Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Saito watched Ueda leave, a bit of curiosity on her face. “Why does she spend so much time there?” Saito wondered aloud, catching Ishikawa’s attention.

“I mean, that’s her talent. Why wouldn’t she spend time there?” Ishikawa wasn’t sure what Saito was getting at.

Saito looked back at her like she hadn’t known Ishikawa had heard her. “I suppose you’re right.” Another glance towards the door before she turned back to her meal, and Ishikawa caught on: Saito was thinking about the same thing she had.

Ueda was avoiding the motive.

It was an odd feeling, something tumultuous in Ishikawa’s stomach, that made Ishikawa stand and leave. She was done with her dinner already, so it wasn’t a big deal. Ueda barely had a head start up to the rink, but knowing her, she likely ran all the way up. She hadn’t even changed out of her practice clothes. And sure, it was a little rude that Ishikawa had left in the middle of that small conversation, but- it was probably stupid.

It was just… Ueda was definitely avoiding the motive. If they didn’t discuss it as a group, how were they supposed to move past it? Besides, Ueda was the leader. If she didn’t take care of this, she wouldn’t be taken seriously, and the group could splinter. In a situation like theirs, that was dangerous, almost more dangerous than the motive itself was. Perhaps that was Monokuma’s goal all along.

Besides, Oshiro was still in the dining hall. Nobody would be coming in this time to ask for skating lessons. Maybe they could finish what they’d started.

The thought warmed her as she entered the chilly locker room, slipping on a winter coat someone had left there before, when they were all skating. Music greeted her along with a rush of cold air, nearly stealing her breath away.

Ueda was on the ice already, her face bunched up in concentration as she ran through a few practice jumps. Ishikawa took a seat in the front row of chairs, not wanting or ready to interrupt. “Did you miss me already?” Ueda asked with a playful smile and a wink once she noticed Ishikawa was there.

“Maybe,” Ishikawa said with a similar smile, “Or maybe I just wanted to talk to you again.”

Ueda slowed to a stop, her smile slipping. “The motive.”

“Kind of.” But she didn’t push it, not yet. Instead, she watched Ueda do a few more practice jumps. “This situation sucks, you know? I would much rather we be at a real rink talking about anything else.”

“Believe me, so would I.” She spun, so incredibly fast that it made Ishikawa dizzy just looking at her. “We’d skate, get some hot chocolate, hold hands- don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, your blush says everything.”

Ishikawa laughed, pushing herself out of the seat so she could stand by the low wall, closer to Ueda. “That’s just because of the cold air.”

“Sure it is.” Ueda skated closer, leaving them face-to-face. “I’m just- look, I have the motive video. I think you might’ve known that. It’s not something I want everyone to see. I know you’re just trying to help and hiding it doesn’t exactly make me a good friend or leader-”

“Miyuki.” Ishikawa reached over the wall for Ueda’s hands, a bit cold. “You’ve done nothing but your best. I promise, this will all turn out fine. We just need to acknowledge the motive and then we can move on from it as a group.”

Ueda still looked conflicted, but after a moment passed, she nodded, her eyes soft. “Okay. You’re right.” She smiled softly. “New idea, do you want to read more while I practice for just a little while longer? Then we can move to one of our rooms.”

Ishikawa grinned. She was sure her eyes were sparkling. “I’ll go grab the book. I’ll be right back.”

She parted with a wink, listening to Ueda skate back to the center of the ice. She swiped her e-Handbook, taking a moment to shed her coat, close her eyes, and relish in the warmer air-

-before she felt pain explode in her legs.

She couldn’t contain her scream, but before she could fall, she was caught in strong arms. “There weren’t supposed to be two of you!” Maeda said, seemingly to himself, before lowering her to the ground. He tossed one of the skates, the really bloody one, aside behind the exercise equipment.

Ishikawa tried not to look down at her bare legs as she blinked black spots out of her vision. Given the blood on the skates and the pain she was in, the wounds were probably deep, exposing muscle or bone. The thought alone nauseated her beyond belief.

She was dazed, so dazed that she almost didn’t register when Maeda picked her up again quite roughly, carrying her out into the cold of the rink. She didn’t even think of trying to fight; it just hurt so much. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ueda taking off her skates; she must’ve heard Ishikawa scream. Maeda all but dropped Ishikawa onto the ice as Ueda tried to get out of the skates faster.

The most Ishikawa could see from her vantage point, half against the wall, was her blood running and staining the ice pink. Every time she moved, a new wave of pain threatened to knock her out. But she could hear.

Ueda running.

Scanning her e-Handbook.

Maeda running after her.

A collision.

A sickening crack.

A pained scream.

Then footsteps coming back until Ishikawa saw Maeda again, carrying a thrashing Ueda, who he set down on the ice next to Ishikawa. She had slightly less blood coming from a wound in her calf, but something even more pained flowed into her eyes when she so much as twitched her other leg.

“This wasn’t supposed to be this way,” Maeda said, something sort of crazed in his eyes. “But I can’t have witnesses.” His gaze slid from Ishikawa to Ueda, who had silent tears streaking her face. “You wouldn’t act on the motive video. I did. I’m out of here.”

Ishikawa could barely hear him after that as he entered and exited again and again, likely clearing the scene of evidence. “Are you hurt badly?” she asked Ueda, trying to move closer to her without blacking out. She was fairly certain she was partially successful. Actually, she was surprised she could talk through the pain.

“My-” Ueda tried moving her leg again, letting out a pained gasp before she could move it much at all. “I think something’s broken.” Her eyes, big and wet, met Ishikawa’s. “Camila. We aren’t leaving here.”

No. They weren’t. Ishikawa groaned, shifting just a bit more so she and Ueda both sat with their backs against the wall. That much movement felt like it sapped so much energy from her. The blood, still flowing steadily, streaked cross the ice where she had moved. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” Without words, they both knew the apology had more than one meaning. Sorry they disagreed about the motive. Sorry they got each other involved. Sorry they wouldn’t get to go on an ice skating date. Sorry they were about to die.

The air and the ice were both cold. The two girls shivered, barely protected and hindered by blood loss. Ishikawa slipped her hand into Ueda’s. Ueda laid her head on Ishikawa’s shoulder.

And once they no longer had the strength to keep them open, they closed their eyes.

Chapter Text

At a certain point, being trapped in a game of mutual killing would start to get to anyone. Nakamura saw it in some of their faces, little mannerisms that suggested they were more paranoid or jumpy. He couldn’t understand how Hamasaki and Fujimoto were staying so calm, performing like it were any other night. Didn’t they understand that everyone’s lives were in immediate danger?

And it had only been, what, a day without food? Already Oshiro and Yasu seemed shaky, though that may have been due to the shock of the motive itself. He found it very hard to believe that either of them would survive more than a week anyway. The question remained, though, of whether or not the motive would end if someone died of starvation. He highly doubted that would be the case, not if Monokuma had anything to say about it.

Which was how he was where he was, sitting at his desk and puzzling over the names of his classmates. They existed in two categories: those who would target him, and those who would likely be targeted themselves. The former held Saito, who was much stronger than him; Abe, who admittedly was smarter than him; and Aoyama, who was a wild card. Almost everyone else went into the other category, save for three people: Ikeda, Hamasaki, and Ishikawa.

For the life of him, he couldn’t get a proper reading on them. Hamasaki and Ikeda could both overpower him given the chance, but they were too docile. There was a low chance of either of them striking out, though it was not impossible. They didn’t fit into either category. Ishikawa… He really had no idea what was going on in her head, especially not now, nor was he going to ask. It would be much easier for him to assume the worst than be wrong.

The nighttime announcement played, but he shrugged it off. It wasn’t like he’d been getting much sleep anyway, that wasn’t going to change all of a sudden. Time spent sleeping now was time wasted. Someone was bound to figure out that they could pretty easily kill him. Maybe they already have. He wasn’t about to just sit by and let it happen. He needed to keep his guard up to ensure it didn’t.

As he leaned back in his frankly uncomfortable desk chair, Nakamura tried sucking in a deep breath. Those hadn’t been coming as easily as they used to, not for a couple of days. It was fine, he was used to it. Just like he was used to being watched by the cameras. He’d done some modelling before; cameras watching him like the security cameras were nothing we wasn’t prepared to handle. The issue resided in knowing he was being watched at all times. Since the cameras were there, the feeling of being watched numbed, alarming him. If he were being watched by someone else, he would brush it off and be none the wiser. That was when they could strike, and then it would be game over.

He clasped his somewhat shaky hands together. No, no, that wouldn’t happen. His intuition was still sharp. It would stay sharp. He was sharp. Now was not the time to be falling apart. He needed to keep his guard up. He needed to protect himself. He could not die here.

His hands groped for his hair, threatening to tear it out as his pulse thrummed in his ears, amplifying his thoughts instead of quieting them. He could easily be overtaken. Any number of situations could be his fall. It was only a matter of time until someone recognized him as a potential victim. He was more easily accessed than some of the others. He was an easy target. He was not that strong. Any second and he was sure to implode-

Then. Silence.

Nakamura let go of his hair and climbed directly into bed. There was no time for showering or changing into his pajamas. There was no need to. He could do it in the morning if he felt like it. Perhaps if he convinced himself that this was right, he would be able to sleep. This… This was what was best. And come the morning, he would wear an easy smile and hide the dark circles under his eyes just like Rikimaru hid the bruises on her arms.

He was acutely aware, as he drifted off, that even if there were no starvation motive, he would not be able to eat.

