[A/N] Thank you for bearing with my on my hiatus, lovelies. I hit a REAL bad patch of motivation loss, but here it is. Hopefully it's less of an absolute mess than I feel like it is. Enjoy!

Fujiko

The Mastermind is feeding us scraps of information, I just know it, and it makes me feel so fucking itchy— er, violated. Team Danganronpa is apparently some sort of TV company who MADE a long line of killing games like this one, starting a couple of decades ago. But we have no freaking idea what the hell happened to them, cause the Mastermind tore out the last chapter— the one talking about the 53rd killing game— and the epilogue! We don't know where we are, we don't know why our families didn't mention this group in our letters, we don't even know if Team Danganronpa really IS responsible for this! And then there's the other question: Who— or what— is WDR?

And... I'm scared. I'm scared because I know this isn't the end. For the Mastermind to string us along and spoon-feed us this much only to yank it away means that obviously, there's so much more to the puzzle here. I'm not smart enough to figure any of this stuff out! Some of the smarter ones left are trying to read about one killing game per day and talking about them, trying to pinpoint patterns, but honestly, I feel like I oughta stop them...

Nobody should have to read about that much murder and pain and suffering! Just one killing game is way more than I ever bargained for! And I know that whenever anyone gives in to their personal problems, someone has wound up dead, so my goal is to keep everyone from falling apart on me!

They're already slipping a bit, I can tell. Tozen's headed toward another stint of overworking, based on how many things he's cooked up today and the fact that he asked if I wanted my bedroom floor cleaned. Azumi's been meditating even more than usual, and she's a tad quieter at meals now.

Chimon's cried a lot. A few of us told him not to try reading these, but, as a hypnotherapist, he really is the one most knowledgeable about psychology and stuff like that. Even so, getting his empathy back right in the middle of this situation means he's grappling with a lot of pain he probably isn't used to feeling. It's kind of funny. He cried a lot back when he was faking, too, but those... he made a show of those, in a way. Now, he keeps slinking off to a private place to do it, and I keep having to go look for him.

This creeping, kind of scary thought starts to worm its way into my head. "M-Monokuma?" I call out softly. I twiddle my thumbs as I wait for him to appear. There's a tap on the back of my shoulder, and I squeal. The demented stuffed animal's stretched his legs so that he's my height, and that's REAL uncomfy. There's also a stray Monoinu with him.

"Yeeeeessss?"

"Um, uh, so, like, destruction of property isn't against the rules, right? Just, like, the cameras and stuff?"

"That's correct!"

"So, hypote— hypothetically speaking, I could cut out pages of that Team Danganronpa book and you wouldn't kill me, right?"

"Oh, dear, dear, dear me. Look at you, getting all devious!" He does a creepy little shoulder-wiggle.

"Such wanton devastation!" the Monoinu cries out in alarm at my suggestion.

"Sh-Shut it! I'd be doing it to keep everyone from losing their heads!" I lean in closer, probably failing to be a bit intimidating but attempting it nonetheless.

"Ah, you preach so much about trusting them and just KNOWING that you'll get out of here, but even you, a shiny beacon of hope, have an inkling of fear down in your pretty little heart," he coos, as though finding it adorable.

"I won't let you get to me. I'm done with that sort of crap. I just don't want my friends to suffer. Can I wreck the book or not?" I ask, trying to call forth my inner Kana.

He sighs. "Well, my cub, someone beat you to the punch. I almost considered making a new rule and offing them, but it would be unfair. How could I expect them to respect a rule that wasn't instated at the time? So, I had to let bygones be bygones." He clicks his tongue, as though considering the whole situation rude.

"Rules are rules, meant to be respected. The blatant disregard for an author's work brings tears to my eyes. Well, it would if I could cry," the Monoinu announces dramatically.

"I— WHAT?! Someone else had the same idea?!" I gasp, jaw dropping to the freaking floor.

"Yep! Absconded with the pages and everything!"

"Huh?"

"They took the pages with them," he explains, flicking my forehead. It HURTS, cause METAL PAWS.

"OW! You're such a punk! I-I mean, I've gotta go find the book!" I exclaim, pulling off my shoes so that I can run. I fight the urge to chuck one of them at him, because I feel like even that could wind up with me dead.

