Lights, Camera, Action!

you really fucked it up this time, didn't you, nagisa?

When Miho came by where they stood, and they felt his smooth, nimble fingers brush across their hair, Nagisa felt their breath stop, and their heart skip, and they knew that they were never going to let go of all of this anytime soon, no matter how hard they tried. (they were weak. they were so, so weak.)

The world danced around them at uneven speeds, slow as a snail and as fast as lightning all at once, and they could not keep their heart from pounding as if it was about to burst from their chest as Miho spoke softly to them (it was real it was real it was real he lied about nearly everything but something something was real), and as he pressed his phone into their shaking hands (don't go don't go don't go please just don't leave--), and as all they could choke out with was:

"...I...I-I d...don'...t...u-un...d-derst..st--"

No, not that--

"I...g-- g...ge...t y-you, I...tha...nnnngh...I...l-li-- I...hhhhhhaaaaagh...l--"

(i love you? i hate you? thank you? i'll miss you? see you? goodbye?)

--But they were silent, then; and the most they could muster was the saddest, slightest of tiny waves farewell, and after that? All they could do was sit and shudder.

It was the end.

---

And then, it really was the end. And when it finally hit their deadened, delirious fuck of a brain exactly what the setting was that the crooked lovebirds of the hour had chosen for their last hurrah, they just couldn't fucking help but have their hand goddamn fly up to their mouth and--

"Nnnnnnnnnf--f-fuck-k...! F-F-fffuckin'--"

(and ain't that a fucking tableau for ya, kid! nagisa kelly, abandoned by God and lured in by the Devil, only to have him leave you behind, too! forgone and forsaken by anyone who could ever give a damn, and what can you even do, now?)

They watched. (Because of course they did.) Their whole world was corrupted footage, rewinding and fast forwarding at equal speeds, and nothing made sense and everything was falling with them and then they were gone, and there they were, fucking sobbing and convulsing and dragging their fingers down a face they could barely even feel, and it was his voice that thundered in their head above all else, and they hated it and hated him and hated hated hated that they couldn't even pretend that was true, not a goddamn bit.

(you're so cool, nagisa-chan! we're friends, nagisa-chan! i want to be your knight, nagisa-chan! by the way, nagisa-chan, did i ever tell you i'm a fucking con?)

It felt like a million years before the lights came back on.

---

Sasahara was dead. Koochi was gone. It barely even registered.

Trailer 11 was all they cared about, their final stop before freedom; as they yanked out their keycard and flung the door open, fetching up their darling Camilla (or Cami, wouldn't they have to call her now), and grabbing anything else they could throw over their sharp shoulders and fit in those shaking surgeon-like hands of theirs, and then they were staggering away, despite every bone in their body screaming for them to just collapse to the floor and never wake up, and soon, it was the eight of them, a wretched octet of desperate, traumatised children stumbling their way into light and noise and real goddamn people and freedom, fucking freedom, at long last.

---

They slipped into unconsciousness swifter than any of the others, the stress finishing them off in that department long before even the sickness; Camilla in their lap, voice recorder in one pocket and his phone in the other, and more than therapy or medicine or anything else in the world all they wanted was to be held, close and tight, and to have someone brush back their hair and murmur into their ear that it was fine, that it was over, that they were forgiven, and that they were safe.

---

They woke up in their clean hospital bed, and the first thing that popped into their head was that they were surprised that they weren't still crying.

The real human people from hours ago were back, and they were introducing themselves, and explaining how thoroughly fucked the lot of them all were. They stared, observing with what seemed like an almost detached interest; not because they didn't care, but because God, everything still ached and burnt and hurt so much that the future wasn't something they could even begin to consider yet. And then they were gone, and all that was left in the ward were the eight of them.

(Eight. Eight survivors who had lived to tell the tale, or keep it shut up tight for the rest of their lives. One hell of a motley crew if there ever was one, huh? Aiko Sato, Declan LeBlanc, Ayato Akiyama, Kazumi Kido, Warato Fukumi, Mio Fujihara, Maria Santiago, Takumi Ueno-- and them. Them, Nagisa Kelly. That one, they'd never could've guessed.)

(Some months on from now, late in the evening in an apartment with stained white walls, they find themself trying to forget in the company of an old almost-friend; he asks them, "Man, an' how the fuck did y'survive all that?", and they answer, with a hollow snicker and smirk, "Why, with my incredible charm and good looks, 'course." They're not entirely wrong.)

Their entire body, their soul, even, felt heavy. Weighed down by the whole world. Those former survivors had no answers for them. They had no answers for themself. What the everloving fuck did they do now? Their thoughts flickered to it all, every little responsibility and obligation they'd left behind, and suddenly they were tempted to lie back down again.

"...But don’t misunderstand me: You don’t owe them anything."

Once upon a time, Nagisa Kelly, going-on-sixteen years old and entrenched in their own guilt, had fled their former existence to try and start again. They'd failed, and had made it back here, going-on-nineteen years old and swamped by the horrors they'd witnessed, ghastly thoughts they knew were never going to quite fade, no matter how hard they willed.

But Miho-- goddamn brighteyes, their twisted, crooked, sadistic saviour-- maybe he was right. Maybe they could just do what felt right rather than what was responsible, maybe just not think about and just...be. Whatever that meant.

They didn't know. Everything hurt, and they had no idea what was going to happen to them next. But maybe, maybe for now, maybe all they had to do was close their eyes, and let the sunlight fall across them, and tomorrow, they could restart it again. Just maybe, but God knew that was all they had, now. And maybe that was what they'd have to use.

(So much lay ahead of them, so much they had yet to know; clasped hands, late night breakdowns, so many more opportunities to be an idiot and cry and laugh where neither was appropriate, reunitings and partings that hadn't quite happened yet, questionable hobbies to fill the void with and antique knives to satisfy their own paranoia they had neither taken up nor collected. It was a vast, vibrant future ahead of them, and not a thought of it had yet to enter that drained head of theirs.)

