[A/N] Mild trigger warning for people who have anxiety, particularly with the first part. I'll include a TLDR summary afterward, so please, don't continue to read if it makes you uncomfy. I've got you covered. It'll be in bold. Love you, guys!

Ren

Am I really doing this? Am I really, honestly gonna go through with this? C'mon, Ren, if not now, then when?! This is for a goddamn memorial for four fucking people, get your shit together! It's just a little sunlight.

I douse myself in like fifty layers of the sunscreen Nari got me— literally haven't even used it at all since then— and try my best to rub it in. The scent of it is so obvious even Keiji could've smelled it. I keep trying to tell myself that I really don't care that he's gone, but no matter how awful he was, we were stronger as fourteen. And now we're just... twelve. And damn, every single death has been fucking brutal. We've seen way more shit than anyone should have to. We're just fucking KIDS!!!

I stop rubbing in the sunscreen once it starts to hurt; I don't want to rub off a whole layer of skin when I need all the protection I can get. C'mon, just breathe. It'll be okay. I check my reflection; the blond roots are getting pretty obvious now. I wonder how long it'll take for people to start connecting the dots.

Tozen had offered to ask the group to push this back to nighttime, but I told him I was fine, I need to challenge myself. It was a very, very dumb choice. I take a few deep, shuddering breaths, and then leave my room.

My steps are short and slow as I inch along toward the garden. I quickly run back to my room and try to determine whether I should take my parasol. Huffing, I turn back without grabbing it.

Most of the group is already out there, staring at me from the garden. "Dude, you've got this," Tozen reassures casually, as though I'm not about to dive face-first into mortal terror.

"How is it possible that you're all even prettier in the sunlight?" I flirt, trying to distract myself as I step inside. The warmth is unnatural... well, I guess it's actually the most natural warmth anyone could feel, but it's unnatural to me. It feels... tingly.

"Ah! Are we ready to commence the ceremony, then?" Azumi asks, placing her hand to her collarbone. Her hair sticks almost seem to sparkle. When everyone nods in confirmation, she speaks. "I offer you all my deepest gratitude for attending. As you are well-aware, we are here to celebrate the lives of Hachi Endo, Nari Igarashi, Keiji Seikiguchi, and Sayuri Asai. Would the representatives be so kind as to place their ceremonial items?"

Bisque's been hard at work; aside from Hachi's flowerpot a while back, he volunteered to make something for everyone who's gone. For Nari, I commissioned a cookie jar in the shape of a cloud. I figured it'd be rough to make all of the bumps look nice, but I can't be underestimating our resident potter. I slip her earring inside of it— just temporarily— and place it between Hachi's journal and Keiji's recorder.

Gou clears his throat and starts to talk about Hachi. I try to pay attention to the respects, but the sun is glinting off his helmet straight into my eyes. And my skin... Did I give the sunscreen enough time to soak into my skin??? It hurts. I'm sure this is just a placebo effect. I feel lightheaded.

Everyone swivels to look at me. Shit, Gou's done. That means it's my turn. I frantically take the folded sheet of paper out of my pocket. But I can't read the speech on it; my vision is blurring the hell out. I notice that my breaths are shallow and ever-quickening. There's a sharp pang in my heart, and I feel like screaming out.

"M-My heart," I gasp, but I can barely hear my own voice. My body's quaking out of my own control. "I-I'm gonna die," I squeak. It starts to feel like the world is spinning. Like I'm falling backwards out of a chair and it never stops. Never... never... never stops. I— My vision's useless and my hearing's dull and gravity is pulling down on me with sixty tons of force. People are trying to talk to me, but it's useless. I'm going to die, flat-out fall dead in two seconds. I can barely process the tears on my face.

"...ell. A... ill be... well. All will be well, Ren. Can you hear my voice?"

"Azumi?" I murmur, holding myself.

"Grasp onto it. Hold onto the sound of my voice. The cadence and tone and rhythm. Let it absorb your attention. May I touch you?" I have to command all my control just to nod. I feel her hand settle on my forearm as she guides me out of the garden back into the safety of the dining room, talking to me through it all. "All will be well. You are not dying. It is a panic attack, not a heart attack," she informs me. "Breathe in for a count of four, hold for one, and breathe out for a count of four." I wordlessly follow her instructions, repeating her mantra in my head as I count.

"Could you g-get my acoustic guitar? Th-Think my room's unlocked."

"Of course. I'll only be but a moment." Her delicate hand leaves me, and I wrap myself into a little ball, trying to make the helpless feeling go away. She comes back a few minutes later, and I try to play "Atlantis" by the Seafrets, but it's not as good as I'd like since my hands are jittery.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. I covered the speech for you. May I touch you?" a different voice reaches out.

