Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kazutoshi woke up slowly. He could hear things around him: groans and voices, and the unsure shuffling of people getting to their feet. Kazutoshi felt disoriented, trying to remember what had happened. He had been… cold. And drowsy. It had felt like a switch had flicked; one moment, he had been fine, and the next, he could barely keep his eyes open. He had found his key in the kitchen and wanted to clean himself up in his own dorm. Then it was just blank.

“Airi! Keizou!”

“H-Hitomi?!”

“Manami!”

“Mai!”

Kazutoshi winced at the loud sounds of panicked and confused voices.

More voices began to fill the room, their tones confused, happy, scared, angry, and disoriented, filling the space. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what was going on, but Kazutoshi felt like he was adrift, like his head might as well be absent with how useless it was being.

A switch was flicked, and Kazutoshi winced, even if his eyes were already closed, at the sudden onslaught of light. One voice rose above the rest, calm but with a scared and confused tension woven throughout the tone. The arguing, and yes, it was arguing now that Kazutoshi was gaining his awareness back slowly but surely, rose in volume. Some people shouted at the owner of the calm voice, while others seemed to argue amongst themselves.

Finally, Kazutoshi opened his eyes. He looked around, noting that he was in the laundry room. Too many people were present, his brain was telling him, but Kazutoshi was still too out of it to figure out why that was a problem. He saw a terrified-looking Hama staring somewhere else in the room, his eyes darting back and forth between two spots, seemingly speechless. Hiroaki was on his feet, arguing with someone, with Ojima at his side, who looked like he was fighting to stay present. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head as well to shake the disoriented feeling that felt so different than usual for some reason.

“...Kazu—... Kazutoshi…?” That quiet and tentative voice, soaked in so many emotions that Kazutoshi wasn’t even going to try to parse through them, froze him. The crime scene cleaner turned slowly, memories—a chair and tied wrists, so many dribbling stab wounds, the wordless and blood-soaked screams ripping from his tongueless and gaping mouth—flooding back to him. 

He felt lightheaded, a familiar feeling and one that Kazutoshi never thought he’d be thankful for. Wide light brown eyes—eyes Kazutoshi thought he would never get to see again, eyes Kazutoshi had prayed to be allowed to see just one last time—stared back at Kazutoshi. A lip quivered, relief shone through those brown eyes, and Kazutoshi could see the breath hitching in the other’s throat.

Silence created a bubble around the two of them; the loud cacophony of the others was drowned out in that brief moment between the two of them that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Kazutoshi found his voice finally, raspy in a way he didn’t want to think about, as he whispered out a single word.

“...Ken…?”

In a flash, Ken was on top of him, frantic hands hovering across every inch of his body as Ken swept his eyes across Kazutoshi, cataloguing every detail he could, like he couldn’t believe the crime scene cleaner was alive. Kazutoshi couldn’t believe it either. He didn’t care. He could see tears pooling in Ken’s eyes. The taller boy’s mouth opened and closed over and over. Tiny, heart-wrenching, half-whimpery-like sounds escaped Ken, as if he wanted to say something, like he wanted to cry, but simply was unable.

Even in his frantic state, Ken was still so gentle, so tentative in respecting the boundaries Kazutoshi had put up, and Kazutoshi hated it. Hated the pure, unrestrained relief that pooled in Ken’s eyes and the hesitant hands that didn’t show the same feeling out of—respect? Fear? The terror that maybe this wasn’t real?

Fuck. That.

A hitched breath. 

A surprised gasp.

Kazutoshi flung his arms around Ken. The movement knocked the brunette back, making him fall on his ass with Kazutoshi clinging desperately to him. Barely a second passed before Ken wrapped his arms around him. Ken let his tears fall, his quiet cries filling the minuscule space between them. Kazutoshi pressed his lips together tightly, unwilling to let a single sound out in fear that he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Time passed—Kazutoshi didn’t know how long—but time passed, and slowly but surely everyone made their way to the dining room. It was weird. Kazutoshi had investigated both Isono’s and Chiba’s bodies, he had watched Sasaki and Harada get executed, and now they were all here. All sixteen of them reunited again. The question was how.

“Alright, I-I think we’re all a bit… confused right now.” Sasaki started after several minutes, shaken but still seamlessly sliding back into the leader role that no one else either wanted or felt up to stepping into.

Hiroaki, because of course it was Hiroaki, jolted at the words and stood up from his chair. “Confused?! Did you seriously say confused?! You fucking died, Hitomi! How the fuck are you alive?! How are any of you alive?!” His gaze slid across everybody sitting around the dining room table frantically.

“At the very least, some of you should have stayed dead.” Yanagi’s familiar quiet and enraged voice slid across his ears. Kazutoshi turned to look at him, expecting his eyes to be on Okazaki, who was standing next to the entrance to the kitchen, as far away from everyone else as possible. Instead, the figure skater was glaring hatefully just to the right of Kazutoshi. He was glaring at Ken.

Before Kazutoshi could question what the fuck his problem was, Mai intervened. “If you don’t have anything useful to add, then shut up. We should figure out what the hell is going on instead of arguing.”

“Like hell!” Hiroaki shouted indignantly. “We should lock the two maniacs up first before anything else!”

The arguing increased. Kazutoshi and most of the others were lost. Everyone had different amounts of information and were arguing and shouting about what was relevant at that moment, then and there.

Ken was silent by his side. Since their reunion in the laundry room, Ken hadn’t let go of Kazutoshi, keeping a hand on his shoulder or the back of his hoodie as they had moved. In the dining room, that hand had landed on his thigh, just slightly above his knee. His hand just lay there, shaking slightly, and intermittently flexing in the material of his jeans before relaxing once more. 

He was… oddly calm, though. Still the same anxious and jittery Hasegawa of before, but something had changed about Ken. He was calmer—the easiest way to put it, at least—now. He was more sure of himself as he sat quietly at the dining room table. When Kazutoshi looked at him, he would see this, not a put-together look, but rather one that was just a degree away from being detached, like he didn’t care anymore. But then, Ken would look at him, with his big brown eyes, and that familiar and comforting, tentative smile would cross his face. Kazutoshi pushed all his worries to the back of his mind when the other boy flashed that smile at him. For the time being, at least.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

That monotone voice broke the cacophony of arguing voices. Everyone stopped and turned. Kazutoshi turned as well, seeing Monomoko, completely black now with these creepy red eyes.

“Thank you for your silence.” Monomoko began. “As I am sure you can already tell, you have been transported to the start of the game; how and why is not something you need to concern yourselves with. All you need to know is that the conditions for escape are the same. The school rules also remain in effect, with some minor adjustments.”

“Adjustments like what?” Hiroaki interrupted.

“...If you would wait, I would be able to tell you.” Against his better judgment, Kazutoshi let out a small breath of amusement. The rabbit could be funny sometimes—if you ignored the whole killing game and… stuff. “The adjusted rules are as follows: All floors of the school are now open for use by the entire student body. Motivations and limitations must be followed until the next body discovery announcement is made. And, Body discovery announcements will henceforth be managed on a case-by-case basis for fairer trial conditions. Certain rules were also added or adjusted during the previous game. For a fairer experience, I will go over them now as well: In the case of a second or more bodies being discovered during an investigation period, only the first body discovered will result in a trial, and the second killer is, therefore, ineligible for either escape or execution. In the case of a suicide, the blackened and victim are considered one and the same. In the case of a setup, the person responsible for putting in motion the events of a killing will be considered the blackened for the trial. Adjustments are constantly being made, but, for the time being, these are the new rules that shall apply to you during your time here.”

It was a lot of information to take in all at once. Monomoko disappeared in the blink of an eye before anyone had the chance to ask more questions. Another ruckus erupted in the wake of the rabbit’s information drop. Kazutoshi rubbed at his head, a headache forming from all the needless arguing that was going on from all the usual suspects.

