[A/N] I wrote these several months ago and totally could've posted, but the first time I tried, it glitched out and did something weird, and then I forgot, so... sorry! Hope you enjoy anyway.

Azumi's Fear:

Yuu

I take a deep breath in and out for courage. "Remember, I am right here to soothe your troubles once this concludes." Azumi's posture is perfect and her face is composed. It's... exactly how she always wants to look. I've seen the little breaks in her facade by now though. And I've seen her when it falls apart completely. But I appreciate that she tries, just to keep me feeling... well, as good as I can possibly feel, given that I'm a murderer recovering from a psychotic break.

"Thank you." I give her a wave and head into the room. I sit down in my seat. Monokuma goes off on a tangent, but I somehow manage to tune him out entirely. I think he even gives me a slight pat on the face, but I shake it off. "Sorry. Just go ahead with it."

He scowls. "How dare you ignore my monologue, fledgling? Just for that, I'm gonna wish EXTRA hard that you get your own fear today!" But doesn't he always do that?

"It'll happen sooner or later. If it's today, at least the dread will be over."

"Hm. You bring up an interesting point. Welp! Let's see what happens!" He spins the wheel. "Number five!"

Hm. The nicest odd number. I like eight the most, though. While my idle thoughts protect me from feeling overwhelmed, they can't save me forever. The capsule closes and I wake up to shutter sounds and lights flashing in my face. A whole swarm of my relatives are around me, wading through this mob of people. It's claustrophobic; I'd assume it was Nari's fear if we didn't already know which one hers is. It's loud. Have to get home; can't stay in the shop forever. But can we really let these people know where we live?

"Yuu! Yuu Bando! What can you tell us about the alleged accident?" Microphones shoved in my face. A couple inches from my mouth. I get the sense that I seriously don't know what exactly happened. I can't answer them. I wouldn't want to even if I could. They're reaching for me and their hands feel larger than life. Their hot breaths. The sweat all over my body. The flash is blinding. I feel my heart start to clamber. Don't look at me! Don't talk to me! Huh. A lot of our fears involve being seen at a vulnerable moment, huh? "Do you know how this was buried for so long?"

I tilt my head down. While I do feel fear, I'm surprised to notice a similarly distinct, powerful feeling: hatred. I hate these reporters. Fucking sick vultures preying on the weak for entertainment. And that's all it is to them. Entertainment. How could anyone be so cruel? These feelings and thoughts aren't really mine; they're from whoever this fear belongs to. But their vitriol...

I try to keep a stiff upper lip. To not let them see how much they're bothering me. They don't deserve my tears, so don't cry. Keep it in. My lip quivers but I let no one see. Hm. Now isn't that fucking familiar? I feel the pulsing. The "it's all your fault," repeating in my head. Nobody ever told me it was my fault, but I know it was.

Time skips. I'm in my house, and the tv is going. "And now, an incident at Bando Shoe Creation and Repair that has been hidden for multiple years has come to light." The whole world is going to know. Imagine everyone on Earth, or at least everyone in the country, knowing you for something awful you caused. And what happened? My mom steers me out of the room, not even letting me see.

"It's all my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I promise." They're liars. After all this time trying to protect me, will they not even let me take the heat to try and save the rest of them from backlash? I can't see how the shoe store will recover from this— so many people are under the store's employ, and I've ruined their futures.

I don't want to leave the house. Paparazzi will find us. In this peaceful, boring world, an accident like this is like a grand feast after years of stale bread crumbs.

More time passes. I feel the loneliness and tension of locking myself inside. I feel the hypervigilance, the looking over my shoulder, once I finally do leave. I feel the sprouting shame when they find me. Stand tall, Yuu. Judgment, judgment, judgment. This fear isn't mine, but I feel the weight of judgment in my shaking hands and burning throat. The way you never know when someone's looking at you. My old paranoia. But whereas I probably would've done something stupid and drastic by now, I'm paralyzed by my own fear of giving them another reason to hate or look at me. Still, I feel bits of me shattering.

Everyone loses eventually. One day, the tears come out. A click. Bright lights. My breakdown immortalized forever. Congratulations.

And I wake up to the familiar nausea. I'm shaking. I let it happen, not saying a word but not trying to stifle it. I'm tired of stifling it, of laughing through it. I'm not some cool, above-it-all guy and I don't have the strength to pretend. "What? You're not gonna try and dunk on me or something? Your peers sure seem to be giving it their best shots. It's kind of adorable!"

"You don't get it, huh? Monokuma, it's not about you anymore. I'm not defying you. I'm defying my old self. You may have been making me miserable for the past few months, but I've been doing it to myself for years."

"Cute. Is your defiance enough to make them stop talking about your little rock-bottom doom spiral behind your back?"

The idea of Azumi secretly talking crap about me hurts so bad. But... "Whether it is or not, I can't let it swallow me anymore. Or else I'll never be able to make up for it."

I head out the door. Azumi is there. Stance flawless. Chin tilted up in projected confidence. Smile compassionate. And I don't quite understand, but I think it was hers. "Are you alright, dear?"

"I— I think I'm better than alright. Are you?"

The question seems to take her by surprise. She blinks. Then beams at me. "Indeed. Your resilience bolsters my spirits to grander heights."

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

Monterio's Fear

Wakumi

Bah. Just woke up from a nice ol' nap but now I got Monoinu shovin' me out the door. Guess it's me turn ta go in the godforsaken fear machine. I pop in and slam me foot on the table. "Aye, Monokuma. Yer worst fear in 'ere?"

