#ziyou

The main cast of my upcoming graphic novel "The Breathing Ridge".

As the others argued and theorized about the traitor, Ziyou remained relatively quiet. After all, he wasn't entirely sure what to say. He kept trying to think of things that might be useful to bring up, but nothing would surface in his mind. Well, at least the evidence appeared to be pointing away from him. That was a relief.

Nevertheless, he tried his best to contribute to the discussion.

"I was just thinking... How are we supposed to know any of these things you all have been suggesting. For example, let's say even if we could assume that the traitor is a vegan, what are we supposed to do... Ask them? If I was the traitor, which I am very clearly not due to the clue we received, but... You know what I'm getting at."

He started to get a little sweaty. Why was he even getting nervous about something like that. It's like he expected people to lash out at him or try to prove him wrong that he wasn't clear, even though the clue that several others had already seen proved him innocent.

"Anyway, if someone asked me if I was a vegan just to find out if I was the traitor, and I truly was a vegan, couldn't I just lie? Or do we play a game of 'I saw her eating a salad earlier, she has to be a vegan!'."

It all just seemed pretty strange. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered just how easily any accusation could be deflected with simple lies.

"Besides that... If this was a fair trial, shouldn't the solution be something we can prove. Maybe something a little more obvious... What do I know, though..."

You wait, listening in to see if you can catch anything of merit… only for the buzzing of thousands upon thousands ringing through your ears. This hall is deeply entrenched within its own history, it seemed - this was once a place with a great many people. Focusing on one in particular is impossible - you hear the term ‘elite school’ come up often, but beyond that, much of it just seems to be… noise. The dull buzz you’d expect to hear when you enter a school.

You arrive in Zone 9, which by all accounts, is very likely a bar. That sign… er, well, unsettling is a good word for it, certainly.

Trying to actually act like an actual fucking adult, holy fuck guys, what the fuck is wrong with all of you, you make your way over to the lookout point and attempt to do some sightseeing.  Though this might not end up being the most profitable or financially sound (not even rational!) usage of your time, it sure is a helluva lot better than trying to steal the crown jewels of the area or toss eggs at guards or hurl cars at buil– and you know what?  Guys??  Could you be normal??  For like, five fucking seconds??

You try not to focus on the voices here – the voices of past Hope’s Peak students, the voices of those Hope’s Peak students who had just recently….Well.

And instead, you focus your energies on looking over the city, noticing:Destruction.  Smoke.  Sirens.  You smell oil, and you view people – so many people, almost like ants – scurrying about the city, still.You know the world is currently in turmoil.  That people are giving up already – looting, rioting in the streets.  You know the police are hard at work – and you notice, from time to time, helicopters flying over areas – you notice tanks, you notice–

…You’re not too sure how much you want to notice anymore.Maybe… you should try focusing on one thing in particular… you know… if you’re so inclined.