“Alright! That’s enough!” Sasaki’s loud yell echoed around the dining room. She cleared her throat, taking a breath as all eyes in the room turned towards her. “There’s no point in arguing about how we’ve all ended up here. The rabbit won’t tell us, and we don’t have enough information right now even to bother debating it.”

Hama frowned, a doubtful and unimpressed expression on his face. “So we should just accept that time travel’s a thing?”

“Until we get more information? Yes.” The student council president swept her eyes across the room, and all their peers gathered around the table or scattered throughout the room. She took another deep breath, adjusting her glasses nervously. “Putting aside the whys and hows of the killing game, what information do we have? Are there any other viable escape routes we could use?”

“We never found anything that looked like an escape route. There’s a garden on the top floor, but nothing that looked like an exit.” Mai surmised bluntly.

Hiroaki scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “There is also the fact that we’re underground.”

“Underground?” Sasaki questioned, looking at the rich boy for clarification beyond his snarky comment.

“That’s what I said. The entire school is built underground.” Kazutoshi couldn’t see his eyes, but he got the distinct impression that the other boy was rolling his eyes. “We found that out after Watari started a fire and nearly got us all killed.”

Kazutoshi’s eyes widened, surprised that the chipper girl had done something so dangerous. However, it made a bit of sense; she was a fire dancer after all. 

Watari flinched at Hiroaki’s comment, looking down at her lap in shame. Hama looked at her, but his eyes quickly snapped away. The giant of a man looked a second away from crying. His arms trembled, likely flexing his hands into fists as he stared down into his lap.

“Nakamigawa.” Ojima’s familiar reprimanding voice sounded like a whip in the stagnant air. “That’s not relevant right now.”

“How is it not relevant?!” Hiroaki rebuked. “We’ve got five murderers in the room with us right now! That should be the first thing we discuss if anything!”

Ken tensed beside him. Kazutoshi shot him a curious look as the hand on his jeans curled. If it had been anyone else, Kazutoshi would have flinched at the dark look on Ken’s face. It was Ken, however, so his ‘dark look’ was rather… abstract was probably the most apt way to describe it. 

Ken was definitely angry about something—Kazutoshi really didn’t want to think about why his friend was suddenly so angry after Hiroaki’s words—but his face wasn’t twisted in fury. Instead, it was painfully blank. His mouth twitched just slightly, as if he was trying hard not to work his jaw.

“‘Murderer’ is a bit of a stretch for like half of them.” Mai interrupted Hiroaki. “We all agreed that Harada’s sentence was unfair, and Watari essentially committed suicide.” The bounty hunter shot a brief look in the other girl’s direction, a softness in her eyes that contradicted her harsh words. “Even Sasaki killed under duress. She was just unlucky enough to be the first person to break under the conditions we were under. She could’ve been any one of us.”

Said girl shifted uncomfortably where she stood at the head of the table. She swallowed nervously. Like many of the others, her eyes, noticeably, didn’t drift to certain parts of the room.

“Whatever.” With his usual dismissive tone when he knew he was losing, Hiroaki conceded as much as he ever would. “Those three aren’t murderers, but the other two certainly are. They planned everything they did. That’s premeditation, right?”

“‘Other two’?” Airi quietly asked. A glance at the actress and Kazutoshi could see the worry in her brow and in the way she clung to Hama’s arm.

Sasaki jumped back into the conversation, her confidence, or her mask, back in place. “If you’re telling the truth and someone planned a murder, the entire group deserves to know.”

Mai and several others glanced at each other, all kinds of silent conversations going on. Kazutoshi took a peek at the other end of the room from Sasaki, by the entrance to the kitchen, where Okazaki stood eerily still. That mask was still in place, the same mask that had been the last thing Kazutoshi had ever seen. A shiver ran up his spine, and Kazutsohi got the distinct feeling Okazaki’s eyes were on him. He looked away in a rush.

Ken was tense beside him. His hand had curled in on itself where it rested on Kazutoshi’s leg. Kazutoshi shot a look at his friend, but Ken didn’t seem to notice.

“Hayashi.” Sasaki’s voice had become stern, unbending steel in her tone. “I’m sure you can see the importance of the group knowing the identities of actual murderers we’re trapped in here with.” She may have been only a student council president, but Sasaki certainly knew how to command a room and people. Mai stared back at the girl, her expression unreadable, before she gave a single, decisive nod.

“You’re right.” The bounty hunter’s gaze fell on the opposite end of the room, on a certain masked member of their group. “Okazaki murdered Kazutoshi and Tsuno, and I… don’t actually know who the other one is, to be honest.”

Yanagi’s growl filled the brief silence. “Hasegawa.” Kazutoshi’s eyes flicked to the blond. The figure skater’s rage-filled blue eyes were fixed on Ken like he was trying to kill the tall brunette with his mind, or just thinking about it really, really hard. “Hasegawa killed you.”

Silence fell upon the group. Shock was clear on nearly everyone’s faces. The group shot wide-eyed glances at Ken, looking at him as if he were an alien, some strange thing they didn’t understand or comprehend.

Ken didn’t say anything in his own defence. The silence was deafening. Yanagi’s breathing was heavy, wrath laced with every breath in and every breath out. Ken had gone eerily still next to Kazutoshi. He hadn’t been moving much before, but now he was as still as a corpse.

A snort of laughter broke the brief silence. Kazutoshi laughed a bit more, rolling his eyes as he looked at the furious Yanagi opposite him. “Funny, dude. But, have you met K- Hasegawa?”

“He’s telling the truth, Toshi,” Rui said, speaking up for the first time since the meeting started. Her eyes held enough pity to make Kazutoshi puke. He didn’t need that from her. He didn’t need pity from any of them, much less now of all times. Yanagi had just snapped and was making shit up.

Kamimura whirled on her, the gymnast flinching at the look he shot her. “Shut up!” the crime scene cleaner exclaimed, shooting up from his seat so fast that he could already feel his heart beating faster. He glared at the two blonds, daring them to utter another word against Ken. 

He should have known to glare at Hiroaki, too.

Another chair scraping against the floor dragged Kazutoshi’s attention away from the blond athletes. Hiroaki stared back at him, acting like his usual superior self, as if he was so much better than all of them because he had a little money to throw around—as if all of them didn’t know he only used that money as a way to fill in the gaps of his lonely, lonely, so very lonely life. “Stop throwing a tantrum. Your friend is a psycho and needs to be locked up.” Kazutoshi’s glare at the fashion designer intensified, raring up to shoot back some scathing comment at the insecure bastard. Ken’s quiet voice stopped him.

A hand pulled at the hem of his hoodie. When he looked down, Ken’s big, stupid, light brown eyes stared up at him, all soft in ways that made Kazutoshi want to run. “Kazutoshi, please…” Ken pleaded, staring imploringly up at Kazutoshi with his big, stupid brown eyes.

“Tell them they’re wrong.” He demanded, matching his friend’s stare with his own defiance.

Ken’s fingers twitched. His fingers twitched, and his eyes flicked sideways as he looked across the rest of the group, something dark filling them as he looked at their peers. That dark look disappeared, though, when he looked back at Kazutoshi. Kazutoshi swallowed as the silence dragged on.

He looked so sad, Kazutsohi couldn’t help but think. No one said a word. Or maybe they did, and Kazutoshi was just too wrapped up in staring down at Ken’s big, stupid brown eyes.

Doubt started to creep in the longer Ken stayed silent. “Hasegawa, tell them they’re wrong.”

The silence persisted. Seconds dragged on like they were hours on the most boring day of the year. The two of them stayed like that, simply staring at one another. It was like the world was holding its breath for Ken’s answer.