Chapter Text

“I’m not going to survive this one.”

“I think you may be being a bit dramatic here.”

Matsumoto had no clue what he or Fujimoto did to anger Rikimaru and Hamasaki, but they couldn’t have been too mad, or else the bet they issued would’ve been much more difficult. The bet in this case was relatively simple, actually: go twenty-four hours without Matsumoto doing any sort of woodworking and without Fujimoto writing in his notebook.

“You don’t understand,” Fujimoto sighed, already distressed even though barely an hour had passed. The girls weren’t watching them as closely as Matsumoto thought they would; they both went off somewhere, leaving Matsumoto and Fujimoto in the dorm’s common area. “I need to write in my notebook.” He cast a wary glance up at Matsumoto. Even seated, there was a ridiculous height difference between them. “What do we even get if we win? I wasn’t listening.”

“Bragging rights.” That one was a given, of course. “And they have to do our laundry for a month.”

Fujimoto nodded, then gulped. “If we lose?”

A grave look cast itself onto Matsumoto’s face. “Rikimaru gives us haircuts.”

“What! Remind me again what we did to deserve this?”

Matsumoto put a hand on his back, avoiding the question. Rikimaru getting mad at them for something he could understand, but he had no idea what made Hamasaki mad. “It won’t be that bad. At least a lot of the twenty-four hours are spent sleeping and in school.”

Fujimoto sighed and buried his face in his hands. “Matsumoto. Tomorrow is Sunday.”

Oh.

Maybe this would be harder than he thought. Already he felt himself itching to finish off one of the projects in his room, to have wood in one hand and sandpaper in the other. Was this how Fujimoto felt without his notebook? If he went to Hamasaki now to get it, it was game over for the both of them.

“We’ll be fine.” He stood, offering Fujimoto a hand. “Maybe we should try seeing what everyone else is doing to distract ourselves? Or, at the very least, get lunch.”

“...Alright.”

The dorm building, quite unsurprisingly, held no one; it was a gorgeous day out. Anyone in their right mind would be out, enjoying the weather while it lasted. If they did go to the dining hall, it would probably be packed until everyone filtered outside. “So, you really like your notebook, huh?” Fujimoto nodded. Quite a way for Matsumoto to state the obvious, and he knew it. “I think you have the same relationship with it that I do with carpentry. Having something with me to work on is calming, especially when I can devote all of my concentration to it.”

He knew he hit the proverbial nail on the head when Fujimoto froze for just a second. “Well, yeah,” he said after a handful of seconds pass, making sure the door didn’t hit him as they went outside. “I don’t like not having my notebook in my hands.”

“Well, as hard as it is, survive the next day without it and then you can write all the song lyrics in it you want.” He lifted a hand in greeting to Sasaki and Yasu as they passed their small garden.

“You realize it’s easier for you to lose this for us? My part of the bet is about my notebook specifically,” Fujimoto pointed out, picking a shaded tree to sit under. Matsumoto did the same, the bark massaging his back. “You could pick up any piece of wood and start whittling or something and we’d both lose.”

“I know. That’s why I left my tools, my sandpaper, everything, back in my dorm. Didn’t want to be tempted.” Though he did pick up a few hearty-looking sticks and set them to his side. Chances were, if he did have his tools, he would be working on something with them.

After a minute, he heard footsteps approach them. “How are you both holding up?” Hamasaki asked, sitting in front of them so she was only half under the shade. She always seemed like she loved the sun. Rikimaru, on the other hand, remained standing in the shade, shifting her weight from foot to foot impatiently.

“We’re doing just fine, thanks,” Matsumoto answered for them both.

Rikimaru laughed once. “You realize the only reason we’re not watching you like hawks is because neither of you can lie your way out of a paper bag.”

“That’s- that’s fair.” Fujimoto leaned forward, looking at Hamasaki’s empty hands. “Where-”

“My room. I didn’t want anything to happen to it while it was in my custody.” She offered him a kind smile before she looked at Matsumoto, her eyes widening a touch. “...But I guess I won’t have it for much longer.”

Fujimoto groaned as Rikimaru started laughing again. Matsumoto looked down at his hands. Without even realizing it, he’d picked up a few sticks and used them to carve into each other, just like he was imagining he would’ve. “Come on, this can’t really count!”

Rikimaru shook her head, still laughing. She was starting to attract the attention of everyone else outside. “‘No woodwork’ was the deal! I cannot believe you just lost, I totally thought Fujimoto would crack first!” She held her hands up like she was trying to see them both through a camera lens. “I know just the ’do to give you both!”

Matsumoto gulped, turning to Fujimoto. “...My bad?”

Fujimoto only stared. Hamasaki stifled a laugh as Rikimaru grabbed their wrists and hoisted them both up. “Collect the class,” she told Hamasaki with the widest grin Matsumoto had ever seen on her. “They’re gonna want to see this.”

Chapter Text

The first day Ishikawa was absent from class was no cause for concern. Even though she was the model student and almost never missed a class for any reason, the annual bug was going around. Everyone just assumed she would be back in a day or two. They hadn’t seen her, since she was one of the few who didn’t stay in the dorms, but a lot of the class texted her well-wishes, only to be met with silence. No trouble, they figured; she was probably sleeping it off.

“You don’t need to worry over her,” Aoyama told Ueda the next morning before classes began. “All that glancing at the door is obnoxious.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but forced herself to face forward. “If she was going to show up today, she would already be here,” Saito pointed out, still facing forward herself. Ueda could only see her back. “One day may not have been enough for her to recover.”

That’s what it seemed like, as the classroom began to fill up and she still didn’t show. Not during attendance, not during announcements. Once the room was mostly silent afterward, as though the class were waiting for something, their homeroom teacher sighed, her brow creased. “I’m afraid I have some bad news to share with you today.”

Any side conversations that had already started stopped abruptly at the uncharacteristic melancholy in her voice. “Is something wrong?” Hamasaki asked, oddly quieter than normal.

“You...may have noticed that Ishikawa is not with us this morning. The reason for this…” Their teacher hesitated, obviously dreading the news she was about to share. “I was only told this this morning, but two nights ago, Ishikawa and her parents were involved in a dreadful car accident.”

Ripples of muted gasps rushed through the room. Quite a few of them sat up ramrod straight. “Is- are they okay?” Oshiro asked, gripping Yoshida’s hand tightly across the aisle.

“Her parents are in critical condition, and… Ishikawa…” Their teacher closed her eyes and shook her head.

Then, there was movement. Oshiro and Yoshida nearly collapsed into the aisle hugging and crying; Yasu ran out to the restroom, followed quickly by Sasaki; Saito stood and handed out tissues to all who needed them. That was quite a lot of people.

Ueda...couldn’t move. It didn’t seem to anyone like she had fully processed the news, even as her classmates tried to get her attention. Maybe a part of her denied that the accident had happened at all.
Nobody paid attention in class the rest of the day.

The following morning, Sasaki set a small vase of flowers on Ishikawa’s empty desk. “These were donated by the gardening club,” Sasaki said as she put them down, her fingertips lingering on the blossoms. “Purple hyacinths. Ishikawa liked them most out of the rest of the flowers.”

They looked nice enough; the gardening club obviously cared well for them. However, they were definitely distracting. Distracting to Ikeda, used to poking Ishikawa’s arm to ask her to clarify a problem. Distracting to Aoyama, accustomed to staring just over her head at the board and complaining about that one piece of hair that wouldn’t stay out of his line of sight. Distracting to Ueda, who would always turn to her with a secret smile or comment. This absence was more palpable, more obvious, than any others.

During lunch break, Ueda left. She spent the rest of the day in the nurse’s office, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. This wasn’t real.

“Alright” didn’t start again for a week or two, when Yoshida and Maeda began bickering over something-or-other. Nobody truly cared about it except for the two of them, and even then it was obvious that neither of them were as into it as they usually were. Especially not when they knew that, nine times out of ten, Ishikawa was the one to dispel it.

“Come on, which one of us is right, Ishi-” The room fell silent at Maeda’s slip-up. It was so normal to have a second-slash-argument-ending opinion from Ishikawa, he probably couldn’t help it.

Needless to say, the argument dropped immediately after that. Yoshida and Maeda took their seats, facing away from each other. Their wills to fight with each other were extinguished quickly after the reminder, and why wouldn’t they be? How different it would be to get scolded by someone other than her or the class rep, and it was pretty obvious that Ueda wasn’t going to do anything about the fighting. Among them all, she probably felt the least “alright.”

There were no arguments for the rest of the week.

By the time a month had passed, almost everything began to be categorized more as “normal.” “Normal” was as close to “better” as some of them would get after what they viewed as so little time. Some were much better at pretending than others; Rikimaru and Aoyama were both back to their snarking, Saito was as silent as ever.

Then, the others… It was still hard. None of them had lost a classmate before. Some, like Yoshida and Yasu, had contemplated death a fair bit, but never to this extent. Fujimoto and Hamasaki kept to themselves. And, as soon as the local ice rink opened, that was where Ueda would be found at just about every moment. As long as students passed their classes, Hope’s Peak didn’t really care if they attended class. Everyone gave Ueda credit for showing up to homeroom at least, if only for class rep duties, before ditching. It was a miracle that those who skipped most often showed up day after day. Nobody had skipped a full day once all month.

They were a class in pieces. None of them were sure when they would be able to put themselves back together.

Chapter Text

“No, don’t- you can’t do this!”

Laughter, hollow and cold, filled Abe’s ears. “Don’t you see, though? I have to.”

