Haruto

It's so blurry. It's like we've all been tossed in a bucket of dry ice or something— cold, bleak, foggy. My head feels so foggy. In a haze, we all ascend back up to where we were, back to these stupid dorms. We try to comfort Ren, but he tells us he isn't in the mood.

We wander back into our dorm rooms, lonely. I try my very bestest to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see one of them. Hachi or Nari, body or body, horror or horror. I'm so sleepy, but my mind hates me. Well, I hate it right back, so there. I decide, against all better judgement, to go out again. Welcome back to Bisque's Idiotic Insomnia Hours, everyone!

It seems like I was definitely not the only one with this idea. Multiple people are out and about. Tozen is night cooking with Gou tagging along. They offer to let me help, but I'm tired, so I think I'd be even more accident-prone right now. Azumi is meditating right outside of the garden, like she's too nervous to breach that barrier. I'd join HER, but she's so deep into it. I don't wanna disturb her. If the music is any indication, Kana and Monterio are dancing in the parlor like always.

I poke my head into the craft room— maybe I'll start something else, or even just mold some clay for a while— and once again find it invaded. This time, the intruders are Yuu and Sayuri as he makes shoes and she watches. "H-Haruto. Can I talk to you?" Yuu asks. I take a couple of steps back, saying nothing. He sighs, looking more sad than angry or disappointed. "Yeah, I deserve that. It makes sense for you to be wary around me. If you're worried about me hurting you, Sayuri can stay and monitor us. If I do or say anything stupid and distress you, she can intervene and I'll stop. If that's okay with her, that is."

"Is it okay with YOU, Bisque?" she asks.

I bite my lip a little and take tiny steps toward them, eventually sitting cross-legged a few paces away. He takes quite a few deep breaths, and I find myself doing the same. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for accusing you."

"That's not the problem. And by the way, I could've defended myself, probably. But when everyone started talking all at once, I got sensory overload. So thanks," I explain defensively. I don't even like my OWN tone.

"Shit, really? Damn, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for yelling and for scaring you. It was unfair, cruel, and needless. I basically crusaded against you all on my own. You didn't deserve that." He pauses. "Can I admit something to you?" he asks. He beckons me closer as though to whisper. My bitterness is thrown off by my excitement at being told a secret, so I do it. "I'm pretty much the biggest coward you'll ever meet. I wasn't lying when I said you're supremely likable. I think you're pretty great. And that scares the bejeezus out of me sometimes."

"Why?" I whisper back. I turn my head a little and find Sayuri wide-eyed and staring intently. "Let her into the loop, if you're comfortable with it. She's gonna go crazy knowing we hid info right in front of her!"

He laughs a little bit. "Ah, you're right. Okay, so Sayuri, what I was saying was that I really DO like Haruto quite a bit, but that's scary to me. And I was just about to explain why. Okay... ah, crap, even telling people scares me. I'm fine." He shakes his arms a little as if to loosen up. "Well, I knew a girl like you in middle school. She was bubbly. Optimistic. Kind to pretty much everyone. I trusted her a lot. But then she ruined my reputation. I don't really wanna go into the story too much, but let's just say that I wound up alone because of her. So trusting people isn't easy for me. And if I start to feel like I'm trusting someone, I get freaked out and overthink things."

"Heh. I understand overthinking things. I somehow manage to both underthink things and overthink things. But if you're scared of trusting me, why were you so willing to tell me just now?"

"Cause I think people need to try and fix their own mistakes. And the way I treated you was undoubtedly a mistake."

"I forgive you. Tensions were high with all of us, and for good reason. None of us were really ourselves. Or...

none of us were at our best, at least."

"Crap, all that, and you're ALSO super forgiving? I'm so screwed!" he jokes, and I laugh.

"Okay, since you told me a secret, it's only fair that I tell you one! It's probably pretty obvious. I'm positive that fucking Keiji of all people knows—"

"You can swear?!" they both exclaim.

"Guys, I'm sixteen," I laugh.

"Sorry, sorry! What is your secret, Haruto?" Sayuri asks.

"As I said, pretty obvious, so I'm sorry if it's underwhelming. But... I have ADHD! Tadaaa!" I declare, doing jazz-hands.

