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sunbrights · 7 years

Text

fic: by the claw of dragon (3/7)

fandom: danganronpa characters/pairings: natsumi kuzuryuu, fuyuhiko kuzuryuu, peko pekoyama + 77th class ensemble, et al. kuzupeko. character tags will be updated on AO3 with plot-relevant characters as chapters are posted. rating: m summary: The Kuzuryuu Clan stands on the precipice of the greatest era of its history. Kuzuryuu Natsumi promises to be the strongest leader the clan has ever seen, the Overlord of the South born again. That Hopes’s Peak Academy would select her for it’s 77th class was assumed, not hoped for.

To the younger Kuzuryuu son, everything is as it’s meant to be.

They show up to Sonia’s dorm room late and unannounced, in the awkward hours between dinner and curfew. She’s still in her uniform when she answers the door, but she’s let her hair down to spill over her shoulders and past her knees. (She would be the type to brush her hair five-hundred times every night, Natsumi thinks.)

Sonia swings the door open wide. “Kuzuryuu-san, Pekoyama-san! What a pleasant surprise. Please, come inside. I apologize that things are in such disarray, I was not expecting you.”

Disarray isn’t the word Natsumi would use. The room is neat, minimal, and organized, with the bed fully made and the closet sorted by color. Sonia keeps all her schoolbooks on one side of her shelf and a selection of fat, leather-bound tomes on the other, separated by a handful of slim magazines about fashion and animals. She’s left her hairbrush lying out on the bedspread.

“Nah,” Natsumi says. She draws one finger through the nonexistent dust on the desktop. “It’s almost as pristine as Peko-chan’s room, even. What do you think, Peko-chan?”

Peko is giving the room a thorough once-over, but not, Natsumi knows, to check for cleanliness. “More than mine,” she answers. “I neglected to make the bed this morning.”

“You are being kind,” Sonia says. “But still, I am glad you think so. Please feel free to make yourselves comfortable.” She sits on her bed, and draws her hair over one shoulder to finish brushing it out. “What can I do for you this evening? Oh!” The springs in the mattress squeak when she bounces in place. “Perhaps a ‘binge’ television session, if you are feeling up to it? I have just discovered a new drama that I am dying to see more of, I believe you would very much enjoy it.”

“Maybe some other time,” Natsumi says. “I had a proposal for you, actually.”

Sonia’s brush hesitates in her hair. “A proposal,” she repeats. She draws the word out, until it starts to sound more like a question. “Of what kind, may I ask?”

Natsumi leans against the edge of the desk. Peko stands at her elbow, hands folded behind her back. “Business,” she says. “I mean, we’re pretty similar, you and me, right? I think there’s a lot of opportunity for us to help each other out, if you know what I mean. For the Kuzuryuu Clan to help out Novoselic?” She pauses, to make the rest sound tacked on: “And, you know, the other way around.”

Sonia goes quiet. Her nervous energy evaporates; she doesn’t bounce on the bed, or kick her feet. Instead, her shoulders roll back, her spine straightens out, and her smile fades into careful neutrality.

She lays her brush back down on the bed beside her, and folds her hands in her lap. “It sounds as though you already have such a deal in mind. Is that the case?”

Natsumi recognizes the shift, because she’s done the same thing. It’s like putting on a coat, or a slim, tailored dress. It’s armor for a negotiation.

It had taken Sonia a while to catch on, but they’re on an even playing field now.

She doesn’t bother answering out loud. She holds her hand out, and Peko sets the folder with all her plans and percentages into her open palm. Natsumi lays it out onto Sonia’s desk behind her, and takes a step back.

Sonia doesn’t just stand from her bed; she rises, a full-bodied, elegant thing, even in her school uniform. When she sits back down at the desk, it’s delicately, with her legs crossed at the ankle. Every inch of her is like a statue: perfect, proper, and cold.

She doesn’t say anything, and Natsumi doesn’t say anything, either. She just reads, page by page, cover to cover, while Natsumi waits behind her.

“You would like to make use of our barracks and weapons warehouses for temporary storage of goods coming in and out of Europe,” Sonia summarizes, when she’s finished. “Is that correct?”