Abe turned on his heel and ran. Wasn’t that all he was good at doing, anyway? Where could he go? He would get cut off if he went to the dorms, and nobody else was up at this time of night. Even if they were, the dorm rooms were soundproofed. Nobody would hear him, even if he tried.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this!” He ran until he reached the stairs, taking them two at a time. Eventually he would run out of places to run unless he could circle back and get to his dorm. Chances were he’d run out of stamina first.

“You’re most likely. I’m not going to stand by and-”

He shut out the rest of what was said, ducking around a corner before darting out again to go back down the stairs. A cold hand grasped his wrist, yanking him back. He stumbled a little, trying to regain his balance. “This isn’t going to solve anything, not the way you want.”

“I can’t take your word for that.” The cold hand twisted his arm behind his back, nearly making him lose his balance again. He gasped sharply as his arm twisted more, pain shooting through it.

He looked down at the stairs in front of him. Was there anything he could do about this? Running was obviously out of the question, talking probably wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He doubted outside interference would choose now of all times to show up. Fighting… He tried, moving around enough to try to throw her off balance. She planted her feet harder, grabbing his other arm and twisting it back as well. She had him completely in her grasp.

He tried turning his head to look at her, but his vision began to blue. “Aw, you’re crying? Are you going soft?” Closer, softer: “I never thought I would see you of all people scared.”

He wasn’t scared. That’s not what this was, at least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t cried out of fear in years- he thought that was all over. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this every again, but here he was. “You’re not going to win like this,” he said through gritted teeth. God, his arms hurt. If she twisted any more, they might break. “I can guarantee that.”

“That’s what you think. I know what I’m doing.”

Abe… He had no clue before. He had no clue that she was so broken, but so strong. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known from the start not to trust anyone.

Whatever the reason for these stupid tears was, he shut his eyes, ignoring the sting. Then he waited until he felt Ishikawa shove his shoulders and sweep his feet out from under him, throwing him completely off-balance down the stairs with a force he didn’t know she could muster.

He lost.

Chapter Text

Hamasaki had no idea what she should’ve expected with the class trial. She’d been used to most of the sounds- the talking, moving, all of that jazz. But the awful music on the first day, the confusion during the investigation, and now that they were in the thick of this- well.

“You’re lying!”

Spirals, bright pink. The edges were sharp with the increase in volume, the brightness increasing with pitch. The spirals sharpened and brightened with each word as Rikimaru screeched and Hamasaki hated it. She clenched her jaw and looked at the ground, waiting for the shapes to fade.

They didn’t.

As the argument progressed, they kept piling up and up. Then the noise from the movements, whispered conversations, all of it, they started to cloud her vision even more. The screeching, even Ishikawa’s raised voice in rusty red raindrops, didn’t help one bit. Hamasaki gripped her podium tighter, fighting the urge to slap her hands over her ears and shut it all out. She hadn’t been paying attention anyway, not after they key evidence had been discussed and Rikimaru started breaking down. Fujimoto leaned over his podium, trying to catch her eye as Ishikawa argued away next to him. She’d almost forgotten she’d told him about this.

She took as controlled a breath as she could and forced a thumbs-up for him, even as shapes exploded in front of her, the sounds spiking and almost making her flinch back. She was pretty sure she hadn’t told anyone else yet. How crazy she would look to them if she started swatting the shapes away. That wouldn’t help at all. She knew that from experience.

She had thought that nothing would be able to top the ugly, loud noises of the body discovery announcement. Then she thought nothing would top all the screaming and sobbing and talking and noise and she could barely concentrate on anything during the investigation until she found that plug thing, part of Rikimaru’s shoe. And just like during the investigation she couldn’t concentrate couldn’t see.

She had to do something about this. Nobody would notice, nobody was paying attention to her. She covered her ears, waiting for the shapes to fade from her vision. It took forever, she could still hear everyone, but the edges were softer with the muffled sounds. What she wouldn’t give to go back up to her room, where everything would be silent at her choice and she would have no shapes clouding her vision.

The sounds and shapes slowly faded before they spiked once more, with the mechanical sounds and explosions and screaming and crying of the execution. She couldn’t cover her ears this time. Instead, she hid her face in the crook of Fujimoto’s neck, trying to stop seeing the scene through the shapes. She wasn’t sure if it would be worse to see it without them.

To everyone else, maybe it was quiet after the final explosion. But she still heard Yasu crying, everyone fidgeting. She couldn’t block it out. Did anyone know how to block out sounds like that?

She made a frustrated noise, making small brown circles pop up in her peripheral vision. She didn’t often think this but god she wanted it all to go away.

Just a little longer. Then she could see clearly.

Chapter Text

One thing Fujimoto knew was a mistake, even bigger than being accepted to Hope’s Peak Academy, was ultimately agreeing to attend Hope’s Peak Academy. Not just because of the killing game, either, though that certainly didn’t help anything.

Actually, he’d never gone more than a night away from home. It was weird, and definitely uncomfortable, and it was only the third night he’d spent there. His skin felt like it crawled every time it touched the sheets on his bed. It was disgusting.

Everything about this room… Yeah, the decoration reminded him of his room at home, but the decoration was where the resemblance ended. Thinking about it that way made him feel like a child, something he hated. Still, there wasn’t much he liked about this school, even before the killing game was announced. Hamasaki was great, definitely, but she wasn’t his old friends. Didn’t that make him sound pathetic? But it was true. He missed his friends- he couldn’t even call them from in here, apparently- and he missed his room, where he would write all of his best songs. Nothing was the same here, and as a creature of habit, he was inclined to hate it. It sucked through and through, sucked his energy out of him and sapped his creativity. He’d only really, really talked to Hamasaki so far, and even then it was weird that his friends and his parents weren’t there to try to (push) encourage him to talk to more people. Hamasaki didn’t seem like the type to push him outside of his comfort zone like that. It was a blessing and a curse.

Even the writing utensils in the storeroom were different from the brand he always used. He had a whole stash just waiting for him at home, on the desk in his room. Why weren’t those miraculously in his room? None of it made any sense.

And, okay, maybe sulking in his room about this was pathetic, but it was no more pathetic than the stupid stomach pains he got before attempting to go to bed. He wanted this to make sense. He couldn’t even write about it- he’d tried- and that was almost more frustrating than anything. According to his friends, he was a pro at converting emotions to lyrics. To not be able to do that this time… The stomach pains and blank pages mocked him.

But, and he was so grateful for this, he managed to keep it together. The stomach pains and feelings he couldn’t control, but he didn’t break down. He hadn’t yet cried, he surprisingly hadn’t had a panic attack or anxiety attack yet, which was good.

His pencil’s eraser attacked the date he’d written on his page hours ago. No entry for today. That meant, on top of everything else, he would feel unproductive. Just great.

It could be worse, he told himself as he turned out his light and succumbed to the itchy feeling the sheets gave him. It could be worse.

Chapter Text

As far as Saito was concerned, she was always in top form. She’d never suffered an injury worse than a bruise. Of course, sometimes there’d be the occasional muscle pain, which always went away after being iced down. Naturally it was no cause for concern when she had a little shoulder pain. It was to be expected that she’d be sore; she was practicing more often than usual now that she had access to the archery range in Hope’s Peak’s dojo.

“You should wear your hair like that more often,” Rikimaru said in approval as Saito sat down one morning. “I mean, you’re the only one in this class who could pull off a bun, but you look cuter with your hair down.”

“This is not by choice.” She’d tried putting her hair back as usual, but her shoulder would not allow it for some reason. She felt disheveled, messy. There was a reason she always had her hair in an immaculate bun. “It will be back to its normal style tomorrow morning.”

Rikimaru nodded, though for some reason, she kept watching Saito with somewhat narrowed eyes. It made no sense; there was no need for it unless Rikimaru was scrutinizing her hair even more. Eventually, towards the beginning of class, Rikimaru began to mind her own business- or so Saito thought.

During lunch, she found herself cornered by both Rikimaru and Ikeda. “May I help you?” she asked, preparing her lunch and only taking in a small mount of extra breath when her shoulder complained of her movement.

“That,” Rikimaru said, pointing. Her expression was an odd sort of mix of triumph and concern. “See, Ikeda?”

“I don’t appreciate being talked about behind my back,” Saito reminded them both without looking up. Surely they were more mature than that.

“It’s obvious that your shoulder is bothering you. I’m not really an expert in muscle injuries, only some treatments, but you should get that checked out,” Ikeda urged, crossing his arms. Even while doing that, he failed to look intimidating or serious in any form. There was always something about him that reeked of nonchalance. “Don’t tell me you had been planning on practicing after school.”

She had been. That wasn’t any of his business. There was no way for her to improve if she didn’t practice regularly. “There’s nothing wrong,” she assured them both. They exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced. “I can take care of myself.”

They backed off until class ended. Saito had been sure she was the last one in the classroom. It wasn’t out of apprehension or trepidation, just a small test for herself. She lifted her bag, which wasn’t very heavy, and almost immediately dropped it as her shoulder quite loudly complained. She clutched at it, trying to dull the ache and ignoring her bag.

“I hate to say I told you so.” She sighted mutedly at Ikeda’s voice. Why were they both still here? “How did you get through the entire day?”

Then, before she could respond: “Doesn’t matter. We’re taking you to the nurse.” Rikimaru picked her bag up off of the floor, making sure everything was safely in it. “No arguing.”

They didn’t give her much of a choice, and Saito knew not to complain. Even though she had yet to let go of her shoulder, she kept her arm slack. This was likely just a cramp. It would go away within another hour or two.

