#studio trial five

"...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.