They look at each other for a moment. "That explains... SO much," Yuu admits.

"Now it's your turn, Sayuri!"

"Must I?"

"C'mon, Sayuri! It's only fair!"

"Yeah, Sayuri, it's only fair!" he repeats.

"Golly. Mine is... kind of a bigger deal. This won't change your opinion of me?"

"Well now I'm concerned!" Yuu comments, voice cracking.

"Hey, we're in a murder game. If there's any time to spill your guts, it's while being held hostage with possibly the last people you'll ever see. And if we make it home, you'll always have someone who GETS it, y'know?" I encourage.

"Umm... well... have you ever been so fascinated by something that you couldn't stop thinking about it? That you just HAD to follow it?"

"YES."

"I'm SO concerned!"

"Would you terribly hate me if I admitted that I maybe sorta nearly got sued for stalking once? I negotiated myself out of it and left them alone forever so it's okay, right?"

"WHAT?! That's crazy!"

"Woooah! Even I never followed anyone THAT long!"

"I-I mean, isn't field observation natural?" she asks. But her slightly guilty smile indicates that she herself isn't sure.

We spend the rest of the night gossiping with each other. And for the briefest of times, we forget the pain of the last twelve hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tozen

If there's one thing I've learned from my parents, it's to eat your fill. Eating can be a joyful experience, something enriching, and comfort food is the most obvious route to that. But, as a nutritionist, I cannot recommend gorging yourself on unhealthy meals or snacks as a replacement for helpful coping mechanisms or anything. So, to keep spirits as high as I possibly can, I determined that I would make all sorts of comfort foods but with adjustments to keep them as healthy as possible. Quinoa and turkey meatballs. Sweet potato chicken cottage pie. Gluten-free smothered pork chops. I think my brain turns off midway through the process, because I apparently get so in the zone that I black out and only come back to full consciousness when we've made like six dishes. I'm freaking bewildered, but Gou says I was giving instructions perfectly fine, so that's cool.

But I think it's important to note what snapped me back into reality. I was throwing something away— probably trash, something empty— and I noticed in the trash can a plastic container, a bottle of some sort. I reached in and read the label, and it was black hair dye. It felt like dunking my head in cold water. The only people here with black hair are Chimon, Ren, and... Nari. I sincerely doubt that Chimon dyes his hair. And— And Nari's not here to throw anything away anymore. So Ren threw out hair dye belonging to either her or himself, and somehow, we didn't even notice it happening. So I send Gou off on his way, take some two-ingredient pancakes (just banana and eggs), and march off to Ren's bedroom. By now it's like six-fifty, right before the morning announcement. Perfect time for breakfast. I ring the doorbell and wait. He might not open up, but it's good to try. The rooms are soundproof but maaaaaaybe there's a chance they're not smellproof. That's probably stupid. This is dumb. I might've woken him up—

The door opens up a peep. "Who...?"

"Tozen. I um... I have breakfast for you! I'd understand if you aren't hungry, but... it's my self-appointed job to keep everyone here well-fed, so I would appreciate it if you could try for me."

"Yeah. You can come in, I guess." His words are quiet, hushed. So I do. His eyes are mildly disdainful, though, and it hurts my heart. "I told you guys. I'm not in the mood for comfort."

"Then I won't give you any. I'm just giving you pancakes and interrogating you. Nothing therapeutic about it. It's more like you're my prisoner," I joke.

"I am a prisoner. A prisoner of love. Wait, sorry, interrogating me?" he raises an eyebrow. For the first time since the trial concluded, I catch the smallest little smile.

"That hair dye."

"Mine," he answers instantly. The smile's gone and he's all business.

"So why...?"

"Why did I get rid of it or why do I dye it in the first place?"

"Umm... whichever you feel most comfortable with."

"Shut up and tell me which one you wanna know first. Comfort is irrelevant at this point. Not that I don't appreciate you taking care of me. You know better than anyone that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he leans in closer with a voice that can only be described as "sultry."

I scoot back a little bit. Getting flirted with by Ren when he's okay is very different than getting flirted with by Ren when he's in mourning. "I feel like it's important to know why you dye it to understand why you're stopping, so start there," I decide, "but take your time and eat as you explain."