Imagine her surprise when the nurse’s analysis was a rotator cuff strain. And that she had to use a sling to limit her motion for at least a week, depending on how severe it was.

“Aren’t you glad we made you come?” Rikimaru asked as they waited for the nurse to return with an ice pack. She sat next to Saito on the cot the nurse had seated her at. “That could’ve become so much worse if you’d kept using it.”

Obviously Saito was not happy with this outcome, but she could admit when she was wrong. “You were right.” She glared down at the accursed sling. It was already grating on her nerves. There was so much she would need to adjust about her daily schedule while she dealt with this. “I suppose I should get used to this, even short-term.” She lifted her other hand, brushing her loose hair out of her face. “This as well.”

“Saito, I’m literally a hairdresser. Let me handle it,” Rikimaru said with as kind of a smile as Saito had ever seen on her. Saito did not know she was capable of that.

“I can help with notes if you need,” Ikeda offered, leaning against the wall. There was that stench of nonchalance again. “I’m actually a pretty good note-taker.”

Given Ikeda’s high marks, she didn’t doubt it. “Thank you both.” The pain medication the nurse talked her into taking began to kick in, dulling the constant throb in her shoulder. Maybe she should’ve gotten this checked out earlier, but what was done was done. No need to wish to change the past. This outcome wasn’t even as bad as it could be. For that, she was grateful.

And, she supposed, grateful for Ikeda and Rikimaru being unable to keep their noses out of her business.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like Rikimaru had never screamed before coming to Hope’s Peak. No, she definitely had, on many occasions. At one of her old schools, she was actually quite well-known for how loud she could scream. This school, though… It was like a magnet for screaming.

Her room was apparently soundproof; at least, that was what Monokuma had told them. That first night, she screamed so loud in her room that she was sure not even a soundproof room would be able to contain it. Nobody came pounding on her door to get her to stop, so she kept on screaming. By the time she was done, her throat had a slight tickle to it. Her voice was used to strain; she talked a lot, raised her voice a lot. Though screaming was a bit of a step up, her voice could handle it.

Screaming became part of her daily routine after that first day. She’d wear herself out screaming in her room, then have tea with breakfast. Her vocal chords always repaired themselves. There was never any lasting damage to worry about.

She thought she was going to scream when she got Matsumoto’s note. She didn’t know how he knew that she was planning on killing him, but she didn’t scream. Instead, she started tweaking her plan.

Only after killing him did she scream. All of the evidence was gone, her bruises stung, and holy shit she just killed a man. She was pretty sure her screams turned into sobs somewhere along the way, but if they did, she ignored them. Her throat hurt all the same from overuse. She’d get used to it.

She had to fake a scream when she arrived in the dining hall again and saw the remains of her work. It was what was expected of her, especially with everyone else sobbing or grabbing onto each other like it was the end of the world. If she got away with this- wait, not if, when- it would be. So she supposed it was justified.

Screaming at Ishikawa hurt more than usual. She wasn’t sure why, but when she spoke after the vote, when she was explaining, she had to brace herself for the pain in her throat. Her screaming had turned into shrieking somewhere in there, and that certainly hadn’t helped. For once, she could actually feel her voice going, diminishing. Like she would soon, thanks to the execution.

She wanted to scream when the collar latched on, but it hurt her throat to even breathe. She wanted to scream for help even though she knew she didn’t deserve it.

She knew what was coming for her during the execution. Keeping her mouth shut felt almost as bad as trying to scream. Trying or not made no difference. Either way, she would not make a sound.

Chapter Text

Usually Sasaki could tell when the not-good days were based on how much sun filled her room in the morning. In a way, she was like a plant herself, needing near constant, or at the very least, consistent, sunlight. When her day began with her sleeping through her alarm and no sun in her room, she could only dread what was to come. That was what always happened.

For one, sleeping late meant class had already started, so she didn’t exactly have any time to get something to eat. She was very, very lucky that Hope’s Peak didn’t care about students skipping class, or else she’d be in trouble. It took her a lot less time than usual to get herself ready in her panic, but she was certain she looked so much more disheveled. She didn’t even have time to run a brush through her hair before braiding it while she was rushing through the halls.

Coming into class late was one of the worst feelings, in her opinion. She was one of the most responsible people in her class, according to her classmates. It made her skin crawl when she couldn’t live up to that. Not to mention, trying to sneak in and around the back to get to her seat was kind of embarrassing.

Oh, great. And given all the stares, it looked like everyone had decided to go to class.

One of the worst parts was that it wasn’t even raining. Overcast days with no rain were the absolute worst. She caught herself on more than one occasion starting angrily at the clouds and wishing for rain or sun, one of the two. On days like this, she was more easily distracted than ever.

Which was how she found herself scrambling to finish her notes during lunch. Great. Wonderful.

The same pattern of distraction continued for the rest of the day. Maybe she should’ve have been given one of the window seats after all. By the time classes ended, she was exhausted and starving. Better get something to eat sooner rather than later. She gathered her things and stood, only for her vision to go black and all sound to cut out.

When the black finally faded, she was staring up at the ceiling of the nurse’s office. She’d been in there so many times before with her classmates- another part of being a “responsible one”- that she recognized it easily despite her head pounding. “Stay lying down for a minute,” she heard Yasu say from somewhere by her feet. “That usually helps.”

“Do I want to know how stupid I looked?” she asked, focusing on the ceiling tiles. She counted them again and again, thinking. So that was what fainting felt like. She hated it.

“Not as bad as that one time I passed out and spilled my lunch all over myself.” There was a small bit of humor in his voice, enough to make Sasaki feel just a bit better. “Didn’t eat anything today?”

“No.” Oh, that probably caused it, that and pushing herself. Next time she skipped breakfast, if there was a next time, she would have to be careful about what she did. This was not an experience she wanted to repeat. “What are the chances that we can erase this from everyone’s minds?”

Yasu hummed, thinking. “They’ll forget about it in a couple of days, probably. Half the class had already left anyway.”

That was good, at least. She didn’t have to worry about being tormented by that on top of everything else. It would be hard enough to show up tomorrow. She sat up slowly, the pressure in her head increasing just a touch before melting away. “Thanks for staying with me.”

“No problem. You were only out for a couple minutes after Matsumoto carried you here, so it wasn’t an issue at all.” He handed her a juice box and a small package of crackers. “Have these, and then we’ll get an actual meal into you.”

Chapter Text

Well, at least the food was regularly restocked.

That was one of the two things Matsumoto had worried about the most in the short-term; any trepidation about the killing game and situation itself were pushed to the back burner. And once step one- the food- was done, step two- insulin- had to come next.

The nurse’s office, quite thankfully, was very well stocked, as Yasu had said before. He had his blood glucose monitor and there was enough insulin in his room for a few days, put there before he had the chance to check the nurse’s office, but it wouldn’t hurt to know his way around the nurse’s office just to be on the safe side. It seemed to him that even in this situation he’d be in a good place with his diabetes.

He’d been diagnosed...what, five, six years ago? Managing everything was a bit different at first, but he already ate a healthy diet and just needed to make sure he checked his blood sugar as often as he needed to. He was responsible about it, so there was no problem whatsoever if he had what he needed.

Actually, he really liked the way the nurse’s office was organized. He probably spent a lot longer than he needed to to get what he needed. Medications were sorted by symptom relief, bandages by size, etcetera, etcetera. Not to mention, the cabinet most of the supplies were kept in was very well made, though the wood looked a bit worn. Maybe if he had the time and supplies, he could make a new one…

“Are you looking for anything specific? I know the layout pretty well.”

Matsumoto was surprised to find Yasu lingering near the doorway, tugging at his long sleeves. “I already found everything I need, thanks. Just got a little distracted. You?”

Yasu blinked, and Matsumoto could’ve sworn that it was in surprise that he asked. Which was odd; it was a polite, get-to-know-you question, and Matsumoto was definitely the kind to ask one of those. “Oh, I was just passing and saw you and thought I’d offer my help.” Well, wasn’t he ansty all of a sudden. “But you’re good, so…” He offered a quick smile before leaving. Matsumoto could hear his quick footsteps down the hall. Odd, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was out of character. His gut told him yes. His gut also told him that it wasn’t his business, and given that his gut was often right, he listened.

He looked again at the cabinet. This nurse’s office really was well-stocked. Given that they probably would not receive medical treatment from outside, that made some sense. They had to be able to help someone as much as they could within this school. Good thing they could count on Sasaki, Ueda, and Maeda to help out as much as they could. He trusted them; they didn’t seem like the kind to be hiding anything.

So, really, he could keep on going like normal. The biggest thing would just be finding a way to tell time. The array of food was good, so eating healthy wouldn’t be a problem, the gym was there for exercise, and if all else failed, he was pretty sure if he challenged Maeda to a race around the halls he would be taken up on it. Barring the iron-boarded windows, blocked-off stairs and exit, and whatever else Monokuma was going to throw at them, he would be just fine.

Well, fine for being stuck in a killing game.

Chapter Text

“I swear I didn’t mean to hide it,” Ueda sobbed, her hands balled into fists. That was all she could apologize for. Not for killing Maeda. If she didn’t kill him… “I know self defense doesn’t mean anything here. Just…”

The guilty verdict had already been read. She knew going into the trial that there would be no coming back. And she meant what she said, that she didn’t mean to hide what she did. Endangering everyone’s lives was not something she meant to do. That’s why she made it so easy in the end; she didn’t fight against Ishikawa and Abe’s logic. She couldn’t fight it. She just couldn’t deal with the judgemental stares she was receiving then.

