Azumi, January 7th, 7:19 am

I sit quietly, reflectively, gazing at the gravesite we've accrued in the garden. I am attempting to come up with a new mantra. I was so sure of mine in the past. All Will Be Well. When I was younger, that was the message I needed. That was the intention that I needed to radiate through me and settle in my soul. Yet, now, I am certain that it is discordant to me. So many wonderful people have been lost in this... monumental tragedy... and nothing about that can be well. I have gained many pieces of wisdom from different sorts of people, different things that I could use. There's Joanie's creed: "I have to believe that everyone can change." There's Tozen's comfort to me: "We'll just keep standing back up, over and over." Most recently, there's Chimon's urge: "Change the World, Azumi." But I do not want to simply copy someone else's idea. My desire is to find a phrase that incorporates all of that, and maybe something from within me, too.

Speaking of Chimon, I suddenly notice strands of black hair enter my vision as he stands behind me and bends over to see my expression. "Greetings. You're certainly up rather early. Are you not tired? Growing takes a lot of energy."

I hear him yawn in response. "Yeah, but it's our second-to-last 'normal' day in here. Everything... everything's gonna be different, starting real soon. There's a realistic chance that we could fail at this. And I don't think Monokuma would let us live after pulling a stunt like this. I'll make breakfast for everyone soon, but I figured I might be able to catch you when you were meditating. Would it be okay if I joined?"

I smile fondly. "Try your best not to fall asleep. We are not supposed to sleep outside the dorms, so I would have to carry you to your room. Or disturb your slumber."

"No, yeah, if I fall asleep, wake me up. I'm gonna make pancakes for all you dorks, so I need to be conscious," he snickers. He sits down beside me and his cheeky grin melts away into his resting expression.

"I usually practice mindfulness meditation-- in which one carefully observes their thoughts as they pass-- or transcendental meditation-- in which one repeats a mantra. Perhaps today, though, we might try visualization meditation. We could visualize, using all five senses, a future in which we escape and experience freedom for the first time in several months. Helpful for optimism, I find." I wink at him, and he nods agreeably.

So we do-- we imagine the sounds of our feet hitting the pavement and of birds greeting us. We imagine the frigid air dancing along our skin, and the slight odour of gasoline, which, at this point, would be welcome. We discuss what we might eat first, and imagine the tastes lingering on our tongue. The scene is so vivid and almost spiritual in my brain that I nearly cry. When I ease us back into the present moment and slowly open my eyes, I see Chimon's soft, hopeful expression. "That was... really nice. It helped reassure me a little, I think."

"May I perhaps ask you a question? One related to the discussion we had just prior to the trial?"

"Yeah. I might not immediately know the answer, but I'll do my best."

"When it is time to change the world... how does one cope with a lack of control? For example, one can do the best they can to change the world, but people might react in unexpected ways that thwart their effort. Or perhaps, even nature can. All one can really control is themself... hence why I focus so much on my inner core. But dwelling merely on oneself does nothing to change the situation."

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he ponders this. "I don't know. Being honest, up until recently, I didn't even feel like I had control of myself, my own thoughts and feelings. Let alone all of the outside circumstances of my life. I guess... everything is cause-and-effect. Maybe your actions won't have the intended effect, and that can be really disorienting. But then you try something else."

I giggle a little, and he tilts his head in confusion. "Life is akin to a chemistry experiment: you try something out to see if it will have a beneficial reaction, and sometimes it does nothing at all, and sometimes it's astoundingly, spectacularly disastrous, but sometimes you get lucky and achieve something special."

He smirks. "I have had many instances of life chemicals blowing up in my face. I have accidentally created atom bombs out of life juices."

"As have I!" I chime in. We both laugh at this. "Well," I sigh contentedly, "at least we never stop learning. We diligently take field notes and remember what actions lead to a dangerous reaction."

"What if," he asks, "you know exactly what a certain reaction does, and you know it's bad for you, but you don't feel like you have a choice but to make it over and over?"

"There are always choices. Remember, you said that to me earlier, as well. We are constantly making choices, all the time. So the antidote for when you feel stuck, the cure," I say, thinking this out for myself, "is simply to do anything different. Perhaps it will not yield an ideal result. But if that is the case, then switch your approach again. At least you will not be in exactly the same place."

He seems to attempt to process this. "Doing something painful but reliable is a lot less scary than actually trying to fix it," he admits.

I shift over to set a hand on his shoulder. "Chimon, you are incredibly proactive. Though, in the past, I used to unconsciously begrudge you for your choices, said choices required tremendous amounts of courage. If you live in your 'real world' the way you lived here... You'll be truly unstoppable."

He sinks into my loose embrace. "I'm... afraid. Feels like I've been afraid a lot lately. There's so much unknown. And like you said, there's so little control."

"All there is to it is to let it all come, and do the rest from there. Accept the fear and the unknown with open arms, then trust yourself to make the difference."

"I think I get it. And hey! You managed to answer your own question!"

"I believe I answered more than one."

"Hm?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I think I should go make breakfast now. Thanks, Azumi." He gives my topknot an affectionate tap before leaving.