"Heh. Thanks." He starts to pick at the pancakes, probably just to appease me. "So. I have albinism. The pale skin isn't stage makeup or anything and this is my real eye color. I do wear contacts, but they're not colored. Damn, this is good as always."

"Thank you!"

"So anyway, I like... I'm not like ashamed of it. But I kinda figured, hey, it's better for people to pay attention to me because of what I CAN control."

"Valid."

It's then that the morning announcement chimes in. We ignore it. "As for why I threw it out, I'm done being inauthentic. I'm more than my genetic condition, but I can't keep denying that part of myself to other people. I've not been wholly honest. So I don't know how long I'll be here— whether release means dying or escaping— but I'm gonna let my hair grow in whitish-blonde for the rest of this fucking crazy ride."

"And where does she come into all of this?"

He looks away, staring at the wooden earring in his hand. "She was like... the embodiment of everything I've ever wanted. Freedom. Assuredness. Courage. I wanna live like her, but I'm scared. Even so, she seemed to get me."

At this point, there's another ring at the doorbell. "Christ, what now?" he murmurs under his breath. He opens the door. "What?"

"I-I am sorry for disturbing you. There is, however, some important news that we needed to consult you on," Azumi apologizes, stretching with her leg straight upwards. Ren opens the door a little wider. "O-Oh! Tozen! Good, I can explain the situation to you both." She quietly slides in and sits on Ren's other side so that we're sandwiching him.

"Sorry for my moodiness. I'll try to cut it out. It's important to show chivalry to a graceful maiden such as yourself."

"No, that is perfectly alright. As long as I truly am not bothering you too much. Okay, so here is the situation. Monokuma came up to us and said that we are allowed to keep one thing from each student who winds up... passing on... and we must choose within twenty-four hours. He said it was something new he was trying, to experiment and see if a memento would cause even more lingering despair. And, um... if... and this is just an if... we find anything incredibly important in Nari's bedroom, would you be okay losing her earring? We will not force you to make that sacrifice if you do not wish it, but we felt it would be wise to ask."

He looks down at the earring in his palm and seems to scrunch up a little more. "Of course. If it'd benefit the rest of the group, I can part with it. What are you gonna do about Hachi?"

"Her journal. Something about it is strange. We figure it may be important someday. Would you like to come with us to scope out Nari's room?"

"I don't think I can. Thanks for offering, though."

"Of course. It is the least I can do. There is just one last thing. More areas have opened up to us, so a few of us intend to explore them. Are you up for that job?"

"I think I just need to stay in my room today."

"Understandable. If that is the case, I must take my leave. Take care, boys."

As she leaves, he shudders a bit. "It wouldn't have mattered one way or another, but now I'll never know."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I'll never know if she liked me or if she saw me as another sibling. Either would be okay; she was kind of both things for me. But it is a bit of a lonely feeling. I know you probably want to go search her room, too, but—"

"You don't even have to ask. I won't go anywhere."

He grabs his guitar and starts strumming a forlorn melody. It makes my heart stir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keiji

I figured that I would swiftly become the least popular person in this building— aside from Monokuma, of course— and even if that would make my next steps difficult, I was sort of looking forward to being left alone.

But this woman will not. Leave me. Alone.

"What kind of person do you think you are, anyway?" she asks, mindlessly twirling her staff and blowing a bubble out of her gum.

"Joanie, I swear."

"I'm just trying to understand, dude. I'm fuckin' fascinated. Disgusted? Obviously. But fascinated."

"...Tony Vlachos. I'm a person like Tony Vlachos. As they say, outwit, outplay, outlast."

"More like Russell Hantz. No concern for morals and whatnot."

"Nope. Russell Hantz isn't a winner."

"Exactly."

"Bitch. Anyway... you're not surprised I watch American Survivor?"

"Dude. Ultimate Trivia Champion. You've made it abundantly clear that you know all sorts of shit. Nothing you say you know surprises me."

I snicker. "I don't know whether I like that assessment or not."