“Pretty much,” Natsumi says. She counts terms on her fingers. “With the understanding that none of our shipments get touched by any of your people, only ours. We’ll take care of the… delivery process, and none of our shipments will stay in one place longer than five days.” She closes her hand into a fist, and smiles at Sonia over it. “And the royal family of Novoselic gets a nice three percent cut of all the contracts, of course.”

Sonia gives a curt, “I see,” and turns back to her desk.

She thinks on it for a long time. She flips back through the folder to check and confirm some of Natsumi’s numbers, but for the most part she sits with her hands in her lap and her eyes closed, and just thinks.

Natsumi lets her. This is the part that she’s always had trouble with, the part where you let them measure out their own rope. Patience has always had to be a learned thing, in their family. But she manages it, even if she has to dig her nails into her arms to get there.

Sonia closes the folder with one hand. “I am sorry, Kuzuryuu-san,” she says finally. “I believe Novoselic’s answer is no.”

It’s the answer Natsumi expected to get, at least at first. (She has to tell herself that a few times, when her stomach starts to swing anyway.) She lets the silence hang until it starts to coil in on itself, tense and painful, and then she tilts her head.

“No?”

Sonia slides the folder to the edge of her desk. Peko leans forward to retrieve it. “I appreciate the time you have taken in developing this partnership, but I do not believe I can accept under these terms.”

“That’s fine. This is a negotiation, isn’t it?” Natsumi holds her hand out for the folder again. She flips it open when Peko gives it to her, even though she has everything in it memorized already. “What do you want? A bigger cut? Guaranteed protection for the warehouses?”

“It is not that,” Sonia says. “I see the benefit for my family. What I do not see is the benefit for my people.”

Natsumi pinches the bottom corner of one of the pages between her thumb and forefinger. Her stomach is swinging again, but this time she doesn’t have anything she can repeat in her head to get it to stop.

She has percentage ranges she’s willing to “bend” to after the first lowball numbers. She has options for different levels of protection and the price points for each. She has special perks lined up, vacations and fast cars and nice jewelry, provided and paid for under the table. All the things politicians always want.

Her voice sticks in her throat, and she turns it into a scratchy laugh. “It never hurts the people to have some extra money in the coffers, does it?”

Sonia shakes her head once. It’s a crisp, decisive motion. “Novoselic’s economy is robust on its own. Diluting it with foreign money obtained extralegally would be disingenuous and deceptive to my people.” She hesitates. The princess mask cracks around her eyes, just enough for Natsumi to see the pity in them. “I am sorry,” she says again. “But I cannot agree.”

It’s fine. There are always options; the Kuzuryuus don’t end their negotiations at price points and moral high grounds. Sonia’s pointing her pity in the wrong direction, and if she’s cracking this early in the game, all it does is give Natsumi more of the upper hand.

Natsumi turns her face away. Her jaw is locking up in a way that makes the smile hard to hold, so she puffs air into her cheeks instead and lets it all out in a rush. “Well! That’s disappointing. You’re sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“I am afraid not. I appreciate your understanding in this matter.”

“Sure, sure.” Natsumi drags her eyes away from the wall. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Sonia is smiling when she says, “Yes.”

Somewhere between her ‘no’ and now, the princess had completely melted away. Sonia’s just herself now, without any of her edges or iron defenses. Like she really thinks the conversation ended there, like there’s no threat left she can see.

Natsumi hates it.

“Anyway,” she says, “if you do change your mind, you know where to find me.” She glances over her shoulder. “Come on, Peko-chan.”

Peko bows her head, and steps past her to hold the door open.

“Kuzuryuu-san.”

Natsumi hovers in the doorway.

“I hope you will consider watching this new drama with me, at a later time,” Sonia says. She’s still smiling, even if it’s muted. “I will be sure to provide the popcorn, if so.”

“Yeah,” Natsumi says, despite herself. “Okay.”

The solution isn’t even that hard to find. There are eleven people on the Academy’s payroll with outstanding loans provided by her family; Natsumi gives Peko a list of their names and free rein to get information however she sees fit.

“If any of them ask,” Natsumi tells her, “you speak for me. If they’ve got a problem with that, you do what you have to do.”