"Pft. No. Why would I put my fear in here? This is all for my adorable, sweet little duckies."

"Ye're a goddamned lily-livered picaroon."

"Why, thank you!"

I roll me eyes. It ain't a compliment, and 'e knows it. "What is it, anyway? Yer worst fear. Bet I can make it come true."

"Happiness."

"Damn. Guess not. I ain't the type ta make people happy." I hop inta the damn pod. "Smartly 'n handsomely now. I ain't got all day."

"I could keep you here as long as I wanted! But! That would be boring!" He spins the wheel. "Looks like today you get number ten!"

"Mm." It's Monterio's. The wee laddie knew it on sight. I didn't really get ta the point o' understandin' the guy 'fore he went the way o' Maria Lindsey. The pod closes n' I close me eyes. I hear crickets. N' then a phone ringin'. Me ol' salt picks it up, n' I creep ta me bedroom door ta listen.

"What? What d'ya mean? What's 'e there fer? ...He said 'e'd be spendin' the night at a mate's house. He ain't no rapscallion or bilge rat. What d'ya take me fer? ...Aye. Aye. I'll be there." I hear footsteps toward me door and scramble back inta bed. "Wakumi. Wakumi, ye awake?"

"Aye."

"Akimitsu's been flogged n' taken by authorities. 'E's in their cells, n' they called me ta come pay 'is bail. Stay 'ere 'n don't make any sort o' racket. Don't need two o' me kids gettin' inta trouble tonight." Capp'n leaves.

Monterio cares way more 'bout this happenin' than I do. 'E's scared, n' shocked, n' ashamed. Like, "no, not 'im! Not me li'l brother!" The floggin' makes me wanna drag those bloated bilge-suckin' cops ta the execution dock, but the sense o' upset that 'e probably broke the law ain't an issue fer me personally. It's odd that half 'o me mind cares this deeply 'bout it when the other half can't give a rat's ass.

I wait, tryin' n' failin' ta fall asleep, n' then I hear the front door open. I get up n' head out ta see 'im. 'Is lip is busted and 'is eye is bruised n' swollen. 'E won't look at me. "Hurry up, then. Get in here." I gesture ta me room, n' 'e plods in behind me. I keep me voice low. "The fuck d'ye do n' why'd ye do it, laddie? Ye're usually a straight-laced kid." Well. As straight-laced as someone in me crew could be.

"Keelhauled some lad in me class. 'E looks worse than me, I swannee." 'E puffs 'is chest out like 'e's right proud o' 'imself. "N' I did it ta protect ye. People are STILL spreadin' rumors about ye, e'en after all this time. So I said to meself, dead men tell no tales, yeah? N' I beat him ta a pulp. Just like ye! But then the cops had ta get involved, n' I couldn't really get what they were meanin', n' they thought I was bein' 'insubordinate' or whate'er. So now I got this lo'ely shiner." O Gods, this is all me fault.

"It was ne'er yer responsibility ta avenge me, ye dolt! I just wanted ye ta be a good boy n' live happily! All the rumors n' shit, these are me own business n' ye shoulda stayed far away from it."

"But ye got them defendin' me honor. Ye made me business yers, so why am I not s'posed ta do the same?"

"Just...!" I dunno what ta say.

"Ye're a bloomin' hypocrite, y'know that? Why should we e'er have ta listen ta rules? The world is fuckin' unfair anyway. Ta ye, ta me. All this trouble just cause people are assholes 'bout the way I was born."

"This ain't the way ta help me! I didn't know the right way ta help ye back then." But now we're gonna be labeled a violent family. N' that's not 'im.

Interestin'. Long time ago, I noticed. Monterio was a bulky lad. But 'e wasn't a fighter. N' when 'e was forced ta fight, 'e ne'er fought ta win. Just ta subdue. Maybe there was a time when that wasn't how it worked. N' I feel regret clashin' against stubbornness. 'E wished 'e handled this past incident some other way. But 'e ain't TOO upset 'e did it. Finally, a feelin' o' 'is that I understand: justice.

Time skips n' more problems happen. Scraps turn ta other broken laws: shopliftin', drinkin' underage, smokin'. They hide 'im away n' make 'im go ta some other school; delinquency is seen as 'dangerous' ta our stupid peaceful world. The worse 'is reputation, the less 'e e'en bothers tryin' ta follow authority. E'eryone knows what happened ta 'im, but no one'll say. Me ol' salt n' me try gettin' 'im therapy, but nothin' comes o' it. We talk less n' less, in spite o' me best efforts, n' I feel like I'm losin' my grasp o' who 'e is. Where is that sweet kid? How did we lose 'im? How'd the world crush 'im? I miss 'im.

N' one day, 'e's old enough ta be fully culpable fer 'is actions. No more kiddy gloves. Serious jail time.

I was tryin'. I was really tryin' ta be a good influence n' a good older sister. Can't believe I let this happen to 'im.

Me stomach feels like I've had the biggest draught o' me life. N' me face... I'm fuckin' cryin'?! Goddammit, Monterio, such a sentimental li'l monster! I scrub the tears away smartly as I can. I glower at Monokuma, darin' 'im ta say anythin'. When 'e does, 'e sounds far less bombastic than Monokuma usually does. It's straightforward. Matter-o'-fact. "You don't understand them, do you? These rule-sticklers. That's fine. Why should you be the one to change? It's the world that oughta."

Part o' me gets that 'e's just sayin' whate'er will push me away from the rest o' the group. Most o' me doesn't care.