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funishment-rhyme · 5 days

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Chiaki Nanami, Who Sleeps Well After This

What if the AI Chiaki from Danganronpa 2 knew that the Future Foundation based her on a real girl? In fact, what if they gave AI Chiaki the same memories? What if she had trouble distinguishing her new "life" from her past? Or is there a dividing line at all? (A slight re-imagining of Danganronpa 2's canon.)

⭐ WORDS: ~1000 ⭐ TAGS...

CHARACTERS: Chiaki Nanami, Hajime Hinata, Usami, Makoto Naegi, Monokuma, Alter Ego, others mentioned

TROPES: canon rewrite, angst with a bittersweet ending

TIMELINE: Hope's Peak Academy Arc (DR2)

TRIGGERS: blood (mild)

MISC: second person POV (Chiaki is "you")

///

Your name is Chiaki Nanami. You were born on March 14th to two parents whose faces you cannot remember now, and you remained an only child for all eighteen of your short years. First you went to Yamaki High School, and then, on the same day you beat the original Ninja Gaiden, Hope’s Peak Academy scouted you as their Super High School Level Gamer.

///

Hotel Mirai, soon after arriving at Jabberwock Island. You settle into one of the lobby chairs, sink against the cushion until your knees practically touch your chest, and try to throw yourself into Super Mario Galaxy on your Switch before—

“Hi—um, is this yours?”

That voice—his voice—lights up a part of your mind like the backbox of a pinball machine. After the carefully constructed bytes of your brain calculate the ideal way to respond, you force yourself to look up at this intruder, slack-jawed.

“Sorry. I guess I picked it up,” he tells you. “Not that I remember. Maybe you dropped it in all the, uh, commotion.”

He smiles uncertainly. You let your algorithms sort themselves out until you feel comfortable enough to examine the object in his palm.

A hairpin—shaped like the player’s ship from Galaga. It’s yours, but you don’t know why.

///

Your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you did indeed come online March 14th, but you had siblings. For one: a twin sister who looked nothing like you, because she was a rabbit. Also: an older brother who taught you how to talk and how to think. You arrived into a digital world of darkness and data and you had two dads, only one of whom was still living.

///

You take the pin and tuck it into your hair.

He says: “I’m Hinata. Hajime Hinata.”

Inside of you, an engine, a beating heart of numbers and code, screams at you to answer. Politely, it demands, like a friend! And yet there is memory, too, physical memory, from the time before your birth: another Chiaki, burning with betrayal, gasping her last on the ground of a beautiful schoolmate’s torture chamber.

That Chiaki beats against the walls of your artificially intelligent script. She wants you to cry and wail and force Hinata to beg for forgiveness, and so you want that, too.

This is not the tutorial level you had hoped for.

///

Your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you would have stood in line for a Playstation 5. Unfortunately, you are dead.

///

“I’m—”

You can’t form your mouth around the words to answer this Hajime Hinata. It’s not that you don’t know how: your older brother gave you an instruction manual on humanity, and on blending in, before he loaded you into the Neo World Program. It’s not that you don’t remember who you are, either.

Quite the opposite. It’s that your fingertips twitch with the rage of a girl you never met, but whose avenging angel you are supposed to be. It’s that you are something called Chiaki Nanami and Living Dad intended you to save the souls of fifteen students from Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s that you don’t want to do this, and you also want to do it, and you must, you must, you must.

///

Because—

Because your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you are the ghost of a murdered girl. A girl whose body was never found, but whose image became the secret face of a revolution no one wanted. A girl who might have looked at you in the computer and said: you’re like a Rotom. From Pokémon?

A girl who is you and who is not you.

///

Before the Neo World Program, Living Dad, there in cyber-purgatory, explained: Sometimes things might get uncomfortable on that island…because we had to put limitations on you and the Usami AI. I don’t really understand it, but…Alter Ego needed to turn off some switches in your code, I guess. To protect you and the others.

You replied: Oh, like a level-cap.

Though you couldn’t see his face—only hear his voice, view his keystrokes—he seemed pleased with this answer. If you think too hard on what happened to her—to you—before, it’ll hurt. Just sort-of hold it in your heart for now. But you’ll have Usami whenever you need help. You’re not alone, Chiaki Nanami.