Sometimes, Kazutoshi wondered, for just a moment, if the world hated him. A feeble body, dead parents, no friends, failed at education and at killing himself. Were Kazutoshi a more poetic person, he would perhaps describe his life up until that point as a tapestry of tragedies. And now, Kazutoshi had to stare down at one of the few people he could call a friend, one of the very few people he had ever confided in, and had to see the hesitance to answer what should have been a simple request. Ken—brilliant, soft and kind Ken—wasn’t saying anything when he was being accused of murder.

“K-Ken…” Kazutoshi began, his voice so soft he almost believed he hadn’t said anything at all. Only the way Ken’s attention shifted to focus entirely on him clued him in that he had actually opened his mouth. “Ken, tell me they’re wrong.”

Ken took a breath, his eyes closing as he bowed his head like he was apologising. Which didn’t make any sense to Kazutoshi since Ken was obviously about to tell him that Yanagi, Ruiko and Hiroaki were all just lying. Ken wouldn’t kill anyone. He was so kind and smart. The others were just spiteful, that's all.

Quiet words were mumbled in the space between them. Kazutoshi moved closer, his hands hovering awkwardly above Ken’s shoulders. “Ken?” A sigh, and Ken lifted his head.

He looked so small like that, Kazutoshi thought, all sorrowful and guilty as if he had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. A murder cookie jar. Maybe that wasn’t the best comparison, but considering what he was being accused of, Ken’s expression really didn’t match up. He honestly looked more upset at being caught.

Another sigh, and Ken shot a look in Yanagi’s direction. The blond man puffed up in response, ready to launch an attack, but Mai placed a hand in front of him. Ken looked away and back up at Kazutoshi, who still stood above him. “I… I-I can’t Toshi…”

“…I did it…”

His voice was so quiet, so lifeless and empty. His big, stupid, light brown eyes looked at him, begging for forgiveness for his confession. Ken had just confessed to murder. Why would he do that? He wouldn’t do that, obviously. They were lying, all of them lying just to make a fool out of him, Kazutoshi mindlessly thought.

Blood rushed in Kazutoshi’s ears, his breathing becoming harder. He stepped back, stumbling a step and losing his balance. His hand shot out, but just missed the table to lean on for support.

Before his ass could hit the ground, before he could fall for more than a few centimetres, a hand wrapped around his waist. Another arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a firm body as someone buried their face in his hair. Kazutoshi struggled against the hold, pushing against the familiar suit jacket. 

Pushing against the firm chest—had Ken’s chest always been so firm?—resulted in the arms around him tightening. Kazutoshi pushed, and Ken pulled. Apologies were whispered into his hair, quiet and damning, begging for Kazutoshi to forgive him. 

Kazutoshi couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle this. How could Ken do that? How could Ken, sweet, nervous, gentle Ken, kill someone? Kill Mai of all people? His eyes stung, tears threatening to fall. Frustration bubbled up inside of him, anger rising alongside it. How could Ken have done that?

Kazutoshi pushed firmly again, thumping his fists against the taller teen’s chest when he didn’t let go immediately. Reluctantly, Ken relented. Brown eyes fixed on Kazutoshi, as if he would disappear now that Ken no longer had a physical connection to him in some way. Ken’s hands clenched and unclenched, twitching like he wanted to reach out but was restraining himself.

Kazutoshi put some space between them. A single step. Ken looked at him like he had put a mile between them. It was painful. Kazutoshi wanted to be close to Ken right now, wanted the comfort Ken provided by simply being around. Instead, Ken was causing him pain now. Kazutoshi needed comfort because of something Ken had done.

“See! He’s completely psycho! He just admitted it!” Hiroaki crowed loudly. Kazutoshi couldn’t be bothered to turn to look at him. Ojima’s quiet scolding tone followed Hiroaki’s words quickly.

The dining room was quiet for a moment. A brief, tense moment. “W-what do we do-do with them?” Wada quietly asked the room at large.

Hiroaki, again, chimed in with his usual condescending tone. “We lock Ogasaka and Hasakawa up, obviously.”

Kazutoshi felt his hackles rise at the mere thought of Ken being locked away in some room. The brunette was still looking at him with big, wet eyes. He seemed utterly unaware of what the others were saying. Perhaps he didn’t care.

The conversation about what to do with their two classmates was interrupted by an airy chuckle. The room stilled instantly. Every eye turned, training on the coat-clad, masked girl by the kitchen.

Okazaki’s shoulders rose and fell with light, airy laughter. A hand came up to cover where her mouth would be if her mask were out of the way. “And where will you put us? In the AV room? There isn’t enough room for both me and Hasegawa.” Her head tilted, mask trained on the mouthy fashion designer. “And what of our conditions?”

“You think we should look after you two psychos?” Mocking laughter followed, Hiroaki sounding shocked at Okazaki’s words.

Whatever Okazaki had been getting at, Mai caught on quickly enough. The bounty hunter cursed, drawing the eyes of the room to her as she glared over at Okazaki. “We would have to look after them.”

“Ding, ding, ding~” Okazaki mockingly cooed, lifting the bottom of her mask up just enough to give them a toothy and vicious grin. “Not just muscle, are you, Hayashi? So glad someone other than Ken has their synapsis firing in this place.” Everyone else just seemed confused, looking back and forth between Mai and Okazaki.

“What do you mean, Mai?” Yanagi questioned. Mai ground her teeth, her glare fixed on Okazaki like she could will the other dead. Mai wasn’t the one who answered, though. 

It was Ken.

“If you let us die, a trial would commence. Monomoko said it herself, the body announcements are being handled differently now. I doubt you’ll lock us up together, but even knowing our rotting corpses are behind a door might be enough to trigger an announcement now.” Ken surmised, his voice smooth and dull. His eyes didn’t leave Kazutoshi even as he addressed the entire room. He looked empty, like a husk instead of a person with a beating heart. “Then, you would have to work through who, exactly, was responsible for our deaths. Would it be Hiroaki, as it was his idea? Or maybe whoever locks us in our hypothetical cells? We know that if you commit suicide, you are counted as both killer and victim, but what counts as suicide in this game? It's a gamble that isn’t worth it with how little information you all have.”

Kazutoshi couldn’t wrap his head around the person Ken had become. What had the other teen gone through to end up a murderer and so apathetic? He seemed so lifeless now. His brown eyes were so dull even as he explained why it’d be a bad idea to lock him up in case he died. Kazutoshi wanted to reach out, shake Ken’s shoulders, and ask him why he was acting like this, why he seemed to care about nothing anymore. It scared him.

Ken was looking off to the side. Every now and then, his eyes would dart back to Kazutoshi. The others looked at him, varying levels of shock or disgust on their faces as they took in Ken’s words. 

Okazaki laughed.

“So we just—” Ruiko began, stalling her words like they pained her. “—let them walk around?”

The majority of the group didn’t seem to like that answer. No one could come up with a decent alternative, though. It was either let them walk around or keep both of them under constant watch to make sure they didn’t die. Kazutoshi didn’t trust that this group would be able to keep up the surveillance for more than a day.

Laughter dragged Kazutoshi’s eyes away from Ken. Okazaki seemed giddy, her mask still lifted just enough to display her toothy grin. A shiver ran up his spine. Kazutoshi dragged his eyes away from her and back to Ken.

Already, this apparent redo was turning into a headache.

Chapter Text

The whole world can become the enemy when you lose what you love—a quote by Kristina McMorris. Ken read the quote once when looking up American literature. It seemed rather apt for how Ken has felt since that trial.

He had been alone after Kazutoshi died. Two days straight, he had stayed in his room, wallowing in despair and curled up in the sheets the two of them had shared the night before that dreadful day. If he concentrated enough, Ken could almost smell Kazutoshi on those sheets. It was most likely a delusion.