I settle once again into meditation. Let it all come, and I will do the rest from there. Yes... that's the one. That's my new mantra.

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

Ren, January 7th, 12:16 pm

Fujiko wanted to test her abilities and see if she could cook lunch for us successfully. Chimon stayed with her to make sure a third fire didn't occur, and thankfully, it did not. She made us grilled cheese sandwiches with apple slices in them, and I'm certain Tozen taught her. It's a little overcooked, but it still tastes good. I feel like I'm gonna cry. He was there for me for so long... since I made the choice to stop dyeing my hair. "Fuji?" I ask, polishing off the last of my sandwich.

"Mhm?"

"I think I'm due for another haircut," I say hesitantly. The others express their agreement.

She tilts her head and smiles. "Totally, totally! You ready to cut the rest of the black off?"

"I am. My hair might be the slightest bit shorter than I'm used to, but I don't think three-quarters whitish blond is a look for me."

"You're gonna look so super good! I gotchu, boo!" She delicately finishes her sandwich and we rush off to wash our hands before she takes mine in hers and drags me off to the beautician's. She immediately sits me down and turns on a faucet. It's one of those hairdresser reclining tub things. "We're gonna make you feel like royalty!"

"You're the queen, though," I mumble contentedly as she starts to wash my hair.

"How ya feeling, sweetie? Emotionally, I mean."

"Overwhelmed. First of all, I finally had to use our flashback training."

"Oh my God! Is he okay?!" she asks, substantially higher in volume. She starts to wash a bit more aggressively.

"He's as okay as he can be. He wound up helping me pack for a few hours. You know Yuu and the ways he shows gratitude. It was scary, though. I had to figure out how to look and sound calm."

"Yikes. Honestly, it's probably a good thing it wasn't me. I know what to do but I totally would've panicked."

"I'm also," I sigh, whetting my lips with my tongue, "kind of nervous for this. The haircut, I mean. It had to happen, though. And I'm glad it's happening before we leave."

"What's scary about it?" she asks sincerely.

"It feels like officially ending a really major chapter of my life. I know that sounds completely melodramatic, but..."

"No, I get it. Sometimes we start thinking of how we look as, like, an outside sign of who we are and stuff. Like, I had a friend who said she'd never stop wearing glasses cause she doesn't feel like herself without them."

"Yeah, it's sort of like that. I don't feel not like myself anymore. I just feel like a different self. Kinda funny, huh? The way we're born looking can have an impact on self-identity, and self-identity can have an impact on the image we want to send out to other people."

She says nothing and even stops midway through towel-drying my hair. I can practically hear the cogs in her brain turning as she tries to understand what I said. Then it clicks. "Mhm. Kinda like how Joanie dressing like Aika was all about pleasing other people, but it wasn't really how she wanted to look or act, so it made her feel icky."

"Sure. We know she'd dress totally different if she hadn't felt obligated to keep up the PR stuff. At least, that would've been the case before she got hypnosis. You know what PR is, right?"

"Yep, personal relations! I had to learn for work and stuff. Is it the same for you? Uh, I mean, your appearance, not learning what PR means for your job."

"No... that's not why, for me. I guess with me, it was more like... I wanted to be out there. I wanted to be eye-catching. I wanted to be someone people would look at. But I didn't want it to be because of my albinism. What I wanted, most of all, was to be so completely different from the person I feel like I was expected to be."

At this point, my hair gets blow-dried and brushed, so our conversation lulls to a pause. The warmth feels nice on my head, and my hair gets a bit fluffier than normal.

Eventually, though, the noise shuts off as she switches to scissors. And with that, our chatting resumes. "You shouldn't be expected to be anyone but you, right?"

"Well, yeah, I wasn't really pressured into acting any sort of way, but just... it's complicated. Sorry I'm not willing to elaborate anymore. But you get it, right? Sometimes, even though you know that people will tell you they just want you to be yourself, they secretly hope that 'yourself' is someone different."

She sighs. "No, yeah, I totally get that. I don't think people mean to do that. I think they do seriously think they want you to be yourself, but they don't realize they have some other idea of that. If you don't mind me asking, though, what happened? What made you decide to stop dyeing your hair?"

"Nari. Honestly, it's probably kind of silly how attached I got to someone I only knew for like a week and a half. But she just gave me the courage to try things. I wanted to try embracing what I naturally looked like, in the hopes that it might make me feel more authentic. Giving up the feeling of security that my black hair gave me is kinda freaky, though."

"Well, can I say something that might make you feel good?"

"Yes please," I chuckle.

"You are totally, 100% yourself no matter what color hair you have. You treat people pretty much exactly the same, and you're just as emotional as before— maybe even more. You might be really different inside, for all I know. But past-you and present-you were both still you, right? And you'll stay you. I know it." I've kept my eyes closed this whole time, and I suddenly start to feel my chest heave from her words. "Ooh, actually, I think we're done! Check yourself out, you hottie!"