I try to relax my hyper-tensed muscles, but embarrassment starts to settle on my shoulders. "Trust me, you two, th-there's enough of me to g-go around," I joke, just trying to make myself feel better in any way. Even though my eyes are closed, I recognize the voice by now. Tozen sets a gentle hand on my shoulder and presses a warm glass into my hand.

"It's lavender tea. Should be soothing— H-Hey! Slow down!" he exclaims as I take long, desperate gulps of the hot liquid.

"S-Sorry." I hate, hate, hate admitting it, but I kind of like that they're paying me so much attention. I know it's awful— this was supposed to be about the dead students, and then I had a literal panic attack right when I was supposed to eulogize Nari. But, quietly working to drown out my anxiety is a warm fuzziness.

"We need to get you some Vitamin D. Since you don't really do sunlight, you must be deficient. That plus your fear... honestly, I'm hitting myself for not expecting this to happen."

"Don't b-blame yourself. Not your fault."

"Allow me to attend to him whilst you cook. I will do my best for him," Azumi affirms.

"God, I'm fucking humiliated. I was out there for, what, five minutes maximum? It felt like hours. Felt like years. But it was just a few minutes."

"You needn't speak. Just breathe," she urges. I obey. "I may not fully understand why your heliophobia is so prevalent, yet you must listen to me. We are proud simply that you were willing to face your fear at all. Small steps. All will be well."

"You two seriously are the angels that fell from Heaven in those f-freaking pick up lines," I compliment. My body's slowing starting to stop shaking.

"Thank you. I live to serve. Here, eat some dark chocolate while you wait for actual food," Tozen slips the bar into my hand.

"Wait. B-Before you go... can you two please just h-hug me?" They answer my request, and I sink into the warmth of their bodies. This kind of warmth is so much better than sunlight.

TLDR Summary: The group decides to hold a memorial service for the dead students the morning after Keiji and Sayuri's trials. Ren is internally panicking because sunlight, until that panic becomes not-so-internal. He has a p*n** at*a*k in the middle of the service. Azumi, and then a minute later, Tozen, leave to take care of and comfort him.

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

Fujiko

"Eee! It's like a beautician's! Looooooook, look how cool it is, Joanie!" I squeal, feeling joy bubble up and spill out of me.

"I can see that," she snarks lightly, smirking so I know she's not angry.

"There's like... everything a girly girl could ever want. Ever! I don't even think these palettes are out yet!" I enthuse, bouncing on my toes.

"And there's like, a twenty feet deep closet." She sighs, rolling her eyes. "Maybe it's time for me to redesign Aika for the fortieth time."

"Why? Her outfit makes her look like the cutest little doll that every young girl would BEG for! Like, mmm, sweetie, you don't need to change a thing!" I promise, taking her gloved hand into mine and winking.

"You think? I dunno... I keep changing up small elements here and there hoping I'll stumble onto a design I feel comfortable in. The press eats it up, cause I just call them new 'forms' with increasing amounts of power."

"You're not comfortable? What, like the fabric choices are scratchy? Or are you just not happy in the clothes?"

"The second option. Ugh, I brought this upon myself. Thought a gimmick would help boost my ratings for a new movie. It did, but at the cost of my goddamn soul," she groans.

"Wellllllllll, y'know, you don't have to stay in-character as long as you're here. So why do you need to keep the clothes? Why don't I give you a makeover? Maybe even just for a day, if you feel like people are gonna judge you."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"A perfect idea! C'mon, pleaaaaaaase?" I urge.

"It sounds like you wanna do this more for you than for me, hun. Even so, I guess I won't object. But! Just for the day!"

"AAAH! YAAAAY! I promise, you won't regret it!" I give a quick little applause. I hear the door open, and instinctively stiffen up when it's Monterio. "S-Sorry, Kana's not in here. I'd tell you where she is, but I haven't seen her in a while," I tell him. He nods, shrugs, gives us a parting wave, and leaves. I can't stifle a mild sigh of relief.

"Hmm? What was that? You scared of him or something?"

"What? Nooooo, Monterio is a sweetheart," I dismiss. "Now let's go find you a bombass outfit!" I tug her into the closet portion of this place and hope she quickly forgets. "Go loose! I don't really know what your TRUE style is, so I'm gonna need you to guide me a bit," I admit. She gravitates toward a long row of cardigans. "Ah, cute, cute! What kinds of colors are you thinking?"

