you watcher of humanity

It seems obvious to Junko that this game is going to be over soon. Even without the announcement, there’s not very many of them left, right? They could really only keep doing this for so long. It’s a headache, really. Nothing to do but sit and wait. “Well. I think it’s obvious. Someone’s. Going to kill. To get the trial. We’re already so far in. There’s not a point to just. Waiting for the bomb. Anymore. Maybe the bomb’s even a lie. But there’s not a point. Something will happen. And people will go to Hell. And maybe this. Will be over with.” She’s staring at some point past Jin’s shoulder. “Maybe someone will just. Die to help us. It would be sad. But every way we get out has death. Or maybe we don’t get out. We just stay here. Forever. I don’t know. We’ll remember this anyways. And then we’ll die.”

She taps her fingers on the table mindlessly.

”Do you think. There’s a point to it? We all go the same way.”

… Not a point in waiting for the bomb anymore? Actually, maybe that wasn’t too surprising. All the talk of Hell and such gave Jin the impression that Junko probably would be all too willing to accept everything as some sort of final tribulation before the end times.

“The only person here I could fathom being self-sacrificial enough to entertain that thought is you, Shirokawa, considering how much it seems like you’ve just given up on the possibility of things being better. It makes every bit of sense for someone to kill - hell, it might even give them some leverage. Enough of you seem like bleeding hearts that I’d buy you giving whoever committed the murder a chance to be part of the ‘endgame’ as it were as thanks.”

It might be a worthwhile gambit, if they were cornered come the next trial. Considering how lost everyone had seemed the last time, perhaps offering the guarantee of sparing their life in exchange for coming forward could work? Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

“Even the most senseless-seeming violence is motivated by something. There’s some reason somebody is putting us through this. The way people have died is irrelevant. Someone put us in this situation, has a possible contingency in place to kill us all, but hasn’t just executed all of us outright. We haven’t all gone the same way, and from the sounds of it we aren’t going to.”

Someone’s almost definitely going to kill, and probably hope they’ll survive, but does that really matter? There isn’t a ‘good ending’ one way or another. Junko finds herself too exhausted to care to separate one bad end from another.

Art room…a room like this doesn’t interest Hikaru at all, but there’s no harm in just searching wherever for…whatever he can find. Sometimes clues emerge in unsuspecting places, if Hikaru is lucky this might just be one of them.

…

”…Hi.”

“…Hey.”

The wood shop was a strange place to have a conversation. Junko Shirokawa was a strange girl. And perhaps that was a strange way to think about someone who was (presumably) both older and taller than him. There were many, many strange things about the few, few students left here. Their fragile, ephemeral lives were passing by so very quickly. Who would be the final sacrifice? Jin had no doubts in his mind that, be it some sort of ‘noble’ self-sacrifice or merely a selfish bid to end the game at last, someone would act. It was inevitable.

People here had already killed for less.

“So, Shirokawa. What do you make of the situation now? With the new developments and all.”

“Well. I think it’s obvious. Someone’s. Going to kill. To get the trial. We’re already so far in. There’s not a point to just. Waiting for the bomb. Anymore. Maybe the bomb’s even a lie. But there’s not a point. Something will happen. And people will go to Hell. And maybe this. Will be over with.” She’s staring at some point past Jin’s shoulder. “Maybe someone will just. Die to help us. It would be sad. But every way we get out has death. Or maybe we don’t get out. We just stay here. Forever. I don’t know. We’ll remember this anyways. And then we’ll die.”

She taps her fingers on the table mindlessly.

Art room…a room like this doesn’t interest Hikaru at all, but there’s no harm in just searching wherever for…whatever he can find. Sometimes clues emerge in unsuspecting places, if Hikaru is lucky this might just be one of them.

…

”...Hi.”

Quite like how after the first murder he returned to the library, Hikaru found himself returning to the pool room. His eyes drifted over the scene before him…that of calm, tranquil waters…that of peace. No signs of what had happened, no signs of the departed.

Hikaru suddenly feels a wave of emotions, pummeling at his conscience, the likes of which he is just simply…not used to. After hearing Yuna’s explanation it’s clear as day that Hikaru is not responsible for her death, even if he outed her in the chat. Though there’s something else…something burning in him.

He can’t die here…

He knows that’s the case for himself, but how many others here have things they need to live for? How about the people who already died, how will…how will their deaths affect the world, hurt others? All he can do is report on them, try to make sure they aren’t forgotten.

She’s standing at the pool, staring out into space. She thinks things are starting to get fuzzy again, and she doesn’t like that at all. She hardly even notices that Hikaru is near her for a long while.

”……”

“W-What’s that about, huh?! Do you normally just go up to people and start feeling their faces?”

Hikaru turns away, sighing softly.

She says this ridiculously matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She looks over to try and see what Hikaru is looking at.

”I guess nothing. I don’t think that. I ever need much something. I’m usually working. And you looked like. You were thinking lots of thoughts. And I’m usually working. But. When I don’t, I think lots of thoughts. And it makes my head hurt, and. I don’t like it much. That’s why I usually work.”

“I don’t need your…”

…

He sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“…Forget it. I’m just…thinking about all the people who died, I guess. Hard not to. We’re all a bunch of teens, started with 14 of us and now there’s already only 9…these motives are stressful as fuck and I just…God, I just hope my dad is okay back home…”

…

Hikaru looks away from Junko, not enjoying feeling vulnerable.

She shrugs, staring down at the water.

“…I guess I thought I could just distance myself and then not care if people got hurt, but…it isn’t that easy, I guess. Trying to not care when people around you die is not…possible, and…with my job as a journalist sure I’m used to my life being at risk, but…not many lives around me too.”

Hikaru looks away, sighing.

She’s looking down at the ground, swaying on her feet. It’s hard to think of any of this, much less actually have a conversation about it. She sighs, mimicking Hikaru.

Jin was fairly confident in the fact that he had taken enough personal precautions to avoid any danger. Sure, he might have been widely-disliked, and sure, he might talk too much during the trials. But him, get killed? Nah. No chance. He was far too careful and alert for that to be a possibility… which was why it was incredibly strange that he’d taken off his glasses at all. There was an eyesight chart in the nurse’s office. There wasn’t that much to do and just spending all day in the library would be awful for his health.

Not that squinting at that chart was much better. Yeah, still bad, big shock, what a surprise. It was… mildly interesting to see if he’d at least be able to identify anything, if only to kill a few seconds of time. The motive was of no interest to him. If he wanted to revisit a memory, he could just think about it. Furthermore… experimental technology? If anyone was stupid enough to enter a device like that, well. Perhaps that was the motive’s true purpose, to allow a would-be killer to find a too-trusting victim shit when did someone else get here????

“Ah, you–!”

Of course, the one damn time he was just kind of screwing around. Go figure. Cue the brief scramble to grab his glasses and put them back on. Tactfully clearing his throat, pretending like she didn’t just actually catch him off guard. This is fine!

She fidgets mindlessly with her cape. Sometimes it’s kind of funny to startle people, though she doesn’t usually have the energy to do it on purpose. She only really seems to have good luck on minor points like this.

“… Someone being mean should be the least of anyone’s worries right now.”

Junko was… not the worst person who could have startled him like that. Sure, she wasn’t someone he had a great deal of interest in dealing with personally, but, well. Ever since the Glue Incident he’d been very torn between wanting to like. Study her, and wanting to stay away from all that. At the very least, he’d clocked her as more of a ‘be killed’ than ‘kill’ type, so he was probably safe if nothing else.

Someone like Keizo probably wouldn’t have missed the chance to swipe his glasses in order to force him to listen to some kind of lecture about what a jerk he was. Yeah, he was acutely aware, he just didn’t care. Why should he? Just like he didn’t especially care about Junko’s… whatever was going on there.

“And that sounds like a sign that you need to see a dermatologist, assuming you make it out of here.”

”It’s not like that. I just have burns. From when I was 15. See?” She indicates the scars across her face and neck. “And sometimes they hurt very bad. I think they hurt because. Of Yuna. The fire is in my head. And then I feel it burning. And I think. More bad things are closing in.”

She turns back around.

Quite like how after the first murder he returned to the library, Hikaru found himself returning to the pool room. His eyes drifted over the scene before him…that of calm, tranquil waters…that of peace. No signs of what had happened, no signs of the departed.

Hikaru suddenly feels a wave of emotions, pummeling at his conscience, the likes of which he is just simply…not used to. After hearing Yuna’s explanation it’s clear as day that Hikaru is not responsible for her death, even if he outed her in the chat. Though there’s something else…something burning in him.

He can’t die here…

He knows that’s the case for himself, but how many others here have things they need to live for? How about the people who already died, how will…how will their deaths affect the world, hurt others? All he can do is report on them, try to make sure they aren’t forgotten.

She’s standing at the pool, staring out into space. She thinks things are starting to get fuzzy again, and she doesn’t like that at all. She hardly even notices that Hikaru is near her for a long while.

”……”

“W-What’s that about, huh?! Do you normally just go up to people and start feeling their faces?”

Hikaru turns away, sighing softly.

She says this ridiculously matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She looks over to try and see what Hikaru is looking at.

”I guess nothing. I don’t think that. I ever need much something. I’m usually working. And you looked like. You were thinking lots of thoughts. And I’m usually working. But. When I don’t, I think lots of thoughts. And it makes my head hurt, and. I don’t like it much. That’s why I usually work.”

“I don’t need your…”

…

He sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“…Forget it. I’m just…thinking about all the people who died, I guess. Hard not to. We’re all a bunch of teens, started with 14 of us and now there’s already only 9…these motives are stressful as fuck and I just…God, I just hope my dad is okay back home…”

…

Hikaru looks away from Junko, not enjoying feeling vulnerable.

She shrugs, staring down at the water.

Jin was fairly confident in the fact that he had taken enough personal precautions to avoid any danger. Sure, he might have been widely-disliked, and sure, he might talk too much during the trials. But him, get killed? Nah. No chance. He was far too careful and alert for that to be a possibility… which was why it was incredibly strange that he’d taken off his glasses at all. There was an eyesight chart in the nurse’s office. There wasn’t that much to do and just spending all day in the library would be awful for his health.

Not that squinting at that chart was much better. Yeah, still bad, big shock, what a surprise. It was… mildly interesting to see if he’d at least be able to identify anything, if only to kill a few seconds of time. The motive was of no interest to him. If he wanted to revisit a memory, he could just think about it. Furthermore… experimental technology? If anyone was stupid enough to enter a device like that, well. Perhaps that was the motive’s true purpose, to allow a would-be killer to find a too-trusting victim shit when did someone else get here????

“Ah, you–!”

Of course, the one damn time he was just kind of screwing around. Go figure. Cue the brief scramble to grab his glasses and put them back on. Tactfully clearing his throat, pretending like she didn’t just actually catch him off guard. This is fine!

She fidgets mindlessly with her cape. Sometimes it’s kind of funny to startle people, though she doesn’t usually have the energy to do it on purpose. She only really seems to have good luck on minor points like this.

Junko is just as aware of HOSHI’s presence as she is of hers. Only one Junko in the room. Maybe even none— Junko hardly feels there at all. She’s trying to draw, but she keeps losing track of her lines, hands scrawling off the paper and progressively making the piece into nonsense. She doesn’t have it in her to get frustrated about it. She keeps thinking about that awful execution.

”…I’m drawing. My friend. I keep thinking if. He’s okay. Or knows where I am.” She pauses. “I don’t think. I want him to know. He’s very smart. He majors in theology. College is so far away. And he never cuts his hair.”

She lets HOSHI see the drawing. It’s been mostly distorted by her lines getting off track, but the general idea of a young man is there. He has very long, curly hair, it seems.

The drawing is largely abstracted from off track lines signalling off track thoughts, but she can see it. Someone… important to Junko Shirokawa. A friend. It’s nice, she thinks, that Junko has someone. A girl like that seems so haunted and so lonely. She can almost see a little bit of herself in there. Almost.

“Your friend? I have many friends. I like making friends. I view each and every one of my fans as a very best friend! Though, I am very close with Shin. He helps me be the very best idol I can be. I like him much more than Them. But everyone is my friend. You should tell me all about your friend that you drew in the picture.”

”I don’t have a lot of friends. There aren’t. Many people to talk to at home. But I have Jurou. He’s very smart. And funny. And he tells me stories. I like that because. I like stories very much. Um. He helps me with schoolwork. I’m not good at history class. I’m good at science.”

She taps her pencil on the table repeatedly.

Quite like how after the first murder he returned to the library, Hikaru found himself returning to the pool room. His eyes drifted over the scene before him…that of calm, tranquil waters…that of peace. No signs of what had happened, no signs of the departed.

Hikaru suddenly feels a wave of emotions, pummeling at his conscience, the likes of which he is just simply…not used to. After hearing Yuna’s explanation it’s clear as day that Hikaru is not responsible for her death, even if he outed her in the chat. Though there’s something else…something burning in him.

He can’t die here…

He knows that’s the case for himself, but how many others here have things they need to live for? How about the people who already died, how will…how will their deaths affect the world, hurt others? All he can do is report on them, try to make sure they aren’t forgotten.

She’s standing at the pool, staring out into space. She thinks things are starting to get fuzzy again, and she doesn’t like that at all. She hardly even notices that Hikaru is near her for a long while.

”……”

“W-What’s that about, huh?! Do you normally just go up to people and start feeling their faces?”

Hikaru turns away, sighing softly.

She says this ridiculously matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She looks over to try and see what Hikaru is looking at.

”I guess nothing. I don’t think that. I ever need much something. I’m usually working. And you looked like. You were thinking lots of thoughts. And I’m usually working. But. When I don’t, I think lots of thoughts. And it makes my head hurt, and. I don’t like it much. That’s why I usually work.”

The image of the trial plays back in her head on a record, along with all of the other images she’s seen here. Dead body after dead body, bomb after ticking bomb. It’s a strange situation to be, that was for sure. Maybe it would enable the artistic side of her, she thinks. Good art comes from pain. Probably. She’s never thought about it much.

HOSHI is not alone in the art room, she realizes. She doesn’t pay too much attention to what Junko Shirokawa is doing, but she is hyperaware of her presence. Mostly because this girl’s presence is the thin line separating her two mindsets. In the presence of others, she’s always a performer. But now, surrounded by art, she kind of just wants to be herself. Well, a Junko for a Junko, she supposes.

“What project are you working on, Junko Shirokawa?”

”...I’m drawing. My friend. I keep thinking if. He’s okay. Or knows where I am.” She pauses. “I don’t think. I want him to know. He’s very smart. He majors in theology. College is so far away. And he never cuts his hair.”

Quite like how after the first murder he returned to the library, Hikaru found himself returning to the pool room. His eyes drifted over the scene before him…that of calm, tranquil waters…that of peace. No signs of what had happened, no signs of the departed.

Hikaru suddenly feels a wave of emotions, pummeling at his conscience, the likes of which he is just simply…not used to. After hearing Yuna’s explanation it’s clear as day that Hikaru is not responsible for her death, even if he outed her in the chat. Though there’s something else…something burning in him.

He can’t die here…

He knows that’s the case for himself, but how many others here have things they need to live for? How about the people who already died, how will…how will their deaths affect the world, hurt others? All he can do is report on them, try to make sure they aren’t forgotten.

She’s standing at the pool, staring out into space. She thinks things are starting to get fuzzy again, and she doesn’t like that at all. She hardly even notices that Hikaru is near her for a long while.

”......”

It feels different being in here now given that the last time she was here was when she was with… Akash? Chitose?

… 

The Super High School Level Engineer?

Yeah, him.

He was friendly enough from the short time they had spent together at the pool, but Hinata can’t help but wish that he wasn’t. Maybe it would have made it easier to deal with – she wouldn’t have minded being talked badly to in the moment, but at the end of the day, it would have been nothing to say goodbye when the time came. Nevertheless, she doesn’t know if that would have made her vote for him. The idea of condemning someone to death despite their actions just… Didn’t sit right with her. It doesn't sit right with her.

Plus, what was one vote against 11 others? A meager addition to the already majority.

“…”

She seems to lose her train of thought. Instead, she starts to awkwardly trace circles on the floor with her foot, still staring blankly at Hinata.

Junko thought that she had something of a second sense for danger. Maybe that was just something more like being paranoid, or a pessimist, and simply choosing to assume the worst— but if it worked, well, it worked, didn’t it? That was why she had felt a deep pang of discomfort when Daichi had started making new announcements. And the more he went on talking, the sicker she felt herself getting.

The sprinter — she didn’t remember his name, just hadn’t gotten around to such a thing yet — was gone. Jumped, for why? Desperation? Fear? To give less than an hour’s more to live? Or hoping that something would change by him hitting the ground? She couldn’t really ask, nor answer for him. But she felt from his eyes that he had some goal, some conviction, when he did it.

And now, all she could do was think about it. Some measly time added to the bomb timer, but how much more could it have really been if he had jumped with seconds on the clock? They were all going to die anyways, and she couldn’t help but think that she supposed the time made sense. Why it had to be this dramatic, with so many others pulled in, was beyond her, though.

HOSHI does not break character.

“Is there something wrong, Junko Shirokawa? It’s going to be okay, you know.”

Her voice, much like Junko’s expressions, is a monotone. She does not express the concern that flutters, far too human for her own liking, within her.

“Are you afraid of dying? It’s going to be okay. We shall be safe and sound.”

Junko stares at HOSHI blankly — they both have such blank faces. But where Junko’s is scarred and shadowed with exhaustion, HOSHI’s is the perfect kind of face you’d find on a toy store doll. It makes Junko think about what kind of dolls HOSHI must like.

Junko may have been startled by all of the weirdness that went into her being here, but she really wasn’t going to spend much time thinking on it. It had happened, and now she was here. Was there anything else to do about it? Not really.

That said, she needed something to put her mind on. So she found herself in the kitchen, rooting around for something to cook. Ideally there’d be some alcohol she could just sit back with, but she could make real food too if she tried. In the middle of having pulled three boxes of entirely different pasta shapes from the pantry, she noticed a new face coming into the room.

“…Um. Hi. I was hoping. There’d be someone. Uh. Do you have a favorite. Pasta shape? There’s so many. And it’s like when you. Have to say what you want. For your birthday. And you just. Forget everything. You know?”

She paused.

Although when he’d entered, seeing someone already rifling through everything for some pasta did raise a brow from him. It was mostly because it was sudden more than anything, but it surprised him just a slight bit when she had asked him about pasta.

“Oh… Me?”

He took a brief look around the room and seeing how no one else was obviously here, it was pretty clear that the question was directed to him. He took a moment to listen to her words to process everything, but he quietly nodded along.

“…Mmm… I mean, I don’t eat pasta that often nor do I have much of a reason to go outta my way to choose a favorite.”

Well at least he was able to answer the first question, but he wasn’t really able to understand the rest of her ramblings so he simply just scratched his neck and pointed at the box of shell-shaped pasta. He wasn’t someone who really dabbled too deep into culinary arts to even know much about pasta, but shells were one of the more popular ones, right? Can’t go wrong with them!… hopefully!

“…I honestly dunno what you’re going on about with birthdays, but I guess you could just go with these ones.”

He had no idea what was going on, but he did read up on the roster earlier, and the winemaker’s appearance stood out to him out of everyone, so at least he could ask a question in an attempt to confirm his own curiosities.

“…But hey, you’re the winemaker kid, right?… What’s with the wings?”

Junko set the box of choice down on the counter, putting the others back. She takes her sweet time putting them back, seeming to think way too hard about where each one should go. Eventually, she left well enough alone, and started to slowly meander around the kitchen for other ingredients.

”Um. Yeah. That’s me. Junko ... Shirokawa. I’m from Kitasaka. That’s a village. It’s very small. There aren’t. Very many of us. Uh. It’s small. A small village.”

She tipped her head, and pulled her cape around her protectively, glancing at the wings.

”Oh. It’s a blanket. Or, it was a blanket. I had it when. I was a little baby. And I still liked it. When I got older. So my mama took it. And she made it a cape. And she gave it wings. And ... I like it.”