Her actions were all on her. She refused to make excuses for them. “Monokuma,” she said, swallowing down guilt. She still avoided everyone’s gazes, especially Ishikawa’s. That would hurt more, and she wasn’t sure it was worth it. “Start the execution. I don’t want to drag this out longer than it has to be.”

Monokuma must’ve been all too happy to hear that. He perked right up, his paw hovering over the big red button. “Someone’s eager, and I don’t mind that! We’ll get on with it, then. Iiiiiiiiiit’s PUNISHMENT TIIIIIIIIIME!”

She pointedly ignored the questions being frantically thrown at her. They were meaningless questions, asking her over and over, why, why, why. She already told them why: self defense. Maybe it was petty, but she’d already said all she cared to about what had happened. It wouldn’t matter if she said anything else; whatever she could say wouldn’t help everyone escape, not even if she answered their questions about the motive. Nothing else needed to be done or said. It was only a matter of cementing her fate.

The cold metal collar that dragged her into the execution chamber reminded her of when she spent too long breathing the cold air in an ice rink; it felt as though tiny ice razors were cutting her throat and lungs. And, surprise surprise, she was deposited in the middle of an ice rink. Nothing else would be fitting for her likely dramatic end.

Ropes wrapped tightly around her limbs and midsection, tight enough to hold her snug but loose enough that they didn’t yet cut off her circulation. She kept herself limp instead of struggling against them. They tugged her around like a ragdoll, forcing her through a short program. Her technique wasn’t right, she kept “landing” awkwardly and stumbling before the ropes pulled her along some more. Such a poor performance for her last one. It was a shame.

That was the more bearable part. She saw the fire up ahead: a hoop set aflame, more of a circus trick for lions than anything she’d ever seen figure skaters do. It wasn’t part of any program she’d seen, and she didn’t want to do it herself. Though, she knew, she wouldn’t have a choice.

The ropes pulled her up and through the hoop, snapping off from the fire and sending her sprawling. She didn’t have enough time to right herself before she hit the ice. The impact was enough for her to feel her arm break and a couple of her ribs bruise. More ropes came for her, lifting her back up and pulling at her broken arm. The process repeated- lift, snap, fall- until she was certain she had passed out from the pain.

Even so, somehow she knew when the ropes snapped for the final time, sending her back down to the ice head-first.

Chapter Text

Look, it was bad enough that he was one of the only people left in the dorm area. Being around people… Well, it wasn’t his favorite thing, but his friends at home always assured him that he was awesome at it. Being alone was a completely different story.

At least the group chat was still as active as ever. Mostly it was Yoshida and Rikimaru, maybe Maeda. He flipped between that and his blog, wondering what he should update. He still had a few asks in his inbox that he should probably take care of. There was a storm outside; he should take advantage of the strong signal before his dash decided to bug out on him. He didn’t know why today of all days the rest of his class decided to get ramen, but he was pretty sure he and Yasu were the only ones who didn’t go, and Yasu wasn’t even in the building. He was sure the only reason for the chat being active was to keep the two of them in the loop. Though, frankly, if he wanted to know what was happening, he would’ve gone.

The lights in his room flickered with a crash of thunder. He scrolled through his inbox, skimming asks and wondering if he should group them together so it wouldn’t be post after post of short (but witty) responses. He swiped away the group chat notifications- did he really need to know what everyone was doing? A streak of lightning lit up the room. The notifications stopped.

It wouldn’t have been weird if the signal weren’t still strong, or if it hadn’t lasted a full minute or two. His dash still loaded fine, so that wasn’t the problem. He checked the app just to be sure. It had no problem loading. No new messages.

He sent one himself. “What’s with the silence?”

He waited.

Five minutes passed.

When someone asked a question in the chat, someone always responded within two minutes.

He didn’t like that at all.

It couldn’t have been a matter of them ghosting him, either; he was apparently the only one in the entire class who was online. At the very least, Yoshida could be counted on to be online at nearly all hours. Not even she was online now.

That was when the first round of panic set in.

Okay. He had to calm down and think. Ueda always had her phone on her, and she had to respond to texts, that was a class rep thing, he was pretty sure. So he texted her first, something simple: “something wrong?” Trying to sound like he didn’t care. Spoiler: he did. Not that he would ever admit to it.

After another ten minutes, he called Yoshida. She always answered her calls, even in the middle of class. He always made fun of her for it. It rang, and rang.

It went to voicemail.

He hung up without leaving a message.

What could’ve possibly happened to make nobody answer his messages? He tried texting Abe and Saito; they always replied promptly, if trite. Another five minutes passed before he got tired of waiting.

His phone set to vibrate, he left his room, inching into the hall. Maybe they’d already come back and were drying off from the rain? No, but Yoshida would’ve heard her phone ring, even if she couldn’t answer it she would get somebody else to. Okay. He hated to admit it, but he was really freaking out.

He didn’t encounter anyone on the stairs on the way down. He knew they would take the stairs, too; anytime they went on an outing, Ueda and Ishikawa always insisted that they take the stairs instead of the elevator so they wouldn’t have to make more than one trip. It was annoying, but if they were going to go up to their rooms he would’ve run into them.

They were not on the first floor of the dorm building. They would have no reason to be in the school building. Aoyama glanced out the doors; it was still pouring. He waited another moment, and the thunder started up again. That had to be why they weren’t responding, right? They were just- maybe their connection cut out, and that’s why not even Yoshida picked up.

He looked around; nobody else was going to be coming down here. It wouldn’t be as degrading because of that. He sat down on the floor, telling himself that this was because the signal was stronger there than in his room. He busied himself with clearing his inbox; at least he was getting something done. Still nothing came for fifteen minutes, a half hour, an hour.

The door opened.

“What are you doing on the ground?” Saito asked right off the bat. She seemed a lot taller when he was looking up at her.

“Why didn’t anyone answer my messages?” he retorted, bracing himself against the wall to stand up. “Seriously, I’ve been waiting for over two hours. What was so important?”

Ishikawa shrugged. “The ramen place lost power for a little while, we didn’t have a signal. And we wanted to finish eating, none of us even thought to check our phones for a while.”

At least he got an explanation. He dusted his clothes off and tried to look more put-together, which was ruined almost immediately by Yoshida herself, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Aww, were you worried about us? I knew you weren’t a total dick after all.”

He pushed her away, though she still wore a mischievous grin. “That’s not it. It was just unlike none of you to respond so I was curious as to what was taking you so long. That’s it.”

Okay. Nobody looked like they bought that except for maybe Oshiro, who didn’t look like she was paying any attention to begin with. And. Maybe that was a bit okay. He didn’t need to be perfect all the time, after all.

Chapter Text

Oshiro thought she knew what hitting a wall felt like. She wasn’t a stranger to walking into them when she was distracted, which happened more often than it probably should, and she’d definitely been accidentally shoved into them before. That was mostly due to being at least a head shorter than most of her peers, they never meant it and always apologized if they noticed. Apparently those were both incredibly different than being purposefully, forcefully slammed into one.

She didn’t even know this guy. She didn’t know why he’d decided to target her- no, that was a lie. Again, it was easy to target her, thanks to her short stature. He was definitely taller than her, tall enough to tower over her even when holding her against the wall.

The guy wasn’t even saying anything, at least, she didn’t think he was. Mostly she was still focused on the sharp pain in her shoulders, head, and upper back. Thankfully nothing else had hit the wall, it would’ve been a much different story if he’d decided to lift her, which she could tell he was capable of. If she focused a little more, she might see whether or not his mouth was moving, but she couldn’t really bring herself to yet.

Really, though, she swore she didn’t know what had provoked that. It could have been something she did or said, but she didn’t remember if she’d done anything. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d never seen this guy before. Maybe he was just angry and decided to take it out on her. She would ask, but again- pain. Ow.

He was weirdly close to her, too, not in a gross way but more of an I-won’t-let-you-move way. Which in the long run was probably worse. Maybe. She didn’t know, she was new to these circumstances.

She was pretty sure she mumbled something along the lines of “let me go.” If she did, she was pretty sure he ignored her. Oh well. She may as well try to get comfy, at least until someone else came and made him let her go.

In the end, not even a full minute later, that ended up being-

“Hey, dickwad! Let her go!” He shifted his grip just a bit as he turned to Yoshida, relieving the pressure on her shoulders and back just a touch. Whew, that felt better.

“What, you gonna make me?”

Ooh, that was not the right thing to say. Yoshida didn’t have much to write home about height-wise, but her fury-

“No, but Mr. Honda will.” She pointed with a smirk to the angry teacher already coming their way. Great luck, since Yoshida wouldn’t get in trouble for beating someone up.

The guy let go of her right away- so much better- and Yoshida took her arm gently. “We should probably get you to the nurse, just in case,” she said loud enough for the teacher to hear. Oshiro would’ve nodded, but her head still hurt. “What’s that dude’s problem?”

“I dunno. Thanks for coming to get me. I didn’t want to be late to meeting you.”

Yoshida winked at her, a small smile still lingering. “Only you could get shoved against a wall and still think of that. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Chapter Text

Stomachaches sucked.

Aoyama wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten a stomach virus in this hellhole. Food poisoning had been ruled out already; someone else would be complaining of it. So he had to suck it up and deal with it until it passed.

He’d never had a stomachache this...sharp. That was the only way he knew how to describe it. God, he’d barely made it to the dining hall this morning, and he hadn’t even touched his food. All of his hunger just went away.