No one cared after Kazutoshi died. Ken had to be the one to clean up the art supply room. Hayashi had at least been useful enough to put Kazutoshi’s body in one of the cold lockers. Still, nobody cared enough to clean up the blood—nobody cared until Ojima saw Ken cleaning the scene, and then suddenly it was a problem.

Credit where credit was due, Hama and Watari at least came to check on him. But they didn’t care about Kazutoshi. They just wanted to make sure Ken hadn’t done anything to himself. The thought made him laugh, honestly. Hasegawa Ken was too much of a coward for that.

Ken was useless. He had been since the first week, when he let Isono die after she had asked him to protect her. His only friend followed the internet idol barely two weeks after. Then he had been left with only those selfish boys and girls—as if any of them could have gone home at that point.

A part of Ken, a deep, dark, secret part that he hid from, almost wished he had dragged his plan out for a while. In retrospect, it could have helped with the way his trial had played out. He should have gone for a more psychological impact on the others, sowed discord among them, so that even that damn rabbit’s intervention couldn’t have saved them. In reality, Ken knew that his desire was born out of malice. Not healthy, but whatever.

Either way, it no longer mattered. The game had been reset. Perhaps, had only he been reset to before Watari’s death, Ken would have enacted his plan earlier. He knew what buttons to push, and there would have been even less linking him to everything. It was quite tempting.

But they were all at the beginning of the game once more. Woke up in the laundry room and everything. All sixteen of them were back at the beginning of this torturous month, with all their memories intact.

 Kazutoshi was back. That was all Ken cared about in the end.

Kazutoshi wanted nothing to do with him anymore, though. He found out what Ken had done, what he had become, after he had been murdered. Rose-gold eyes, practically engulfed in fear and anger, stared at him whenever Ken closed his eyes. Was it worth it, in the end, if Kazutoshi didn’t forgive him?

Ken found himself in the art room. He stood in the doorway to the supply room, just staring. The others had all broken off after the meeting, many of them scattering to explore the parts of the building they hadn’t gotten to see the first time around. Ken had wandered. Aimlessly, he had, at some point, ended up in the art room.

Bland walls. Basic supplies. Clean floor. 

Ken blinked, and a chair appeared, a headless body tied to it tauntingly, while blood and viscera covered the floor.

Another blink, and it was gone.

Taking a step into the room, Ken made a lap around the edges, tracing his fingers along the shelves and walls. He hadn’t spent a lot of time in this room. The longest had probably been when he’d cleaned up Kazutoshi’s blood. It was odd, probably, how calm he was in here. Maybe he wasn’t calm, though, maybe he just didn’t care anymore. It was difficult to tell.

He stopped in the middle of the room. A step in front of where the chair would have been. Where Kazutoshi’s body had been. His mind raced, and yet Ken wouldn’t be able to tell you what he was thinking in those minutes that passed.

The world had stopped turning in this room. The world had become his enemy there. Ken had become a truly useless person in the art room. It didn’t matter now, anyway, because the rabbit and the people running this game had decided they needed a redo.

Would it be worth it to try and squeeze the life out of that rabbit, Ken couldn’t help but ponder. Or, should Ken thank it, thank it for bringing Kazutoshi back.

“I wondered where you’d gotten to.”

That voice, just this side of deep and the slightest bit raspy, seemingly echoed around the art supply room. Ken froze, his hands suddenly clasped in front of himself. Breathing suddenly became a task he had to remind himself to commit to. He hadn’t expected to hear that voice again after the meeting outside of whatever bits and pieces he was able to glean from a distance.

“I expected to find you in the library or maybe in the pool or woodshop, places the others agreed were banned.”

The voice was closer, the tone bland with a touch of fake annoyance laced with it. Ken’s fingers twisted together. Manually, he took a breath, then another. Light footsteps sounded closer, slow and steady, almost cautious with what was no doubt fear.

“I… I really didn’t expect to find you in here, honestly. It was more just morbid curiosity that led me here.”

Just behind him now, slightly to the left. Ken’s breath hitched. The chair appeared and disappeared again. Blood was on the floor. The floor was clean. Ken listed facts in his head, anything to distract himself from the reality behind him. He didn’t want to turn around. He refused to see those red eyes filled with disgust and fear. Ken wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Please, Ken could only plead in his mind, please don’t let him ask me to turn around.

“Ken? Can you turn around?”

…fuck you.

Eyes on the floor, Ken turned around. He could see Kazutoshi’s legs, skinny and tucked into those ridiculously tight skinny jeans. The other was standing casually. Silence reigned in the room for several moments. Ken fidgeted. Kazutoshi stood calmly.

After several minutes, Kazutoshi let out an aggravated sigh. “What are you doing in here, Ken?”

Ken flinched like he’d been hit. His fingers twisted together more. His eyes flicked up and then back down. “I-I was just… just thinking.”

“In the room I was murdered in?”

Another flinch. Temper rising, Ken clenched his hands together tightly, the fingers of one hand clenched by the other. “Don’t–! Don’t just say that so-so casually!” His voice snapped out like a bullwhip, sharp and loud in the quiet room. Anxiety rippled up his spine after his words, bowing his head in shame. “P-please don’t just… say something like that, K-Kazutoshi.”

Silence engulfed them again.

Minutes passed before either of them broke it again.

“Sorry.” Kazutoshi began, his voice softer now, gentle and soothing like Ken so loved to hear it. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ken clenched his fingers. “It’s… it’s fine…”

“It’s not.” Kazutoshi shot back easily. The crime scene cleaner stepped closer with a sigh. “Look at me, Ken.”

The order, gentle as it was, was easy enough to follow. Looking away from the floor and his feet like some toddler, Ken looked into Kazuotshi’s eyes again. Was it too cliché to say Ken’s breath was taken away? Those big, almost cat-like, rose-gold eyes were enrapturing. Ken catalogued everything: his tiny button nose, his small pouty mouth, his pale skin, and his long, thick lashes. 

Ken swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He could feel his cheeks warming up.

Kazutoshi looked at him, and Ken couldn’t see any of the fear or anger he had been dreading. The shorter boy looked at him with conflict, something like pity in his eyes.

“You killed Mai.” Harsh words spoken with a soft tone. Ken hunched in on himself, shame that Kazutoshi had learnt about that burned through him.

Ken nodded.

“Why, Ken? Why would you do that?” Kazutoshi asked him, almost desperately, as he stepped in closer.

Ken shifted on his feet, his eyes darting away to look at a spot on the doorframe just behind Kautoshi. “They-they didn’t mourn you, K-Kazutoshi. No one… no one cared that Okazaki had killed you. You-you were dead and nobody cared!” Kazutoshi stepped back, surprised at the sudden heat in Ken’s words. “They’re all awful! Terrible! I had to be the one to clean up your blood, Kazutoshi! They left it to fester in here! None of us deserved to survive at that point. They’re all terrible, and I’m worthless. I-I just wanted to end the game!”

Ken crumpled, folding in on himself as he crouched on the floor, hiding his face in his hands as frustrated tears began to fall. A moment passed, and Kazutoshi crept closer, placing a hand on Ken’s back. Cries and quiet apologies filled the stagnant air. 

Kazutoshi stroked Ken’s back. “It really messed you up, didn’t it?” He asked the question mostly to himself. Ken didn’t even hear his words. Louder, jostling Ken’s shoulder, Kazutoshi said, “Come on, get up. Off the floor.”

It was awkward, with Ken being head and shoulders taller than him, but somehow Kazutoshi managed to drag the taller boy up. Ken followed obediently. He was pulled into the main art room and placed on a random chair. Kazutoshi placed himself between Ken’s legs, making sure the other boy couldn’t look away from him.

“I still don’t get why, Ken.” Another flinch. Ken’s eyes flicked all over the room, anywhere to get away from those rose gold eyes. “You planned that shit?”

“…I did,” Ken confirmed solemnly.