Peko understands it. It’s these sniveling idiots who don’t, the ones who assume she’s just another underling Natsumi’s father pays to follow her around. How many of them have to be made examples of before the rest of them get it is up to them.

Peko goes. Natsumi sees her twice a day every day for status updates, first thing in the morning and last thing before bed, but beyond that her schedule is erratic. She skips breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She shows up late to some classes, and not at all to the rest. She’s on time once, but with her uniform tie missing and the left sleeve of her shirt torn at the elbow, and she leaves again halfway through.

Yukizome always frowns at Natsumi on the days Peko’s desk is still empty by the end of class, but she never asks. Which is good, because neither of them owe her an explanation for anything.

(Sonia does ask, once, during lunch. “Peko-chan’s got a lot of practicing to do,” Natsumi tells her in-between bites. “Practical exams coming up, you know?”)

Natsumi spends the time dealing with the situation at home. Fuyuhiko manages to pull Niijima out from under the cops, but it takes a lot of money and a lot of promises to do it. With Peko busy and Fuyuhiko already peeved at her, Natsumi has to get one of the junior members to send her message for her.

Maybe the next time Niijima looks down to decide what to do with the goods in his hands, he’ll spend a little more time thinking about it.

fuyu-chan 13:11 it’s done

me 13:11 good. keep an eye on him the next couple days, i don’t want him fucking anything else up

fuyu-chan 13:11 was already

Natsumi drops the phone on her bed and leans back against the pillows to rub the heels of her hands against her eyes. It’s handled. She doesn’t want to bother with it anymore.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzes again.

fuyu-chan 13:23 peko’s dodging my texts. what are you doing?

me 13:23 she’s working. leave her alone

fuyu-chan 13:23 for a whole fucking week? what do you even have her doing?

Peko’s the only one who can do it. She’s the only one worth trusting with something so important, and she’s the only one who knows enough to anticipate what Natsumi needs without being told. She’ll get it done, and she’ll do it quietly, she’ll do it fast, and she’ll do it right.

Natsumi ignores the message. There’s no point explaining it; he doesn’t understand. He’s never even tried to.

fuyu-chan 13:29 dammit she’s not there just to clean up after you

fuyu-chan 13:29 she’s got her own shit to deal with

He thinks he’s helping, but he isn’t.

Natsumi dumps her phone into her bag, and goes to class. Peko doesn’t show up that day, either.

It takes her just over two weeks to finish the job. On the last day, Natsumi finds her waiting in one of the more lightly-trafficked hallways before afternoon homeroom. She hadn’t texted or called ahead; she’s just there, and she falls right back into step behind her like she’d never been gone.

Natsumi glances over her shoulder. “Did you get it?”

Peko nods.

“All right. Hang on to it. We’re both making an appearance in class today. We’ll talk in my room after.”

“Yes, young mistress.”

Yukizome nearly trips over her desk coming up to greet them when they walk in. “Pekoyama-san! It’s good to see you. We missed you in class this morning.”

“I apologize,” Peko says. She pauses to bow. “I was otherwise engaged. My attendance should improve from this point forward.”

“Don’t worry, I think everyone here understands what that’s like. We’re just glad to have you back. Right, class?”

Natsumi slouches low in her seat. She tries to focus on Yukizome’s lecture, if just to make the time go faster, but it sounds more to her like snatches of white noise, bouncing around the inside of her skull. She feels nauseous and jittery; both of her knees knock repeatedly against the bottom of her desk. She counts every second on the wall clock over the door.

When it’s over, Sonia catches her by the arm to ask her if she’d like to go for a run after class. Natsumi looks her in the eye and smiles when she lies about having other plans.

She had expected information, or receipts, or a hearsay story she’d have to give substance to, but none of that does Peko credit. When they get back to the dorm, what she pulls out from the interior pocket of her bag is a new, unmarked disc.

“Satoya Ryou.” Peko sets her own laptop on the desk and loads the disc into it. “He is the homeroom teacher for class 75-A. He has also been filming students in restricted areas without their knowledge for the past eight months, using equipment purchased with funds provided by the Kuzuryuu Clan.” The video loads. The thumbnail alone might be enough to get them what they need. “He gave me this when I told him you wouldn’t be pleased to learn of his activities.”