“You look like shit,” Yoshida declared as she came into the dining hall, settling in for lunch. Had so much time already elapsed? He had no idea. “Did you even move?”

“Shut it.” He cleared his throat and winced as his stomach very clearly protested. “I’m trying to think.”

Yoshida snorted, looking at her food. “Okay, genius.” He frowned at her, then at her lunch. It smelled-

He barely made it to the trash can before he threw up, his stomach hurting even more. Yoshida’s chair scraped against the floor as she went to his side. He did not want her there. He didn’t need any concern.

“Dude, you’re sick.” No shit. He couldn’t even swat her hand away from his cheek. “Yeah, you have a fever. We’re getting you to the nurse’s office and getting Sasaki.”

The only way he was able to get to the nurse’s office at all was because Yoshida wouldn’t let him stop moving, no matter how much it hurt. Damn her. “Just give me stomach meds or something,” he said through gritted teeth as he sat on a cot.

She studied him for a second after she put the trash can closer to him, within reach. “Trust me on this one.”

Then she ran out of the room.

Trust her. Right.

He grumbled to himself as he waited. Thankfully, if he moved slowly and carefully he could shift into a more comfortable position on the very uncomfortable cot. The pain stayed at about the same, manageable level, though it was definitely more to the side than it was before. It was probably gas buildup or something.

Time passed. He spent most of it watching the clock, since there was nothing else in there for him to do. Nothing else he wanted to do, anyway.

“-know that much,” Sasaki said as she and Yoshida returned. She took one look at him and blinked. “Wow, you look-”

“Yeah, yeah. Can I just get some medicine and get out of here?”

Yoshida was the one who shook her head before Sasaki could speak. “I don’t think that’s going to cut it. I think I know what’s going on.”

He blanched at her, careful not to move too much. “Right. And I’m the queen of England.”

“Can you not be a dick, I’m trying to help you. Obviously your stomach hurts, but where?”

He looked to Sasaki, who shrugged, before sighing. “It was here earlier, but now it’s more here.” When he showed her, careful not to put pressure on the area, she nodded.

“I’m going to try something, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch,” she warned. She seemed entirely serious, none of her usual biting remarks made it into her tone. “I’m not kidding. Brace yourself.”

She must’ve been delusional, but it wasn’t like he could pull away from her. And if she said that something would hurt, yet she didn’t complain much after breaking her wrist…

She put light pressure on where he showed her it hurt. One knife turned to ten.

She removed the pressure. He had to restrain himself from screaming as ten knives turned to fifty.

“Okay.” Yoshida stepped back, taking a moment to think. “Sasaki, assuming Monokuma isn’t already watching, find him and get him here.” Even though Sasaki was obviously confused- as far as Aoyama could see through the pain, at least- she nodded and left. Yoshida leveled her gaze with him. “Count yourself lucky that I know what’s going on.”

“Care to enlighten me?” he groaned, cursing how the pain leaked into his voice.

She sat next to him on the cot. “Appendicitis. I had it when I was nine. Mine actually ruptured, too, but you’re not at that point yet. Still, you need surgery.”

So that was why Monokuma was being brought in. “If he doesn’t let me out?”

Something dark crossed her face. “Since we don’t have a doctor here… It’ll probably progress, rupture, spread toxins, and ultimately kill you.”

Oh. Well. “Whattaya want? I was just preparing my midday wine cooler!” Monokuma complained as he waddled in with Sasaki. “Jeez, you look like death.”

Yoshida stood again and planted her hand on her hip. “He has appendicitis. If you don’t let him out for an appendectomy, he dies.”

“And this concerns me how?” Great. Wonderful. Aoyama reached for the trash can, throwing up again and nearly screaming as the pain increased. Monokuma watched it all carefully. “This would be an interesting first. The killing game has never seen a natural death before, ya know.”

Sasaki’s brow furrowed. “You’re not actually considering letting him die here.”

Monokuma shrugged, still watching Aoyama. “Not my problem.”

“Would you really want that outcome? You’ve only just given us the motive,” Yoshida pointed out. “There wouldn’t even be a class trial or execution.”

No way that would actually work. “Fair point.” Monokuma regarded Yoshia before returning his gaze to Aoyama again. “Fine. This will be the one and only time I interfere. Make no mistake, you aren’t escaping your fate. You’re only delaying it.”

Whatever. At that point, he just wanted the pain to stop. “Good luck,” Sasaki said with a nod.

“You’ll feel horrible once you’re back, and your stomach will probably still hurt, too.” A poor attempt at a joke on Yoshida’s part, but at least she was trying. Hilarious, but he had the feeling that if he laughed, he would be putting himself in even more pain.
Monokuma shooed the girls out and shut the door. “Funny, they seem to think you’re going somewhere. This place is full stocked for a reason.”

A statement which only increased his worrying. He shut his eyes and laid on his back before he felt something go over his mouth and nose, and then

Chapter Text

Yoshida still detested Aoyama, but… Well, she knew when to put her grudges on hold. She could do more for him immediately than Sasaki could, so she was the one who entered the nurse’s office as soon as she was allowed to.

As would be expected, Aoyama wasn’t conscious yet. And if she knew anything, he would likely be loopy and/or super nauseated when he was. Thirsty, too, and likely frustrated because of only having ice chips for a while. That part always sucked.

Her leg bounced up and down as she looked around the room. She actually hadn’t spent nearly as much time in the nurse’s office as she thought she would, wrist injury notwithstanding. That was a stroke of good luck, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the bad luck somehow transferred to Aoyama. As far as she knew, her luck never affected anyone but herself. There was a first time for everything.

Whatever the case, the nurse’s office wasn’t really interesting. She could appreciate the need for it to be super organized, but there was nothing wrong with a little chaos here and there. Literally, it was so boring in there that Aoyama was the most interesting thing in the room. Aoyama. And he wasn’t even awake.

Why was she even there, again? He probably still had a good few hours of sleepytime left, and she’d be breaking the rules if she accidentally fell asleep. It wasn’t like Monokuma would do anything to him if she left; he could’ve just let Aoyama die before. Still...she wasn’t sure. She didn’t have any siblings, so she wondered if this protective feeling was what older siblings grudgingly felt about their annoying little siblings. She was pretty sure she was older than Aoyama, and if she wasn’t, then he acted so much more immature for his age. Idiot.

Her stomach growled a little. She’d been here as much as she could, so Oshiro had brought her something for breakfast. That was a few hours ago. Whatever, she could hold fast until dinner.

She surprised herself by staying there for so long already. Normally she hated not moving around, but it wasn’t like there was much she had to do anyway. The school was really starting to grate on her. This was the best use of her time, which was kinda sad now that she thought of it.

Whatever. She’d split once he was up. She could easily tell Sasaki or someone else who cared more what needed to be done after that. She wouldn’t even need to step foot in the nurse’s office again so long as she was detailed enough. Aoyama wasn’t her responsibility, nor did she want him to be. So once all was taken care of, they could both was their hands of this entire situation.

She sighed and looked at the clock again, watching the hands tick carefully. He’d better appreciate this.

Chapter Text

The first body discovery was awful. In his entire life, Yasu had never once been given a reason to mistrust someone around him. Even when Monokuma announced the killing game, his first priority had been to get to know everyone, to establish trust. It honestly shocked him when they found Matsumoto’s body, and he had to return to his room for the entirety of the investigation, just because he couldn’t deal with the thought of having a killer amongst them. That, and he wasn’t feeling well.

Fast forward to now, after the fourth trial. He hated to admit that he was somewhat used to having his trust broken. The secrets, the trial, whatever Abe had going on, it was...a lot. And honestly? He wasn’t okay with any of it.

At this point, he would’ve thought that he would be able to trust everyone more, since they’d known each other for longer. They should be at the point where nobody would be motivated to kill. Apparently that logic didn’t hold up as well as he thought it would, which was a shame.

It crossed his mind before that he would be a likely victim if he wasn’t careful about who he trusted, but a part of him didn’t believe that. He still trusted everyone, even though he saw time and again how trust was hurting everyone. Even just thinking that he could be killed by a friend was strange, foreign, and there was no way to block the thought out. It was what it was because that was the reality of their situation.

In his room after the fourth trial… It was lonelier than he thought. For once in his life, he didn’t want to be around anyone, but he hated being alone. He always had at least one person close by except for now. And he still needed to tell everyone, too…

Thinking about it again, though, was that really a good idea? If they knew, they could use that to their advantage. If he was an easy victim before, he would be even more of a target if they knew.

No, he was overthinking again. He could trust them with this. They came this far, and even with suspicion placed on Abe, nobody would kill. Even though he told himself that every time, he knew it was true this time. If nothing else, Ishikawa would make sure of it. She always had her act together. He tugged at the hair almost falling into his eyes. This whole thing made him feel...weird.

Whatever the case, the next couple of days would be long. If he wanted to trust everyone, still, it was best that he got some rest. That way he would be ready for whatever Monokuma was going to throw at him. If he stuck to what he believed in, then it would turn out fine.

Wouldn’t it?

Chapter Text

It was warm for May. That was Maeda’s defense for why he went on early-morning runs and was then late for class, but it worked for him. At that point, the sun was already out and burning; fun times, but at least he was getting part of his daily exercise in. He may seem like one of the more lax and lazy of the class, but he easily got more exercise than most of them.

It also meant that he scrambled to arrive at a normal time, but he didn’t really care. Not like he would get in trouble.

