Random Post At All

Kaito Momota:

Kaito wouldn’t normally name patrolling the academy’s grounds and halls late at night as one of his favorite activities, but ever since Ryoma was killed… he felt the need to. You and Shuichi were his sidekicks of course, but a real man needed to give his sidekicks something to look up to, aspire to. He was, of course, avoiding restricted and forbidden nighttime areas, but nonetheless he diligently strutted about, ears and eyes open and ready to catch any questionable behavior.

Ryoma’s trial hit Kaito harder than he was willing to admit. With how much respect and internal admiration he held for the sports prodigy, to see him not only fall so far from grace by giving up on life (the complete opposite of Kaito’s mantra, values and minset), but to see him taken out in such a cruel and humiliating way realy shook Kaito. He kept up the facade of confident, unbothered and brave man, but his closer, more observant friends could tell the whole thing was bothering him. After Kaede, who meant so much to his best friend Shuichi and was an ambitious, positive force for good, and now Ryoma who he’d looked up to, he’d put his foot down: a real man protected his friends. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt, kill, or even take advantage of his friends ever again. He’d decided this after defending his faith in Maki during the second class trial, after consoling Shuichi and yourself, both grieving. It was time to really step it up, even if patrolling at night meant putting himself in danger. A fire had been lit beneath him, and besides, he would be out of the dorms to train and exercise with Shuichi most nights anyway, so might as well do some good for his fellow students while he was out.

While passing by the academy’s pool building, he froze when he heard movement inside, a quiet sort of shuffling and a muffled voice. A shudder - something linked to flashbacks from Ryoma’s horrendous trial mere nights before - ran up his spine and he quickly but quietly moved over to the entrance door, peaking inside to spy on whoever was inside. Why or how anyone could stand going anywhere near the pool after what happened was a mystery to him, so whatever they were doing in there had to be suspicious at best. He was going to find out, and perhaps stop another future blackened in the process.

When he sees you standing on the edge of the pool facing away from him, shoulders slumped and shaking up and down a bit, he slips through the crack in the door and hides behind a huge shelf full of pool supplies nearby silently. From there he merely observed. You of all people, who like Shuichi, was so deeply moved by the graphic execution of Kirumi and the tossing away of Ryoma’s bones like trash, would have more reason that others to stay away from the pool. His mind jumped instantly to the worst-case scenario on instinct: another plot for murder using the pool or gym, but he quickly shook these thoughts off. You were his good friend and he trusted you. Shuichi and even Maki seemed to trust you. You’d never hurt anyone. So why were you here?

Kaito knew just from spending time with you that you could often be melancholy, solitary,  locked up in your room for most hours of the day if not with your small group of select friends. You’d been terrified of just living your life since the very start, what with not having your memories then being suddenly thrown into a killing game. Every death, every unfortunate event, every class trial seemed to erode away at you more and more. He often tried to cheer you up, making apparent your potential and skills, trying to force you to see the positives, giving pep talks, pulling you out of your dorm to socialize, but nothing seemed to stick. You always ended up back at square one mentally, just as upset and closed off as the day before. Less and less progress was made each day, too.

As he pondered the sight before him and observed you, you didn’t seem to be preparing any traps, setting up any schemes, no thought-out plots like Kirumi had done days before. You just… stood there, now facing the pool and looking over the edge. Now he knew why your shoulders were shaking. You were crying. Honestly, he’d seen you cry many times in the last few weeks so he wasn't stirred into action just yet, but as you seemed to sway a little too far forward over the edge of the pool, rocking back and forth on your feet, his concern grew. Entering the pool building was allowed at night, but actually jumping in, touching the water after dark was strictly forbidden. It was punishable by death, and that death would be as agonizing and drawn out as Monokuma chose to make it that day. You were all at his mercy at all times. You knew that, everyone did, and now here you were, dangerously teetering over the water’s edge. How easy it would be for you to just, stumble in, slip and fall…

At this point, Kaito was desperately hoping you were crying because you did in fact have a murder plot guilting your conscience or because you were simply still in mourning over Ryoma and Kirumi. Those two scenarios would be easy to talk you out of, to be there for you like always. He would have plenty of time if that were the case. He was perhaps… a bit overconfident in his abilities. He didn’t even want to consider the third option mulling around in his mind… that on was more… uncomfortable, immediate.

“I’m sorry, mom and dad, wherever you are…” You finally spoke, turning his focus back on you and out of his own head. “I’m sorry Shuichi, Maki, Kaito… I j-just,” you cried, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You took a deep breath, and what would happen next if he didn’t stop you flashed before his eyes: Exisals, tearing you apart, crushing you, the blood, the screams as they appeared and tore you from the pool, the academy-wide blaring alarms, your classmates leaving their beds half-awake and rushing to the pool to discover the gruesome scene.

You leaned forward, tipped off your balance, center of gravity shifted, and he lunged, yelling out your name as he left his position hidden in the corner and bolted with the gift of an adrenaline rush boosting his steps. He grabbed you around the waist, tackling you and throwing you back and away from the pool, and you both crashed onto the hard tile behind you. Before you could process what was happening you found yourself on the ground, Kaito spooning your body and panting heavily into your ear. Where had he even come from?