She presses play.

The recording is short, obviously a clipped version of something much longer. It’s still more than enough.

Based on what she knows now about traditions in Novoselic, Natsumi is reasonably certain the people there wouldn’t be pleased to see their princess in this new light. To say nothing of how the judges for the practical exams would react if, say, they saw the same footage as part of another exam before Sonia had a chance to give hers. It could ruin her reputation at home and her prospects at Hope’s Peak.

It’s simple. Easy. Perfect. Most importantly, it’ll work.

“Would you like me to put pressure on Satoya-sensei for copies of the full clip?” Peko asks, when the screen goes blank.

If Sonia isn’t already expecting something like this, that’s her own fault. Natsumi didn’t come to this school for youth and friendship and feel-good memories, she came for results. The advancement of the clan comes first, before everything. Yukizome could give a hundred speeches and that still wouldn’t change.

She snaps the laptop lid shut. “Do it.” She chews on the inside of her cheek, then adds, “And shut Satoya down, while you’re at it. Skeeze.”

Peko bows, and the door closes silently behind her when she leaves.

Yukizome hands out the final schedules for the practical exams a month in advance. “If you have any last preparations,” she tells them, “Now’s the time to finish them. If anyone needs help with anything, my door is always open.”

Natsumi’s exam is scheduled for the second block on the third day, in the morning. Peko’s is the third block, immediately after hers. Most of their classmates just have the full exam schedule and a few pages of orientation information for first year students, but Natsumi’s packet is thick, nearly fifteen pages longer.

“Yours is a bit of a special case, Kuzuryuu-san,” Yukizome explains. “Since the cameras and everything will be there this year, there’s a different procedure for your exam. They’d just like you to sign it to show you understand the differences. And, ah, they’d like Pekoyama-san to sign as well.”

“That’s not necessary,” Peko says.

Yukizome is sheepish when she smiles. “I understand. But if you’re going to be assisting Kuzuryuu-san with her exam—”

“What she’s saying is, there’s no point,” Natsumi repeats. “I’m taking responsibility for everything Peko-chan does, alright? They can put that in here if they want.” She skims through the last few pages of provisions, and then flips the whole packet closed. “Ugh, this thing is gonna take forever.”

Yukizome just laughs. “That’s the way it goes, I’m afraid.” She hands Peko the same, thinner handout she gave to everyone else. “If that’s your decision, Kuzuryuu-san, that’s fine. I’ll tell the judges. Just get that back to me when you can, okay? And let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, and they won’t. The rest of the day is already planned out— except for the part where Natsumi has to go back and read every word of these stupid provisions, apparently, just in case the judges try to pull one over on her— and there’s no going back anymore. She’s already confirmed the contracts with her new partners in Europe; all that’s left is for Peko to crack Satoya, and waiting for that is like waiting for the sun to rise.

She takes the whole packet back to her room to read, while Peko goes upstairs to room 3-A. She’s on page ten when the door opens; she doesn’t hear a single footstep between then and the moment Peko sets a thermos next to her elbow.

“What’s that?”

“Tea,” Peko says. She doesn’t have one for herself. “You were more stressed than normal in class this morning. I thought it might help calm your nerves.”

Natsumi wraps her fingers around the body of the thermos and breathes in. It’s fresh-brewed peppermint, not the kava tea from the dining hall. “Guess you didn’t have a problem with Satoya then, huh?”

Peko unzips the top of her bag, and then unzips the hidden pocket in the inside lining. “He was much more agreeable after he heard your suggestion,” she says. She holds out a DVD in a thin blue case.

Natsumi grins when she takes it. “Yeah, I thought he might.” Peko has written KUZURYUU NATSUMI, #1 on the front of the disc, the way Natsumi asked her to. It’s for submission to the judge panel during her practical exam; any additional materials must be labeled and numbered, for organization, and to ensure nothing is misplaced.

It’s a stupid rule. If any of the students here are doing their jobs right, the judges won’t forget anything presented to them for as long as they live.

