#drddreaction

Hayato had remained quiet throughout Harumi's explanation. He really wanted to say something to her, but he decided that he'll probably ruin everything even more if he talked again, so he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't Harumi's fault, she didn't want it to end up like this. She wanted to keep her secret safe like everyone else did.

Hayato had only watched part of the execution, covering his eyes when Harumi fell into the giant mouth. He felt horrible. He didn't mean to say any of the things he said when he discovered Stella's corpse. He would never hurt anyone. At least that's what he kept telling himself, he knows that the others might think differently. He stood at his podium for a moment, then he put his hand in his pocket, as if he's looking for something. He then pulled out a pair of black sunglasses, clutching it in his hand as he stared at the lenses, catching a glimpse at his face.

"(I'm sorry it had to be this way...)"

Well, Harumi was dead, and all Hiroshi felt was exhausted. Watching the execution, he did his best to stifle a yawn, even as the poor girl was killed before his eyes.

He supposed he cared a little. They’d hung out together a little, had spoken a few times, had investigated together. And he sure as hell cared about that piece of paper he’d ripped up the afternoon he’d gotten it. If Harumi hadn’t done what she did, Hiroshi supposed it would have been him up there, being accused of murder. Not that he would have made such blatant errors.

But did he really care? Did he really care that Harumi Cho was dead, that her parents were dead, that Stella Ethereal was dead? All to keep his secret?

...Not really.

There was no grief, no fear, no shock, no anger. Hiroshi’s heart was just flat. Nothing going on. The most important thing on his mind was getting sleep, and tomorrow morning’s workout. He didn’t really care about all of that death. Because really, life is cheap. People die all the time. Some just die sooner than others. Some just make mistakes, and it gets them killed.

“Thanks, Cho-chan,” he muttered all the same. She had died to protect his secret, hadn’t she?

He left the courtroom, reflecting on the trial, reflecting on the mistakes made, the strategies employed to corner and trap the court’s prey. Knowing where those failings lay could be the difference between life and death, someday.

Perhaps the it was an act of god that led the oneirologist stumbling astray. Of course, he would never believe any course of action to be of such, but with recent events emerging, perhaps Masumi should consider recantation. 

Nighttime. A time so wholeheartedly dedicated to the sport known quite intimately by the boy as sleeping. Indulgent, ubiquitous rest that Masumi found himself satisfying throughout the day. Perhaps the most surreal experience was to gorge himself with something so incessant in its stream on longevity.

Of course, Masumi was not simply going to bed, as such is the schedule of a boy enveloped in a life cased with bloodshed and murder. Simply put, the oneirologist lingered at the entrance of his apartment, key twisting the knob in hand, as the first pangs of panic rang out. 

“...”

Perhaps exhausting some sort of nonnative gesture, Masumi lingered a moment longer at his room, a door hanging ajar. For whatever his rhyme or reason, the oneirologist allowed a purple gaze to scan the horizons as more and more students seemingly rushed to the source of the alarm. With lingering fingers on the handle, the boy drifted in closing the door behind him. With the excitement seemingly too tiring for Masumi to commence in, the oneirologist found himself lounging about his room with relative ease. Perhaps with time, the oneirologist should find the cause of such a commotion.

...

Within moments, Masumi had fled the security of his confines, a door left open as the oneirologist rushed to see what could be so interesting to gather the attention of his fellow classmates. Perhaps a whale had fallen through the roof, or a bird that could dance flew in through a window left open. The possibilities were endless, and the oneirologist knew all were unforeseen for whatever the real case, whatever it may be...

Striding upon the group from behind, Masumi felt the sloshings of origins of the crowds attention before he could begin to peek at the forbidden quince behind the foliage of his classmates.

Squelch 

Glancing down at the puddles that stained the undersides of his boat shoes, the thoughts of possibilities slowly faded from the whimsical thoughts to a tone taken on much darker. Perhaps this was an unforeseen consequence of such flights of fancy.

...

“...pink...?”

Drifting further into the crowd of his peers, purple eyes found their way onto the fountain that gushed so.

That rather peculiar girl with the concealed identity lay sprung out, stained in a color so violent.

He kept thinking about that stupid paper and about that stupid paper and how much it got to him. Hiroshi hated the fact that Monobear was pushing the right buttons; hated the fact that, despite all his smiles and charms, he could feel that anger and anxiety crawling inside him, like some twisted little creature clamped around his shrivelled heart. And it was getting to the point that he wanted to claw his ribs open and-

He had made his resolve and knew he could finish it and get away, and that it’d kill the despair forming in his chest, kill it dead as he walked away from this island and into the sun.

But then he heard a scream. A shriek of terror and grief that dashed the anxiety to pieces and made his heart alight. He drank in the screams like the sweetest of melodies because he knew what it meant. It meant his little paper secret was safe.

He took a breath to steady the rush in his head and then headed up toward the source of the music. And there, with mourners already surrounding her, was the corpse of Stella Ethereal. With her died Monobear’s threats.

“Shit...” he breathed, “Not- not this...” He stepped back, as if appalled by the sight of the blood. To anyone who even bothered to notice him he seemed like the rest of them - shocked, sad, afraid.

Total bullshit.

The day did not exactly start off on a good note for Yoshiko. It had become increasingly more obvious that whoever was toying with the class had all the leverage they could ever need to cause people to go against one another...not to mention the ability to explode people if they stepped out of line. Yoshiko had only interacted with Nodame briefly, but even he was aghast at the fate she narrowly avoided. Yoshiko’s own motive sat undisturbed in the pocket stitched to the inside of his jacket. He had been tempted to destroy it on the spot after opening it up, but there had been others around, and others tended to judge quiet harshly if things seemed too suspicious. The cold sweat dripping down him after reading it didn’t help belabor the point, however. Nobody, and Yoshiko meant NOBODY, could have known the information that was printed on that card. Except...