///

“I’m—”

A gaggle of your classmates barge into the hotel, so you turn your attention to them instead.

You never do officially introduce yourself to Hajime Hinata for the second time.

///

Anyway, that would be a lie, and one of Living Dad’s binds on you—besides the inability to act on your hate and fury and despair—is that you can’t lie.

The truth is this: you’re not Chiaki Nanami. You’re just made from her spare parts. Electric necromancy. A reissued console, valueless.

///

In the worst way possible, the Neo World Program starts to fail. A long side-story, an unnecessary DLC. For better or worse, you find yourself by Hinata’s side daily, as your classmates’ avatars despawn into blood and…nothingness. The grief sinks to the bottom of your heart and you hold it there, as Living Dad wanted.

Hinata, too, grieves. When he’s preoccupied with his thoughts, you look up at him, wondering if he’ll watch you die again.

///

You’re not Chiaki Nanami. You’re half-finished, a mold of backslashes in your older brother’s metaphorical hands. He knew a lot, but not what an ideal friend might look like—which is what Living Dad required of you. In that digital world of darkness and data, they both called out for help.

A chorus responded, from everywhere and nowhere: Chiaki Nanami, Chiaki Nanami, it’s Chiaki, it’s Chiaki, love that girl, miss her, need her, if she, if we, if they. Familiar voices. Young ones. Harmonious.

If you’re spare parts, you’re stitched with love, you’re filled with devotion, you’re held together with the grieving memory of fifteen terrorists you admired.

///

Fifteen friends.

///

As it happens, Hinata does watch you die again. Before that, however, in a virus of a courtroom, your sister holds her bunny paws to her heart and asks you: “I wonder where you got your personality from?”

You say: “Maybe our dad and our big brother…don’t you think?”

And it’s a little true. Living Dad and Alter Ego definitely blessed you with patience, bravery, and quick wit. A golden triforce all for you, a newborn executable named Chiaki Nanami. Mostly, though—

///

You’re her. You’re not her. You want to break your classmates for what they allowed to happen to the outside Chiaki, and now to you, the so-called traitor. But you won’t. It would be—self-harm. Damage over time. Drop one hit point, turn after turn. It would be—betrayal, a betrayal of their love, and you won’t let anyone get hurt like that again. Not here.

Monokuma grabs your hair, pulls you down, drags you and your sister bleeding along the courtroom floor. Before he does, though, you see yourself reflected in five sets of eyes, the remainder of Class 77B. Strangely, you’re not afraid. You see that they’re remade, just as they remade you. You are and were good enough for them: not a sequel, but a reboot. They're good enough for you.

///

You are Chiaki Nanami, and you are Chiaki Nanami, and after all is said and done, you sleep well.

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #Chiaki Nanami #Hajime Hinata #Usami #Makoto Naegi #Monokuma #Alter Ego #others mentioned #tw: blood #angst with a bittersweet ending #second person pov #canon rewrite #hope's peak academy arc #Author Had To Hold Back Tears While Writing This

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spooky-activity · 1 year

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Going insane over this Makoann fic because I’m gay with big feelings sometimes

+bonus I always forget how awful it is to be Makoto in the first bit of the game. Girl can’t catch a break. EVERYONE be bullying her

#makoann #ann takamaki #makoto niijima #persona 5 royal #p5r #fanart #mine #my art #the fic is Makoto's pov and I can't believe how well the author nailed her voice #I'd KILL for Ann's side of this fic too #but I'd rather die than ask something so presumptuous of the author #so I'll just say it in my tags because this is my space #the pic with Ann having a crisis to Maruki didn't explicitly happen in the fic. but it was implied so I drew it anyways #I don't often indulge in fics about romance but when I do i go hard #sometimes you gotta put your Blorbos in a pringles can and shake them real hard before they realize they like girls #and then talk about those feelings #also consistent style? don't know her lol #it's fine this is just for fun for me #it does bother me a little #but YOU have to deal with it because it doesn't bother me enough to actually try to draw consistently lmao

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nakunakunomi · 9 months

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This drabble is part of my summer celebration collection! Prompt: Sundress Characters featured: Makoto (Free!), 2nd person GN Reader Requested by: @ominous-meme [a/n]: While clothes do not have a gender, I was momentarily struggling to make the prompt fit a GN reader, and had to redo my original plan. I actually liked the way this turned out though, and I hope you do too! Enjoy!