Groaning, Kazutoshi grabbed at Ken’s arms, shaking him a little. “Why, Ken? How could you be so fucking stupid?!”

“You were tortured, Kazutoshi!” Ken shot up, his voice desperate as he clung back on to the blue-haired boy. Kazutoshi seemed shocked at his sudden spirits. “You– you were tortured to death! And–! And, nobody was– was grieving you! My whole world fell apart, and no one gave a fuck!”

“I didn’t expect anyone to grieve for me! That’s not good enough!”

“I expect it!” Ken wailed. “I expect it, Kazutoshi, and I care that it didn’t happen!”

Kazutoshi glared at him. “You care so much you murdered someone?!”

“Yes!”

“Why?!”

“You were tortured! She beheaded you, Kazutoshi! She cut out your tongue to keep as a– a fucking trophy!” Ken cried, more tears beginning to fall down his face. “Do you think I could just move on from that?!”

“I’d think,” Kazutoshi growled, “that you wouldn’t murder one of our friends over it!”

“You were beheaded and tied to a chair! I-I had to listen to them argue over the dumbest things in the trial when your headless body was rotting up here, Kazutoshi!” Ken wailed, tears falling as he clung desperately to his friend. “I found your body, and you expect me to have just gotten over it?! How was I meant to do that?!”

Kazutohi stumbled back like he’d been struck. A gasp left his lips at Ken’s words. “…you were the one who found me…?” Bile rose in his throat at the thought.

Ken folded in on himself, as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. He stared at his lap, the anger and indignation leaving him as Kazutoshi stepped back. The fight drained out of him. All that was left was the oppressive weight of Ken’s failures.

“She did it to fuck with me…” Ken whimpered, curling into himself on the chair. Kazutoshi stared at him, frozen in shock but desperately wanting to comfort the other. Ken continued, his words muffled as he spoke into his hands. “She-she didn’t even want to kill you. To her, you-you w-were just a-a pawn to fuck with me. Because I’m smart or-or something. Okazaki tortured you, cut your head off and gutted you, just to mess with me. You died because of– me, Kazutoshi.”

“Ken… that’s not—”

“She told me herself, said it during the trial…”

Silence was quickly becoming a common friend of theirs. Kazutoshi tried to imagine himself in Ken’s shoes. What would it be like to discover Ken’s corpse, headless and mutilated? Even just the thought of it made Kazutoshi sick. Then, to be told that he had been murdered specifically to mess with his head? That Ken’s death hadn’t even been the goal? He’d definitely be messed up from that.

“That’s… holy fuck, Ken…” Ken was shaking, curled up into an impressively tiny ball. His breath hitched with every intake.

Ken had said that he’d cleaned up his blood. Had he cleaned anything else up, Kazutoshi wondered. His head? His tongue? Ken said that Okazaki had gutted him, so surely there was other viscera on the floor.

If it had been the other way around, would Kazutoshi have done the same in the end? After having to clean up Ken’s—the man he… cared about’s—blood and viscera when the others just left it to rot? Would the game keep pushing and pushing until all the threads snapped?

Had anyone looked out for Ken? He and Kazutoshi were undeniably close, and Ken was undoubtedly the more isolated of the two of them. After Kazutoshi died, did anyone actually check if Ken was okay? Did anyone make sure he wasn’t alone, wallowing in his emotions? The questions battered Kazutoshi’s mind.

A look at Ken in that chair, curled up and so broken, was all the answer Kazutoshi needed.

“Ken,” Kazutoshi called softly, gently prying the man’s wrists away from his face. Ken peered at him, tears staining his cheeks and still continuing to fall. Slowly, Kazutoshi slid into the other’s lap, an uncomfortable position, but he needed to do it. He stroked Ken’s hair and pushed his face into his chest. “It’s okay, Ken. I-I don’t know the full story, but I know what this game does to people. We’re alright for now, I promise.”

Ken sniffled quietly, whispering apologies into Kazutoshi’s hoodie. Fingers through brown locks as Kazutoshi answered Ken’s apologies with platitudes. Slowly, Ken began to quiet down, his whispered apologies and pleas petering out into leftover sniffles. Ken leaned into the hand carding through his hair, his arms tightening around Kazutoshi’s waist.

Quietly, soft and whimpery, Ken mumbled something into his hoodie. Kazutoshi pulled back to look at him a bit better. “What was that?”

“Why?” Was the brittle question. Kazutoshi frowned, soft and sad as he stroked Ken’s hair. 

‘Why forgive me for something so terrible? Why forgive me for being a murderer?’ That was the conclusion Kazutoshi drew from what Ken meant.

Kazutoshi sighed, something heavy weighing down on his shoulders as he curled in closer to Ken, closing the distance so his words would be for them and them alone. “Because, if it had been you? I don’t know that I would be much better than you are right now.” Kazutoshi confessed to the quiet air trapped between them.

Chapter Text

Sasaki Hitomi had never expected to wake up again. When that spike had impaled her stomach, she had expected that would be it. She had killed someone. She had killed Isono, beaten her to death with a frying pan, of all things. She had cracked under the pressure of no sleep and gave in.

Then she woke up.

Chaos had engulfed them all. So many of them had died. That was easy enough to put together. Arguments broke out. Tears were shed, and people clung to one another. Reunions were held in the laundry room until Hitomi, with the help of Hayashi, managed to wrangle them all into the dining room for a meeting.

Time travel was a thing. Apparently?

Okazaki was a murderer. So was Hasegawa?

Of all people, Wada had managed to survive to the end.

It was a lot to take in. The meeting had fallen apart quickly after the majority agreed not to lock Okazaki or Hasegawa up somewhere. It was for the best, in Hitomi’s opinion. She didn’t trust nearly half of the group to keep an eye on the two, not to mention the possible consequences that could arise, which Hasegawa had pointed out.

Everyone split off, either to have proper reunions, like the teary-eyed Wada, Tsuno and Isono, or to explore the parts of the school they had never gotten to see. Hitomi fit into the second group.

She ascended the stairs that had been blocked off to her in the first go around. On the first floor, she made note of the music room. She eyed the piano in there as something to look over later. 

Nothing much stuck out on the first floor. There were several classrooms and a library. Staircases from the drama and AV rooms both lead into the auditorium. The only thing that concerned her was the pool balcony, allowing for a second entrance or exit from the pool.

Hitomi continued in her exploration, wanting to make a note of everything this school had to offer. She still needed to make an inventory of all the items in the storage room. It only made sense to check any other rooms that might need an inventory.

Hitomi made it up to the second floor and realised, quickly, it was undoubtedly the most dangerous floor. A woodshop, a chemistry lab, and an engineering lab, as well as a second incinerator room? Hitomi made a mental note to bring up banning that side of the floor; after she made a list of the inventory, at least. After taking a long, hard look around all four of those rooms, skipping the art room upon seeing Hasegawa in there, Hitomi moved on. 

The student council president could hear people talking just across the hall. Hitomi decided to take a look. Turning down the hall, Hitomi spotted Hayashi, Yanagi, Hiroaki, Ojima and Tamba all gathered around an open door.

“We’ll have to get something to block it off. Wood glue or maybe just something really heavy.” Hayashi said as she glared into the room.

Hiroaki scoffed, able to find fault in literally any and all plans. “Yeah, that’s not gonna help. Hanagowa knows about a bunch of secret passages. He’ll still be able to get in there.”

“Then it will be obvious if he’s the one to kill someone.” Hayashi easily dismissed the fashion designer, making him gasp in offence and making Hitomi’s opinion of the bounty hunter soar. Hitomi couldn’t help but worry about what Hiroaki had said, though.

“What do you mean, there are secret passages?” Hitomi steamrolled into the conversation, her face drawn and serious. The group of five turned to look at her, surprise colouring their faces at her sudden appearance.