“There are two additional copies,” Peko says. “One to be delivered to Sonia and one to be held by you, as insurance.” She sets those discs on the desk; their faces are both blank. “Should I bring one to Sonia’s dorm room tomorrow morning?”

Natsumi turns the disc over in her hands.

Sonia will hate her. She cares too much about the respect and goodwill of her people not to. Natsumi can see her in her head, spine straight and elbows locked, giving a long, off-the-cuff speech about a princess’s duty to the people and the sanctity of women’s bonds of friendship.

That’s fine. That’s the point. It’s Sonia’s mistake, not Natsumi’s. Koizumi and Satou hate her now, too, and that turned out better all around. The advancement of the clan comes first. That’s how it is.

Natsumi hears herself say, “No.”

“Young mistress?”

“There’s still time, right?” Natsumi tosses the first disc back onto the desk and reaches for her tea instead. “So you don’t have to bring it tomorrow. Before we do that, I have to— I need to decide what the next step is. You know? After.”

Natsumi can feel Peko’s eyes on her. She’s quiet a second too long. “Yes, young mistress.”

Natsumi feels a prickle in her gut. She can’t tell if she’s annoyed or afraid, but only one is ever any good to her. She pulls her feet into her chair and scowls at Peko over her knees. “What?”

Peko bows her head. “Forgive me. You seemed uncertain, but it’s not my place to doubt your judgment.” She doesn’t look up when she reaches out to lay her hand over the extra discs. “Should I keep these until you’re ready, or would you prefer to?”

Natsumi stares at them. It was a good plan. She did everything right. The Kuzuryuu Clan has never been able to fully solidify its reach outside of east and southeast Asia; once she does this, she’ll have already surpassed both her father and her uncle in every way, before she’s even become the boss. It’s why she came to this school in the first place. Nothing else should matter to her, because nothing else does matter.

Maybe someone should be questioning her judgment.

Peko is looking at her again. Her face is lined with confusion and concern. “Young mistress?”

Natsumi hugs her knees against her chest. “What if I fuck this up, Peko?” Peko opens her mouth, but Natsumi cuts her off. “I don’t mean in a ‘I’m afraid I might mess something up’ way.” She breathes. It’s the only way she can think of to stop the prickling in her gut, which she knows now is definitely fear. “I mean in a ‘I’m thinking about fucking up months of work’ way.”

Peko still doesn’t hesitate. Peko never hesitates, not when it counts. “The decision is yours to make,” she says. “Whatever that decision is, I will support it in any way I can. You only need to say the word.”

There’s no room for uncertainty in her life anymore. If she stays this wishy-washy, it won’t matter what kind of boss she thinks she’ll make, because she’ll never become it.

She decides.

She slides the two blank discs back across the table, and keeps the labeled one for herself. “Hang on to these.” Peko doesn’t ask. She unzips her bag and tucks the discs back into the hidden internal pocket. “And I do need you to send a message. Just not to Sonia.”

“To who, then?”

“The Nagahara brothers.” Natsumi grabs her phone. She finds her cousin Rin in the contact list, and starts tapping out a message. “Tell them they’re fired. They can bring all their shipments back to the compound.” She stops mid-text to lift her head. “And don’t tell my brother.”

“Yes, young mistress.”

Natsumi rifles through her desk for the envelope Fuyuhiko sent over months ago, the initial numbers from the European region. Her heart is pounding. There’s no going back after this, but that doesn’t matter. She has talent on her side.

If she can’t pull this off, there’s no point in calling her ‘Ultimate’ at all.

She stops by the classroom before breakfast a few days later. She sends Peko to the dining hall ahead of her; there’s no point in the both of them missing out on a good place in line for something that’ll only take a couple of minutes.

Peko doesn’t need to see this part, anyway.

It’s still dim enough outside that Yukizome has to use a lamp at her desk. When Natsumi knocks on the frame of the door, she leans forward, hands folded over the papers she’s grading. “Good morning, Kuzuryuu-san. You’re early for class this morning.”

“I want to call in my favor,” Natsumi tells her.

“Oh.” Yukizome looks past her, out into the hallway, but beyond that she doesn’t try to be shady or obviously secretive, the way civilians usually are. “Well, all right. What can I do for you?”