I check the dining room table, the spot where I last saw it. Not there. So then I try the library. Nope. I grimace and go where I feel like it'll probably be. Yep. The dreaded Meeting Room A, hidden under the table. I grab it and find it feeling WAY lighter than it did the first time. The first few chapters have annotations scrawled out by the trio, but the entire rest of the book's pages have been carved out. It almost reminds me of the way Keiji turned his book into a box, but there's nothing inside.

I frantically rush to Chimon's bedroom and spam the doorbell. He opens up, looking concerned. "Fuji, what's wrong?" I open the book, shaking. His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Shit. Shit! Okay. Alright. It wasn't you? I know that if it WAS, you did it for a good reason, but—"

"Wasn't me. I thought about it, so that you guys wouldn't have to keep hurting yourselves like that, but someone else got to it first! I don't know who!"

"Think. Think. Uh, maybe I could keep the book and try to bait out the culprit? If I claim that I took it to annotate it, the real vandal might start to act shifty."

"But what if everyone starts to think it was you?!"

"Agh, that's true! Especially since I keep scissors in my bedroom!"

"Maybe... we can hide the book... and then investigate people's rooms for the pages during our nighttime watches."

"Right. If the book's not in the place the culprit left it in, it might rattle them enough to get them acting weird, too. We could stow it in the library, but in a section completely unrelated to where it should be. Fuji, it'll be okay. We'll all be just fine."

"Okay. Okay! We'll be fine." I open my arms up, and he hugs me. "It makes me sad when you're sad," I admit.

"Grief's important. You don't have to protect us from it, Fuji." I hug him harder.

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

Gou

The book is missing. And right now, we're all searching. And if I know how this place works by now, Monokuma's gonna call us for some new major plot twist in some dumb attempt to get us to forget about it. I hate that, but I also have to admit that I'm a little excited? I've honestly started to make it a bit of a game in my head to try and figure out what everyone will say or do.

Cause a lot of the time, things seem to flow in a pattern, right? Wakumi always has and always will slam her foot on the table, for example, and someone always asks if whatever motive or another will be physically painful (even if it never is). There's a little bit of comfort in understanding that sort of routine push-and-pull. The outside world is fun in its unpredictability, but things being unpredictable HERE is... well, kind of dangerous. So I like the way that, even if the motive itself is inherently unpredictable, our responses tend to be easy to track.

I check around the game room idly; there's a big ol' closet stuffed to the brim with games, so I feel like it would be easy to hide something of that general shape in here. In the process, I manage to find the fighting game that we all played at the Boy's Night... God, that was already... how many months ago? Even with Tozen keeping track with his little calendar, sometimes I blank anyways. Man... that was really fun. But now, Keiji and Bisque and Monterio... not to mention the girls... they aren't here anymore. I wonder what they would even say to us if they were.

"AHEM!" Aha! It's time! "You know how it goes, my little cubs! Get to Meeting Room A pronto, or I'll be forced to do some unpleasant things! Unpleasant for you, of course! I'd find the despair quite thrilling! So, maybe don't come super quick! Yeah, that. Bye-bye!"

Obviously, we all book it, aside from, of course, Wakumi, who gets dragged in by a few Monoinu kicking and screaming. In comes the table kick... yep. BAM!

Someone... probably Ren... is gonna ask why we're here. "Okay, what the fuck do you want now? Don't we already have a motive? Though... if I were to suggest something... it would be fun to have a game akin to Seven Minutes In Heaven." His eyes narrow in some odd mixture of scorn for our captor and satisfaction at his own idea.

"Sorry, bucko, but the time for suggestions has long since passed us by," Monokuma winks cheekily. Ugh, what a bitch.

And here before someone says something snarky... "As if we ever had a choice," Tozen growls lightly.

"Puhuhu! That's cute!" he responds. I glower furiously, trying to give him my best withering glare, and it seems like more than one person is doing the same. "I figure that, maybe this time, we could double up on motives! So here's how it's gonna go! In a week's time, we'll have a fabulous quiz show! And the subjects? You! All of the original sixteen of you, to be exact! You'll each be playing individually, but you'll all be in the same room, so you'll be able to see everyone's points! You'll have to figure out who each question relates to. For example... who played hockey in their youth?"

"Monterio," Chimon answers instantaneously.

"Correct! For each right answer... you'll get to learn a secret about the person detailed in the question." Huh. Frankly, I'm kind of interested in what secrets he's planning to share about me. I like to think I'm good at learning about people— my parents really encouraged me to show interest in people since forever— but I don't know if I need to be peering into their secrets...