...no, no. That couldn’t be it. That wouldn’t make any sense, would it? Then again...the whole situation he was in made no sense, yet there he was. Living through it. The more things expanded on the island, the less off an understanding he had towards it all. The day continued on with Yoshiko meandering around the outskirts of everyone else, per usual. People were (gag) actually deciding to discuss their secrets with one another, in some bizarre attempt to ensure innocence. To him, the less he knew about others, and the less they knew about him, the better things would be. By the time he decided to head back to the apartment complex, the horror hound’s mind felt fuzzy. The hours take their toll. That salty breeze never seems to leave the nose. Except for when its overpowered by the scent of blood. 

Wait, what? 

The smell hit him before the scream cut through the air. His last few steps up the stairs felt lighter and lighter, until he was half-running to the scene. Sprawled before him was someone he didn’t recognize at first. For starters, she visibly had eyes and a mouth. A far cry from the Stella he had met on the first day of their imprisonment. Yoshiko was a weird kind of guy (if that wasn’t obvious already), but Stella’s brand of eccentricities had reminded him that the weirdos of the world aren’t always alone. A kindred soul, maybe. From another time. Sentiments weren’t his kind of thing, but the only thought his mind could process upon seeing the pink-stained girl crawled out quietly from the lump forming in his throat. 

[Music Room]

Taking in the mellow wafts he could find, the oneirologist swallowed them in greedily. Breath heavy and indulgent, Masumi gave no notion of restraint. An aria of environment circulating in his lungs, and the boy relished it. Full of his surroundings, and his surroundings full of him. It might have been a spectacle to witness the oneirologist take in so much air at once, but one should not hold their breath for an event such at that.

Toot

All at once, the oneirologist released his breath into the world. A deep sigh of release, and the boy let go of his holdings. A breath returning to woodwork. A deep sigh into an instrument that groaned and honked in dismay under the care of hands of inexperience.

“...”

Glancing down at the horn gripped in his hands, Masumi seemed almost perplexed that such a noise would ruminate from such a contraption. Perhaps the oneirologist was expecting a different outcome, something as sweet and mellow as the natural delight to be found in flutes of all sorts.

Of course, it did not discourage the boy from attempting to recreate the sounds of an instrument otherwise than the one for its intentions. Giving another blow, Masumi gave a curtly glance off to the side, eyeing the intrusion of his experience. With a purple gaze on the visitor, the boy did not pause, the low grumble wafting from the mouth of his instrument as perhaps a sort of greeting. With the slightest of movements, Masumi slid a manila envelope under him.

If Komet could survive the last motive, he could definitely do it again. Yeah, yeah, Monobear did have some sensitive information and insight into his... purrsonal life, but it wasn’t dire enough for him to go batshit and kill someone in order to protect them. They were... they should’ve been able to protect themselves if this farce was remotely real. Part of him still believed that this was an completely elaborate hoax despite having found his classmate’s counterterrorizing corpse and watching another die in real time. Komet was in show business. He knew the ways of movie magic. Hell, it’s what made him magical in the first place.  Maybe, just maybe, they were on another part of the island, actually enjoying themselves. This little motive business may just be there time to go get some ice cream while keeping this despair realistic. 

Komet took the envelope with a sigh. What secret could they possibly find? He was an absolute hero, an innocent protector of man, a precious sinless prince from outer space, completely spotless.

...except for that. 

“I... I... No... I... h-h-how!?”

The boy’s eyes widened. His fingers slowly curled around the note as if to throttle the life out of it. He didn’t understand. The most carefully guarded secret of his career, his life even, just shared to him by a walking shitstain parading as a school chaperon. His florid face began to bleed over his makeup. All he could wonder was how? How did he even find this. The only people who knew where the people he threatened to take away, and even then, they weren’t even supposed to know. Maybe getting rid of them could’ve been an improve me. They probably squealed, the leeches, still bleeding me even now.

Komet was too lost in his own internal fuming to notice the danger Nodame has but herself in. It wasn’t until Chika’s shout, that brought him back into the explosive real world. 

“NODAME!”

Komet screeched on the top of his lungs. He sped over to her, almost tripping in the process, dropping to his knees to see if she was at least breathing. Through thick sobs and soft hiccups, he found her pulse and exhaled with shaky relief. 

Hiroshi opened the letter, not actually sure what to expect. He knew that Monobear had some sort of insight into their lives - it had managed to threaten people who weren’t even involved here - but how much could its operator really know? He laughed to himself, certain that this little incentive would be just as droll as the last one.

Weight casually on one foot, completely unconcerned expression, body language totally at ease, he flipped open the envelope and pulled out the paper. And his expression froze in place. Body went rigid.

Shit. Shit.

How- how could it know this? Was this a threat!? He felt a stab of ice jam its way between his ribs and he could hardly breathe for a moment let alone think. Everything ground to a halt.

And then the moment passed and he realised his fingers had been shredding the paper without him even noticing. It was reduced to a pile of confetti in moments and was already blowing away in the breeze, but its words were etched into his vision.

He found himself laughing. “Eheh... ehehehe...” Just what did that bear think it was doing...? Threatening Hiroshi fucking Okada? Why, it must have a death wish! Its little operator could hide behind that little bear and feel good about screwing with them all, but when Hiroshi found the operator... It was personal now.