Yanagi looked away almost immediately. Hiroaki, Ojima and Tamba all shifted, the former two swapping glances between one another. Hayashi gave her a welcoming nod. The bounty hunter was all no-nonsense in her reply. “Apparently, Hasegawa got his hands on a set of blueprints for the school last time around. There are secret passages or something, not much else to say than that.”

Hitomi nodded, thankful for Hayashi’s blunt attitude compared to the other four. “We’ll have to talk to him at some point about that, then. It’s probably our most viable route of escape.” Hitomi surmised her thoughts for the others, Hayashi nodding long with her. “I saw him in the art room just a while ago. We can go down there in a minute.”

“Ken was in the art room?” Ojima asked suddenly, shock seemingly overcoming the clear negative feelings that this group seemed to hold for the quiz show contestant.

Nodding her head, Hitomi took in the troubled looks of the other five. “I’m pretty sure it was him. Not a lot of us are going around in suits that expensive.”

The shock that Hasegawa, of all people, had committed actual murder still hadn’t entirely left Hitomi. Hiroaki and his lack of care for most of the others, she could maybe understand. Hama or Hayashi, she could wrap her head around, too. Okazaki, she wasn’t overly surprised over, either. But, Hasegawa? He had always seemed so timid.

What had possibly happened that had pushed the man to murder? Had he always been capable of it?

Seemingly concerned, Hayashi frowned, her arms coming to cross over her chest as she looked down the hallway. Hitomi shifted, put off by the tense silence that was pressing down on the group. “Is… there a problem with Hasegawa being in the art room?”

Hayashi’s frown deepened. “It's where he found Toshi’s body.” The words were so simple as they fell off the bounty hunter’s lips, and yet Hitomi immediately understood why the group was so concerned.

Hitomi may not have survived past the first week the first time around, but even she could tell Kamimura and Hasegawa had formed a close bond in the short time they had been in the school. It could only have intensified as their time here continued. The two’s tearful reunion in the laundry room pointed to that much. Was that why Hasegawa had done what he did? Had finding his friend's body pushed him over the edge?

“You don’t think he’ll… do something, do you?” Tamba asked the group at large. She bit her lip, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other.

Hiroaki snorted, and Hitomi had barely a second to brace herself for the scathing comment he had cooked up. “Any luck, the psycho will give us a free trial.”

“Nakamigawa,” Ojima responded quickly.

“Oh, don’t tell me he doesn’t deserve it, Takeshi,” Hiroaki pivoted towards his friend. “The guy tortured us for nearly a week! The least he could do is make us not have to deal with him.”

Yanagi seemed to hold a similar sentiment, and Ojima and Tamba didn’t seem to want to jump to the man’s defence either. Hayashi, though, turned her frown onto the mouthy fashion designer. “I would think you, of people, would know that’s not a thing you go talking about lightly.” Hiroaki stuttered, like he usually did when someone had offended him. Hayashi lifted a hand, silencing him with a look. “Hasegawa did a lot of fucked up shit, I won’t defend him on that point, but I’m not about to deal with you inciting infighting, Hiroaki, so shut your mouth.”

“He murdered you,” Yanagi spoke up, his voice tinged with outrage and concern. “You didn’t hear him at the trial, Mai, he’s completely insane.”

Hayashi turned to the figure skater, her expression softening, but not by much. “I don’t need you, or anyone, to fight on my behalf. I’m alive, and I’m not gonna fall for any tricks Haseawa might try to pull again.” Chuckling, Hayashi looked back down the hall. “I doubt the dude is gonna be much of a problem anyway.”

Yanagi, clearly, wasn’t soothed by her answer. “He murdered you, Mai! How can you just forgive him?!”

“I don’t, Shigeki.” Was the blunt answer. “I don’t forgive him, and I doubt I will anytime soon. If ever. I’m not about to go out of my way hating a dude who was, and probably still is, clearly suffering, though.”

The figure skater growled—actually growled—in reply. “Don’t make excuses for him.”

Hitomi cleared her throat, not wanting to add her opinion to a situation she didn’t understand nearly enough. She stepped closer to the door of the room where the group was all gathered around. “So, what’s this room that you all want to block off so badly?”

Hayashi stepped aside to let her get a clearer view. Hitomi had expected… she didn’t really know, to be honest.  There was already a woodshop, a chem lab and an engineering lab. Those rooms seemed about the most dangerous things you might find in a school. Perhaps a storage room for more hazardous chemicals? Hitomi doubted it, considering what she had found in the chem lab. What kind of school kept cyanide and Rohypnol?

Needless to say, when Hitomi peered into the room, she hadn’t expected an armoury. Guns of all shapes and sizes, grenades, knives, swords, bombs of various natures, and numerous other weapons and tools covered the walls and tables of the room. Hitomi couldn’t help but gape.

They seriously needed to block the room off.

“See the issue?” Hayashi redundantly asked from behind her.

Nodding, Hitomi’s mind raced as she tried to figure out a way to effectively block off the arsenal of weapons.

“Any ideas?” Hitomi looked askance at Hayashi, the tall girl peering down at her, and tilted her head consideringly.

“I think you were right bout using wood glue to seal the door,” Hitomi began, looking back up at Mai, “but I think we should set up some sort of counterweight to keep the door shut, instead of just blocking it. Anything we put in front of the door could be moved with enough force or leverage.”

Hayashi nodded, looking at the door as she tried to picture what Hitomi was suggesting. “You’re probably right. If we set it up correctly, we could probably get a gun to fire, too, if they managed to get the door open. That’d make enough noise to hopefully get someone’s attention.”

The two of them continued to strategise, figuring out the best possible way to keep the arsenal blocked off. A plan was finalised quickly enough. Hayashi left, heading to retrieve Hama and Harada to help find something large and heavy enough to act as the counterweight.

Hitomi stared at the open door to the arsenal of weapons, fear keeping her feet planted to the floor instead of exploring the room. Tamba and Yanagi spoke quietly to each other. Hitomi’s mind wandered, analysing what she could see of the room from the doorway, trying to spot where an entrance to a secret passage could possibly be.

“So, Hitomi-” Hiroaki began, but Hitomi didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. She turned to him, affronted by just the first two words he had dared to speak in her direction.

After several moments, she managed to get her shock under control. “Excuse me?” In what kind of hell was she in where Hiroaki Nakamigawa felt the need to call her by her first name?

The fashion designer seemed taken aback by the interruption. He looked at her, equal parts confusion and offence at being interrupted. “What’s the problem?”

“You just called me ‘Hitomi’.” Her voice was scandalised.

Seeming to realise his slip, or maybe simply embarrassed at being called out on it, Hiroaki flushed pink. “And so what? I think I know you well enough by now to call you by your first name.”

Ojima eyed his friend cautiously. “Nakamigawa.”

“Know me well enough?” Hitomi couldn’t help but question, ludicrousity lacing her words. “We barely spoke when not arguing over something you decided to nitpick. How on earth does that translate to you knowing me?”

“I read your diary!” Hiroaki exclaimed in frustration. “I know you better than anyone else here!”

Anger and fear froze her. The idea of anyone—anyone in this school—reading her diary at this point in time had Hitomi reeling. Eyes wide, Hitomi stared at Hiroaki, trying to gauge what he actually knew. The other three all stood still, none of them saying a word as they simply watched the events unfold.

Slowly, her voice low with anger, Hitomi spoke up. “What gave you the right to read that?”

“You– you wanted it published! Obviously, you wanted it to be read!” Hiroaki threw back at her, using her own written words against her.

“And you somehow knew that when you opened it that first time?”

“No, but–”

“But what? You invaded my privacy, but it was because you were bored?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth!” Hiroaki exclaimed, his face flush with outrage.