"Is there any penalty for incorrect conclusions? Perhaps of the physically painful variety?" Azumi asks, striking that part of our Motive Bingo card.

"Nope! No punishment for incorrect answers! But failure to participate will certainly cause such strife! Missing one or two questions to the time limit is no big deal. But actively refusing to answer may result in quite a bit of pain," he answers.

"Pain how?" Yuu asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Shock collar!"

He laughs a bit, but, to my surprise, it hardly seems like a laugh of neurosis. "Sure, why the hell not? We've had to dodge darts, pull our own nails, and feel actual pain from a fear simulator. After all that, I guess I've come to expect this shit."

Okay, that went a bit different than usual, but now it's time for me to rally the troops! Before I can, however, someone else chimes in. "Honestly, guys, we can't fail! If it's about secrets and trust, I bet that everything will be okay! The past can't really hurt us as long as we're here! And besides... he's tried to test our trust over and over and over again! We've been training our trust muscles, we're pros at this shit by now!" Fujiko declares with confidence, flexing her arm.

Huh, that's strange. Sure, she's been a supportive figure in the past, always encouraging us and building us up, but... always with this sort of self-deprecating edge to it. This power and assurance in her tone is new.

"R-Right. We've been through the ringer together a lot! Secrets can't do a thing to pry us apart!" I continue, trying to help myself.

"Agh. Ye're all always actin' like such hypocrites. Yer bonds are superficial, and I can tell just by yer expressions that not e'eryone is so keen ta give up their personal info, ye barnacle-suckin' dingbats. So stop spoutin' that bullshit," Wakumi grumbles.

Of all people, Azumi takes a breath and walks up a bit closer to her. She takes one of her hair sticks and runs her fingers along it, as though to comfort herself. "Clearly, you don't understand us the way you think you do. We have no delusions of being unafraid. We are petrified. These motives have always caused us immeasurable anguish. Even so... to give up would be the most costly error of our existence. Of course we preach of courage and of trust! If words are all we have to console us, then let the words come!" she emphasizes, waving her hair stick and pointing it in Wakumi's direction almost aggressively. "We may fall, but we stand up again, over and over! Go ahead and spout your spiteful blather, but you are still one of the people here, so our words are for you, as well. Do not trample on them."

"I know you're angry, Wakumi. And maybe we even deserve it, and you obviously have every right to stay mad at us for as long as you want. You can think we're stupid. But you can't deny that we've gone through a lot together. We've changed. In some dramatic ways, and some almost minuscule ones. Maybe that can be a bit comforting?" Chimon says.

"Well, clearly it ain't enough ta stop this lunacy." She snarls and charges out the room, slamming the door on her way out.

My heart starts to pound uncontrollably and I don't understand why I'm panicking so much. Everyone... everyone's different. The calm of the routine is shifting into something torrential. Even... even those who have gone did things that were unexpected.

C'mon, Gou. The unpredictable is what you thrive on. There's no need for the drama. Tozen, without even addressing the fact that I'm struggling to the others, quietly puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me and tucks a nutrient bar in my hand. Okay. I'm good. I'm fine.

We can face anything.

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

Wakumi

One o' me new favorite places is in the basement area. We got a restaurant, a pub o' sorts, sorta as a replacement ta the dinin' hall if they e'er wanted ta switch it up. New scenery n' the like. Now, the reason I'm so keen on the place is cause it's got alcohol. Guess Monokuma figured 'e's already breakin' enough laws as it is, so why not add this? There's not a bunch o' it; not enough ta get meself drunk, 'specially not since I'm a heavyweight. But e'en so, there looks ta be some half-decent rum and some less-than-decent beer o'er 'ere, so I can make meself some grog.

I slide down the banisters o' the staircase; goin' from the fourth floor (Trainin' Hall) ta the basement is good exercise, but sometimes, I don't wanna wear me ol' bones out. Besides. It's more fun ta do it this way. As I leap down the last couple feet o' the Warehouse's rope ladder and dash off in a sprint toward the pub, I start ta hear music, n' I can't stop meself from groanin'. Fer some reason, I hesitate, stoppin' right outside the door ta listen ta the mournful guitar's melody.