“Are you nuts?!” Kaito yelled through ragged breaths. The man was quite athletic, out of breath from anxiety and shock, not physical strain. Wrenched back to reality, you were suddenly overcome with a wave of intense embarrassment. No one was supposed to witness your moment of extreme weakness like this, especially not someone you cared about and respected.

“Kaito?! I-”

“I knew you were doing pretty shitty, but I didn’t know it was this bad! Why wouldn’t you come to me, to Shuichi or… somebody? We would’ve talked you out of this stupid idea!” His vice-like grip around your waist was unwavering, as if he couldn’t trust you to govern yourself at present, as if you would leap again if he relented.

“I’m sorry… it was… I wasn’t thinking. It was a last second plan, an impulse. I just… it hurts so bad, I let my thoughts take over.” He could hear the tears returning to your voice, shaking your words and softened his own. He could be passionate, overbearing at times even, but that probably wasn’t what you needed right now. He could be very stubborn, reluctant to change his methods and habits, but this was serious. He grunted in frsutration.

“You saw what happened to Ryoma when he gave in… when he gave up on life.” His knuckles tightened, fists tightening into themselves until they turned white. “Are you gonna let that happen to you too, my deputy sidekick?” The pain you gleaned from behind his words only made you sob harder. You felt like you’d let him down, almost caused him to grieve for you like you’d all been grieving for the four you’d already lost. How could you add to your peers’ emotion burden like that? “Hey… geez, come on Y/N… I know we can work through this. Let us help you… let me help. There’s no wound out there that the support of the people that care about you can’t heal!”

Ryoma Hoshi:

You’d been feeling endlessly hopeless lately. The violent nightmares weren’t helping, nor was the attitude of your best friend, Ryoma. A noxious void was swallowing up your will to live piece by piece with each day that passed in this hellhole of an academy, trapped in this killing game. It seemed that your friend was right there with you, and although you couldn’t blame him, knowing he was prone to solemn solidarity already as core part of his personality, his moods only seemed to worsen your own. They bounced off of each other, multiplied when you were together, but he was the only person you cared about or trusted in this prison, so the vicious cycle continued. Any time you were together these days, you were bogged down in an echo chamber of despair. There was a brief period where Ryoma appeared to have a small fire ignited in his heart, a period where he was willing to give life a real honest try, but now the gloom was back in full force ever since those damned motive video Monopads had been introduced into your lives. A few days had passed in a big tizzy about who’s Monopad was where, who watched theirs and most were mixed and matched, sent out to the wrong student, but for some reason… you felt like Ryoma had viewed his own, and he did not like what he had seen. It was almost worse seeing your friend long for death then feeling it inside for yourself. You’d started keeping to yourself to avoid seeing it, selfish as that may be.

On one particularly dismal mental health day, you were in his research lab while he was away, trying to get your mind off of dark thoughts, maybe play tennis with the wall. Bouncing the ball off and hitting with a racket as hard as you could could be therapeutic. Maybe that was how Ryoma blew off steam at times. Miu Iruma was there in the lab with you, paying you no mind, obsessed with the sporting machines and how they functioned. Miu loved tinkering ceaselessly with any electronics and gadgets she could find, both inside her own research lab and around the academy. She rarely asked permission to enter other’s labs to do so. She wanted to know how everything worked and it brought her great joy. Your ominous desires taking over, you began to question her. Interestingly, one of the only times she wasn’t a totally vulgar, aggressive bitch was when she was engrossed in her work. She would still snap here and there and slip in inappropriate jokes, but she was much more sufferable. She loved when others asked her to explain something, any chance she got to flaunt her vast wealth of knowledge. She described some of the basic functions of the ball-launching machines: how to change the velocity, the maximum amount of tennis balls one could pelt in a certain timeframe, how to change its direction, how to use the auto-timer or stop all movement with the press of a button. She didn’t even question why you cared, as long as she got to look like the smartest person in the room. Good, you thought. You didn’t want anyone suspecting a thing when you came later to hopefully put an end to your participation in this killing game for good. You didn’t care what was on your motive video at this point. You didn’t even have the energy to find out who had it. You just wanted… out.

~

Later that night, with your mind in a stupor, body nearly on autopilot, you returned to the research lab, now empty save for yourself, to put the tennis machines on autopilot themselves. Unsurprisingly for a bear as evil and twisted as Monokuma, he’d set up the lab equipment to be able to work at extremely dangerous speeds, speeds powerful and torrential enough to maim or even kill someone. Miu had looked both fascinated and horrified upon discovering this earlier. You used this setting to your advantage, placing a timer and setting the machine to its maximum velocity. You’d loaded up the tennis balls, tons of them, and angled multiple machines to target one specific corner of the room. This would work. Anything to feel something, or die trying. Hopefully all of it, all the pain, would all end tonight.