They laid their head back down again.

So it goes, huh? C'est la fucking vie, hah.

Nagisa Kelly did not know about it, not yet. But if their life could be defined as some twisted cinematic epic of their own, then here, with the sun shining across their closed life and silent, still self, was where it was truly about to begin.

[panic attack cw? if there’s a better warning, let me know!]

No fucks were given by the jeweler as more deaths has gone on and he and other survivors has been freed of the vicious death cycle. But little did Takumi knew he was going to see himself eventually on news for a good while in addition of being harassed daily by reporters. The tall man wasn’t even surprised of this happening, especially since he decided to go back to working to where he used to be, so the probabilities of them finding this place was pretty much very existent.

Even so, with the flashes from the cameras and microphones pointed at him, Takumi was losing more and more of his patience, and despite it all he kept his polite facade up as long as he needed to politely tell them to please leave him alone as he isn’t going to answer to any of their questions. Every time that happened, whenever breaks were allowed, the jeweler would lock himself in the bathroom and burst out in tears until he calmed down.

He was reminded of why he liked to be quiet and blending in the crowd when he could. He was reminded of why all the attention stresses him out. He hated it, he hated it so much. Why did it have to turn out this way? Why can’t those reporters just ignore him? Leave him alone?

Time would pass, and it would get quieter maybe, but traces of what happened will always haunt him.

It was no surprise that the news would talk quite a bit about him and other survivors as well, really. But despite it all, he did tell to his foster mother to not bring up the topic at all and to talk about something else if she could, to which she did her best at respecting his wishes.

Eventually, Takumi did get used to the fleeting possibility of that damned topic being brought up at times by some clients and not-clients, however, he managed to bury the memories the most he could whenever it was quieter. The earth wasn’t going to stop spinning just because of some awful events that occurred in their lives.

[suicidal ideation Tw]

Where are they now? 

Tonight's edition: The mutual killing survivor Maria Santiago 

The words flashed on her television screen and Rosario made a fake gagging noise. They could guess where she was, but besides her occasional stints into the public to watch Mio fight everything about her life was a mystery. After the game, after Kenj-Miho's death and the end of the game Rosario didn't care for the public. Sure she still played her favorite games. But no longer did Rosario grace tournaments. The boards were in uproar for a while, people commentated on her skipping events, But eventually the champion Rosario faded from the world. Replaced with the secluded survivor Maria. 

"....It's said that under duress during the Mutual killing fiasco She was forced to kill someone to protect her loved one...."

Oh right Mateo. Papi and Mama too. She should have called them but. It's been so long now. A year? Two? Six months? How long had it been since she got this shit hole apartment? (That's a lie it was actually rather spacious and Mio did such a lovely job decorating it.) They knew she was alive. They had to at this point. Media everywhere was covering the incident. Surely they knew she was alive. But her phone, After everything at the studio she left it there. She left. Everything there.

"...Seclusion, Only letting the other survivors see her."

Well no shit. After being personally responsible for two...No..Seval was looking for a way out and you forced him to stay. So you're looking at 5. After you kill five people everything for you changes. It's hard to just get up and go out and be happy again. Which sounds emo and edgy but that's the truth of the matter. She wanted to protect her brother, but now he was safe and hopefully forgetting about her.

Rosario killed five people in this game, Granted one of them was Mr.Apex predator, and another was fucking Seval, but still.  Rosario leaned back in the sofa wondering for the umpteenth time today if killing herself would make them angry. She wasted their life and now she wanted to waste her own. Yeah they'd be pissed. 

Rosario let herslef sink in the thoughts when she heard the lock on the top lock of the door unbolt. Well there were only 7 people in the world with a key besides her and only two that wanted to be any kind of close to her. 

Turning the volume on the tv down she turned to the door. 

"let's hope this tragedy is never repeated."

Whether she wanted to or not guess she was alive. So she kinda had to face forward and keep living. Anything else would have been an insult to the ones she left behind.

{Manabu sprites by Val, Iwao sprites by Citizen, Minnie sprites by Ray!}

Leaving the cinema was a blur. Maybe it was a combination of the shock and stress catching up to you that kept you from remembering the details. Bits and pieces- the medical staff, the code shouted over earpieces, bumping around in an armoured car while a JSDF psychologist talked at you and scribbled on a notepad- remain, but the little details tying it all together have been pushed to the back amid the chaos.

Of course, there was also the transportation to a hospital. That much comes back to you as you realize you're waking up in a bed in that same hospital. It's odd, awaking in a setting that's not the trailers. You don't really have much time to privately examine your new settings, though, as it's less than a minute before the lock on the door clicks and three new faces enter the room.

Well, relatively new, anyways. It takes you a minute to recall, but these three definitely were a part of the group of suited young adults- they’d said something about surviving a first game, right?- that greeted you yesterday. The last one to enter closes the door behind him.

"Oh, you're awake?” A blond haired man speaks up first, stepping to the front. “Good to see y'all are doin' better after all that nasty stuff that went down..." He rubs the back of his head with an apologetic smile before grinning bigger and beaming with optimism. "Well, 'm Iwao Wakahisai, me and my pals are here to help clear some shit up for ya best we can. I’m guessin’ y’all don’t wanna be left in the dark, especially now."

“They know our names, Wakahisai. The message we sent them, remember?” A woman with short, brown hair scoffs. Though her scowl does age her infinitely, her youthful freckles doting her cheeks betray her maturity.

“Though you know our tones, you don’t know our faces, probably. I’m Minnie LaFleur.” She sure seems to get to the point.

The taller of the three steps over behind them, hands moving in a small flurry at Iwao. He looks to everyone else resting and waves. He fishes out a small notebook and flips it towards you all. [Hiromura, Manabu, hope we can clear this all up some ;;] His hand adjusts the scarf around his neck.