I open my eyes and lean in to look at myself. It's strange, seeing no more black at all. I haven't had my hair completely dye-free in somewhere between five and six years. I examine my features: porcelain-colored skin, pinkish eyes, whitish blond hair. Aside from the clothes, it really is like the day I was born. That other version of me, the one who came in here... he was me. But this is me now. And I think I can like it.

"Very striking, don't you think?" Fujiko compliments.

"I know this sounds vain, but I just wanna stare at myself."

She applauds. "Yay! That's exactly what I was hoping! You look fantastic!"

I believe you.

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

Gou, January 7th, 4:09 pm

I slap down a four and a three before he has any time to even think. We both then lock eyes with each other, silently agreeing that it's time to flip cards. The new cards on top of the piles are a seven and a King. Yuu slams down a six and I swiftly cut in and insert my seven before he has time to get his five in there. "Speed!" I announce victoriously. He still has a few cards left in his reserve pile. This is the ninth round I've completely destroyed him in.

He sighs overdramatically. "I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to challenge the race car driver to Speed. Obviously, you'd drag me across the floor."

"Was that on purpose or an accidental drag race pun?" I ask with a smirk.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he denies with a teasing whistle.

"Besides, you punk," I snort, "you obviously knew I'd cleansweep you. You challenged me because you thought it'd be funny. Like when we played that fighting game and you chose all the F-Tier joke characters."

He purses his lips in an attempt to hold back his laughter, but fails a second later. Busted, dork. I know you way better than that. "Are you having fun?" he winds up asking, a smile still present on his face.

"Well, yeah. Winning is fun. I like winning. I don't think I know anyone who doesn't have a fun time when they're winning," I banter in return. He gives a sort of half-smile, and a small seed of worry starts to sprout in me. I correct myself. "Jokes aside, I'm enjoying spending time with you." Even though he tries to hide it, I see the tension in his shoulders fade a little.

"Good! I don't wanna—" He abruptly cuts himself off and then he shakes his head a bit. "Sorry. I'm not gonna do that again."

"What do you mean?" I ask, picking up all the cards to start the reshuffling process.

He bites his lip slightly and his eyes dart around, like he's fishing for the right stuff to say. "I... apologize for all the times I accused you of pitying me. It's probably pretty obvious that I was in a bad place then, and if I'm being honest, I'd been in a bad place for a long time before this, too. I wasn't prepared to accept that someone like you would ever actually want to..." he clears his throat and starts using air quotes, " 'bother' with someone like me. But having your intentions questioned like that probably fucking sucked. I'm sorry."

I can't help but chuckle, and then I have to frantically backpedal. "No, no, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. I accept your apology, don't even worry about it. But just, like... 'someone like me?' You're really confusing sometimes, dude." I do a particularly loud shuffle that makes us both giggle for no apparent reason, and then I start to dole out the cards again. This time, though, I distribute them out like a game of Gin Rummy instead, because it gives us more time to talk. It takes him a sec to figure out what's happening and adjust, but eventually we get into the swing of it.

Eventually, he finds the words he was looking for. "Gou, you're a jock. You're strong, you're quick. Not only are you a jock, you're a nice one. You're enthusiastic, and cheerful, and fun to be around, and you show real interest in people around you. The type of person you are... those people are the top of the totem pole, in terms of almost any social environment. You could choose to spend your time with literally anyone you wanted, and people would happily accept you. So my thought pattern was, why... if you could choose anyone, why would you choose someone like me? My opinion of myself at the beginning of this was that I was awkward at best and rude at worst ninety percent of the time. I'm only really invested in my one super niche hobby, and I said a lot of stuff I didn't mean." After this ramble, he sniggers. "That, and I'm not a jock."

"What about soccer? You were good at it, right? And you liked it, it's your favorite sport."

"I quit, dude. A while ago," he sighs.

"Look, okay. First off, I'm not, like, universally beloved or anything like that. People like me when I'm being fun. But I know I can pry too much into people's personal business, and that really offputs... certain types of people. In that regard, you might have been a tiny bit right. The slightest bit of what I was trying to do was give you a place to vent, cause it gives me a sense of purpose when people can rely on me. But I swear, from the bottom of my heart, I didn't do it out of pity. I actually did just want to hang out with you, despite all the crappy shit you thought or even still think about yourself. Honestly, I really admire the way you just say shit. I know that sounds weird, but as long as you're not trying to hide your own pain, you're really fucking truthful. I like spending time with you."

"I believe that now. Now I can sort of wrap my head around the fact that you struggle, too, and that I have some positive qualities that people would actually find appealing. I just wanted to sort of explain where all my gross behavior toward you was coming from. And I... appreciate that you were able to admit all the reasons. I like spending time with you, too." He pulls a card out of the draw pile and gasps. "Aha! I win! Look, three twos, and the nine, ten, Jack, and Queen of spades!"

"Hey, look, you won a game! Took you long enough!" I stick my tongue out.

"Shut up. You just can't deal with the fact that you lost," he winks.

"Jesus, how do you even come up with these puns so quickly? It's like you pull them straight out of thin air!" I marvel.

"I'll never tell," he smirks.