You stepped back, machines prepped to boundlessly and without hesitation do their dark work. You stood in the corner, counting down in your head, ready for what you’d unleashed on yourself. The machines booted up, beginning to whir with the effort of getting to the input speed. You closed your eyes and prepared for an impact that would never come.

Like a flash, a blur of motion so fast it was near unseeable, Ryoma appeared before you, racket in hand, and knocked the incoming balls away from you with ease. One after the other, with inhuman speed he reflected them back toward the machines with the amount of skill and prowess that earned him the title of the Ultimate Tennis Pro in the first place. It was extraordinary. You were sure only he could manage such a feat. You gasp, opening your eyes at the noise in front of you and startled by the sight. With a grunt of effort, he grabs you with his free hand and throws you with all of his strength out of the corner. He ducks, jumping out of the way and onto the ground beside you. The machines continued to pelt the now empty corner of the room faithfully, just as commanded, the booming repetitive sound echoing off the walls of the research lab.

Eventually, minutes later, all sound ceased as the machines ran out of ammunition and therefore shut themselves off. You both lay splayed across the cold floor, silent as the grave. This was so delicate of a situation now, so severe and tense. What was there to say? How did one begin? Only your inhales and exhales filled the dim room, dozens of yellow fuzzy tennis balls scattered around your still forms. Finally, you spoke:

“Where did you come from?” You whispered, heart thumping wildly in your chest. He sighed in reply.

“It’s late, I always come to my lab around this hour, for some alone time… I came just in time to catch you doing something stupid, it seems…” Silence filled the room once again as you both just sat there soaking in his words, and you valued it, time spent with your best friend where you weren’t absorbing each other’s hopelessness and amplifying it. There was a different mood in the air now, an aura of understanding, of caring about what happens to the person next to you for the first time in weeks, even if it was mixed with guilt and embarassment.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke up again when you refused to, “I guess I haven’t given you much to look up to as of late…” He rolled over, facing away from you, staring into the wall in shame. “I’ll set a better example, try harder… if only for your sake.” The deep rumble of his bassy voice filled the room.

His motive video stated quite plainly that there was no one in his life to live for, no one to care about or who cared about him in turn.  When he saw you in front of those death machines your life in peril, he knew that was a lie.

Korekiyo Shinguuji:

Below you were nearly eight floors of priceless, dusty artifacts, research and excavation tools, bones, books. Around you were alcoves and shelves, display cases and crates full of history and knowledge. Korekiyo’s research lab was much like himself: complex, dark and mysterious, vertically blessed and intimidating. It was like when people drew an object as a personified character using the object’s traits; his lab looked like an architect stalked Kiyo for months and modeled a room after the man. Monokuma was many things, but inattentive was not one of them, even if he feigned ignorance at times. This lab, perhaps even more than the others (which were still detailed and impressive in their own right) molded so seamlessly into the character and talents of its owner. Even the color scheme of the room matched his uniform, and the atmosphere matched his energy. The room smelled like an ancient library, a museum. It smelled how Kiyo looked.

You peered down at the eight story drop below you, the many stairs before you daunting and suffocating even in the spacious research lab. It was the largest lab by far, and the fall to the bottom would most likely kill you. Just in case, you’d taken the oppurtunity to place a large pile of whatever sharp and more dangerous items you could find in the lab at the bottom, compiling a makeshift deathtrap to ensure this went as planned. There was a katana, carving tools, ritual knives, tribal spears, needles and more.

You were acutely aware of your own breathing, especially in a echoey, dusty chamber like this. It was quiet and menacing, again like its host, who conveniently was not here at present. You’d chosen a time when Korekiyo seemed to be out and slinking about the academy, unsettling the other students no doubt or lecturing them about human history and traditions. It was a lucky last minute plan. Fate must want this, you thought. This must be the right thing to do… Kiyo had barely left this place since it’d opened, too enraptured by its contents to leave, so for him to not be here at this perfect time for your plan to commence, it must have been a work of fate. Your head felt light, like your body was trying to relax and numb itself, to accept what you were about to do. You closed your eyes, swaying calmly back and forth over the railing.

Suddenly, there was a firm hand on your shoulder. Your eyes flashed open, your blood running cold in your veins. Korekiyo, perhaps Kokichi… it had to be one of those two. You couldn’t think of one other classmate, not one, who could or would sneak in the shadows and reappear unseen and unheard but those two. They were both creeps in their own unique ways. Slowly, you turned to see the face behind the hand, and found it half-covered by a dark mask.

“Kiyo…” You acknowledge him with a nod, as if you weren’t up to something dubious… in his lab… without his permission. You looked into his glowing yellow eyes and found sadness in them, extremely expressive. They often were, they had to be when his jaw, his mouth could never convey his feelings to his peers. Kiyo couldn’t flare his nostrils, clench his teeth to signal to others. Maybe that was part of the mystery, part of what scared others about him. Humans often needed emotions, facial cues, body language to communicate, to feel safe and understood in each other’s presence. WIth Kiyo, much could be left up to interpretation.

