When Tristan woke up, the first thing he wondered was whether or not he'd told Dana about his peanut allergy. Maybe there'd been peanuts in his drink somehow (which would be really weird but he didn't know his drinks very well), and that's why he knocked out like that. It sure felt like his throat closed up and he couldn't breathe for a moment back there. Maybe someone had found his Epipen on him and... oh wait. He'd been too embarrassed to bring it with him to Hope's Peak. How could he look his classmates in the eyes and explain the Ultimate Street Fighter could be taken down by a fucking nut?

The first thing he saw once his eyes adjusted back to the light of the room was Stolas standing over him. So the combat specialist had saved his life-

"He's dead," Stolas announced.

Tristan blinked. What the hell was this guy on about?

"I'm alive, dumbass," he snapped, but he was ignored.

Suddenly, chaos ensued, and then that stupid dragon's voice announced something about a body. None of which Tristan understood.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP! I'M NOT DEAD!" he roared. He was still ignored.

Now very pissed, Tristan went to get to his feet, and when he looked down, he had to do a double-take.

He was looking down at his own body. In fact, his hands looked a little transparent... what the fuck. Had his peanut allergy really taken him out? What a dumb way to die. God, when everyone found out, he was going to be a laughing stock even in death.

He felt something buzz in his pocket and removed it, recognizing it to be his student handbook. And displayed on it was his name, talent, and time and cause of death. Great, now they'd all know that he died to...

Poison.

...Poison?

Tristan blinked, trying to process what was going on. Was Monokumace trying to be nice about his death?

That's what he thought while another stupid chess board was uncovered. And that's what he thought up until a dark smear was discovered in the bottom of his cup. His mind immediately went to the barista, Dana, at the sight. Had that bitch killed him? Why?

He could feel the rage building up inside him the more he watched everyone.  It was impossible to tell who was responsible for his murder, and that just made him angrier.  Whoever did it was going to pay, even if he couldn't make them do so himself.

If there was anything that could possibly piss Tristan off more, it was finding out that he had a fucking memorial portrait at the podium he'd been meant to stand at.  Setting his jaw, he grumpily phased through the portrait and stood behind his podium.  Given he had no choice but to listen, he begrudgingly did just that.  But the more he listened to the discussion, the more he began to understand his death.  The culprit used poisonous berries.  They did it in broad daylight.  And Tristan wasn't the specific target, he was just unlucky.

"Just get to the damn point!" he practically yelled at that cyan-haired chick leading the group through what had happened.  What was her name again?  Oh well, didn't really matter to him.

"And that person is you, Ultimate Wilderness Survivalist Rori Andrade!"

At the name, Tristan's gaze scanned the room.  Which one was that, again?  Clearly wasn't the skinny blonde kid with the flute, and definitely wasn't the goth kid with the long hair... His eyes locked on a brunette in a vest with a fur-lined hood.  Yeah, that was the guy.  But really?  He had the balls to pull whatever that was back at the dinner party? 

The dark stains in the guy's pocket said otherwise.  And then he confessed.  Tristan set his jaw.  So that bitch did take him out.  He watched as Rori was dragged away into some room, and decided to watch the video monitor as it displayed the survivalist stranded on a cliff.  A part of him felt pity as the brunette began to scale a tree made entirely of needles, and the pained look on his face certainly didn't make it any better.  But Tristan really understood how fucked up it was when Rori fell from the tree when freedom was right within reach, definitely breaking almost all the bones in his body in the process, and then disappearing from view as the cliff collapsed.  If he wasn't so used to brutality on the streets, Tristan would've been appalled by what he'd seen.  Well, the one good thing was that this meant his spirit could finally rest easy now it was avenged, meaning-

"Tristan?"

He had to do a double-take.  Who'd said that?  Certainly someone was just talking about him, and-

"Tristan?" And there it was again.  Damn, he didn't realize that the class felt so strongly about his death.

He turned around to leave and stopped dead in his tracks.  Emerging from the room he'd been dragged into was Rori.  But nobody seemed to notice him as he did so.  And on top of that, he was looking right at Tristan.  Now that he thought about it, the survivalist did look a little transparent...

The two stared at each other for a long time, unblinking.  Neither knew what to say.  It was like they were seeing ghosts.  Finally, Tristan narrowed his eyes as he processed the situation.

"If we weren't dead right now, I'd wring your neck like a towel for that shit you pulled."

Rori's shoulders slumped. "I know.  I... it was a terrible thing to do, and I'm sorry.  I don't expect forgiveness in the slightest, but I want you to know that I felt guilty from the second I poisoned your mug."

He then paused, piecing together Tristan's words. "Wait, so we're actually dead?  This isn't a dream?"

Tristan snorted. "Nope."

"...this is so weird."

Tristan approached the survivalist and reached out to poke his shoulder.  His finger did not, in fact, phase through.  This meant ghosts could touch each other.

"I ought to snap your neck right here like a twig," he grunted.

"T-that's true, but not the idea situation," Rori winced.

Tristan sighed.  As much as he wanted to do to this bitch what had been done to him...

"I'd kill you, but it'd kill me if I were alone here."

Rori looked up, his amber eyes surprised. "Really?"

"This doesn't mean we're friends." Tristan held up a finger to stop the survivalist from making the damn assumption. "We're not anything.  If I didn't think I'd go crazy from loneliness, I'd have kicked your ass into the next life by now.  But I ain't dumb, so I know better than to act on blind rage all the time."

Rori relaxed slightly. "...glad to hear that."

"...'course, if I do act on blind rage, you better stay light on those feet of yours, berry boy."

"So I'm berry boy now?"

"Y'got a problem with that?" Tristan raised an eyebrow.

Rori shook his head quickly. "It works."

They stood there for a long moment before Rori's attention shifted over to the elevator. "We should go, before it leaves without us."

He was right; the class was now silently cramming back into the elevator, and Tristan had no idea if they as ghosts would be able to access it on their own once it was gone.  The two entered the elevator just as the doors shut, uncomfortably trying to find a way to not be stuck half-phased through any of their classmates.

"This... is really weird," Rori commented as he pulled his arm away from where it had just phased through the biologist guy in the red blazer.

"No shit," Tristan grumbled, crossing his arms and trying to make himself smaller.  Of course, being six-foot-three and built like a tank, his efforts were futile.

"So, what do we do now?" the brunette asked once they were finally able to leave the elevator.

"I dunno.  Looks like we ain't going anywhere any time soon."

He turned to look at Rori, whose gaze was elsewhere.  He definitely wasn't one who knew facial expressions well, but he knew something was off.

"You good, kid?" he offered.

Rori frowned. "...I just feel guilty.  For killing you and all that."

"Oh yeah, I still hate your guts," Tristan said nonchalantly. "But I ain't gonna be that angry about it right now.  For once in my life, I'm just gonna try and move on, 'kay?"

The survivalist looked surprised. "I... really thought you'd hold a grudge."

"Oh, I definitely do, no doubt about that.  But I'm tryin' something new instead of resortin' to violence."

"...just... tell me first if you change your mind, okay?"

"...I'll think 'bout it."

***

(1398 words)

Tristan learns self control and Rori gets to live (in the afterlife) another day.