“Komaeda-kun and Sonia-san’s practical exam dates.” She hates it, the way Yukizome’s face doesn’t even twitch with surprise. Natsumi thinks she could probably slap her across the face and Yukizome would still smile at her after. “I want them switched.”

Yukizome slides her chair back and pulls her copy of the final exam schedule from her desk. Even upside-down, Natsumi can see how she’s colored in the blocks designated for each of her classmates with a different color highlighter. Natsumi’s own block is green. “We’re awfully close to the exams, Kuzuryuu-san,” she sighs. “I wish you’d be better prepared. But I think I can take care of that for you.” She taps her index fingers against two of the blocks on the page, Komaeda’s blue one at the front and Sonia’s yellow one at the back. “That puts Sonia-san in the fourth morning block on the first day, and Komaeda-kun in the second afternoon block on the fifth day. That’s what you need?”

“That’s what I said.”

Yukizome smiles at her. “Okay. Consider it done.”

Natsumi waits for the other shoe to drop. When Yukizome only looks at her, she says, “That’s it?”

“That was the deal, right?” Yukizome pops the cap off of a red pen with her teeth and circles each of the blocks on her schedule, connected with a double-headed arrow. “You came to class, so you get one favor. No questions asked.” She lifts her head. “Unless you want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then I’ll see you in a bit,” Yukizome says. She points at the wall clock behind Natsumi’s head with her pen. “Make sure you grab some breakfast first, okay? It’s the most important meal of the day!”

Natsumi doesn’t have anything else to say. There’s really no going back now; it feels like it should be a bigger deal than a red pen and a few highlighters. But Yukizome goes back to grading, and there’s only a half-hour left for breakfast, so Natsumi slips back out into the hall.

When she gets to the dining hall, Peko is sitting at their regular table with two trays of food laid out for the both of them. She hasn’t touched hers; she’s tapping at her phone instead.

“Good morning, young mistress,” she says, when Natsumi sits down. She lays her phone face down on the table. “Were you able to finish what you needed to do?”

Sonia catches her eye from the other end of the dining hall. She’s sitting with Tanaka today, the both of them crowded around some ancient-looking book. Natsumi raises one hand when she waves. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m ready.”

The day of her exam comes. She and Peko show up to the gym first thing in the morning and sit together in the row of chairs set out for the five morning examinees. They spend the first half-hour watching news outlets set up their giant cameras along the entire back wall of the room, and the flood of onlookers after that. They fill every inch of bleachers and every extra chair, with dozens more still stuck in the standing room at the back.

The students are on display; this year the exams are as much a show put on for the outside world as they are an evaluation of the student body. Anyone would be stupid not to realize that.

The exam before hers is a senior named Mitsurugi, the Ultimate Prosecutor. His exam involves a lot of talking interspersed with shouting, like most of them; she tunes him out and focuses on the judges at the table behind him instead.

The one on the far left has a long, pointy face that makes her look like a rat. Next to her is a man whose forehead practically has the entire ceiling in its reflection. The head judge in the middle has a nose so big she can barely see the rest of his face behind it. The one on his left looks like she never learned how to tie a ponytail properly. The last one on the right is so pale he could fade into the wall if he closed his eyes.

She’d spent the time to learn all of their names already, but she renames them in her head; because she can, and because the less she thinks about the way her heart is clattering around in her chest, the less chance there is someone might notice.

Mitsurugi gets graded right then and there, in front of everyone, and he passes with an almost perfect score. There’s scattered claps and whistles from the crowd during his entire procession back down the aisle, but he still looks like he swallowed a frog the wrong way when he sits back down beside her.

“For legal and security reasons we must ask everyone not associated with Hope’s Peak Academy faculty to leave the room for the examination of our next student,” Fat Nose announces, nasal and bored. “When we have reached the grading portion, press and public will be welcomed back into the auditorium. Thank you.”

The gym yawns even larger when emptied out, Natsumi discovers. Peko and the other students up for examination are even asked to leave, too; only Natsumi, the judges, and a handful of observing teachers remain. Yukizome waves at her from the bleachers.