And on weekends? Well, he still did the same, but he did more laps. It was a lot easier when the only thing he had to worry about was his own endurance under the sun. By the time noon rolled around he was beat, so that was a good five hours of exercise. That was pretty good.

“There you are,” Yoshida said as he approached the school. She and Oshiro were sitting under one of the larger, shaded trees, books open. Looks like they had just been chewed out by those dubbed the Brain Cells for never doing homework. “Where’ve you been?”

“Where do you think? The track.” He glanced over his shoulder, wincing as a wave of dizziness hit him.

“You look kinda awful,” Oshiro piped up, barely looking up from her notebook. Chances were she wasn’t even taking notes; she was probably mapping out birth charts or something.

He sat with them, grateful for the shade. “I feel fine, are you sure it’s not just the fact that I’m sweaty?” He was used to being tired after long runs like that. Because of the sun, he made sure to take more breaks, but by the time he got to his first, his water was warm and gross. Even in a tank top, he was still really hot. “Either of you have any water?”

Yoshida shook her head. “Don’t tell me you forgot yours? Dumbass, you’re an athlete!”

“Not my fault it’s hot…” He laid back, looking up at the leaves on the tree. Hopefully none fell and poked him in the eye. That happened more times than he would like to admit. “So no water?”

He heard Yoshida sigh. “I’ll be back. You’re lucky you have me.” He gave her a thumbs-up as she stood and started walking towards the school, leaving him with Oshiro.

“So, dehydrated?” she asked. He assumed she was still looking at her notebook since he could hear her pencil against the paper. Were the branches moving with the wind, or was the world just spinning a little? “Sucks for you.”

Yep. Couldn’t be more stupid than that. All the coaches he’d ever had always drilled it into their heads that dehydration could happen easily if they weren’t careful, and guess what? He wasn’t careful. If any of them ever found out, he was in for the lecture of a lifetime. “So, got chewed out again? Sucks for you.”

Oshiro snorted. “Please, the only reason you weren’t was because you were out getting dehydrated, so.”

Oh. Yeah, she was right. He probably should try avoiding the Brain Cells for a while. “Shut up.” He closed his eyes for a moment, only for them to fly open again not a minute later when something hit him in the stomach. “What-”

“Sports drink,” Yoshida said as she sat again, smirking at him. “Helps more than just water. Trust me.”

He vaguely remembered being told something like that before. “You’re a peach, Yoshida.”

“Don’t mention it. But rest assured, once you finish that I’m absolutely telling the Brain Cells where you are.” He sputtered as Yoshida laughed. “I’m not mean enough to do it now, but you have to suffer too.”

“And this isn’t suffering enough?” It took him a moment to get up on his elbows, but that first sip of the sports drink was so worth it.

“Nope.”

Chapter Text

Abe didn’t go right to his room like Ishikawa did. Instead, he sat in the empty dining hall, silently surprised that nobody else wanted to eat. Then again, he shouldn’t be too surprised; he felt everyone’s glares on him after Saito gave up his secret. That was understandable. The distrust and betrayal in Ishikawa’s eyes, though…

“Abe?”

For a moment, he thought it was Ishikawa, come to either interrogate or forgive him. Even though he knew her better than he knew the others, he couldn’t tell which was a more likely reaction out of her. But no, it wasn’t her. Instead, Yasu took Saito’s now-vacant seat across from him. “What do you want?”

“Just… I’m not sure, actually.” He smiled a tiny bit and rested his chin in his hand. “About what Saito said-”

Of course. He wasn’t surprised. “She lied.”

Yasu blinked, almost taken aback. “Okay. I was going to say that I believe you.”

Somehow, he had a hard time believing that. “You-” You have no reason to was what he was going to say, but instead he narrowed his eyes. “What is this really about?”

“It’s about your secret, I swear.” He couldn’t see anything that told him Yasu was lying. “I just wanted to let you know that I still trust you.”

Wait- that was it. Abe sighed and averted his gaze. “I don’t need pity of any kind, and that includes trust. I don’t care whether or not you trust me, and you have no reason to.”

“I-it’s not pity!”

Yeah, right. “Yasu, there is no other reason for you to be talking to me if not out of pity.” He wasn’t a kid anymore; he understood that concept well.

Yasu shook his head. “I… No, I know how awful pity can be.” Interesting. “I also know, though, that Ishikawa-”

He bristled a bit. Obviously she hadn’t been too happy with him. He hadn’t planned on his secret getting out, and clearly Saito only told everyone to get back at him for figuring her out. Yet Ishikawa still blamed him for betraying her trust..

“I’m going to stop you there.” He stood, momentarily towering over him. “If Ishikawa trusts me now, that’s her decision, and I don’t want that influenced by anyone. That’s where pity comes from, and words cannot describe how much I despise that.” Thinking of all the pity he’d gotten in the past irritated him beyond belief. “Good night.”

He realized when he was halfway down the hall to his room that he hadn’t eaten anything as he’d intended. That was alright; it was extremely unlikely for Monokuma to reuse a motive within one game. It was relatively safe to skip a meal that once. His appetite had disappeared, besides,

That one interaction wouldn’t banish itself from his head for what felt like an eternity. The audacity of Yasu to still trust him… From their viewpoint, he was actively deceiving everyone, and trusting him was only a move out of pity. He would never allow that.

And even more, he couldn’t allow this to somehow divide them. He needed another plan, and he needed it now.

Chapter Text

“You look like death,” Rikimaru pointed out, finishing the clear coat of nail polish on Ikeda’s left hand before capping the bottle. She’d already done her own before his, since his first coat of white had been drying. “Just to let you know.”

“Gee, thanks.” Ikeda shook his head a bit, sniffling. He was glad it was the weekend, but maybe he shouldn’t have taken his time coming back from a movie in the rain the night before. His throat was only a little sore, though, and since that was usually his worst symptom, he was perfectly fine.

Rikimaru waved her hands to help dry her nails a little more before standing and pointing. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna get in that bed and I’ll make you soup or tea or something.”

Ikeda rolled his eyes, checking on his nails. Add those to the list of things Rikimaru was good at doing. “I’ve had much worse, I’m fine.” It wasn’t like he was planning on going a bunch of places, anyway. Again, weekend. Perfect time to be lazy.

Rikimaru crossed her arms, careful not to smudge her nails. “Don’t make me tell Saito to yell at you, you know she will.”

Ikeda didn’t bother trying to pretend he wasn’t intimidated by Saito. Rikimaru would see through that right away. Even though the three of them were friends, nobody wanted to be yelled at by anyone else. They could all be frightening if they wanted to be. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“I owe you for making sure you take care of yourself? Yeah, okay.” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes on her way out of his room. He stayed on the ground for a moment so his nails could dry a bit more before climbing into his bed. Rikimaru could definitely be a pain, but the warmth of his sheets felt nice. For once, she may be onto something, especially once he noticed how tired he was.

The problem was, lying down, he felt more congested. While a sore throat was always his worst symptom, congestion was by far the most annoying. It didn’t clear up no matter which way he turned his head, which was just great. He loved not being able to breathe.

Still, though, he must’ve drifted off, because the next thing he knew, he turned his head and there was a bowl of (probably cold) soup, a couple pills, water and a note on the desk next to his bed.

I love you and all, but I’m not waiting for you to wake up. Hopefully I made the soup right.

Ah. Reassuring.

He sat up, ignoring his slight headache, and first took the medicine. That way it would hopefully kick in by the time he finished eating. He wasn’t even too hungry, but even lukewarm, the soup was better than he would’ve expected. Rikimaru was apparently alright at heating up canned soup. He probably shouldn’t have doubted her.

...Okay, he didn’t normally appreciate help like that, but he already felt just a little better.

Chapter Text

As a general rule, Nakamura tried not to get worked up over small things. When he started to get a cough, he chalked it up to maybe having a cold or a dry throat, something that might’ve stemmed from the inevitable stress of the killing game. He started to get a little bit concerned when it didn’t go away after a day or two, but then the third day came.

The blood definitely startled him, sprinkled on his shirt sleeve, but not very noticeable against the red fabric. To his memory, he had never coughed up blood before. Even so, he was convinced it was a one-time thing. It certainly wasn’t pleasant, but the one time was fine. He could deal with the clean-up. Maybe some more water would help with his cough, he usually wasn’t the best at remembering to hydrate so that might’ve been the cause of his cough to begin with.

In all honesty, he was glad that it was only him in his room. That meant that nobody’s concern would be too much. Given the high tensions with the secrets, he didn’t want to give anyone another reason to be stressed. Then again, he considered asking Sasaki for a cough reliever.

The second time, just a half hour later, freaked him out more. That meant that it wasn’t only a one-time thing. He’d been coughing so much, maybe he just cut his throat somehow? He hoped that was all, he didn’t want to think of all the other ways this could go horribly wrong. He had to do his best to brush those thoughts away while he cleaned up again, trying to scrub the blood off of his shirt in the bathroom sink. Why the school didn’t have a laundry room he had no idea, but this at least saved the inevitable questions about the stains.

Another cough was coming on. He shut off the water and grabbed a tissue, coughing into that rather than his bare skin. Red spattered the tissue quickly, more than before. The taste was terrible as it always was, more noticeable. He gripped the sink as he held in another cough. It was not getting better, was it?

That much should’ve been obvious to him, actually. Usually his colds or coughs or whatever this was didn’t last more than a day or two, but this was a clear outlier. The logical side of his mind told him that he should tell someone, but… No, he didn’t want to scare anyone. He could take care of this on his own, just like he’d been doing. If he drank more and got a good night’s rest, it would all be gone the next day. Maybe he just needed less stress for the rest of the day.

