Sayuri, Two years post-release

Days are nice now, and slow. Time has gracefully taken us each by the hand and guided us toward versions of ourselves we can feel more at peace with. At least, I certainly hope so. I am generally a bit more distant from my former-WDR compatriots than some of the others are with one another, but from what I've heard, things are going well.

As for me, I would say I enjoy life with a certain sensitivity now. Less wildly active, more passively observant of the world around me. I'm still keen on living a poet's life, full of enriching experience, but I believe I am gradually figuring out how to do so without getting in much trouble. I am learning to recognize consequences before I throw myself headfirst into discovery. I'm in university now, double-majoring in creative writing and literature. I'm really green to it; I'm just starting out. There's lots of reading, as one can imagine. That's what I'm doing now, actually. I'm housewatching for my parents whilst they go on vacation this weekend, and they gave me permission to let Setsuna over, too. We both read separately, but I rest my head on their lap while we do.

The doorbell rings, which makes me curious. I'm not expecting visitors. "Who could that be?" I voice aloud.

"Probably just a salesperson," they respond logically.

"What are they selling? Is it a scam?" I ask, rising from my ever-so-comfy position.

"You have no sense of self-preservation, my dear. Hold on a moment, I'm coming, too." They glide toward me in that effortlessly graceful way, sea-green t-shirt dress flowing slightly behind them. With a smile, I head toward the door and open it gently.

A familiar face, crowned with curly orange hair and partially hidden behind large circular glasses, smiles nervously at me. "Bisque? Is that you? My, how long has it been since I've seen your face in person? Come in, won't you?"

"Ah! Um! Hi! Thanks for having me despite me not giving you any notice. I got you little strawberry shortcake bites."

"BISQUE!" comes an enthusiastic cry from a few paces behind me.

"Oh! Is that Suna? I haven't actually met them in person yet!"

My significant other then barrels past me to enthusiastically embrace my old friend. They even go so far as to lift him up and twirl him in the doorway. Bisque, the poor darling, seems to get the wind knocked out of him, but swiftly adjusts and hugs back. "Ah, sorry! I've gotten quite ahead of myself, huh? Excuse me for skipping the formalities. I'm Setsuna Kikuchi. Third year art history major. Dating this little button for four months." They put Bisque down and brush off his shoulders chummily.

Bisque laughs, looking up into Suna's yellow-green eyes. "Haruto Gima. Second year ceramics student, happily single for now."

"Don't forget internationally-regarded artist!" Suna winks. "You're too damn humble!" The two shake hands firmly as though they didn't already know all of this about one another. Truthfully, were it not for the fact that Bisque and I share some memories, Suna might know him better than I do at this point. They're his mega-fan, and they were utterly thrilled when I revealed we're friends. The two have been online pals for a while now.

I move in to hug him myself, and he warmly reciprocates. "I'm being a terrible host, aren't I? May I offer you anything? Water? Tea? Snacks?"

"Do you have decaf tea?" he asks, softly shaking out his limbs to decompress from the hugs.

"How hot do you take it?"

"Warm, but don't burn me, please." He sticks his tongue out playfully, taking his shoes off to step further inside. He sits down on the mat at the dining room table and pats his legs in a rhythmic motion. I can't quite tell whether it's out of contentment, excitement, or anxiety. Whilst I boil the water, I can hear Suna start to chat him up about pottery and the history of certain techniques. The conversation gets louder and faster as they go, the tried and true signals that they're getting riled up.

Soon enough, the three of us sit beside one another, indulging in tea and sweets. I can visibly see him release a breath he likely didn't realize he was holding. "So, what brings you here, dear? Is something troubling you?"

"Mmm, umm... I don't know if Setsuna should be here for this," he mumbles quietly. Ah. It is that sort of trip.

"Is it about WDR? I told them about the simulation quite a while ago." He seems to blanch at this information. "Is that alright? Weren't we allowed to tell whomever we pleased at our own rate?"

"Umm, yes, that's true, it just suddenly makes me feel a lot more self-conscious," he continues to murmur.

Suna comfortingly slides over to me and wraps their arms around me in a bear-hug. Their head rests gently on my shoulder. "Don't worry. I've kept it quiet. I'm... so unimaginably sorry that you were all taken advantage of like that. Team Danganronpa made so many victims, and you guys are just some of the rare few whose story never went public."

He pulls at his yellow overalls nervously. "Ah, yeah, about that... it's sort of why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"How quickly do you think you could draft up a memoir?"

"...Is it time to release the tape?"

"Those of us with the most widespread fame are working on individual projects so that we can all release them together. After our separate events, we're gonna... go for it."