“It seems some of my artifacts have been misplaced…” He mused, the bandaged hand on your shoulder moving off to cradle his own chin, as if he were puzzled about the situation. “Hmmm… were you perhaps studying some of them and left that mess down there?” He nodded in the direction of the pile, arms crossing over his chest like the disapproving mother of a child who forgot to clean their room.

“I’m really sorry, Kiyo…” You turned your head back to stare forward blankly at the wall across from you, unable to meet his eyes any longer. You felt embarrassed, ashamed that you’d not only been caught pre-attempt, but that you’d made a mess of items you knew the anthropologist held so dear.

“It’s quite alright. I sometimes get lost in my work and studies, too, even forgetting to sleep some nights. The contents of this lab can lead to endless hours of fun, yes? I know you meant no harm by it, unlike some more mischevious classmates of ours.” He giggled gaily beneath the mask. “Speaking of sleep, it's quite late. I know the quest for knowledge is endless, but you must be exhausted.” He of course knew what you were really planning to do here tonight. He was a highly intelligent young man, and someone would have to be blind to not pick up on your intentions. However, he had no desire to embarrass you further, and frankly wanted this all to end as soon as possible, so this little scenario would be swept under the rug in favor of a story less dismal.

“Y-yeah…” You nod, playing along, expressionless and empty inside.

If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve torn them apart for touching his artifacts without his permission, much less mishandling them and leaving them in a cluttery heap on the floor. Perhaps it was the small friendship you’d gradually formed with him that spared you from this fate. You were always curious about his interests and talent, willing to learn, to listen to him talk for hours. You weren’t judgmental like some, talking about him behind his back, cutting him off mid-explanation because you were bored, obviously creeped out by his presence. Yes, he would let his offense go, if only to justify the belief that you deserved a more beautiful, dignified death later on. This wouldn’t do at all, falling pathetically to your death, not for someone like you. You at least deserved more than that he supposed, and yet, your blood decorating his artifacts, your body splayed out in a contorted position over them… that could’ve been beautiful in its own way, too. He hadn’t decided fully yet…

Taking your hand in his long slender, the scholar began to guide you, dragging your rather heavy feet behind him down the crimson stairs. You passed floor by floor until he guided you to the base level, and you let him. Again, fate must have wanted this, to stop you in time, to allow Korekiyo to interfere.

Kokichi Ouma:

You didn’t want to be here, tucked under a metal shelf in the Exisal hangar, cramped and uncomfortable for what felt like hours but yet here you were, waiting for Kokichi to come “seek” your “hide” in this stupid, childish game he loved to play. The academy was the perfect setting for an epic game of hide-and-seek you’d admit, with countless areas to hide and not be found for days, but you were in no mood for playing. You’d been rapidly declining, pushed further and further into the recesses of your own depressed mind with each passing day. You just wanted to lay in your dorm room and cry, sulk, sleep. Kokichi knew that, and yet he loved to drag you out and about for his pointless antics or little trickster schemes on the daily. Even now, as he became more and more unhinged after each class trial, he still involved you in his malicious and sometimes even dangerous plans. You tolerated his immature, hyper, selfish, sporadic, volatile personality - which was insufferable to most - because he was your best if not only friend on campus. Even if the others would say they liked you, no one really hung out with you or paid you any mind, never wanted to know you on any level deeper than acquaintances who made polite conversation during free time or cooperated during class trials. You didn’t consider them friends. You considered Kokichi a close friend. You really didn’t know why he was even interested in you in the first place. You found yourself introverted, boring and awkward, but nonetheless you accepted and even secretly cherished his attention and friendship. He was probably just using you for a long con, a means to an end, but still…

No… today you’d had enough, getting angrier and angrier by the second squashed into that little area under the shelf, your spine aching. Being here alone in the silence, it only left you to your dreary thoughts, gave you the opportunity to dwell on the past three class trials, the death and despair that seemed in constant supply here. You decided you could do that in the comfort of your own bed, warm under the duvet in your dorm room and not contorted into a pretzel on the dirty floor. Screw this, your mind spoke to you, making the decision at once. You huffed, standing and brushing off your uniform. You were fed up, tired of waiting on a kid who clearly didn’t care about you. You felt like you were in denial, seeing your connection with Kokichi as “friendship” when he probably was just using you as a toy because no one else would let him use them. You didn’t feel like a priority to him. He was probably bored and had given up on looking for you, again, prone to changes of his mood and plans on a whim. He was really good at seeking, he was good at most things he enjoyed… surely it wasn’t taking this long. He must have abandoned you.

This was the last straw… even your only friend didn’t think you were worth his time, even when you’d clearly been going through some shit mentally. Kokichi was smarter than people gave him credit for. He knew you were in agony inside, and still he’d done this to you?

Before you could make your way back to your room, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A hydraulic press, no doubt used to compress and scrap broken-down and useless Exisals, seemed to glimmer and shine over on the other side of the room. It seemed to be calling to you, begging to be used, honored to be your release from this world. Sighing with the weight of months of desolation on your shoulders, your body seemed to go into some sort of autonomous mode. You were like a zombie, feeling nothing anymore as you made your way over to the control panel up on a platform next to the press. You passed by dirty shelves, oil and paint cans, tons of lined up inactive Exisals on the way there, stepping up the small incline to the panel and looking over it without hesitation or self preservation in mind.