He climbed into bed after hanging his shirts to dry and grabbing a handful of tissues just in case. He braced himself every time he felt like he needed to cough, hoping that there would be no blood coming up with it. Now of all times was the worst possible time to have this happen. All he could do was hope that it would be gone tomorrow. He really, really hoped it would be.

Chapter Text

Accommodating was usually a skill Sasaki excelled at. Being the resident babysitter in her family only solidified that, but now she couldn’t imagine it. She wouldn’t say that she had an awful time the first couple of nights, since she managed to get enough sleep to get by despite the seriously bad situation. That was the only thing she wasn’t too worried about.

Call it intuition, but the night Matsumoto died, Sasaki couldn’t sleep a wink. She’d played basketball for so long with Hamasaki and Ishikawa that she should’ve been exhausted, but she did nothing but toss and turn all night. When she saw Matsumoto’s dead body, she felt all of her remaining energy flow out of her. It probably wasn’t nice of her to think, but she was glad Yasu needed help back to her room. Yasu was definitely worse for wear, but it gave Sasaki a break as well, both physically and mentally. That didn’t last too long, not when Yasu told her about her condition and asked for a little bit of help, but it was good enough for then.

The trial, for lack of better terms, sucked. Being suspicious of everyone and fighting off exhaustion at the same time was not fun at all. Half the time, it felt like she was just barely paying attention. At that point, she would be able to get a full night’s sleep immediately after.

That went right out the window as soon as she saw Rikimaru’s execution. Whenever she closed her eyes she could still see that. Even though it was general consensus that everyone was going to spend the rest of the day resting from that experience, she couldn’t stay still. She paced around her room, wondering if she should get food despite not being hungry, wondering if she should check on Yasu again. The constant worrying was something she was sort of used to, but never on this scale. It was uncomfortable to say the least, and again prevented her from getting more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep.

At least she managed to eat something before they started investigating the second floor the next morning. If she wouldn’t get any energy from sleeping, she could at least get more that way, enough for her to get through at least part of the day. She was certain there were bags under her eyes, but they were nowhere near as noticeable as the ones beneath Abe’s. He won in the art of not getting enough sleep.

She put a hundred percent into the investigation, hoping it would tire her enough that she would, essentially, pass out at the end of the day. So long as she got a bit of shuteye, she didn’t really care. She should check the herbs in her room, too; there might be one that could help. Actually, she was sure she had some chamomile that she could make tea with…

Whatever would help. She wasn’t about to go three days without sleeping. In this situation, too, not being at her best mentally and physically was, as much as she hated to say it, a death wish. She refused to put a target on her back just because she wasn’t able to sleep.

She yawned into her hand, trying hard to keep her eyes open already. Even though they wanted to be shut, she was sure that she still wouldn’t fall asleep. This would end as soon as she could make that tea and get back to her room for the rest of the day. All she had to do was make it a couple more hours.

Chapter Text

“I’ll recheck the art room.” Hamasaki left Ishikawa fairly quickly, jogging back down the hall. Her heart pounded in her ears, creating tiny reddish-purple starbursts in her vision along with the muddy brown splotches of her footsteps. Sometimes those were comforting. That was not one of those times.

There were only so many places Fujimoto could’ve gone, but she couldn’t help but worry. What if he’d passed out from hunger somewhere? What if…

She shook her head, adjusting her headband as she entered the art room again. Maybe he just hadn’t heard her the first time or something. “Kazu? Are you in here?” Greeted with silence, she went further in, looking for any sign of him. The storage door was still open a crack like it had been before. The first time they’d investigated the area, she’d hated the storage room. There was just something off about it that she couldn’t put her finger on. Admittedly, she hadn’t checked it out minutes before, since she remembered Fujimoto expressing the same sentiments.

She approached it somewhat hesitantly, opening the door so she would be ready to run if anything or anyone jumped out at her. But who would? She, Fujimoto and Ishikawa were the only people on the third floor. There was nothing for her to worry about.

The starbursts and her heartbeat subsided as she took a few steadying breaths. “Kazu?” Nothing, but she stepped a little further inside to make sure she could see everything. There was no-

Her breath caught and she gasped, feeling something tight around her neck pulled taut. She grabbed for it, trying to loosen it or force air down, but she couldn’t. It was too tight.

Can’t breathe, can’t breathe…

Even though she had a fairly large lung capacity for singing, she felt herself grow weaker soon, her lungs screaming out. The starbursts returned with nails of chilled gray from her gasping and choking. She couldn’t tell who was behind her and she saw nothing else as the corners of her vision began to blur a staticky black.

Can’t breathe…

She felt her arms drop to her sides even as she kept choking, hoping that she would be let go by some miracle. Her legs gave out, but she still didn’t feel the pressure loosen and the pain lessen.

Can’t breathe

Chapter Text

It was around what she supposed to be the second hour of lying in the rink that she started seeing and hearing things that Ueda logically knew weren’t there.

She’d given up trying to crawl or claw her way out of the rink after the first half hour. Maybe it was the toll on her body from her previous practice, or the pain and cold intermingling, but her strength slipped through her fingers much faster than it would’ve otherwise. It was easier to curl up, try to stay warm, and hope that somebody came and found her before the thing she didn’t want to think about happened.

Then the second hour came, and she was convinced that she was on her way out. She was pretty sure any second now she would faint from blood loss alone- she was surprised she hadn’t already, actually- but she could still make out the shaky, almost blurred figure walking towards her. “What-” she started to say, before clearing her throat. Trying to yell for someone to come earlier had proved futile. “Why are you here?”

The figure said nothing, just kept approaching before kneeling in front of her. She couldn’t make out any definitive features, but she could still hear movement behind them, the sound she always loved of skates on fresh ice. This ice wasn’t fresh, though. Far from it.

“Please,” she tried again, holding onto a thread of hope that whoever this was was real, “get help.” The figure didn’t move, instead staying where it was. A moment passed before the figure sharpened into focus. She blinked. “Matsumoto?”

It looked like him, at least, which was what tipped her off as this definitely not being real. The kind smile he’d had before his murder was still on, almost comforting. She couldn’t feel the warmth of another living body- obviously not, he was dead, she knew that- but she could hear him shifting as another figure came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. That figure sharpened into focus much faster- Rikimaru.

She opened her mouth again to ask why they were there before thinking better of it. Maybe if she saved enough energy, she would be fine by the time someone decided to check on her. Besides, they weren’t real; they wouldn’t talk back to her. That wasn’t how hallucinations worked, right? She’d never had them before, and she was starting to think that she never wanted them again.

Well, she couldn’t help but think, it’s not like you’ll have much longer to have them.

She wasn’t stupid. She had a pretty good idea what it meant for her to be seeing her only dead classmates now. Her eyelids fluttered as she took another breath, noticeably shallower. She’d been trained to use her breath to steady herself, to jump higher and last longer on the ice. There was no way for her to not notice it ebbing.

The edges of her vision started to blacken. Radio static filled her ears, though she couldn’t be sure if that was her passing out, another hallucination, or the memory of the motive video she’d seen. Whatever happened without her here, she just wanted to be sure that nobody else saw that video. They still had to have hope for the destroyed world that she’d seen, and if they saw the video-

She let out a pained laugh, though to her own ears it sounded more like a groan. Maybe if she’d listened to literally everyone else, if they’d all talked about the motive more, this would’ve been avoided. But it was too late now. Can’t change the past after it’s already been written and all that.

Ignoring the hallucinations as best she could, with footsteps and screams and all the sounds from the execution before, all coming closer towards her and threatening her, she closed her eyes and let go of her last threads of hope.

Chapter Text

He more or less saw the looks of distrust coming as soon as Saito spilled part of his secret to the rest of the class. And, believe it or not, he was okay with it. That was their way of coping with the news that he hadn’t been completely honest with them since the beginning. In a way, it made his goal easier.

On the other hand, though, it made it much harder. He stayed up all that night trying to figure out how to tie everyone together, have them listen to what he had to say again. That might be their only way out, and he wasn’t about to have it dashed by something as trivial as a name. Especially given what had happened to Yasu after the trial, time might be even more of the essence than he originally thought.

Ishikawa sat two seats down from him at breakfast, but he didn’t care. He’d faced worse than a little cold shoulder, and it lessened the distractions around him. On the way through the fifth floor, Nakamura and Aoyama didn’t talk to him, either. Aoyama kept eyeing him, not even subtle about it. That was more distracting that hurtful.

Look. He could not possibly care less what these people thought of him now. Sure, it was nice to have allies while it lasted, but he could survive on his own, and he’d given them enough help that they could, too. If they needed more help later on, he would give it to them whether they trusted him or not. He didn’t need to be friends with them, not when the situation should be ending any day now.

As soon as they were finished, he went to the library. He was the only person he had seen in there apart from Ishikawa, and given that she was likely pretending he didn’t exist, she would never come in there. The quiet was nice, peaceful, better than his room, where the silence was more imposing than anything.

He must’ve run through the plan for the last couple of days at least a hundred times in that hour or so he was alone. There was no such thing as being overprepared, as he knew from experience. And the only way for him to be so prepared was for him to be on his own anyway, so it logically didn’t matter that nobody wanted to trust him or talk to him. It was fine.

A chill went down his spine, causing him to look at the camera. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said as he turned away again. “It’s fine.”

Turning his back probably didn’t help his case. Whatever. Just a day or two more and he would be able to go back to where there were people who talked to him.