Iwao nods at Manabu, making some hand motions back at him before turning back to face you. "Ya heard 'bout us from Matsumoto-san, like, yesterday, yeah? Dunno if she said why we're here though, lemme cover that to be on the safe side... So, the JS... uh, JSDF, yeah. The JSDF gathered all a' us to try and help y'all. They were like totally dumbstruck with the whole thing, like, mutual killing? What the hell is this shit, I ain't trained for that. So they called in us 'cause we survived, so they thought we'd have good advice and whatever- hope mine helped y'all out, a situation like this really sucks..."

“They just wanted us cause they thought we’d do whatever they wanted cause we both had a common goal,” Minnie scowled. “They thought because we survived that we’d have a way to make things better, to spread ‘hope’ to you kids. They even tried to make me give a speech to the masses. Guess what, being fake and saying everything is gonna be ok won’t fix anything, you gotta work hard. And as much as I hate to admit it, you kids did alright,”

Manabu lets out a sigh, signing back to Iwao and ends it with a shrug. He flips through a couple of pages with a frown and signs over to Iwao again with a frown on his face.

Iwao nods at Manabu, “Ya right- least, they’d probably try, if that lady hadn’t already leaked shit all game, right?” He realizes no one else probably knew what Manabu said, so his response sounded weird- he scratches the back of his head and adds context, “Cause, uh, like, the feds did a real good job of putting a wrap on what happened to us, callin’ it a terrorist attack ‘n stuff. They shipped us out to America to make sure we didn’t say nothin’, even. Though, that one lady, Kooichi, was leaking info in the middle of your ‘game’.” He makes sure to put air quotes around game. “Dunno if that’s a good or bad thing, but basically people know what happened. Speakin’ of her, do any of y’all happen to know what happened to her?”

You blink at the group, confused, before shaking your head and telling them that you don’t know anything about where Eriko went. You know that Yumeno is dead, but the camerawoman’s whereabouts are a mystery.

Minnie scoffed. “How would ya know, it’s all you’ve done to stay alive,” It was odd, though she wasn’t saying anything harmful, the way she said it dripped with malice. What was up with this lady? “Though nyan cat is dead, we don’t even have a clue where to find tac nayn. Thanks to her, everyone across the globe knows who you kids are, for better for worse. It probably won’t fix much, but I bet ya’ll’ll sleep better at night knowing she’s put down,”

Manabu raises an eyebrow at Minnie, motioning to Iwao for a moment before almost cutting himself off. He lets out a frustrated sigh, signing once more.

He glances over the group and signs, finishing his thought with by crossing his arms.

Iwao nods, signing back at Manabu. He looks back at you, “Well, regardless of what happens with Kooichi, that stuff she sent out is, like, out there anyway. So it’ll be best for y’all to stay here and not get hounded by people, yeah? It was mega weird for me to go back to a normal life after our stupid game thing, so I imagine it might be similar for some of ya. You can hang out here, chill, cool down, recoup, all that good stuff...”

You decide to speak up again. Your voice is still cracking- you’re tired, emotionally demolished, and some water would do you a world of good- but you can’t keep staying quiet. You ask them the biggest question you have: ‘What now? What happens next?’.

“You really think we have any fuckin’ clue? Quick answer, we don’t. You kids gotta figure this stuff out for yourselves. Don’t ask us the questions, ask yourselves. Are ya gonna go home, lay low, go back to Hope’s Peak? Well, whatever ya do, don’t attract any more attention to yourselves, we have enough of a hard time watching our asses to watch your’s anymore,”

And... Well, they’re right. Nobody seems to know what you’re supposed to do now. Even with all the new information, you don’t know what’s going to happen next or what your future is going to hold. Starting a new life in Hope’s Peak was supposed to be the start of a bright future, and now that it’s been interrupted by this tragedy, you’re going to have to find yourself a brand new path to follow.

As the banter among the three fades into background noise, you turn your head in the direction of the window. It’s so bright outside... You can see a whole city out there. There are more people visible on the sidewalks below than you’ve seen in ages. They must know of you now if the story you’re being presented with is true. Who’s going to recognize you from now on? What will become of your private life? Question after question burns into your mind.

But then the sunshine hits your window, and there’s a warmth on your face from the rays that quiets your thoughts. You are warm, comfortable, and safe- three feelings you thought you might never experience again. But despite all odds, here you are. Even after everything, you are alive. 

That in itself is a victory worth celebrating.

--------------

CINEMA DESPAIR 2: STUDENT VICTORY HAS BEEN ACHIEVED!

{Art by Lotus!}

You don't have to go far. As soon as you push open the doors to the main building, the first thing you notice is one of the large walls that enclosed the studio before- a huge chunk has been blown out of it, rubble strewn across the courtyard. There must have been some sort of sound cancelling construction within that courtroom, as there's no way you wouldn't have noticed what appears to be the result of a huge explosion otherwise.

Thanks to the sudden change in the environment, there's another change that takes you a second to process. You can see a small group standing in the courtyard. They don't look very old- mid twenties at the most. One from the group notices you and the rest of your class exiting the main building, altering the others and hurrying over to you. It's a young woman, short brown hair and some sort of tattoo peeking out from the top of her suit- a professional looking outfit that the rest of these new appearances seem to share. As she approaches, her hand reaches up to touch what looks like an earpiece.

"We have eight." The brunette woman looks both relieved and distraught, speaking into the earpiece quickly. "Get the medics here right away." The rest of their group following her over, and she stops talking into the earpiece, eyes casting over the group quickly. She mutters something under her breath in a language you don’t quite understand... French, perhaps?

"Who's hurt?" She looks to you all with great concern, eyes scanning over you, searching for injuries. "We'll take care of all of you, but does anyone need immediate medical attention?"

As that's confirmed by some confused murmurs on your part, the woman hurries to Mio and Rosario, kneeling down and trying to asses what's happened. Another young woman, arriving with the rest of the group, steps forwards to take her place in front of you all. A frustrated scowl sits on her tan face.