"Umm... well, maybe some vivid green somewhere. But I think a neutral would be better for the cover-up."

"Black, I'm guessing? You seem like that sort of girl."

"Accurate."

"How much skin are you comfy showing?"

"Aika's a bit much," she admits, pointing out the fact that her skirt is barely past her fingertips. "But I'm not like a nun or anything deep down in my heart, so you don't have to go ultra conservative."

"Okie dokie!" I nod, rushing off towards some crop tops. She follows behind, boots clattering behind her.

"Okay, that's the one element that I've always loved. These boots are seriously so much fun," she grins.

"Ooh, I've always really loved the boots. The little golden wings affixed to the side are so cute!" I compliment. "Okay, looking for green. Aha! I'm sure this'll be freaking brilliant for your figure. May be a bit plain for my tastes, but we can do you up with accessories later! If that's what you want, of course! Okay, now, for bottoms, I insist we do something that'll compliment your legs, cause girl, have you got legs!"

She laughs. "Thanks, Fujiko. Maybe some form-fitting khakis?"

"Eee! Yes!" I once again run toward the pants section, flipping through pairs of khakis to find one in a perfect shade and size.

"Fujiko, I have a question for you."

"What's up?"

"Who do you feel closest to, out of everyone here?"

"This is awfully sudden! But, um, I don't really know! Everyone here's so cool!" I lie.

"Okay, now I KNOW you're hiding things. Girl, you don't gotta beat yourself up over that shit. We can't help who we develop feelings for."

"Wh-What?!" I can feel my face heating up.

"You're freaked out around Monterio cause you like Kana, right?"

"Haha... what makes you think that?"

"You are not a good liar," she smirks. Her eyes are compassionate.

I sigh. "Yeah, I know I can't control who I like, but it still makes me feel sucky. I shouldn't want her... it's unfair to all three of us. So I'll never tell her. I'll just... quietly enjoy her."

"Wanna talk about her? I'm a good listening ear."

I fidget. "I mean, if you really wanna hear me gush... but, we'll keep working on you in the process. It's only fair!" It's then that I find the perfect pair of trousers.

"Alright, alright. But I do have an accessory in mind. This pair of earrings is cool as hell."

"Ooh, spiders?"

"Yeah! And there's a button on the back of them. When I press it, the spiders will 'weave' a web made out of chains!"

"Woah! That's so nifty! I'm not a bug kind of girl, but even I know something impressive when I see it. Where'd you get it?"

"Uh, it was a gift," she answers vaguely. We quickly find her a cool pair of black thigh-high boots as she puts on the earrings.

I start to choose makeup for her as she gets changed in the massive closet. When she gets back, looking fly as fuck, I start to ramble a bit about Kana... the way she's so fiery and passionate and confident and gorgeous, and how I've fallen so hard so quickly that it should be fucking illegal. She listens patiently as I do her skin— foundation, bronzer, blush, highlighter. I select a copper shade of eyeshadow to suit her dark skin and olive eyes. I do her all up. Eyebrows, eyelashes, lips, you name it.

When it's all said and done, I take Joanie to see herself in the mirror. "Damn. Wow. I wish I felt so good in my own skin when I'm wearing my costume. If it wasn't for Aika and all the failure she represents, work would be more incredible than you could imagine."

I lean in to give her a loose hug from the side. "Y'know... I think we're gonna be just fine, you and I. We'll find our way!"

She gently hugs back. "Yeah. Somehow, we'll be okay, Honeybunches."

"I know I said I wasn't sure who I was closest to to avoid you probing about Kana... but I was telling the truth when I said everyone here is super duper great," I reassure. I watch her smile in the mirror.

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

Gou

We have twenty four hours from the time the trial ends to find a keepsake for each person. Plus we have the new locations to check out. So we all decided to divide and conquer. Six people to check out new places (in pairs, for safety), three people to check out Keiji's room again, and three people to check out Sayuri's room. I am among the third group of people.

"Dang... I don't know how, but it almost feels sunny in here," I remark.

Yuu, who, as expected, had immediately b-lined it to look at her shoes and clothes, explains in a low voice. "It's those full-spectrum light bulbs from the store. She wanted to make her room look as free as it could possibly be. Hence: fake house plants, landscape paintings, full-spectrum bulbs."

Wakumi jumps onto the bed and inspects one painting in particular. "Aye. This picture o' a tempest-thrown sea is real nice-lookin'. Some lads'd prolly pay top dollar fer it. Yet it's good as fish bait come ten hundred hours." She spits into her palm spitefully.

"Ew. Go wash your hands. That's super freaking unsanitary and I don't wanna get your germs on me by touching something you put your grimy spit hand on," Yuu requests, wincing.

