousy fortunes.”

“I might cheat them out of their money a bit…” Hagakure pointed at her crossly. Then he sighed somberly. “… But yeah, people weren’t too happy to get fortunes that were at least thirty percent right. Even though that’s way better than any fortune they could get elsewhere!”

Togami clenched a fist.

“Could you get to the point?”

The fortuneteller held up his hands.

“Okay, okay! So, I made a lot of enemies with my business… some of whom may or may not have been with the yakuza. When I saw my video, and that somethin’ might have happened to my mom, I freaked! ‘Cause it looked like the yakuza had gone nuts in my house, and my mom was just… gone. I… I needed to get out of here and find her! She’s the one person I love most in the world, and she puts up with all my quirks… my faults… If the yakuza were taking her as collateral for the money I took from them, I needed to get her back! But…”

Monokuma simply giggled.

“Killing someone over interpersonal relationships? Scaaary! He played the part of a bumbling adult who got held back several times, but when you get down to it, Hagakure was mad as a hatter~. And Fukawa wasn’t much better!”

Sayaka just stared at the monochrome bear.

“Wh-What…?”

Monokuma rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah~… I’m kinda bummed she got killed off so soon, but there was a part of Touko Fukawa that you guys never got to find out~. Maybe you’ll discover it later, but it’s not quite the same as experiencing it… y’know? Ahh, never mind me. Just talking to myself here.” Monokuma cleared his throat irritatingly. “So! The tribe has spoken. You guys found the villain in splendid fashion. So it’s time for this round’s villain, Yasuhiro Hagakure, to receive his punishment!”

“P-Punishment?!” Hagakure yelped. He clutched his head desperately. “Y-You mean… execution?!”

“That’s right~! You disrupted the order, so now you must suffer the consequences! There are no excuses! Those are society’s rules~!” Monokuma unmercifully replied.

“Please! At least tell me what happened to my mom!” Hagakure tried to make one last plea. However…

“Nope, nope, nope! I do believe I said you only get that information after graduation! There’s no prize for second place~…”

“PLEASE, STOP…!” Hagakure bellowed.

“I’ve prepared a very special punishment for Yasuhiro Hagakure, the Ultimate Clairvoyant!”

“No, no, no, no, nooo…!” Hagakure screamed.

“Let’s get the ball rollin’! It’s punishment time!”

“NOOOOOO!”

Monokuma plopped back down on his throne, and a big red button appeared before him. Monokuma raised a hammer and smacked the button hard, initiating an 8-bit screen that showed Hagakure getting dragged off by Monokuma, with the words announcing he had been found Guilty and that it was time for his punishment. In the real world, Hagakure was shifty-eyed as he looked around the courtroom, surrounded by all of his classmates. Abruptly, a chain came flying from the elevator, and firmly clamped down around his neck, before dragging him all the way back up. Hagakure struggled to get free, but he was forced all the way to his destination, which turned out to be a makeshift fortuneteller tent, where his classmates watched him through the entrance to the tent, and he was flooded by a surge of Monokuma “customers” that were dressed in yakuza suits. They were piling so much money on the table, Hagakure honestly didn’t know what to do, except try to appease them all by telling each and every one of their fortunes.

However, it soon became clear that only a third of Hagakure’s “customers” were content with his services. The other two thirds were bringing out machine guns and other such assault weapons, and Hagakure knew he was in for it. He tried to make a run for it, but the clairvoyant didn’t get far before the Monokuma “customers” opened fire, and his whole body was mowed down in mere seconds, thick streams of blood spurting everywhere. With a meaty ‘thump’, his corpse collapsed to the floor, his head shot clean off, and the rest of him was barely identifiable. Hagakure’s classmates stared in absolute horror and despair at the grim scene as the Monokuma “customers” stalked off with their money, and set the tent and corpse ablaze as they left.

There were… no words. Just like that, Yasuhiro Hagakure was gone, and his remains were being treated even more disrespectfully. They were swiftly returned to the courtroom, but all that some of them could manage were screams and shrieks. What they’d just borne witness to… it could be only called Despair. There was no other word for it.

“YAHOOOO! That was EXTREEEME! I’m DROOOWNING in ADREEENALIIINE!” Monokuma was, obviously, the only one remotely happy with the execution… hell, he was orgasmic.

Sayaka was wordlessly clutching Naegi’s sweatshirt, and she was burying herself in his shoulder as she cried her heart out. Yamada’s hands were twitching around his mouth in terror.

“Ahh… AHHHHHH….!”

“Wh-What is this?!” Junko shrieked.

“I-I can’t take it anymore…” Fujisaki sobbed. “Do we really have to continue this…? I can’t do it!”

“If you’re not a fan of this…” Monokuma said. “… then completely disconnect yourself from the outside world and accept your new lives here! That is, if you guys can do it… Upupupupupu…”

“Y-You bastard…!” Mondo snarled. “What’s your objective in all this?!”

“What’s my objective?” Monokuma tilted his head. “Talk about a guy like he’s an evil secret society… Or, in this case, wouldn’t it be, ‘Talk about a bear like he’s an evil secret society’?!”

“Ummm… Why must such an upstanding citizen such as myself be subjected to this?” Yamada asked.

“Becaaause, how else would you turn something common sense says is impossible into common sense?” Monokuma shot back nonsensically. “That’s like using a scale to measure length. Well, it’s not like you couldn’t do it, but…”

“Whoa, whoa… I don’t think we’re on the same page here…” Leon said with a shaky, nervous grin. Mondo’s hand twitched furiously.

“Damnit…! I dunno who the hell you are, but I’ll have your fuckin’ head on a pike…”

“Upupu~… You’re so mad… Do you hate me? If you wanna hate on someone, you’ve got the wrong bear, bro! I mean, this murder only happened ‘cause you guys want out, right?! It’s your fault ‘cause you can’t let go of your attachment to the outside world!” Monokuma lectured the biker.

“Of course we can’t just ‘drop’ those attachments…!” Junko exclaimed. “We were suddenly dropped and trapped in this screwed up place…”

“Hmm…” Monokuma hummed. “’Trapped’, huh? When you guys uncover all the academy’s mysteries, you’ll most definitely be saying… ‘I’m so lucky I get to live my whole life here!’”

“Wh-What do you mean… by that…?” Ishimaru asked.

“There’s a lot of meaning buried in your words…” Kirigiri mused. “Like earlier, when you said ‘everyone’s waiting’. Just who is this ‘everyone’ you speak of?”

Monokuma just laughed.

“Well, I’ve said everything I’ve can! It’s not as much fun if I don’t save some for later! Bahaha!”

With that last declaration, Monokuma took his leave, and the thirteen remaining teens stood there rigidly, unmoving for quite some time. Naegi was clutching onto Maizono with just as much desperation, as he feared that if he ever let her go… she would suffer a similar grizzly fate to the one that Hagakure did. And Maizono, being so distraught, just buried her face in his shoulder even more, leaning into him as much as possible.

Despite everything that had happened, despite everything that was likely to come, Makoto recalled the promise he had made in the classroom, after comforting her when she had watched her video. And he felt all the more determination to keep that promise. He would not sacrifice anyone, but Naegi would make damn sure Maizono got out of there. No one else deserved to die, and he was going to protect Maizono with all that he had. He could only hope they could stand united against Monokuma… against the mastermind...

Students Remaining: 13

#Danganronpa #Makoto Naegi #Sayaka Maizono #Mukuro Ikusaba #Makoto x Sayaka #Makoto x Mukuro #Naegi x Maizono #Naegi x Ikusaba #Naezono #Naekusaba

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