“Did nobody down there hear that explosion? Shit. It really was just a distraction.” She scowls to herself, running a hand through her short brown hair. She turns to look at the other woman. “Renee, send someone to search the perimeter.  Kooichi and Sasahara might have gotten away.”

She turns back to all of you, her expression and tone changing rapidly when she actually addresses your group. It almost feels like she’d be more suited to bouncing happily on her heels than standing there formally. “Hiya! No need to be afraid, the cavalry has arrived! We’re the ones who sent that message.  Remember that? Aaaaaand we’re here to get you guys out of here. I’m Kiri Matsumoto. We were involved in the first mutual killing incident. I know Hope’s Peak tried to bury the first incident, buuuuuuut it looks like they weren’t so lucky this time.  You guys are all over the news.”

Kiri looks from side to side, eyeing the remaining walls of the studio suspiciously. “We can talk about that later. We, like, reeeeeally need to get out of here. The walls were rigged to explode last time, and, uhhh… Let’s not take chances, okay?”

{Art by Ley!} 

And so, it was over. Miho and Basil were dead. The one who had caused you so much misery was gone, as was his second in command.

The execution was taking up the focus of the remaining members of your class- enough so that when the lights turned on for the final time, only then did you notice that both Eriko and Yumeno had vanished, doors to the exit now open.

What were you to do now? Nobody was instructing you to leave, but… You didn't want to stay down there for any longer. Giving a final glance to the room that had procured so much suffering, you and the rest of your class hurry to exit.

This time, the exit to the trial room really does lead into the office of both mascots. Eriko is nowhere to be seen, and her desk is cleared off entirely. Yumeno, on the other hand, is sitting in the chair at her own desk, head resting on the desk over her closed laptop. It takes you a minute to realize why.

Yumeno Sasahara is holding a pistol in one hand, fingers clasping tightly to the weapon, eyes closed with a peaceful smile on her face. There's a hole directly through the side of her head, and the scent of the blood splattered over her desk and part of the wall becomes overwhelming after you notice it. She's dead, seemingly by her own hand to escape the consequences. There is nobody ready to mourn her after what she's done, and there’s no protest as the group swiftly exits the room. What does cause some people to pause is the note on the outside of the office door.

Hello! Or maybe goodbye?

As you can see, this kitty is out of all her nine lives! Nya, so sad! But don't cry too much for me! Eriko-chan is out there with her nice, fat paycheck and the copies of our tapes! The movie will most definitely be seen by the masses. My goal will be achieved. Since that's gonna be done, I figured there was just no more reason to stay alive. I did what I wanted, after all! Start looking for our film on the Internet soon! You guys are gonna be even more famous than you already are ever since the story of your imprisonment got leaked! So cooooool! So even though I'm dead, Yumeno-chan will have a long lasting legacy! And so will you, my cute little actors. It's gonna be magical.

Thanks for working with me!

Yumeno Sasahara

… It's like her to write out her verbal tic in a letter, isn't it? There isn't any use dwelling on what she's written at the moment, nor to spend any time in this room with her body. You all keep moving. Miho had said you’d be free to go, didn't he? The main entrance to the studio is just outside of this building.

{Art by Citizen!}

At this point Miho only has eyes for Basil. He doesn’t glance over or otherwise react to anything anyone else is saying, as if he’s satisfied with the performance he’d given and sees no reason not to ignore anything further. And cut. Moving on. Next scene.

“You already know my answer,” Basil finally replies, bringing Miho’s hand up to kiss it. “I told you I can’t live without you, and I wasn’t lying or exaggerating. I can’t imagine life without you, I can’t imagine not going with you.”

They bring Miho’s hand down again, still holding on to it. “As always, I will follow you. Lead the way, zvezda moya.”

The smile Miho wears is effervescent, clearly at least some things about ‘Kenji’ hadn’t been an act. The overflowing energy, the joyful demeanor, the blinding smiles. It’s so out of place now, on the brink of his death, that it lends a surreal quality to everything. Is this really happening? Or is it just another part of the show? Miho had said he was in control even now, so for all you know he may not even intend to go through with it. The thought is probably unsettling.

But Miho doesn’t change his mind. True, the floor doesn’t open up beneath them like a trap door. True, no metal collars shoot out of a panel in the wall to drag them away. Instead, he leads Basil over to the wall behind his podium, where at his touch seams appear and a passage slides open. There isn’t time to catch a glimpse of what’s inside before they’ve disappeared into it, the door sliding shut again behind them and immediately becoming hidden in the wall once more.

They’re gone. Minutes stretch on after their departure, enough to become uncomfortable, to breed uncertainty. Was it a trick? Had they simply abandoned all of you? Were you going to be trapped down here, left to die of thirst or starvation?

Finally the large screen that has displayed previous executions and murders flickers to life. It shows a beautiful, church-like hall, with a deep navy carpet leading down between empty pews. Impossible to miss is the glittering figure of Miho standing at the back of the room, in front of a high wooden table not quite an altar. The camera zooms in to show three flat sake cups standing on top of it. The shot lingers long enough for you to register this, then rapidly cuts to what must be the entrance to the room- a grand set of double doors, which again put you in mind of a church or a chapel of some sort. The doors open, and Basil enters.

Their hair is pulled back and their sweater removed, making it seem like they are almost a completely different person. Granted, they are - only Miho had known Basil, while the rest were getting cozy with Felix. And yet the soft smile on their face was devoid of all the edges Basil’s grins and smirks possessed. However, this was a look reserved only for Miho as well, a look of love, of happiness.

There’s a glint of metal hanging on a necklace around Basil’s neck, a simple gold ring. Their flesh and blood hand reaches up to touch it, just for a moment, and then their attention is back to being entirely focused on Miho. When they reach him, they immediately hold their hands out, as if they were unsure what to do with them when Miho wasn’t there for them to hold.