"Hmm... ought I take a gap semester after this one? If I do, a year sounds reasonable, right?"

Suna squeezes me tighter. "Sayuri, please don't take on more than you can handle. Your ambition is beautiful and your words even moreso, but I don't want you forcing yourself to go at a pace you can't maintain, especially when it comes to something this traumatic."

"Would you mind terribly if this meant we cut back on dates for a while?"

"I'm fine with that, but are you listening?"

I stare at the tea in my cup. "In all honesty, ninety percent of what I've written since I've escaped has been about this. Having those poems and essays already prepped would help with this, right?" They take my hand and I can feel them trace hearts on my palm. I look to Bisque, who's taken to fiddling with a beaded bracelet. "How does everyone else feel about this?"

"Well, we're all on board. Some of us more reluctantly than others. You know Nari would've preferred to live her life in complete obscurity. But Gou asked us to consider it, y'know? And besides... this could finally get society to recognize it's not a perfectly peaceful world."

"...Do you think this will bring us closure?"

"Honestly, I don't even know. Maybe it will. But it'll probably make life a lot harder, too."

"Will you all still be able to live happily after this?"

"Y'know, we've been through a ton of bullshit. But we still somehow have the drive and hope to reach for something better. I think we'll be okay!" He grins possibly the most sincere smile I've seen out of him the whole time— it's that smile of his that makes his spirit shine. "Things can change! For the better! And we can be the ones to make it happen!"

I shift so that I can gaze at Setsuna— this steadfast, reliable person who's forced to hide the fact that they take antidepressants for fear of familial judgement. They stare back at me, and I see someone willing to keep my secret and weather it all patiently so that I'm safe. "We've waited long enough, huh? Where do I start?"

He sighs in relief. "Thank you! I wanna add you to a couple group chats and fill you in on everyone and stuff. We need your new phone number, since not all of us use the same social media."

"How long would you like to stay?"

"Oh! Well, I don't have anything going on– Wait." He grabs his phone and checks something. "Right, I don't have any plans today, but I also don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Nonsense! When has anyone ever gotten tired of Haruto Gima? So long as we clean any messes we may make, I see no issue with you staying as long as you please!"

"Trust me, nobody in their right MIND would object to spending more time with you, my dude!" Suna supports loudly.

"Ah, okay, okay!" He covers his cheeks bashfully and rocks back and forth a little in delight.

Suna claps at this. "I brought my handheld, and I have a new game I think you'd both like!"

We have a lovely time, and he leaves at around eight pm. Suna stays even longer, accidentally falling asleep on my couch. I go to the bathroom and notice the pair of hair shears. I've had my pigtails for so long. I sigh. I'm not some twelve-year-old anymore.

I chop them.

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

Monterio

For me, dancing has always been a little bit about tuning out the audience– while my partner seems to flourish under the attention and expectations, I find it a bit too distracting. This particular competition, though, is a little different. Though I try to keep my full focus on the music and Kana– her bright red hair, sunset orange dress, fresh scent that's so overwhelmingly familiar to me– I can't completely drown out three particular people in the crowd.

They look like an odd bunch. A dark-haired, oversized hoodie-wearing boy, cheeks slimmer now that he finally looks his age, stares like he can't take his eyes off us. Beside him, a girl who looks more like she should be up here than over there, in her puffy, short blue dress and holographic makeup, occasionally gets recognized as the lovely Fuji Foundations. Her blonde hair is half-up in two buns, and she looks a little otherworldly. She beams like she would absolutely screech if excessive cheering was allowed. Lastly, Minato, basically a smaller version of me, sits very still and feels the music through his vibrotactile set, which he hasn't even bothered trying to hide.

This was good timing. Chimon is on a week-long break from school, and his mom encouraged him to schedule college campus tours, so he eagerly asked if we would be available to hang out and show him around. We mainly go to a dance school, but each of us also take some classes at a nearby university, so we're happy to comply. Fujiko, who decided not to go to university and instead focus more on building up her brand, just as eagerly invited herself as soon as she caught wind of it. We worried that the competition might sap up some of our time with them, but they viewed it as an opportunity and decided to be our personal cheerleaders.

As Kana turns into my chest and prepares for a side dip, I notice her give me a mysterious, almost seductive look. She really has improved her expressions over time. She used to smile confidently whenever she thought we were doing well or saw someone we knew, even if the theme or style of the dance wouldn't benefit from it. Her performer's instinct is way sharper now. I let her lean into me as we slant, staring into her eyes as our faces get close enough to nearly brush together. I am a man trying desperately to keep a lover close, just for a few more moments. The part is effortless for me to play, because it's what I want. I'm capable of being without her and enjoying my alone time. But I never regret a moment I spend with her.