Quickly, you scan the buttons, knobs and latches until you find the safety features. Without a second thought you switched off all automatic safety settings available to you. For good measure you pulled out the thick wires corresponding to the safety features on the control panel. Now, you would be able to manually send the press into closing all the way down, firmly and snugly. The press was designed to cease all movement automatically if it sensed a living being inside, but now, it would keep going regardless unless manually turned off. You flipped a switch and the machine roared to life, slowly beginning its long, crushing descent. You promptly moved the short distance over to the long, flat press and let your back lay flat against the cold, unfeeling metal.

You thought you’d be scared, but you felt nothing still. It felt like laying in your bed like always, mind empty, heart heavy. It was just another night. You thought you’d lose your conviction, chicken out; that’s what a normal person would do. Fear of death was normal. Your lack of emotion just proved even further that this was the best option for you, in your mind at least. You zoned out, pushing out all surrounding smells, sounds, and sights. There was only you and the silver slab above you. You were at peace, or at least your body didn’t protest or work to save itself. Folding your hands over your chest, you closed your eyes and resigned yourself to your fate as the press drew closer to your face.

Your ears perk up when you hear a sudden clicking sound so close by that it breaks through your barrier of dissociation. Your eyes flash open, a bit perturbed at the cease of motion above you. You were positive you turned off the setting correctly, and yet the press was unmoving.

Before you have time to even process the interruption, your left arm is being snatched by the elbow, and not too gently either. A claw-like, unforgiving grip around your arm pulls you sideways off of the press and you groan when your ass hits the solid ground below. You look at your assailant, surprised that someone his size could be that strong. Much like his true intentions or level of intelligence, it might have just been another thing he’s hidden from the world.

“Kokichi?” The petite boy sunk down on the ground next to you like his knees had given out, bawling his eyes out. You look at him in surprise, not having even heard him enter the hangar. By all means you should’ve, with the loud metal door that groans and hisses when it opens. You must’ve been really out of it.

“Yeah… of course it’s me, idiot!” He spat, showing you no mercy. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! This is not how you play hide-and-seek!” He was absolutely furious, face red as a tomato as he yelled in your face.

You’re both limp piles of flesh on the ground, emotional and collapsing into yourselves for different reasons. Kokichi leapt forward, throwing his arms around your shoulders and crumbling into you, his body molding into yours. His weight crashing into you nearly toppled you over, and he clung to you, snotty and sobbing like a little kid. His fingers dug into your back like nails, clutching to you like his life depended on it. You were speechless. You’d never seen such real, raw emotion from Kokichi. He loved to lie, to put on a performance and was good at fake crying, but you could tell this was real. He’d never reacted to the loss of any of your classmates like this. He continued to berate you, showing his fear of losing you in his own… unique way.

I guess he really did care after all.

Rantarou Amami: 

Rantarou often took strolls around the academy grounds at night to clear his head. The air was crisp and refreshing, there were interesting things to see, and if he truly got bored of just walking and looking, he could always hit up the casino for some late-night fun to pass the time. Mostly though, he just needed the quiet time alone to think, to process his thoughts from that day and plan the next.

Passing the dorms and heading toward the entrance to the main building of the academy, he shuffled to a standstill when his eyes caught sight of something strange. Up high on the rooftop, he spotted something that was definitely out of place, not there on his usual nightly walk. He could barely make out the shape of a human form, standing up there all alone. He squinted, trying to focus in on it. The grounds were pretty well lit, but nobody was ever up on the roof to his knowledge, so it made sense that not many lights were installed way up there. Yep, it was definitely a person: not big or wide enough to be an Exisal or small enough to be a bear. Curious almost to a fault, Rantarou decided immediately to check it out. It took a lot of figuring out which stairwell led where, which floor of the academy was blocked off and so on to find the door to the roof. Really, there wasn’t much up there, it was just a flat, levelled surface so there was no appeal, no need for the students to use it. Well… in this killing game, there were probably plenty of uses for the dangerously high-up, rarely visited, unrailed rooftop, but none of them were good.

When he closes the door behind him and sees, now up close, that the human form that was visible from the ground is you, standing on the edge of the roof, he sighs. He was really hoping on his trek up here that it wasn’t going to be you. Unfortunately, his gut said it would be, and that made him rush up to the roof all the quicker. Anyone else might have genuinely been up there for fresh air or the view, but Rantarou knew you… he knew you’d been going a rough time, the whole group knew it. Some of your fellow prisoners at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles made fun of you for being so mopey all the time, calling you emo or a buzzkill. Kokichi teased that you and Shuichi would be a perfect match, that you could “be little bitches together,” crying all day, wearing all black and so on. He was ruthless.

Rantarou knew why you were up there, what could happen to you that night if he didn’t intervene. Preparing himself mentally, he gently approached you, slowly and cautiously as to not spook you off of the ledge.