Miho receives them with an expression of pure happiness, taking their hands in his again and murmuring something too soft for the camera to pick up, before it moves closer.

The wedding is unofficiated, no one is present in the hall but the two of them, trapped in their own little world- but not for long. Miho picks up one of the sake cups, his eyes locked on Basil even as he takes a sip, and then passes it to them. This process repeats itself, until they’ve both taken a drink from each cup three times. Before it finishes, it’s possible to spot some changes. Quickened breathing, paled skin, Miho’s hands are shaking slightly and at the end he drops the last cup rather than setting it back on the table.

Instead he braces a hand on it, as if to steady himself, and offers Basil a noticeably weaker smile than usual. This time his words are audible to all. “See you on the other side, darling.” He collapses, the timing almost perfect, and convulses once, curling into a ball, and then goes still.

The poison doesn’t affect Basil quite as quickly, but there is a noticeable effect by the time Miho is bracing himself against the altar. Their eye follows Miho’s movements, and they move to try and catch him, but they end up doubling over, arms crossing over their stomach. Barely a second passes and they drop to their knees, the brunt of their body weight leaning against the podium. Their hand reaches out, gently cradling the side of Miho’s head, and they slump over, completely unmoving.

MIHO “MOCKINGBIRD” NAGASHIRO, SUPER HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL CON ARTIST, HAS BEEN EXECUTED.

"...Ah, I see."

Warato was still smiling, but this time it was different. Before, it was a huge grin. It oozed with the desire to break the cause of his plight down into tiny, miserable pieces. He wanted to break them, to get a reaction out of them. To make them as upset as he was. Now? His expression seemed more subdued. His smile came naturally rather than forced. An odd change, given how hysterical he was earlier.

"You say that the 'sympathetic villain' cliche is overrated, but here you are giving yourself reasons to be sympathized. Not tearing into Kelly for falling for your ruse when you had the chance made me realize something. Remember something."

He sounded as if he was explaining something to a child. There was a sense of warmness to his voice, but it wasn't sure if he was faking it.

"Nagashiro... you didn't do all this 'just because you could'. You did this just because you could. You were never allowed to do anything you wanted, weren't you? Some parents, terrible parents, tend to be finicky like that. I seen a couple of my members act like that, but not to this level. They managed to find a way to not let their past define them, but you? You let it consume you. You decided that you would make your own choices, even if it would hurt people or even get you killed."

He sighed.

"Maybe this could've all been avoided had someone helped you. But, you said it yourself: no one talked to you. Not even your servants, your friends, maybe even your family. That could've been a lie, but maybe not. Maybe you thought everyone was trying to boss you around, but maybe they were trying to help you. I guess I'll never know. You've made your decision already. You've chosen to die so you won't have anyone else to tell you what to do any longer. I can't change your mind, only you can."

Ah, there was yet another person to deal with. Warato turned to Basil once again.

"And Krasnoff... you don't really have any self-worth, do you? To you, you're just something to be used. A tool. Any sense of humanity has been beaten out of you just so you don't question if there's more to life than killing. Maybe that's why you like Nagashiro so much. They treat you like a prized combat blade rather than your run-of-the mill knife. Again, had someone helped you or you realized you had more options, this could've been avoided. You could've realized that you were more than someone who takes orders instead of digging yourself into an inescapable hole."

He shrugged.

At some point during all this chaos, Mio’s eyes fluttered open. She let out a groan. What was this? Why was she in so much pain? Where did this scarf that was wrapped around her head come from?

 But then she looked up and saw Ro- Maria... and the knife that was still lodged right in her shoulder. That’s right! This was all because of Basil and Kenj- no. That wasn’t Kenji. Those two weren’t her friends. Basil and Miho... they were monsters. 

She wanted so badly to get up and and kill them herself but she was too weak. Everything hurt. All she could do was glare at them. 

For all accounts and purposes, Miho seems totally unbothered by the various reactions. If anything he appears to enjoy them, giggling right along with Warato as if his laughter were infectious. But it’s Ayato that his attention is directed to first this time.

“You learned the wrong lesson then.” He says simply, shaking his head like a disappointed parent, and then switches his attention back to the others. Not, of course, before acknowledging Basil with a brilliant flash of a smile and a gentle touch to the hand they placed on his shoulder.

“Of course you can all cast your votes- because I allow you to, because I set up a voting system for all of you to use in the first place- but no matter how I die, it will be my choice. And even if you were to kill me yourself, it wouldn’t hurt me. Not really. Sorry to burst all your bubbles but you’re still playing my game. I’m sure the audience will love the way you’ve rallied, the brave fronts you’re putting on. But no matter how much you yell and repeat yourselves, you won’t fool me. You can’t con a con.” Miho’s still speaking in a lively manner, but it’s clear from the way his gaze keeps slipping away from them that he’s losing interest. By the time he’s turned to again respond to Rosario-Maria, his demeanor can only be described as flippant. “Anyway Maria, you have a biased perspective. The thing is, the whole ‘sympathetic villain’ trope? It’s exhausted. People don’t want to feel bad for the villain, it makes the ending dissatisfying. This way everyone will be cheering you on! Isn’t that better? Besides, forgive me if I’m not going to take the narrative critique of a pokemon master seriously.”

It seems for a moment like he might say more, but that’s when Nagisa starts to speak.

Oddly enough, Miho falls completely silent for the duration. And it’s a long one, they clearly have a lot to say, but at no point does he try to stop them or speak over them. In fact he looks more alert than he did when the others were abjuring him, though while against them he’d been cheerful, slapping back their well-deserved insults with jovial good-will, now… now his expression has shifted into something more neutral.

About halfway through the emotional rambling, Miho pats Basil’s hand again, like some kind of unspoken request or order, and moves away from them. He walks lightly around the now-empty podiums to Nagisa’s and when they fall to their knees he puts a hand on their head, stroking their hair back for a moment with a gentleness that seems uncharacteristic to his true persona.