“Then don’t lie!” Hitomi retorted. “Don’t stand here and tell me you read my diary for any other reason than because you just wanted to!”

“You were dead! I just wanted–”

Hitomi cut him off, turning away from the group as she walked back down the hallway. “I don’t want to hear it, Hiroaki. I’m going to explore the rest of the school.”

“You can’t just leave it there!” The fashion designer called after her, outrage and irritation colouring his voice.

Tamba’s voice followed soon after. “W-what about Mai? Aren’t you gonna stay to help out?”

“Hayashi is smart enough to figure out how to block the door herself,” Hitomi called over her shoulder, turning the corner and heading for the stairwell to go to the third floor.

The nerve of some people, Hitomi couldn’t help but think to herself. She had more of the school to explore anyway.

Chapter Text

Ran followed an eager Airi along the school hallways at a sedate pace. The actress was eager to explore what she hadn’t been able to the last time around. Ran had seen everything but the top floor of the school, but from what he gathered, it was nothing more than a dead garden. Airi still wanted to go check it out at some point, though.

Next to him, Keizou was less eager as the trio explored. Ran and Airi had to practically drag the other teen out of his room after he had run there after the meeting in the dining room.

Side-eyeing the shorter man, Ran noted the sombre expression on his face. Keizou was usually so chipper. A smile was almost constantly present on his face. It was odd to see him look so downtrodden. Ran was under no illusion about why he looked so down. A cheer ahead of them brought his attention back to that very reason.

Airi let out a cheer up ahead of them. The trio were on the third floor. The young actress was making a giddy dash for the student café. 

If he didn’t know any better, Ran would think this was Airi’s first time in the school. In a sense, it was, on these upper floors. Her cries in the laundry room meant Ran knew she had her memories. Keizou had looked like he’d seen a ghost when he saw the short, blonde girl. Green had tinted his face. Tears had sparkled in his eyes, and Ran was almost certain he had been crying before he and Airi had dragged Keizou out of his room.

Ran almost wished they didn’t remember anything. Even if it meant they didn’t remember him, Ran wanted them not to have to face what had happened to them both.

With a shake of his head, Ran banished the demons that were putting sad thoughts into his head. “Come on, dude,” Ran grabbed his friend’s wrist, pulling him towards where Airi was attempting to climb over the counter.

Letting out a surprised protest, Keizou stumbled after Ran. Not like he had much of a choice. The two boys caught up to Airi just as the actress hoisted herself behind the counter. She explored the back, taking stock of what had to be the third or fourth kitchen in the school. Ran hadn’t bothered keeping track.

Ran leaned against the counter. He looked at Keizou, watching the other man fidget and readjust the straps of his backpack. Usually, he would be doing that because Sawa moved around. Sawa wasn’t in the bag, though. Neither Ran nor Airi wanted to comment on it. They both knew why Keizou had hidden Sawa away.

Pots and pans were being moved around, cupboard doors opened and closed as Airi explored. Keizou was staring down at the floor. He didn’t even seem aware of the ruckus their friend was causing. Luckily, no one had used this kitchen last time around. With any luck, no one would use it this time either.

Ran sighed, giving his friend a stern glance. “You alright, man?”

Keizou jumped. “Me? Of– of course!”

Letting the silence sit between them, Ran watched as Keizou sank down into himself. Lies did that to people. If you didn’t feed them, people gave in to the truth pretty quickly with those petty, white lies.

“I’m just… It’s weird being back, is all.” He admitted quietly after a moment. The zoologist looked off to the side, away from Ran or the noise in the kitchen. A hand came up to his neck. “I swear I can still– feel it, y’know?”

Nodding, Ran looked down at his wrists. He could still feel the chains there, could still feel the liquid pain pumping through his veins.

Looking back up at Keizou, he could still picture the man hanging, struggling for breath as he clawed at the noose. Out of the executions Ran had been forced to watch, he considered Keizou’s the most cruel. He had been blinded and promised freedom that wouldn’t have been delivered if he had just made it across the room. Everyone else had been strapped down, their deaths unavoidable. Keizou had walked into his. He felt like he had a chance, and it had been torn from his hands with a snap. Ran could still hear his choked screams.

“I get what you mean.” Shock coloured his friend’s face. He stared at Ran like he had spoken another language.

“You… you were…?” Ran nodded, his head hung in shame as he stared back down at his wrists. Heavy silence settled between them.

With stilted words, he spoke up. It felt right to let his friend know he wasn’t alone with his guilt. “I– I killed Watari… She set this– door-trap thingy that started a fire. I still don’t really get it, but I set it off and killed her.” Thoughts of how Watari could have done that to him clouded Ran’s mind. The idea that she thought Ran would be ok with killing all of them curled rancidly in his mind, infecting every fond memory he had of the fire dancer.

“Hama…” Keizou reached out to touch his shoulder, but stopped at the last second.

Silence hung between them again. Ran clenched his hands, his knuckles turning white in frustration. He sent a silent prayer to God, begging for forgiveness.

“Why would she do that?” That sweet voice, soured by tears, jolted both men out of their heads. They looked, wide-eyed, at Airi. Tears were in the actress’s eyes, her voice thick with emotion.

Ran looked back down at his wrists, the chains absent but still so heavy. “She wanted me to go home. Because– because I’m a good brother, or something? I don’t know. I– I just–” He took a deep breath, his eyes blurry as he stared down at clenched hands.

Chains. They had been so heavy. He had broken out of one of them, just to plead to the lord one last time for forgiveness, which Ran knew he was undeserving of. His hands shook, anger and the phantom pain of that injection flowing through him. Through his veins.

Watari had been his friend. He had trusted her. She trusted him. At least, Ran thought she had. Even now, Ran still didn’t want to believe the events that had been spelt out for him during the trial. The betrayal cut so deep. 

“I– I don’t think it’s necessarily about you,” Keizou said, his voice stilted as he sorted through his thoughts. “This place… it messes with you. I think maybe she was just tired or– or couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe she just wanted to do something good before she left? Even if– we don’t think it’s all too good.”

“That’s not fair!” Airi exclaimed. “Why should she get to hurt Ran like that?”

Ran’s breath hitched. Keizou continued softly, his voice distant and thoughtful. “It isn’t fair, but none of this is. Watari isn’t the only person who made some messed-up decisions, either; it’s just what this place does to you.”

Sasaki and killing Isono. Yanagi and attacking Hiroaki. Hasegawa and becoming a murderer. The names popped into Ran’s head unwillingly. Mai, too, if he counted that time she tried to break down a door and got teleported away. He refused to list Keizou among them. Even if Keizou was most likely referring to himself as he tried to rationalise through Watari’s actions.

Airi pouted, still not satisfied, but she didn’t want to argue the point. She turned to Ran, her eyes all soft and gentle as she pushed herself into his line of sight. “It’s not your fault, Ran.”

“You don’t even know what actually happened, though,” Ran responded glumly, his eyes shut to block out her optimistic little face.

“Yes, I do!” The little actress shot back, hands on her hips as she stared up at Ran sternly. “Watari set up everything. You had nothing to do with it other than you just so happened to set it off. So, it’s not your fault!”

“I was still execut—”

Airi scoffed, a big puff of air blowing out her mouth as she blew a raspberry. “That’s just the stupid rules of this place! If we weren’t in here, you wouldn’t have even gotten in trouble!”

“Chiba’s right, Hama,” Keizou said softly, coming to stand closer to the other two. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all Watari’s plan; you were as much a victim in it as she was. More, even.”

Ran opened his eyes. Airi and Keizou looked up at him imploringly. They looked so genuine, so soft and kind, and so sweet that it almost gave Ran a toothache just looking at them. Ran chuckled, the sound watery with his suppressed tears. Airi’s lip wobbled at the sound. She launched herself forward, latching onto his leg like a koala.