“H-hey? Um, what’s up Y/N?” The air up there was extra chilly, and that mixed with the apprehension about how the next few moments would go had him throwing his hands into his pockets, immensely uncomfortable. Knowing you were no longer alone, you stepped back from the ledge, wrapping your arms around your middle as you turned to face him. He didn’t miss it when your expression went from a dead-inside indifference to anxious surprise when you saw him.

“Rantarou? Hey…” you spoke unenthusiastically, clearly intending to spend what may have been your last night on Earth alone.

“Stargazing, huh?” He laughed nervously, trying to play off the severity of the potentially dire situation. The goal was to descalate your suicidal thoughts if you indeed had any as he suspected, to let you know you weren’t alone, physically or emotionally. “If so, there are way better places on campus to do it!”

“Oh… yeah,” you replied with a forced, pathetic little laugh. You stepped closer toward him. It seemed like you were already losing conviction in your choice to jump. Good. Those second thoughts were good. Doubts were good. You obviously weren’t too far gone, or you probably would’ve jumped regardless of him watching - not caring, not regretting, not feeling anything.

“Can I chill up here with you? Walkin’ around all alone at night’s gettin’ kinda boring. I mean, I’ve seen everything on campus a million times. It would be a nice change of routine.” He smiled hopefully, pressuring you into accepting. You nod in response and the two of you sat and “stargazed” for a long while, eventually shifting to lay down on the hard, dirty concrete of the rooftop and stare up into the sky.

“You can’t… really see much…” you grumbled after a long silence.

“Hmmm? Oh yeah, the campus is pretty well lit so not many stars are gonna show. It sucks, but I kinda like just laying here. It’s nice: the silence, doing nothing. Our days are pretty stressful, you know?” Oh, you knew. The stress of the killing game, wondering if you were going to die that day, trying to figure out mystery after puzzle, trying to recall memories… it was what sent you into this spiral in the first place.

You let Rantarou carry the conversation from there. He attempted to enthuse you with tales of his travels, trying to make life sound adventurous, the world worth living for. Some of it did in fact entertain you, catching your attention, but mainly what shook you was Rantarou opening up to you freely when he was known by the group to be pleasant but quite secretive about his past, even unintentionally. You’d all lost some of your memories, but he was even more of a mystery than others. You couldn’t help but feel a bit moved, a bit warmed by the fact that he wanted to reveal more of himself to you. He spoke for a long while, telling long stories of his past for the next hour or so before letting the interaction fade into a more comfortable silence. Eventually though, he knew he would have to acknowledge it, to get to the hard part.

“Hey… uh… I just wanna let you know that I’ve been there before… some really rough shit in life, you know?” He turned his head to look directly at you, no longer caring about the stars sprinkled sparsely above. “Don’t do it… It’s never gonna be worth it.” 

Gonta Gokuhara:

“Y/N??? What happen?!” Gonta was kneeling in front of you, a nervous wreck.

This was not how this was supposed to go. How did he… of all people find you??? How could anyone?

You were tucked away in a dark hallway, a few floors up in an area of the academy hardly anyone used. This section was decorated in cobwebs, loose boards, unfinished paint. This floor unlocked because there were some research labs up here, but this in particular was a wing that was a far walk to the other side of the floor and this area was mostly untouched, or rather, abandoned. Monokuma and the Kubs obviously didn’t plan to do anything with it and had even blocked it off lazily with some loose tape. The bears were never seen here, and you thought the first time you broke past the tape that an Exisal or five would show up to crush you for breaking some rule, but when nothing happened, you decided to make this your own little spot for when you just needed a break from it all. This world, the academy, the killing game, it all became far too much very quickly.

This hallway had a high archway and a large round window looking out. There was a beautiful view of the moon from this dramatic looking window, and you wanted it to be your last view. Here in your secret place, you thought, even if someone did discover you in the morning or days from now, you’d be long gone. This was a good spot, but what was happening now was not part of the plan… Here you were, blood trickling and a sharp razor to your arm about to cut deep once again when the large man came stomping through the normally silent hallway seemingly on a mission.

You were pulled back into the moment: Gonta was yelling and you were shushing him, a bit light headed and a super panicked. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be just you, alone and done. Not someone like him… he didn’t deserve to see this. Now this was selfish. Now… you couldn’t finish the job.

You didn’t want to hurt him like this. All he ever wanted to do was help others. Gonta was too good, too pure of heart, too selfless. You didn’t want him to deal with this or to think for even a second that he had any fault in it. God forbid he was too late to stop it and you bled out anyway. He would blame himself forever. You didn’t want to expose him to this. You tried to distract him, which in normal daily conversation proved easy to do.

“Gonta, what are you doing here?” You tossed the razor to the ground and tried to hold your arm somewhat back and out of his direct line of sight, but he kept looking at it regardless, clearly focused on one thing at the moment.