“The camera feed isn’t live.” He says softly, when their words have trailed off. “Nagisa… I’m speaking from experience when I say you don’t owe loyalty to your family simply because they’re your family. You’re allowed to live for yourself. You’re allowed to be yourself.”

There’s no hesitation when Miho draws back his hand and pulls something from his pocket, too fast to react- but it’s only his cell phone. He taps the screen for the moment, then leans down, pressing it into Nagisa’s hand. “I’ve turned off the lock, since I don’t know if you’ll be able to remember a passcode in this state. My contacts and bank account information are on here. Take whatever you want. Take it all. I won’t be needing it. And you’d be amazed what a little- or, I’ll be honest, a lot- of money in the right hands can do. Your brother doesn’t have to stay in jail. But don’t misunderstand me: You don’t owe them anything. Do whatever you want.”

With that he straightens up again, eyes still locked on them, face still even and unreadable. And he sighs, lightly, for the first time it seems like might be…

“I did keep you alive. It was intentional. You have no reason to believe me, but then, I have no reason to lie anymore.” A wry smile tugs at his mouth suddenly, as unlike his camera-ready grins as Miho himself is from Kenji. “You told me once that even if I were lying to you, you’d just be impressed. I thought maybe you’d understand… it doesn’t matter.”

Shaking his head again, though this time the gesture seems to be directed at himself, Miho slides back into his cheerful attitude like a fish into water, without so much as a ripple on the surface.

Finally Miho returns to Basil, apparently dismissing everyone else. When he addresses them, he speaks in perfect English, barely more than a hint of an accent lacing his words. “I am sorry we won’t get to carry out our glorious plans after all. It was always something of a risk- but that’s what made it fun, isn’t it?>” He reaches for their flesh-and-blood hand, holding it in both of his, the smile on his face softening, becoming infused with adoration. 

{CW: allusions to familial/sibling emotional abuse, repetitive text, self-loathing/self-dehumanising, general heavy emotional breakdown shit}

---

no matter how old they got, nagisa could never forget the look on their father's face when he spoke about loyalty.

Nagisa flinched when Mio went and spilled more about them in an attempt to defend them-- no no no dear fucking god don't mention their fucking names-- Mick's name in particular penetrating their mind like an arrow to the goddamn skull, but others were quickly speaking, and so Nagisa did not. (They may, after all, be an uncaught criminal, and not always the kindest nor most polite one, but they at least try to listen to others where they can.)

After all, if these cameras were indeed being seen by undesirables, then hadn't they already lost?

thady kelly's stories always remained the same, and yet the gravitas with which he told them never faded; they knew the others rolled their eyes, because there dad went again, yammering on about the same old shite, but that never deterred them; they always listened.

They kept their face neutral (poker face poker face poker face), but their breathing was shallow, and their heart beating far too irregularly, and also far too fast, thumpthumpthumping like it rarely had before.

Even with the threat of explosions gone, they were terrified.

"now remember: blood is thicker than water. together we stand, divided we fall, so we kellys've always got to stick together, you hear me? people come and go, but your family's forever..."

It was then, surprisingly, that one of their problems was solved: that pesky heartbeat of theirs, because suddenly, their head and heart were slow, very slow, almost as if they'd stopped entirely.

This being, of course, when Rosario named none other than their sunshine boy as her mastermind suspect.

"...and whoever ye bring into your life, always make sure they're someone you can really trust, lads-- because no matter what all those lawmen say, betrayal's worse than any of those big famous crimes, much worse. i can tell ya that from experience."

It was absurd. Completely unthinkable. Fujihara thought so, too. In their mind, it felt like just some sort of...bizarre non-sequitur. (rosario's logic may have been pretty fucking solid, but like hell was nagisa going to touch that.) It was unbelievable. They weren't going to believe it.

Kenji Shimura could not be the mastermind. They felt certain about that.

"god, nag, why the fuck do you still listen to any of dad's bollocks? it's all a load of bs! acting like he's some great fuckin' judge of character-- i mean, jesus, he's the one who got with fucking maria." "come on, nead, isn't that kind of a low bl--" "i literally don't care. he just says that shit so we'll all get along, anyway, you know that. i mean, all that blah blah rely on your siblings stuff-- like, no offence, but you're not the one i'd go talking to if i needed to hide a body or whatever."

Despite the itch, Nagisa ultimately held their tongue, largely because there was no real need to speak anyway; for it seemed their knight was more than willing to speak for himself.

"c-c'mon, i wouldn't be that bad..." "look, nag, let's be real, you're a pussy! you quake in your fucking boots when someone so much as gives out to you, christ. you'd probably be phoning the gardaí before we'd even get to picking up the shovels. i'd never do that to you, fucking hell, you'd have a heart attack or something."

...Ah. Well. Perhaps it would be best to elaborate on the perspective, of that issue.

Kenji Shimura, the Super High-School Level Improv Actor, could not be the Mastermind.

But Miho Nagashiro, the Super High-School Level Con Artist, could not possibly be anything but.

as they stared endlessly down at the poor, awful, mutilated collection of flesh and bones that was once mick ramone, in a sickening flash they could not help but remember it, that exchange; and just then, and tomorrow, and the next day and every wretched day of every goddamn year that had passed after that, they couldn't stop thinking, about how their elder sister had lied straight to them.

(they never could quite look sinéad in the eyes, after that.) (but, then again, wasn't it really their fault? for trusting her to be honest with them in the first place?)

In the face of the...second-last of their many worst nightmares that had come to life in this place, Nagisa almost wanted to laugh.

Indeed, almost laugh was what they almost did, if that awful, high-pitched, strangled exhalation that only barely audibly came from their mouth was any indication. It confused them, really, because even they weren't quite sure why it happened. After all, in their world, all there was right now was colours, blaring and loud, and voices and sounds they couldn't quite identify the owners nor makers of.