“Kuzuryuu Natsumi, the Ultimate Yakuza,” Fat Nose says. He’s still using the microphone, even though it makes his voice boom awkwardly loud in a room of ten people. “Please approach the stage.”

It’s stupid, having her walk up an aisle surrounded by empty seats on both sides like it’s something dramatic. But she does it anyway, in long, heavy steps that make the sound of her heels reverberate through the room. She wore them specifically for today.

She makes a show of looking all around the empty room when she gets to the top of the stairs. “Really?”

Rat Face and Fivehead both try to hide their smiles, but Fat Nose doesn’t even look up. “It’s important that the practical exams follow a standard format, Kuzuryuu-kun,” he says, “even under these special circumstances.” He pulls a disc from her file and holds it up for her to see. She can make out Peko’s blocky handwriting through the blue tint of the case. “This is what you submitted for your exam, correct?”

“Looks like it.”

“Then we’ll start there.” He holds the disc out for one of the faculty volunteers to take. “If we could get that loaded into the projector—”

Natsumi snickers.

“You have something to add, Kuzuryuu-kun?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says. “It’s your show, you know? But if you want my advice—” she points at the disc, “you definitely don’t want to see that—” then at the massive screen behind the stage, “blown up onto that.”

Fat Nose puts his palm against his microphone and leans back to whisper with the other judges. After a moment he waves his other hand, and one of the faculty volunteers brings a laptop over instead. They load the disc in, and the six of them have to pull their chairs nearly on top of each other so they can all get a decent look at the screen.

Natsumi can’t hear the recording from where she’s standing, but she doesn’t need to.

“Is that a student?”

“Sonia Nevermind, the exchange student from 77-B. We took her exam just the other day—”

“The princess?!”

“I thought she’d seemed the adventurous type, but I had no idea…”

The recording finishes, and all six of them start to whisper at once. Fivehead clears his throat. “This is extremely concerning, Kuzuryuu-kun,” he says. “Where did you even get this footage?”

Natsumi inspects her nails. The one on the middle finger of her left hand is chipped. “I think it’s pretty obvious where I got it from,” she says. “What? You think this school gets a pass just because I’m a student here now? PS, you need to do a much better job screening your employees. I handled it for you this time. You’re welcome.”

Pony Tail Bumps leans across the others and slams the laptop shut. She sputters something about security and data privacy to Fat Nose, and he waves his fingers at her.

“We will address that at another time.” He looks down his fat nose at his pad of paper and marks something down. “Is this all, Kuzuryuu-kun?”

“All?” Natsumi laughs. “She’s a princess. I could get her country to do anything I wanted with a recording like that.”

“Yes,” Fat Nose agrees. “And did you?”

That’s wrong. That’s not what he was supposed to say next.

She fumbles. “What?”

“Have you used this recording to extort the kingdom of Novoselic for the benefit of your clan’s businesses?”

The other judges have stopped fussing with each other, and are now all looking at her expectantly. Natsumi feels like she’s swallowed cotton.

“It’s a very straightforward question, Kuzuryuu-kun.”

Her cheeks burn. “No.”

“No, you have nothing else to present?”

“I said no, all right?”

“I see.” Fat Nose writes something on his pad of paper, his wrist flicking in a quick, slashing line. “That will be all, Kuzuryuu-kun.” He lifts his eyes to the back of the room. “We are ready to enter the grading portion. Please welcome the audience back into the auditorium.”

She has to stand there and listen while hundreds of people filter their way back into the room. They’re talking and laughing and shouting each other’s names so they can sit in groups. She can hear the electric whine of cameras being booted up again, and has to listen to every single reporter practicing their variant of, “We’re back live on site at Hope’s Peak Academy—”

She refuses to either lower her eyes or give Fat Nose the satisfaction of looking her in the face, so she stares straight ahead through the gap between his head and Pony Tail Bumps’ ugly ponytail, and waits.

“Welcome back, everyone,” Fat Nose says into the microphone, after what has to have been hours, or days. The room behind her hushes and settles. Natsumi’s jaw is starting to ache. “Thank you for your patience. Kuzuryuu Natsumi has presented her exam, and our panel is prepared to enter the grading portion.”