"The warmth of a hand, the warmth of a heart, slipping through my fingertips— was it there from the start? Just keep me in your mind and keep your mind alive... I'm not very good at swimming, but into the depths I'll dive. I plunge my hand into the sea... just to keep you here with me." I gulp, tryin' ta ignore the stingin' in me throat as I remember slammin' the surface o' that swimmin' pool, n' then the force o' the water below me whene'er it was time ta jump o'erboard. 'Fore I can let meself feel things I'm not interested in feelin', I kick open the door n' charge inside.

Ren looks at me with mild surprise, but says nothin'. 'E just goes right back ta pluckin' at 'is strings. I mix meself a drink idly. Durn... first drink in months. E'en if it's god-awful, it'll be great. "Ye want anythin'?"

"Huh? Oh, uhh... I've never drank before. What would you suggest?"

I scoff. "Ye're a real pansy, so I doubt me taste in alcohol would suit ye. I reckon I could whip up a chuhai fer ye. What kinda flavor ye want? Lemon, peach, lime, plum?"

"Lime sounds pretty good." So I make 'im one, slam it onta the bar table, and sit down next ta 'im. 'E takes the cup gingerly in 'is hands like the lily-livered romantic 'e is, and takes a long, slow sip. "Oh wow. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that," 'e announces, wincin' e'er so slightly.

I snort, cacklin'. "Figures ye'd not fancy it."

"I didn't say that," he contradicts immediately. 'E puts the glass gently back on the table n' strums a bit. "When all the warmth leaves us and we're left an empty shell, I know I can rely on you; we rose e'en when we fell. Though we've been left with scars too haunting to just kiss and tell, our souls are ours and only ours, and not for one to sell. Does that work?"

"What d'ye mean?"

"Is it enough like Joanie? I kind of wish I'd known her better."

"Don't talk that gibberish ta me," I snap.

'E zips it, shiftin' 'is focus back onta the music. I stare down the bottom o' me cup, takin' a big gulp o' the dark, spiced liquid. Yep. That's the shit, right there. The wee ones obviously couldn't have any, but me ol' salt lemme take some sometimes.

The laddie's calloused make their way across the strings, n' the warm light o' the pub seems ta bring e'en the slightest bit o' color ta 'is ghostly face. 'Is expression is frustraitin'ly hard ta read. It's like this... quiet wistfulness mixed up in a whirlpool o' determination. E'eryone in this stupid building is so fuckin' sentimental. "What would ye do if I were ta break yer guitar?"

'Is eyes radiate a sudden darkness. "I know I don't normally come across as a very angry person, but if you hurt my acoustic guitar, I would gladly give up my life so that I could kill you."

"Promise? No runnin' any rigs?"

"Don't you FUCKING DARE. Look, okay, maybe I wouldn't kill you, because Nari already told me that I have to live, but I'd sure as hell make your existence miserable," 'e hisses, cradlin' it ta 'imself.

I cackle. "Aye, I like that. Yer fury is way better than all this soft-hearted, blubbery shit that e'eryone else is showin'. It's good ta know ye have it in ye."

"I know you think our friendship fluff is a load of bull, but it's not. We've all dealt with too much to NOT share some sort of affection for each other. Even for Yuu Bando, as complicated as our feelings toward that situation may be, and yes, we even feel that way about you, Wakumi, whether you accept it or not. But the thing is, if anyone ever purposefully hurt my acoustic guitar, they'd never be my friend again. It means more to me than you could possibly understand."

"WHY are ye tellin' me this?!" I shout, feelin' the comfortin' rage brew up in me again.

"It's been months and months and months since any of us have been home! I may not know the first thing about you, really, but you have to have SOME kind of feeling other than blind hatred for SOMETHING in your life, so I just wanted to share a feeling I have! It's okay to be angry, but it's also okay to not be. It's okay to want happiness for someone or something, even someone who may or may not have done anything but cause you pain. We don't want you to suffer, Wakumi, okay?"

I stand up and throw me barstool as far as I can muster. It clatters across the table and floor with a satisfyin' clunkin' sound. I stare 'im square in the eyes defiantly. 'E merely raises 'is eyebrows and keeps playin'. 'Fore I really know what I'm doin', I've got a fistful o' 'is whiteish blonde hair, n' I put me other hand on 'is guitar with less force than I woulda liked. "Do you want to do this?" 'e asks simply. I let go o' him, down the rest o' me drink, n' throw the glass down so hard that it shatters on the table before stalkin' away in a rage.

Why the fuck did I hesistate? Why are me convictions waverin' so? FUCK THIS FLOWERY SHIT!