“W-well, normally Gonta go to his lab at this time every night, check on bugs between sleeping, make sure they’re safe! But… tonight, Kokichi stop Gonta outside Gonta’s lab and say our friend Y/N is in trouble! Gonta had to come right away to help!” Kokichi… that little shit! How did he even know? He seemed to know everything that happened around campus, like he was always lurking about in the shadows. He knew everyone’s secrets, was up in everyone’s business like it was his job. You hadn’t even seen him anywhere near you tonight… Was he truly that far ahead of everyone else? Why would he do this to Gonta, though? You wouldn’t even pretend to know how his twisted little mind worked.

“Oh, well I’m fine, Gonta, honestly…” You pulled down your uniform sleeve, hoping that covering the open wounds would lessen the seriousness of the moment.

“Y/N not fine! Let Gonta help!” Sputtering and an anxious mess, Gonta, who assumed this was all a big misunderstanding, an accident, insisted you follow him to his lab, or he’d even carry you if it hurt too much or you felt too weak. You knew he wasn’t going to simply let this go and walk away, so you sighed and conceded, allowing him to guide you all the way to his bug-filled research lab before he could escalate this to an even louder ruckus that possibly drew others to the scene.

He happily explained that he had some basic first aid and medical supplies in there, that Monokuma adapted a side area to be kind of like the environment Gonta grew up in but in his own… less sophisticated way of speaking. He also had some more advanced first aid tools that he’d collected and stored from the warehouse on the first floor just in case his bugs friends or human friends needed his help (bless his heart). He knew of basic bandaging and wound-cleaning methods from his time growing up in the wilderness. It was survival of the fittest out there.

He dutifully got your arm all fixed up and padded the wound so even if your arm bumped into something lightly while you slept that night, you wouldn’t feel it. He joyfully talked your ear off, never aware of the true intent behind your actions that night. He was simply happy to help, to save his friend at any cost.

Shuichi Saihara:

When you awoke, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your dorm room, mind groggy and eyes bleary. A pounding headache greeted you along with a tightness in your lungs. A feeling of pins and needles spread through your extremities as you slowly sat up. You were in your bed… Did it not work? Huh? The light above stung your eyes and as you looked around, you finally noticed Shuichi by your bedside. His eyes were red and puffy underneath, like he’d been crying recently.

“Shuichi? Is this real? Why am I-” you began, throat hoarse and raw.

“Alive? I found you on the floor of my research lab… the bottle was nearby.” He looked disappointed, disheartened, exhausted. “I forced the antidote down your throat… anything to get it into your system. Maki helped me carry you here. She’ll be back with food eventually, we were planning on taking shifts…” You started to stutter, to try and make excuses or apologies but he cut you off, nerves obviously fried: “If you knew it was getting this bad, if you felt like this was your only option, you should’ve talked to me, or Maki… or anybody for that matter, anything to prevent this!” His words were breathy, voice giving out as he was starting to get choked up again. He sighed, breath catching in his throat and he held his head in his hands. “Or maybe… we should’ve noticed…” He spoke barely above a whisper, sniffling. A shockwave of guilt and pain shot through your body. You couldn’t let him think that.

“No, Shuichi, this isn’t your fault! This isn’t on anyone but me!” You couldn’t deal with the knowledge that he was feeling in any way guilty about this.

“Poisoning yourself? Do you know how slow that would’ve been, how painful? Did you even read the label on the specific posion you chose? You would’ve gone in and out of consciousness most likely, each time waking up in more pain that the last until your body finally gave out. Monokuma designed this stuff, its tortuous and cruel, Y/N.” You’d rarely heard his voice take on this deep, angry tone. “You would’ve felt your body shutting down, paralyzed and powerless to stop the pain. Can you imagine if I hadn’t found you passed out initially and shoved that antidote down your throat? I bet you’re still feeling some side effects regardless.” He shook his head, unable to meet your gaze with his next words. “... Why would you do this to me…? To see my best friend suffer like that!” The tears, hot and angry began to pour freely from the corners of his eyes, his words spat through clenched teeth. He was trying to even out his breaths, fists balled at this side in the chair beside your bed. Seeing your brows furrow in guilt, the emotional pain twisted into your expression when you were already in physical pain, he tried desperately to reel himself in. “I’m sorry. I shoudn’t be angry at you, it’s selfish of me. I just…” He sighed deeply, steadying his breathing.

No, he was right… he’d lost Kaede, you’d all just lost Kaito - the main event that finally pushed you over an edge you’d already been teetering on. You’d almost caused him more irreversible pain. Everyone else who died crushed his spirit of course, but you, Kaito, Kaede, Maki, you guys were so very dear to him. Losing any of you chipped away at his heart and soul, and he didn’t have many pieces left. There was barely enough Shuichi left to keep going. Each trial drained him like an old machine running out of steam. You cared about him, cherished him immeasurably, and yet you almost contributed directly to the destruction and despair the killing game had wrought inside his heart already.

“For some reason, Monokuma said suicide is a viable death for a class trial if the antidote didn’t take. Said he’s seen suicide work before for a trial,” he spoke again to fill the unpleasant void in the air. “It seemed like he really didn’t want me to administer it to you, but I told him since I literally saw it happen, a trial would be boring. A quick trial would be no fun for him, so he seemed to be mulling it over. You know he’s all about entertaining himself… so sick. I was praying, just hoping the antidote worked. I couldn’t have done it, your trial…” Maki interupted his monologuing, entering with a tray of food and water. 