“Airi! What the hell?!” Ran asked, looking down at the small girl clinging to him. 

“Don’t cry, Ran!” She cried, her words muffled where she had buried her face in his pant leg. “You’re amazing! You haven’t done anything wrong, so please don’t cry!”

Laughing, the sound now drier, he exclaimed. “I wasn’t even crying, though!” He grabbed the shorter girl by the back of her blazer. With a laugh, he dragged her into his arms.

“You were about to!” Came Airi’s retort. Even still, she laughed along with him.

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

Light, soft laughter dragged the two’s attention towards Keizou. The other man smiled fondly at the duo, a spark in his eyes that they had both missed. He twitched upon noticing their attention, his smile fading. Airi, though, wasn’t about to have that.

“Keizou! Get over here!”

The zoologist jolted, like he couldn’t understand why his two friends wanted him to join their hug. “Whuh– huh?”

“You heard her, man.” With quick movements, Ran grabbed the shorter man by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the hug. He slung his arm around his shoulders, trapping him against his chest so that Airi could hug him too. “Group hug, dude!”

The trio laughed, smiling happily. Ran had both of them back. They had things to work through, and Ran would ensure they worked through them. For now, though, he was happy to hold his two friends close to him in his arms.

He’d keep them both safe this time around. From demons, others or even themselves, he would keep them both safe. Hama Ran swore he would.

Chapter Text

He had been so close to the end. Another person was dead, another person was executed, but Masanari had been so close to freedom. He wished that Manami and Miki could have been there. They should have been there. Masanari didn’t deserve to have survived. They deserved that.

Hasegawa’s head was twisted off. He had almost gotten them all killed, and in the end, he got what was probably the most torturous death out of them all. But it meant they could go home. Masanari hated it. He just wanted to go home. Curl up in bed and ignore the world. Masanari didn’t deserve to go home; Manami and Miki deserved to go home, not him. But he was going home anyway.

Then they were back at the beginning.

And he saw them again.

He saw Manami. He saw her black hair, the pink layer inside and the pink and blue bangs. The white costume with all those colourful parts and that pink star emblazoned on her chest. Her cape spread out around her.

He saw Miki as well. Her halo-like headphones stood out, dragging his eyes to them almost immediately. He saw her orange hair and the just-off-colour ombre at the ends.

The tears came easily.

The meeting in the dining room passed Masanari in a haze. He was flanked on either side by Manami and Miki. The girls scooted close to him, all of them holding hands in a chain as they listened to the arguments flying by. Okazaki’s voice had him flinching, and the girls held on tighter.

Everyone agreed, several reluctantly, that Okazaki and Hasegawa wouldn’t be locked up. The idea of Okazaki wandering around freely had Masanari sweating. He’d need to get a knife again. Hasegawa was a worry as well, but Masanari couldn’t find the energy to be worried about both of them.

After the meeting, the three of them retreated to Masanari’s dorm. They sat on Masanari’s bed, huddled close together. Manami and Miki squeezed in on him from either side, their arms looped around his shoulders. Masanari clung back, his arms wrapped around each of their waists as they all bent their heads close together. Masanari cried. Manami and Miki cried. All of them cried tears of relief that they had this second chance. A second chance to look out for each other. A second chance for all of them to survive.

Masanari, with Manami’s help, gave a recap of what had happened after they had cried all of their tears. Brief overviews of what both girls had missed. Manami seemed perplexed by Okazaki’s delusions. She swore she would avoid the lunatic whenever she could. Masanari and Miki both silently agreed to make sure the superhero kept to that promise. They were all confused that Hasegawa had gone on to become a murderer—even Masanari himself. 

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Maybe it was that Masanari saw part of himself in Hasegawa, in the anxiety and social awkwardness that clung to the taller man. He saw the hopelessness in Hasegawa’s eyes when Kamimura had died, the same hopelessness that he had felt after both Miki and then Manami had died. He recognised the sheer grief that clung to the man in the end, the viciousness when he lashed out at Tamba for saying she thought he was most to blame for Kamimura's dying. Masanari recognised too much of himself in Hasegawa. He envied the resolve Hasegawa had, even if he reviled his actions.

Masanari wished he had reached out, offered a hand to one of the only other people who seemed to be sharing in the grief he felt. They had both lost someone to the same monster. Maybe he could have stopped it if he had. If Hasegawa had only had a shoulder to cry on, maybe none of it would have happened. Masanari hadn’t seen Hasegawa for two days after Kamimura and Manami had been killed. What had he done in that time? If he had gone to the taller man—if he had offered comfort, a shoulder to cry on, or simply just his presence, however unwanted—maybe he could have done something. They had both been grieving. The others had helped him. It was only fair that he should have lent a hand when it was needed.

Miki seemed especially shocked, disturbed even, to hear what Hasegawa had done, but she wouldn’t say why. Manami and Masanari didn’t pry. The three of them made a mutual pact to stay away from the two murderers they were now trapped with. None of them wanted to risk leaving the other two again.

The conversation died off after that. As much as it may have been necessary to talk about, none of them really wanted to think about their situation. This so-called ‘game’ had ruined them all. It tore you open. Revealed things you didn’t even want to admit to yourself. Manami and Miki had died—had been murdered. Masanari, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had let the game tear him down bit by bit until he was starving. At the end, he had barely been able to stand without getting lightheaded.

No one wanted to talk about what had happened before than they absolutely had to.

Stilted, but comforting, silence embraced the trio. Masanari soaked it in. Manami’s and Miki’s presence was enough to make the silence nice. He would do anything to keep it. Keep them.

This time, Masanari promised himself, he would be better. Masanari had skated by last time. Luck and pity had gotten him to the end. This time, he would live because of his own actions. He would make sure the girls reached the end as well. He had to.

Okazaki didn’t matter. He was still scared of her, but everyone knew what she was now. Everyone knew the kind of evil and deranged acts Okazaki was capable of. She wouldn’t murder anyone this time. She wouldn’t get the chance with so many eyes on her.

“It’s so… weird. Being back, I mean,” Miki tentatively said, breaking the silence. Masanari and Manami looked at her. The streamer was staring down at her lap. “I don’t know how to describe it…”

“Yeah. It’s kind of like you’ve just woken up without dreaming.” Manami added after a moment. She smiled at Miki over Masanari’s head. It was a small thing, tentative and offering comfort for a shared experience.

Miki smiled back, a small laugh leaving her. “That is the best comparison, isn’t it?”

Masanari reached for one of Miki’s hands. He smiled at her, doing his best to offer comfort for something so serious. “All that matters now is that you’re back. We’re going to have each other’s back this time, and we’ll all get out together.”

Miki laughed happily, squeezing his hand. “Thanks, Masanari.”

A hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair. Masanari squawked. Laughter sounded behind him as he was pulled into Manami’s chest. “Aw, my little brother is just the sweetest!” Blushing and flailing, Masanari tried to smack the woman off of him. It only made her laugh more.

“Manamiiii!” Masanari whined.

Miki laughed at them. The sound filled the room along with Manami and Masanari’s own laughter. With it, the sombre atmosphere lifted. The superhero rolled back and forth on the bed, dragging the albino boy with her as she squeezed him tight.

This was what Masanari wanted. The joy present in that moment made Masanari feel truly alive. Last time, they hadn’t gotten the chance to savour it. Now, they had a second chance, and Masanari wasn’t going to waste it. They would all look out for one another. They would keep one another safe.

Okazaki didn’t matter. Hasegawa or Sasaki didn’t matter. The three of them were going to be looking out for one another this time. Miki wasn’t going to die. Manami wasn’t going to die. They were all going to get out. They would get out and meet up on the outside.

Joining the hug, Miki smiled brilliantly. She launched herself at them. Masanari and Manami smiled. The laughter ramped up. Tears pricked at the edge of their eyes.

They were going to make it.