She flares out. I pull her back in once again, and then we end with a blackflip lift. It's supposed to be the hard part, but we make it look effortless, to the joy of our loved ones. We bow in a grandiose way before clambering up to meet them. Fujiko grasps each of our hands, squealing quietly. "OMG, how are you cuties so good at this?! It made my heart totes melt!"

"You're totally gonna win again," Chimon smirks.

"How can I say 'duh,' in a way that sounds like I'm actually good at sportsmanship?" Kana kids. I roll my eyes teasingly before giving my brother a side-hug.

"You're so in love," Minato signs, batting his eyelashes and pouting slightly. I nudge him.

"Who wouldn't fall in love with me?" Kana responds cheekily.

"That's fair. Fujiko did it," I say, both signing and speaking.

"That's cruel," Kana retorts jokingly.

"Ehh? What did I do?"

"You know what you did." Chimon gives a wicked grin. I'm sure he has next to no idea what we were talking about, but he's just a shit-stirrer and I've grown to love his mischief. Minato laughs, having read their lips.

"Seriously, what did I do?! This is totally bullying!" She says it with a flustered smile. The next dance starts up so we all quiet down. The rest of the performers are good; I try to pay attention to what they do well so we can improve. When I give Kana a glance, she's leaning forward and staring intently— doing the same thing as me. She starts giving a quiet play-by-play to the group, so that they understand exactly what we're seeing here. They seem to get really into it!

Eventually, it's time to announce the winners. To our delight, or maybe even relief, we win, so the two of us go to accept our prize. Kana is handed a microphone and she takes a deep breath; I cashed in some favors so that this could happen. I grasp onto her hand and she squeezes. "Hey, everyone! Weren't those some incredible routines?" Cheers resound from the audience. "Well, we've got some news! We're gonna host a super fantastic party! Some awesome dancers are gonna perform for you, and a couple of them will even teach you some tricks! At the end, we're going to unveil a secret..."

From there, it's a lot of logistics— the month, where to look for more information, stuff like that— and I look at the others. Mirroring Kana and me, Chimon, Fujiko, and Minato clutch each other's hands tightly. Unlike the rest of the audience, their expressions are serious. They know what this is. Beneath the veneer of a fun event, we're going to reveal our story: the true ending of Danganronpa. Even now, years later, I can still envision Kana's... um... dead avatar. Sometimes, if I focus really hard, I can remember the searing pain in my chest from an arrow. I had a lot of sympathy for the previous victims of Danganronpa, but now I actually know what it feels like. I wonder where Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko are. Will this... hurt them? Learning that we nearly revived this awful game? That they weren't the last people to suffer at Team Danganronpa's hands? Or will they be relieved to know that it's dead forever now?

I'm snapped out of my daze when Kana pulls me into the dressing room. We get changed back into casual clothes before leaving. Chimon jumps to give me a hug. "Good job. We're gonna be okay." I close my eyes and smile affectionately, nodding.

"Okay, crew! Time to head to my favorite coffee shop around here and meet my friend Michiko!" Kana announces.

"I'm so excited! I hope her marble is as cool as she says it is!"

"We already told her you're probably gonna haggle, and she seems flexible price-wise," I tell him. He stamps his feet in thrill, making Fujiko and Minato laugh.

We hop a bus and head off. I intend to treat my little brother, who sits beside me idly chatting about his school friends and the Deaf events he's been to recently. I'm proud of him for being so social– though he's always been more open with other Deaf people, he's usually pretty timid with anyone in his age range. When I give him my support, he basically chalks it up to, "Well, I can't rely on you forever. I'm practicing!"

"You're right that you shouldn't use me to avoid making friends, but you can still count on me whenever you need anything!" In response to this, he leans on my shoulder affectionately. "I love you."

"Same."

We make it to our destination and find Michiko waiting, having grabbed a table for us and slurping on a very decadent-looking frappuccino. Her loop braids and dainty makeup make her look especially feminine. She's wearing those macaron-shaped earrings that Kana loves but never bothers buying for herself. I give her a wave and we head into the line to order. I look over my shoulder and see that Fujiko's a couple paces behind, eyes wide. When she notices, she quickly catches up and digs her compact mirror out of her bag, blinking frantically.

I squint and think for a second. Ohhhhh... I tap Kana on the arm subtly, and she turns to me with a silent question. I try to signal out Fujiko and Michiko, and she smirks and winks. After ordering our drinks, we sit down. "Heyyyy! Good to see you! I think we need some introductions. Guys, this is Michiko Noda! Michiko, this is Minato Mukai, Monterio's little brother, Chimon Ueda, your potential buyer, and Fujiko Teruya, one of my very best friends."

Fujiko opens her mouth as if to start chatting, but Michiko beats her to the punch. "You look like a doll! So amazing!! Do you use a petticoat?"

She flusters with a smile. "U-Um, yeah. It helps with that princessey type look. You look totes adorbs, too! Where did you get those earrings?

"That one bakery where everyone roleplays... what's it called again? Sugar Rush?"

"Aww! My mom owns a bakery! Not that one, but still!"

As the two talk on like they've known each other for years, Chimon hides an impressed smile and Minato looks on in confusion; they're going too fast for him to read their lips well. He sets his notepad on the table and I write down: "Girl talk. They also might be flirting???" A hopeful look crosses his face.

Eventually, Michiko realizes she's been ignoring the rest of us, so she turns to Chimon. "Anyway. I've got the goods."

He leans in, chin resting on intertwined fingers. "Name your starting price."

...

Keiji

I'm very busy, but it's a different kind of busy than I grew up with, and it's kind of... wonderful. On my eighteenth birthday, my parents gave me workbooks, like usual. Joanie called, sang, sent me a card, and shipped a few books all wrapped up in cutesy paper. About a month after that, I submitted college applications, all in the US. Joanie and I live in a duplex together, and I haven't spoken to my parents in roughly a year. Our last interaction was vitriolic— I finally confronted them for treating me more like a promising employee than a son desperate for their approval. But it's alright; unlike most of my life, I have a support system now.

In regards to my busyness: I am pursuing a degree in Education. I am working as a cashier in a bookstore. I am continuing to apply for and participate in quiz shows. Joanie's trying to help me improve my creative writing— starting with creative nonfiction, so I'm journaling and writing a lot of non-academic essays. Sometimes, I play Esports or watch movies with some classmates whom I dare call friends. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I'm developing English subtitles for the footage Gou secured for us; it simply won't do for the American audience to lack understanding because we mostly spoke in Japanese during the simulation.

Joanie, meanwhile, has completed the script for her newest movie and is currently scribbling director's notes for when she heads back off to work tomorrow. The sickening story will be revealed after its premiere. She taps her pen on her desk a couple times before calling out to me. "Keij? Is everything ready for Wakumi?"

"I've got guest futons out and my noise-canceling headphones are in my room," I half-joke. She snickers. "Honestly, though, you know we've been crossing shit off the to-do list for a few weeks. Don't worry so much."

"I know you're right—"

"I'm always right." I'm kidding, but it elicits a smirk out of her.

"But you know Wakumi. No matter how much we think we've prepared for this, she's gonna come in and wreck all of our plans for the next month and a half."

"True. Frankly, I'm surprised she wanted to stay in one place for so long. With me, no less."

"Well. I mean, she's planning on being basically off the radar by the time we make our announcement, and I don't know how long she's gonna go radio silent for. I'm honestly just glad for the chance to see her before she vanishes."

I nod. "Regardless. Nothing we could do would save us from her chaos, so just try to take it easy and focus on your work." She takes a deep breath, adjusts her metallic gold top, and gets back to annotating. "Did you know that lobsters are bright blue roughly one in two million times? And European ones wind up darker than those in America."

"Damn, I never knew they had to specify Red Lobster. Always thought they could've just called it 'Lobster.' Guess I was wrong!" I laugh at her comment before returning my focus to my homework.

After a while, the doorbell rings. Joanie goes to get it and I hover about a pace back— out of punching range.

And staring back at us... a brown-haired, green-eyed petite girl with a brown tie-front shirt covered in water lilies. "What the fuck?" I ask before I can bite my tongue.

"Oh my God... Hachi?"

Unbothered by my outburst, she looks inside. "I'm hungry... Do you have any real food?"

"Aye, lassie, be grateful fer what we got on the ship. We reduce our rations so ye can eat when ye're with us." Hair shorn to a crew cut— that's new— and skin freckled wildly— that's not— Wakumi walks up, completely unrepentant as usual.

"Wakumi, what?" Joanie asks, bewildered.

"Why ye hangin' the jib like— ahhhh, right. Sorry lassie n' barnacle sucker, forgot ta mention 'er cause I didn't have 'er with me the last time I sent a letter. This wee one comes along on occasion— kinda an honorary member o' me crew."

"Since when?! Also, hi, Hachi. Sorry, we don't mean to be rude, we just weren't even remotely expecting to see you today. Much less have you stay over for a handful of weeks," I address her.

She doesn't look me straight in the eye, like usual, but she tilts her head to the side. "Pink looks nice on you. I'm gonna change." She pulls her suitcase into the duplex and looks around until she discovers the bathroom.

Wakumi, meanwhile, flings her bag and frock coat inside and hops onto the couch carelessly. Joanie and I look at each other wearily; we were expecting her to lay waste to our plans, but not literally within the first minute.

She lolls her head around to stare at us. "Figured it'd be best if she wasn't around the public when ye all drop the video. Gettin' recognized or villainized n' all that junk'd only make 'er go addle."

"Nice sentiment, bad phrasing," Joanie sighs. "Sort of like someone else I know," she teases, tossing her hand through my hair roughly.

"Ack! You know I hate that. I need to tidy it up again!" Wakumi gets that classic glint in her eye and approaches me. "No! You absolutely do not have permission to—" She noogies me, and if it weren't for the fact that she'd kick my ass, I'd sock her in the damn jaw.

We all freeze and my aggression drops once Hachi comes out. She looks much more like herself with a white romper and peach hyacinth flower crown than rolled-up cloth pants. "I missed the last few episodes of my show."

"We can stream them," Joanie confirms.

"Woah! Cool boots. They're Aika-like cause they got the cool wing decal. Can I please have food?" She sits cross-legged on the floor, and I bring her the mac n' cheese Joanie made earlier as well as a glass of apple juice. She makes an excited noise and slurps on it. I shift nervously as I fix my hair. "You always get so uncomfortable when I'm around." I flinch at her astuteness.

"Ah– um– it's nothing." I'm terrified of saying the wrong thing and hurting you, you moron! Everything I ever did made life worse for you! Joanie notices my anxiety and embraces me softly. I bury my head in her shoulder softly, feeling her body heat. Hugs used to be... really weird to me, but then I realized I grew up touch-starved. Wakumi rolls her eyes. I stick up the middle finger and Joanie, sensing what I'm doing, pushes my hand down. Wakumi, however, snickers and flips me off herself.

"Lassie, fight me!"

"Dammit. Then I guess these two need to go somewhere else for a bit. Move the coffee table, bitch." She laughs triumphantly, and Hachi and I, exiled, retreat to my bedroom. She notices my headphones and puts them on, continuing to eat. I sigh, sitting on my bed. I whip out my phone.

So what have you been up to lately? A lot of escapades with the pirates? I text, not wanting to shout.

yea, they're fun. Mum and I still doing therapy. Don't like leaving her alone but sailing is a good escape when the world is too much

School or no?

No. Maybe later. Botany ofc if I go back

Sure. Go at your own pace.

It's weird not having any direction. Kumi and I are the same that way right now.

She'd murder– I bite my tongue and delete that word. Too sensitive. She'd break your kneecaps if she knew you call her that.

Yea Ik its our secret, k?

*It's, Hachi.

Ik

I feel old remnants of my fiery temper kick in at her disregard for grammar and spelling when she knows full well the correct way to type, but I shove them down. And, anyway. Don't worry. You'll figure your life out eventually. Even if you never come up with a plan, that'll be okay, too. I felt super weird once I stopped being exactly what I was supposed to be, but it worked out alright, I think.

For several minutes, she types, deletes, retypes. These flowers were Gou's favorite. I have zero idea what to say to that, and I start to panic as she tears up. I nearly shout for help, but instead I rush to Joanie's room, grab the stuffed duck she keeps in her closet– a present from her dad, Marcus– and zip back, letting Hachi hold it. She squeezes it affectionately and hiccups.

I start talking instead of typing, and she peels back one side of the headphones to hear me. "Look. This is gonna suck. Most of the peace we have right now is gonna be gone once we tell the truth. But it's... the right choice. We're doing right by Gou. The world will finally stop turning a blind eye to people like you. I hope that makes your burden a little less heavy." She cries harder. FUCK!

The fighting noises cease, and the two of them come into my room, somewhat alarmed. "I tried my best!" I exclaim in horror.

"R-Relief tears!" she stumbles. Oh, dear Lord, it's a damn miracle.

"Mm. So I don't need ta skin 'im alive." Her tone isn't frightening. It just seems like she's tired. Not like I can blame her, after everything.

"C'mon, Wakumi. Eat dinner. Then you can sleep. I'm sure it was a long trip," Joanie instructs after a pump of inhaler.

"Ye ain't me mother." But despite the protest, she turns to go do as she's told. I hope... we can give these drifters some stability for a while. And I hope they find some small dream or another to latch onto.