“Y/N,” Maki nodded her acknowledgment, showing she cared in her own reserved way. He turned to greet her solemnly, then back to you. “Whatever you need to talk about, I’m here, we are here. Please don’t do anything like this ever again.”

K1B0/Kiibo:

You loved Kiibo and really treasured his friendship, but sometimes he just didn’t seem to get more complex or abstract human concepts. Even something like depression, which wasn’t all that complex on the surface level, seemed to make him uncomfortable and revert into a very robotic state of thinking. Kiibo understood sadness of course, even feeling what he described as sadness on multiple occasions, but the deep, irrational, incurable thing that true depression could sometimes be seemed to be less reachable to him. When you vented or explained the concept, he tried to understand and you two were so close that you went to him before anyone else. You trusted him wholly and bonded after many months spent with him. You could see his gears turning (not literally) when he was trying really hard to understand a new idea or emotion, but sometimes you just wanted to vent and be heard while he wanted to offer practical solutions. He’d search his memory banks for psychological reports, comb the internet looking for the smartest answer, the facts, but the human side he wasn’t seeming to get was that the facts weren’t always what someone wanted or needed when they were feeling down. There was barely any warmth from his “comfort,” even when he tried extremely hard. Deep, excruciating depression seemed to be something he just wasn’t programmed to deal with. Maybe his creator thought he’d never encounter it, or you all got locked up in the academy before it could be added to his knowledge bank. You knew Kiibo could learn and adapt even without previous programming, but sometimes it was hard for him. It felt like asking Google how to solve a depressive episode or a panic attack instead of a friend who should know you and your heart.

On one particular evening, Kiibo found himself searching around the academy for you. You were usually on time to meet up with him, and you’d hang out at the same place every night for the past few months. When a good while passed and you didn’t show up, he went looking for you, a bit worried. You were in a killing game after all. He didn’t want to assume the worst but it would be foolish not to consider the possibility. After clearing the outside areas he moved into the main building, up dusty stairs and across lesser used halls until he came upon a restricted section that Monokuma blocked off for “ normal maintenance.” You all knew this was probably a lie, that the bear probably had something far more sinister than maintenance planned for that section of the school, but no one dared cross the yellow tape and warning signs. The Kubs had threatened you all on punishment of death if you broke the rules by ruining the surprise early and entering the closed off wing. Looking over the tape, the loose boards and dimly lit hall, something was willing him to go, pushing him to check past the tape… his inner voice. He’s never ignored it before, and it’s always been the right choice. Finding a courage he didn’t normally have, he stepped cautiously under the tape, being sure not to rip or alter its placement. Creeping down the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded a corner and saw you standing yards behind an Exisal. The deadly machine was clearly on autopilot with no Kub inside, likely just set to perform simple maintenance, guard duty, cleaning or building on its own until its owner returned. Regardless, the thing would probably mindlessly kill any signs of human life it encountered in its owner’s stead, programmed by its creator to carry out punishments on rule breakers in this area. Yet another thing that made Kiibo superior to these types of no-intellect, violent piles of scrap metal. If you were caught, you were likely dead on sight, and he knew that, and he knew you had to know that.

Shuffling up to you warily, he grabs onto your shirt firmly and begins to drag you back and away from the Exisal.

“What are you doing?!” He whispers, inching you both away from the machine and back toward the entrance to the blocked off section. You were pulling away from him, struggling with tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. You wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t alert the Exisal now for fear of putting Kiibo’s life in danger as well, but if you could just convince him to leave, shake him off, maybe… “You shouldn’t be here!” Now a safer distance away from the Exisal, you began to protest verbally. You were mumbling, something like let me do this, I want to die, and was talking over you, solely concerned with getting you both into the clear where you could talk openly. He didn’t want to hear that word right now either: die, or any variation of it. He felt that anxiety, what humans describe as a tightness in the chest or butterflies flying around where his intestines would be. Was this feeling uniquely human?

His uneasiness lessens a tiny bit once he drags you under the tape and now down an unrestricted hall to a nearby bench, but now the uncomfortable talk had to begin. He hated this part, hated feeling inadequate and inhuman. He takes your rambling head into his hands and forces you to look at him through the tears.

“This is illogical. This is a most… painful way out! Why would you chose this way? It’s unreasonable. Why would you want to die like that, and who knows how long that thing is programmed to drag it out. Monokuma and the Monokubs are cruel to say the least, would dying by a machine they made be a great way to go out?” This was not what you wanted to hear. He was doing it again, another analytical, logical answer. You began to weep even harder, the frustration doubling at his words. You wanted to punch him in the face right now. He didn’t know what to do, eyes bouncing all over your form in confusion and dread like he was looking at a ship that just sprung a leak and was threatening to sink before him. He felt himself overheating like some common computer, ashamed at the useless he felt at that moment.

He didn’t know what to do… he was making it worse! So, he followed his inner voice.

In a panic, before he can think, he simply blurts out: