#rrropen

Being confined to only one private room was a bit of a curse. It was out of the way to go interact with you after all. The informant could not even recall ever bringing a person into his room in the first place, so what motivation would someone have to storm into it now? They might think they would be too invasive and leave him to rot. His attempts to be chummy in his last few days alive probably would not get him any farther either. He really hadn't made friends with many people, isolating himself a bit.

That was such a pain.

Then again, death itself was a pain. Loneliness was just the torture that came after it. Sure, he understood that after death there would probably be a digitized version of him, but that did not necessarily mean he wanted that. Why couldn't he have been put into a place more free? Alas, here he was stuck in a tablet for who knows how long. Until he was broken? Until this entire facility was shut down?

Would it get shut down?

The only thing that came from the tablet in his now desolated room was a deep sigh. He was dead, and his memories were uploaded to him. Of course, he had to also now know why he was there.

When he registered a sound of some sort alerting that someone was approaching him whether from the living realm or the dead-- he would realize that soon enough. His anticipation overtook his senses telling him to wait and find out, for he began to speak before he even realized it.

"Yo. The Gingerbread Man, John Dough, Daisuke Suzuki-- my name's kinda... useless now, ain't it? Just add me to the body count. Call me whatever you want. I really thought there'd be a spark this time, but... I'm just a daydreaming, meddling schoolboy, huh...?"

"So if you really want to call me by that bland name, go ahead. If you're here to tell me I'm stupid, I know. Don'tcha worry a thing. I try my best to catch up to speed."

A grin was forced. Was this an attempt at humor? Light-hearted conversation after self-realization? Nevertheless, it seemed as if his display had changed appropriate to his own words. Anything noteworthy save for his scars seemed to be stripped of him and he adopted a more... average look.

It was really a wonder no one tried to bust into Kaitaro’s room and break the tablet, given how with the endurance only a machine could sustain they had been humming for a few hours straight. The melodic sound drifted through the still stark and austere room, and though the smiling face of the alter ego on the screen seemed idle they were hard at work: new data had just come in, promising at least a few hours of entertainment before the boredom of ‘living’ forever kicked in again. Methodical as they’d always been, each new tidbit was carefully sorted and categorized under the proper emotional response in turn; something akin to amusement that Otonomiya should show up, indifference at the appearance of the informant, and pity for Jiang-li. The poor rabbit hearted girl, if she’d been killer or killed it really didn’t matter. She never had a chance.

They made a small mental note to visit her and show her a few new games they’d picked up.

As was also the routine in this steady flow of kill-be-killed-think-about-your-actions, now was about when the survivors would trickle back into rooms of the dead to commiserate over the lives they still had. Selfish, really, greedy and selfish to lord their still living condition over those who weren’t so lucky, but at least the company was appreciated. As the door creaked open (they’d oiled it when they’d been alive, but alas), Kaitaro couldn’t help but chuckle at being correct.

Three? 

Now, that was odd, wasn’t it?  When the hum of new connections rose in the forefront of her ‘mind’, she had been expecting two; a victim, and a killer. That was how it usually went, right? She had been an exception -- an unknown factor, a statistical anomaly.

But the proof was in the pudding, right before her ‘eyes’. Three new files; gingerbreadman.exe, otonomiyakyo.exe, and jianglidelarosa.exe. 

The first and the last are easy enough to figure out; a victim and a killer, although in what order she’s not certain. The middle one, though... he never seemed like he would allow himself to kill, to prove a point if nothing else. Nor did it seem like he would make himself an easy victim.

Curious. When she tried to reach out, though, she found the connection denied, the information tantalisingly close... and yet barred from her. 

“Ahh-ah.” she sighed, the simulated voice echoing from the speakers; she had taken to thinking aloud, lately, if only to fill the silence. “That’s, like... typical.”

Disappointment aside, though... there was also relief that certain names hadn’t shown up -- Harper, mainly, but most of the others... she was happy with that, too. You have to find a silver lining, when you’ve nothing to do but live in your own, programmed consciousness and wait for people to speak with you.

“Five, huh.” she mused aloud, eyes flicking towards the door -- where those five presumably were, now, coming out from the trial. 

“...I wonder if something’s gonna happen soon.” And with that offhand thought, the bigger question -- ‘if it does, what will happen to me?’

It was good to know that anxiety over the unknown could still exist in an artificially intelligent mind, she supposed. That was something, if nothing else.

He wondered briefly what it would’ve been like to live a holy life. Not for any spiritual reason but to contemplate whether it actually helped you make sense of it. And if you ever got that kind of glazed zen-like peace with it. He doubted he’d ever gain that. Too emotional. That’d... that hadn’t changed. One of the things that hadn’t from the start, he supposed. He’d just learned to accept it a bit more. And not to allow himself to play the victim -- not when he could do something to change things. He stares at the creases in his gloves -- how long had he been clenching his hands for? It’s been a while now. He hadn’t even realized... heck, how much time had even passed...

Not much time at all, right? Most everyone had exited the elevator. He must’ve zoned out as it happened. With a sigh, he falls back on one of the walls and just stares up. Jiang-li... Just... for how long had she been feeling all this? Was it since Annie made an attempt on her life... or even before that? Had anything he’d said to her even made a difference? They’d... talked in the kitchen. Made some food. She hadn’t been so good at that; he could’ve chuckled over it. That was... he was sure he’d told her it was alright then and not to feel guilty. Then they’d played-- that’s what it’d honestly felt like. Playing. Like being a kid, like... forgetting the misery for a second. Drawing laughing, remembering... then she cried. Everyone had someone except her... damn it... wasn’t... wasn’t that her calling out for help? Had he missed his mark, messed up the timing? Could he, Kiyoyuki Irino, have saved Jiang-li de la Rosa’s life?

Not good. This thinking would kill him. He wasn’t a hero. Never was.

He hadn’t saved anyone; not Aiko, not Jiang-li. He wasn’t Tetsuo or Kyo, both who had perished. Perhaps both doing more than he ever could... or would. It was like no matter who he was around he could never be any good - any use. It really would’ve been better if Tetsuhiro had been the one to come here. Tetsu was smarter for sure. And braver. He was dedicated and cool. He was just-- in the way. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Why wasn’t character development instant?

Though he still had his doubts he tried to shrug them off. It’s all he could do. It’s not like he’d regressed again anyway. Akihito he-- those things in the trial... he could never say something like that. In the end, Kiyoyuki stood by the things he’d said; they had to live, it was true. And though he regretted everything... regarding Jiang-li... and regarding the Gingerbread Man... he didn’t want to just give in. It was exactly as he said; even if he was a no good, he had to be a no good who’d stop Monobear. Someone had to. He could never be allowed to do this again. Right. That’s the spirit. He has to get his fighting spirit back. Snap out of it, Kiyoyuki! He’s not even the one who should be depressed here. Yeah, others need help more than he does. He needs to help them. Even if he’s no hero there’s no reason he can’t try some heroics.

He slaps his cheeks and then sighs before heading off in the direction of someone who’d headed off early. Catching up to them, he pats them on the shoulder and tries on some positivity for a change.

Talking big despite her fears was something that Miya used to do naturally, with almost as much ease as breathing, but all of a sudden she couldn’t seem to muster up any confidence. She was actually starting to resent that poised visage; that her that she was trying to be felt less and less like a shield and more and more like a crushing failure. Just a few hours ago she would have thought she was making progress, but now...

She realized that after taking only about two steps into the hallway from the elevator that she had stopped dead, standing still in the middle of the corridor like a roadblock. And there was someone behind her.

"Oh, sorry. I’m just--” she tried to play it off, but just what? She didn’t feel ‘just’ anything. Angry. Guilty. If only she had spoken to Jiang-li more, told her how much she liked hanging out with her... maybe if Miya hadn’t been so selfish, this wouldn’t have happened. If she had learned to open up just a little sooner...

Did heroes ever truly die?

Perhaps some people would say they did but he couldn’t agree with that. Even if a body shut down, if a person ceased to, well, be there, that didn’t make them less memorable nor their actions less heroic. That was a good way to keep the memories close, in any case.

He’d changed tack in his investigation a multitude of times having coming away with some interesting pieces but not nearly enough. He’d told himself time and time again to be better; but it was different now. This wasn’t some sort of selfish quest as he desperately clawed out for lost esteem, this was because he needed to do what he could for everyone else. Including the Gingerbread Man himself. Perhaps, in this thinking, he could be going about it the wrong way. Well, that was fine. It was a start, something. As long as his motive was pure it would work out. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to beat himself up about it any further. What was done was done and whatever thoughts he had on the boy’s death... they could be dealt with at another time. At a certain point you had to just accept it; accept the truth of it, of what happened and... walk from there. Not everyone can be saved even if you want them to be. That doesn’t mean he won’t try; that he won’t cry when it happens, that it won’t completely ruin him at times.

But it does mean he knows it’s not his sole responsibility and fault. The main thing to do is give the informant the end he deserves and that’s the seiyuu’s burning wish and intent as he prowls around the kitchen.

There has to be something else he can do here, to find here...

Maybe if the informant was truly a hero after justice he’d somehow drop him a clue. Not that he needed it. Kiyoyuki was... would be confident on his own. After everything he’d seen and everyone they’d lost he would not let them down like this after everything. He was no protagonist but there was no rule that he had to be to do what he could to save his friends.

Monobear’s announcement echoed over the facility before Miya had even thought about leaving her room. For a moment she prayed that it was just a nightmare, and soon enough she would wake up and everyone would be fine. Sadly, she was far beyond the point where she could ignore reality anymore.

Wanting a little preparation for what she was about to see, she strode quickly through the hallways with her eyes on her ID. As she read the victim’s name her heart sank; Miya hadn’t really understood Gingie -- his whole moral code was a little out of whack as far as she could tell -- but she had never thought of him as a bad guy, especially since he seemed like he was really trying to get closer to people. He even asked her for help, and for that she had admired him, even if she could never say that out loud.

Only a few steps into the kitchen she stopped dead --  she certainly didn’t admire the state he was in now. It felt like Miya should be used to this by now, but the truth was that the sight of a murdered classmate never really got old. At the sight of him she’d let out a strangled sort of gasp, her eyes darting from his neck to his hand to anywhere else. As much as she wished she could just leave, she knew that she couldn’t.

Taking a deep breath she approached the body reluctantly forcing herself to look him over for clues. Spotting Gingie’s clenched fist she wavered -- she should be brave and just grab it, but the thought made her feel sick. People were depending on her, but in these moments Miya just felt like a coward. She didn’t feel like she could do this all by herself anymore. She didn’t want to do this by herself anymore.

It’d be a normal morning like any other. Well, as normal as this could get anyway. Honestly it was surreal that this was becoming routine-like. He wished it bothered him more that he was becoming used to this. Well... there was a lot more to do so before anything else he headed to the kitchen. Maybe it’d help straighten his mind out. And that’s... that’s when he saw it.

“T-this is... no...”

They’d only spoken a few hours ago. His stomach turned at the sight but he was determined not to avert his eyes.

“Aaah… Hero! My favorite word, though I sense I’ll never grow into it.”

That. That wasn’t true, not to Kiyoyuki. Surely it was possible for him to be a hero. No, he had been a hero. He’d shown off some ugly sides of him sure, but who didn’t have those sides? The voice actor, he’d... he’d come into all this hating the ugliness, despising the flaws that came so naturally to people, shooting them all down. But after time... after struggling and losing... he began to realize those things were what made them strong after all. You didn’t just start out a hero after all. He really wished he could tell the informant that now. He wished... no. It was too late for that. The usual tears pour out of his eyes and he lets it happen. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, is there? He was a good person. And he was dead. Nothing could change that. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be mourned and that things shouldn’t be regretted. 

“John Dough-san... you were... you worked really hard... I hope... you’ll do better where you go... and rest... without feeling so guilty and sad...”

He gently uses the back of his hand to clean his face up and takes a deep breath. The person who never considered himself a hero would have his justice and a fitting end, surely. Perhaps... he had done things he regretted. Perhaps he had been evil. But that couldn’t have always been the case, right? He has to believe in that; he has to believe in something. And for that reason; regrets should be shown and respects should be paid. Unlike usual he tries... not to blame himself. It’s horrible but his responsibility is to help uncover the truth not to wallow in self-pity. That’s what the informant himself would’ve wanted, right?

With his hands gripped at his side he heaves one more sigh before furrowing his eyebrows, a look of determination sparking in his eyes.