Wakumi hops right off the bed and starts to get in Yuu's face. "Ah, I'm a germ hive, am I?! Imma give ye three billion plagues or somethin', ain't I?! Well, fuckin' take 'em, ye lily-livered sissy!" Before I can make any moves to stop her, she slaps her hand straight onto Yuu's cheek.

He screams. "Agh! You crazy bitch!!!" He rushes out of the room, hyperventilating as she laughs cockily.

"Wakumi, you went too far this time. That's just... that's a bit much. You have to keep in mind that Yuu has indicated that he's germaphobic multiple times. Plus, we're in the bedroom of a dead girl. Him asking you to keep things clean was not unreasonable." I try to address her in the most rational way possible, so as to prevent her from snapping.

"Phooey. He insulted me name, and I don't let that stand unanswered fer. Part o' me creed. Don't ye get that, matey?"

"Yeah, of course. He probably should've been more tactful about it. But the dude's mourning— he's not gonna be in the best mood right now."

"Sure, cause a man in mournin' refuses ta eulogize 'is wench." She rolls her eyes.

"Hey! Don't judge him for asking someone else to do it! Everyone grieves differently."

She gives a stubborn pout, but then sighs. "Aye. I'm prolly chief among those who don't act like they should when dealin' with death. I'll wash up." She leaves the room at the same time that Yuu re-enters it, and they shoulder-check each other with mild hostility.

He heads back to her closet, examining pairs of shoes. I continue to cast glances at him as I look through journal after journal full of poems. There are actual published books of her work, too, but the ones in the journals don't seem to have seen the public eye. "Hey, Yuu, would you come and check these out? I think they might be good candidates for her keepsake." He wordlessly comes where I beckoned and starts to read through them, setting a pair of shoes on the desk gingerly. They're delicate white sandals with golden butterfly decorations. They look immaculate. "Are... are these the ones you made for her?"

"Yes," he answers curtly. He's sorting books into different piles. "I don't need to keep them. This is what her actual legacy was, so we should keep one of these instead. She... put a lot of work into them, since pretty much forever. A lot of detail."

"Hey, um... wanna play soccer out by the race course when we're done with this?"

"Don't pity me. I don't need it."

"It's not pity, I promise. It's just good for us to get exercise! Pumps us full of endorphins and all that good shit!" I nod, feeling myself get hyped up.

"How... did you know?"

"What?"

"How'd you know that soccer is my favorite sport?"

"Oh, I saw you teaching Sayuri some drills one time. I was gonna go in the race car but it would've been way too loud, so I left when I noticed you guys there."

Wakumi slams the door wide open. "Argh. I cleaned up nice n' good. Sorry fer pissin' in yer boots."

"Wait, you mean figuratively, right? You didn't actually...?" he asks, alarmed.

"Course not. But don't test me, or I might be a wee bit tempted."

After a while, we choose a book to save, and then Yuu and I head to the yard. We pull on shin guards, socks, and cletes, and find a ball that's perfectly well-inflated. "What position do you play?" I ask.

"I'm a forward. We get all the glory," he snickers playfully.

"Awesome! Then I'll be the keeper and you can strike at me," I affirm. We drag one of the goals out of the equipment shed and I strap on some gloves. He stares at the ball with a weird blend of emotions on his face— I'm not sure where melancholy fades to bitterness or where bitterness fades to rage. He takes a deep breath and kicks the hell out of the ball. It zips straight into the top right corner despite my frantic attempts to catch it. Now, the feelings cocktail has a hint of pride, as well. I sling it back to him. He juggles the ball on his knees and then whacks it again. This time, I manage to keep it out of the goal, but damn does it hurt. "Shit, man, you add a hell of a lot of force. That burns!"

"I'm... I'm fucking pissed off. It's not fair. She was gonna let me die. She totally fucking gaslit me during that goddamn trial. She could've weaseled out of it if someone else was leading the charge against her. But it's my own damn fault. I know better than to trust so easily. Agh! I hate that I miss her!" he grunts. "Give it here. I'm not done." I obey, a little bit scared. He takes all his fury out on the ball, shooting with the ferocity of a mountain lion. "Gou, what gets you angry? I've never seen you in any mood other than cheeriness," he asks me.

"People who don't take responsibility for their actions and who run from the consequences," I answer instantly, clenching my fist and remembering that stranger.

"Gimme the gloves. It's your turn." His dark blue eyes are dead serious. I search myself to try and draw up any scraps of rage to the surface. For once since this whole bullshit program started, I let myself be angry.