"Why, because you didn't impress me? I thought you didn't care." She gives a self-satisfied smirk, and I instantly feel like slapping the hell out of her. I doubt I could, though. She seems a good amount stronger than me in terms of physical capabilities.

"No. It's because you implied that having an ego is a bad thing," I lie. And now for a topic change. "Have you ever thought about directing a reality show?"

"I like to study them, because they lead to good analyses of editing and character arcs. I'd hate to run one, though. There's no integrity in that sort of job. No honor. Just shamelessly taking things out of context to fit my own agenda for what counts as entertainment."

"Hmph. So you like to study them, then. That new screening room that we now have access to..."

"You don't even have to finish that sentence. C'mon, let's go ruthlessly dissect some trashy television." She rushes off, winged boots clattering behind her. I don't feel the need to rush. Honestly, her eagerness, which apparently she doesn't feel all that often, gives me a bit of time to myself, if even just a minute.

I think we're both very much aware that what she's trying to achieve isn't friendship of any sort. Even if this current activity is for entertainment and/or learning purposes, this is tactical. She wants to know me because understanding people is important in this game, and I am undeniably a threatening figure. I established myself as one in part so that nobody would be dumb enough to try and catch me alone, but Joanie is either courageous or just uncaring of the consequences enough to set fear aside. After all, she did ask to be the first victim if anyone wanted to kill, which Nari didn't abide by.

Personally, I prefer what she chose to do. I had no respect for Hachi. This game really is like Survivor: if you can't bring anything to the table, people are gonna decide that you don't deserve to stay. Someone like me can make the "big moves," the strategic openings. Tozen is the tribe provider, the Joe Anglim, even if it's a much less dire situation; instead of fishing or finding food, he cooks it into meals that'll keep our brains and bodies at their best. Even if I don't respect Haruto, he has that classic Tai Trang appeal— just genuinely beloved even if his strategy is garbage. I mean, just look at how quickly everyone jumped to his defense in that trial! Even if it defied logic at the time, they just insisted that he wouldn't do anything malicious!

Joanie, I suppose, is interesting in that she's adaptable. She doesn't have incredibly strong alliances or personal biases. From the little I've seen of her, she seems willing to change her opinions if proven wrong. She's the swing vote, the hypothetical Kass McQuillen. She determines the power dynamics of the whole thing. And, no matter how good a player you are, you either have to suck up to the swing vote or trick them. She's trying to figure out what my deal is. I have to give her just enough to appease her without divulging too much, like my motivations and weaknesses.

"Hurry up, I won't live forever," she calls out.

"You're our age," I remind her.

"Right. Sometimes I forget that I'm not in my fifties," she jokes, blinking tiredly. I settle into one of the seats next to her; even though there were only sixteen of us (fourteen now), there are 100 seats. "So. What are we watching?"

"You're letting me choose? Aren't you the television and movie savant here?"

So. This is already her trying to garner information. What will I choose, the trashiest of trash so we can ruthlessly rip it to shreds? A relatively wholesome competition show for us to try and guess what would make the most sense entertainment-wise and see if our predictions hold water? "Terrace House. Have you heard about it?"

"Mmm... so you wanna see how much I know about non-American reality tv, is that it? And you wanna see if I can peel back the layers of a reality show that's supposedly closer to reality than American shows. I've heard of it, but I know very little and I haven't watched much. But Boys X Girls Next Door has that one chick... Seima Shimabukuro... right?"

We watch episode after episode, and I watch as she effortlessly discusses what she believes is really happening. She doesn't let me just silently listen, however. She claims it's a desire for a "brainy teenage boy's point of view," but opinions are based solely on experiences. She's trying to read me and piece together assumptions on what my past was like based on how I react to things. And I reward her hubris ever so slightly. I tell her that I believe that people go on this show because it's the safest, most easy way to get famous, and that I think a good amount of it is at least mildly scripted, the latter point of which she agrees with. I tell her that, in general, people on reality tv shows lean into the archetype they think the producers want. Honestly, that one may have been a bit too much information to share with her, but hey. She's like... the only one who asked any of my opinions this whole time. As much as I hate to admit it, I may be depraved, so I got sloppy this time. It won't happen again.