The judges present their scores. They go one by one, down the line. Natsumi doesn’t let her chin drop once.

Passing, but only just barely.

The entire room, rows on rows of bleachers filled with reporters and other students and curious bystanders, begins to whisper.

“Kuzuryuu-kun,” Fat Nose begins. He sniffles right into the microphone. Natsumi’s ears are ringing. “While we have decided to pass you today, it is worth reminding you that the goal of Hope’s Peak Academy is for the constant development of the talents of our students. It is not sufficient to rest on the skills you had when you entered this school. We must warn you that if you do not display significant improvement over the next year, Hope’s Peak Academy will no longer be able to—”

“Excuse me,” Natsumi says, loud enough for the microphone to pick her up. “I think it’s pretty obvious there’s been a mistake.”

She can see Fat Nose squinting at her, but he isn’t the one she’s focused on. Pasty, squashed into the very last chair at the far end of the table, has been shrinking further and further down in his seat since the crowd came back in. He hasn’t spoken once during the entire exam, and even now he can’t quite look her in the face. When she stares at him, he stares back somewhere near her collarbone.

“— panel of course prides itself on fair, comprehensive judgment,” Fat Nose is saying. Natsumi stalks down the length of the table until she’s standing right in front of Pasty. “If you have a complaint, Kuzuryuu-kun, then you may submit an appeal through—”

“Watase-sensei,” Natsumi interrupts. Murmurs roll through the crowd behind her. She hasn’t looked back over her shoulder at them once. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t help but feel like that isn’t the score you meant to give me. Don’t you think?”

Pasty gapes at her, jaw hinging half-open and half-closed like a fish. “Kuzuryuu-kun,” Fat Nose says again. His nose is starting to flush red. “We are in the grading stage, you cannot—”

She looks sharply up at him. “This is my practical exam,” she says. “Isn’t it? Should I or should I not get the grade I’m owed?”

For the first time since she came in the room, Fat Nose falters. “O-Of course. I’m not disputing that, only—”

“So, how about it, Watase-sensei?” Natsumi leans over the edge of the judge’s table. When Pasty finally looks up at her, she smiles. “Is that the grade you think I’m owed? After what you’ve seen that I’m capable of?”

Natsumi feels the moment he cracks like a thrill in her chest. It reminds her of pointing her gun at a target and pulling the trigger.

Pasty turns his pad back toward himself. He laughs, trembling and small, as he scratches through his numbers. “Would you look at that! K-Kuzuryuu-kun is right on the money. So sorry, so sorry, I don’t— I don’t have any idea how th-that… that could have….”

Natsumi meets Fat Nose’s stare head-on as the scores are recalculated.

Passing, comfortably.

Fat Nose leans back into the microphone. “The score is final,” he bites out. Natsumi smiles at him. “Kuzuryuu Natsumi, you are dismissed. Pekoyama Peko, the Ultimate Swordswoman, please approach the stage.”

Peko makes eye contact with her when they pass each other in the center aisle. Her face doesn’t reflect an inch of the anger and humiliation Natsumi feels. Natsumi tries to latch on to her calm focus instead. (It doesn’t work.)

She’s supposed to go back to her seat and watch the other three exams after hers. There’s supposed to be a photo op at the end of the morning sessions.

She walks straight out the door instead. Her phone is buzzing in her pocket before she even makes it over the threshold.

sonia nevermind 08:59 Good luck with your exam this morning! I hope you will have broken a leg. 💩

peko 09:26 Please wait for me. I will rendezvous with you as soon as my exam is complete.

fuyu-chan 09:33 what the fuck just happened?

fuyu-chan 09:33 whoever that fucker was he looked like he was begging for a punch in the nose

rin 09:34 well that was a bust. you ok?

fuyu-chan 09:35 ignore mom I already told her to stop calling you

mom 09:35 We need to talk. Call when you get this.

Natsumi turns it off.

#natsumi kuzuryuu #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #peko pekoyama #kuzupeko #danganronpa #we're getting there!!#slowly but surely #i'm real hyped for the back half of this fic #i hope you guys enjoy it #fic: by the claw of dragon #sunwrites

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