Right now, the only real thing in the (small, cramped, perpetually uneasy and oh so scary) world of Nagisa Kelly was Miho Nagashiro, and Miho Nagashiro alone.

The androgyne had not quite met their (friend?)'s eyes since a certain fighter had decided to start spilling their secrets left, right, and centre, and even now, in their distance, their shock and numbness, it took steeling to do; but when they did, it hit, at long last. It

all

--finally--

clicked.

Well. These things really did go in cycles, didn't they? Once again, that inherent, wicked, unchangeable nature of theirs had caused history to repeat itself.

This was not the first time. It would be far from the last.

Once more, they'd been tricked. Fooled. Hoodwinked, lied to, deceived. Had the wool pulled right over their eyes.

No, it could be much more frankly stated than that, couldn't it? It was simple-- they'd been had. Played like a fucking fiddle, and God, shouldn't they have seen it coming from a mile away? No man could wrap so many people around his finger so effectively without being up to something, they knew that, but they'd let themself forget. They'd let this happen. And now, now, they'd...

...Nagisa was smiling.

It resembled that smile that had surfaced then, back when Seung-Hyo had declared himself the room's apex predator (God, that poor bastard), at least in that it looked...more than a little frightening, the way it was frozen on their features, but there were definite differences; that one, after all, had been hidden by their mask, and it had been cruel, vicious, whereas this one was...indescribable. Broken. Empty, lifeless as well as hopeless.

"Haaaaaaaaaah...aaaahhh...? Ahaaaa...hahhhhhh..."

Their eyes were dull. Their voice was hoarse and strangled.

Their two slow claps, almost...sad.

"...Shimura...Kenji-san...Nagashiro...Miho. You...magnificent...son of a bitch...!"

In the space of a few minutes, everything was over.

But yet, knowing that, they still...

"Hhhhhhhah...so...! All that pl-play along...and you knew...! G-God! Years of my life, on fucking display...everyone...f-fuckin'...farcical! So...brighteyes...you knew aaaaall 'bout me, huh? All 'bout the f-fucking disgusting goddamn i-idiot I am, with my big bleeding heart...all 'b-bout the fuckin' br-broken puppet I am...! God, wh-what a f-fuckin' LAUGH, am I right...Mockingb-bird...?"

They didn't even realise they'd started crying like a fool until the stupid salty tears had already hit their damn cheeks, even though anyone around them could easily hear the sniffs and the choked stammering-- it felt so familiar, huh? Just like when they were a kid. A real throwback.

(They knew what people would think. Why would you just cry? Why not try to be cold and defiant, like your usual self? This is just giving him what he wants, isn't it?)

(But they weren't like the others. They had promised they wouldn't lie, so there was no point. No point denying that "Kenji" had made them actually feel like they could get out of here somehow. No point denying the warm rush of feeling they got when he was kind and affectionate to their pathetic, pitiful excuse for a self.

No point trying to pretend they hadn't loved him, when they still fucking did.)

"Haaa-- aaah...! So...a-all you g-good folks, huh...all you know what k-kinda master fuckin' criminal old Nagisa Kelly is by now, haaah...cr-cracks me right the f-fuck up! N-Nagisa Kelly, everyone! Nothin' here, just some fucking pa-pathetic little pissant who b-bent over backwards to let their big bro and s-sis use them as extra g-goddamn bodyweight! L-Lyin' to all the officials, 'cause wouldn't want daddy to th-think I'd go and fuckin' snitch on my own bl-blood! What a fuckin' JOKE, e-eh...? God, I'm a m-m-mario-fuckin'-nette on invisible strings over here!"

Nagisa grasped tightly onto their hoodie, desperately willing their arms not to shake, even as everything else did; it seemed strange, how the intensely private youth of what felt like barely minutes ago was suddenly spilling everything, albeit obviously not quite of their own accord, but if anyone was giving them strange looks, they likely didn't notice.

They, after all, only had eyes for Miho.

“...So...Miho...man! M-Must've had a f-fuckin' field day with me, huh? A disgusting schmuck an' s-sap with all that g-goddamn pride...th-that just asks for i-it to be stripped away, ye-yeah...? A-And lemme tell you, sweetheart,"  they clapped their hands together once more, "You fuckin' got me! S-See, said I w-wasn't gonna lie! I meant every stinkin' word I said! You must be so fucking proud! Just t-too easy, huh? B-But hey," And for a second, just a second, it was there, a glimmer of that unflappable, ruthlessly at ease side of them that only occasionally showed itself, "Can't say 'm not giving a damn good show, r-right?"

For a moment, they didn't speak; all that could be heard was their continued shaky crying, getting heavier and messier.

They wrapped one arm around their opposite shoulder; the other, clenched, they kept on their podium.

"...You'd...think I-I'd learn, huh? <B-But hey, wh-what the fuck can you e-expect from a pathetic fucking d-doll? B-Barely even a person...ha...hardly enough there for th-that! God, I'm jealous of y-you lot! All of y-you, with your two, ten, million fucking identities, and then me, with barely enough for fucking one...!>" ... "...Still. Doesn't...matter. I deserve it, don't I? This. 'Course I do. Just some fucking puppet who c-can't do its f-fucking job! All that sh-shit 'bout protectin' people, l-like I'm needed for that! Just...<th-the word's...>hah...redundant. That's it, redundant. Redundant!" They slammed the knuckles of their free hand into the hard podium, looking surprised at how it stung. "Redundant. Redundant. Redundant. Redundant, redundant, redundant, redundant, REDUNDANT, REDUNDANT!"

With each utterance of the same word, they systematically thwacked their fist to the wood, still seeming like they were barely there at all, even with the obvious strange, harsh, heartbrokenness in their every word and movement.

Oh, how they wished they weren't really here.

After their last "redundant" died away, it was a while before they spoke again, obviously excluding the awful heaves of their (unfortunately still ongoing) sobs. Before, they had, ultimately, mostly been speaking to themself, utterly wrapped up in their own self-loathing; but now, they spoke to Miho, really spoke to Miho.

"Sh-Should've...killed me, y'know. Wh-While you had the chance." Their voice was quieter, now, and even more ragged. "C-Could've shanked me back in the infirmary...p-poisoned me w-with the medicine...or whatever. N-No one's suspect...or mind. Me, I...I'd've just said sorry. St-Still would. Nothing's changed. D-Don't know why you...b-but...y'know...shouldn't be ungrateful. <Like th-they say, can't...look a gi-gift horse in the mouth.>"

Their smile was very, very broken. Very, very sad.

But, suddenly, it was a little less...empty.

"You...kept your...promise, didn't you? Y-You said...you'd pr-protect me. You'd keep me...alive, and...and you did...! I...Intentions or not, wh-who the hell would I be to di-dismiss on that...? I'm e-every bit as fucking ungodly as you. J-Just that you're smart, a-and I'm a fucking i-idiot. So..."

A deep, shuddering sigh.

"...Thanks. Wh-Whatever it's worth. Stupid, m-malfunctionin' piece of shit like me shouldn't k-keep existing, but h-hey...guess I'm here, a-anyway, 'cause of you...m-m-my, hhhah, knight in...shining armour...you did your side of the d-deal...'m just sorry I...couldn't keep mine. B-But, I..."

They looked weaker than ever as they met Miho's eyes.

"L...Like you said. Back then. Being a knight's...a l-lifelong commitment! There m-might be nothin' left...but 'f-fore you go and get...f-fuckin' lynched, or wh-whatever...if I can d-do anything...then guess I should, huh? As your...p-pathetic, pitiful, completely moronic bitch of a knight...a-and because I am so, s-so, so...fucking st-stupid...!"

They staggered, as if trying to move towards elsewhere, but failed-- for in the end, they simply sank to their knees, shuddering all over, unable to stop their helpless tears, a crying, feverish, messy wreck of the generally sensible, stolid, softspoken tattooist they once were.

This was not the first time this had happened. It would be far from the last.

(History did, after all, have an awful habit of repeating itself, especially when not learned from.)

[POSSIBLE TW for vague unhealthy thinning about relationships]

It’s almost amusing, how the others seem to think there might be some sob story behind this. Almost. It’s at least amusing enough to keep Basil grinning, and they even snort in laughter in response to Warato addressing them.

“I told you all - I am simply doing my job. I was hired to be here, to help carry out Miho’s plan. It was actually enjoyable for me, though, and the fact that the person behind this is so… perfect makes it even better for me. I did not do this for love, as you seem to be implying, but for the purpose of business.”

They push their hair out of their face as they talk, pulling it back into a small ponytail.

“I do not care if he ‘really’ loves me or not. I love him, and I have helped him reach his goal. I am his. I belong to him. If he simply wanted to use me as a tool for him to reach his goals, I would be content. But… there are reasons I have to believe that he loves me as well. If it weren’t for one specific reason, then I would still be wary. But that reason exists, and so I believe him there.”

Basil tilts their head, briefly laying a hand on Miho’s shoulder.

“I did protect you, Warato. You’re still here, are you not? I even went out of my way to make sure you and Seval could match! They said it would be sweet to match you.”

Then their attention turns towards Declan.

It was all coming undone.

Kazumi couldn’t do much but just… watch. Watch as chaos unfurled before them. Watching, that was all they’d ever been doing, wasn’t it? Not that much was different, but this was… this was something else.

Rosario (Maria?) and Mio had charged right for the improv… no… con artist? Only for Felix– no… no… Basil… to jump in and fight them off, and they were both…

Miho then explained his motive, what ultimately boiled down to… something rather disappointing. ‘Because he could’?

All shock and no substance, how boring.

…

So… why… why were they crying so hard?

And why couldn’t they stop?

“I… I-I told you to… t-to stop this, it’s… it’s not funny anymore–!! This isn't funny, Kenji-kun!!!”

But their voice… died down. The crying may not be over, but they stopped talking. They considered what the others had said, to not… to not be upset, to not let him rile them up and give him the satisfaction of watching their suffering.

And they laughed.

A single, horrible, choked up, broken laugh.

A laugh that disappeared into sobs just as quickly as it came.

“I… no… I-I… I get it!! You’re not… y– you’re not… I’m n-not gonna let you… this is… over…!! We’ve got… got– g-got you, you can’t… h-hurt us any… anymore…”

(that was a lie, a huge one, this revelation was going to haunt them for the rest of their life just as everything else in this hell studio - but they should've expected it, they didn't deserve friends who cared about them, if years of being ignored in their own home had taught them anything.)

Their voice was… strained. Hoarse, broken, and choppy between sobs. They shook intensely, at some point all but dropping behind their podium, curling in on themself as the sobbing continued - not an end in sight.

(everyone was going on about not letting this affect them, not satisfying the traitor with their suffering, but kazumi couldn’t do that - would they all hate them for it now, too? did they already?

haha, probably!

this wasn’t happening. it had to be a dream or something. Maria was pulled away. offered a shirt. to wrap her wounds. one question Pervaded her thoughts. Why Kenji. why her friend. why. 

why indeed. 

in the end Maria would never know. after all Basil and Mini could walk out of here and dissapear. like the mockingbird in blue so eloquently elaborated on. The only rules in play were the ones Miho wanted. so in the end even if they had managed to catch him out was game over. 

“Heh…." 

bitter sweet was the taste of defeat. Marias compounding emotional pain and physical knife wound made it hard to keep herself awake much less cognizant. 

"That’s…. a bad reason for this game Miho… Its really unsatisfying from a… as a narrative….. you did it… to see if you could…. that’s pathetic. crowds won’t.. They won’t eat this up… they’ll get bored before the first… trial… you failed… your plan… sucks.. heh…heh…”