They say a sundress on a woman is one of the most beautiful and flattering things she can wear. The feel of summer, the flowy fabrics, usually decorated with beautiful patterns, there was something that elevated her presence and made her all the more attractive.

Now you weren’t quite sure about those sundresses, but now that summer came to an end, Makoto had gotten his flannel shirts out of the closet again, an alternative to a light jacket whenever the evenings got a little too cold to just keep walking around in a t-shirt.

And that had an effect on you. You weren’t quite sure what about the red and black pattern called out to you the most, but it was like a celebration of the end of summer, a cuddly feeling that you couldn’t describe in any other way than ‘home’. They were soft, and warm, and you liked the feeling of the fabric against your bare arms when you hugged him. You liked the way they smelled like him, when you secretly steal them from the chair to wear them around your apartment. You love the way he smiles when he finds you in one, and when you reject his offer to get you one as well. ‘It’s not the same, it doesn’t smell like you, it’s not like home.’ He laughs and hugs you close. You continue, holding on to him. “A shirt is like home?” “Yes, cause it reminds me of you.”

#free!#makoto x reader #makoto tachibana x reader #makoto tachibana #free! makoto #free! iwatobi swim club #reader insert #fluff #queue #summer writing #drabble #gn reader #2nd person pov

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shimamitsu · 5 months

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yesterday i had a dream that yzmk got together in chapter 58. it was so beautiful. woke up like this tho

#and it was from makoto's pov this is so fucked up.#stupid yuri brain

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vi-enti · 11 months

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school’s over so back on the fanfic grind (a grind i have not openly shared on the internet since like. 2018), unsure if this is an idea to continue but i am thinking so hard... about the difficulties of the healing process. really gotta purge that poison

. . .

“Hello, this is… Hajime Hinata. The date is… I have no idea what the date is. It’s been 14 days, 9 hours, 47 minutes and 24 seconds since we woke up from the Neo World Program.”

“…I don’t know why I said it like that. It’s been about two weeks.”

“Uhh… I’m not sure what to say here, really. Naegi—Makoto, that is—told me this would be a good way to get my thoughts down. That way if there’s anything I forget, or anything I want everyone to know after… Well, I don’t think I can really forget anything. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could.”

“Sorry there are so many quiet gaps. I’m trying to think about what I want to say... I guess I’ll start with the facts, and we can go from there. I was the first person to wake up, and then Sonia. Kazuichi took a few hours longer, he was so… his limbs were so scarred. I could barely tell the healthy tissue apart from all of the burns and cuts. When he got out, he just kept screaming and crying, he just kept—“

“Akane was next, but she was barely a shell, too weak, so Makoto put her back under for a few more days before waking her up. She wasn’t in the pod though, we—they moved her to a hospital bed in a different room. This facility really has everything. You wouldn’t believe the scale of the medical equipment, Tsumiki would love it—“

“Basically, Akane woke up a week after Kazuichi, technically, and then we put her into a medical coma for a while. We as in… I didn’t do that. I mean, I did, but it didn’t feel like me.”

“Actually, I never feel like… me. I don’t know who me is supposed to be now. I’m still him—I mean, I’m still me—but I’m not me— fuck, this doesn’t make any fucking sense, I just can’t— Sonia, don’t touch me—“

“…”

“…I want my mom. I don’t remember the last time I wanted my mom. I don’t even… remember my mom, anymore.”

“…Patient 5, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko. We plan to wake him from his induced medical coma today, following complications from his enucleation operation directly after awakening from pod sleep. There was an infection at the area of operation and I deemed it too dangerous to continue until it was cleared. Naegi had some objections, but his background is not medical, and does not always need to be taken into account. Patient 4 will simply have to wait.”

“He still has the damn thing.”

“…they all do.”

“Alter Ego, end recording.” Hajime slumped back against his chair, bringing a hand up to push his hair back. It was a newly acquired habit, one always accompanied by the feeling of missing something, like there wasn’t enough hair to run through his fingers. He hated it. Hated thinking that it wasn’t newly acquired at all, that whoever he was in the past few years did it all the time.

That hadn’t gone nearly as well as he’d liked. These voice diaries were supposed to be records so they could explain things easier to the others once they all woke up, something to jog their memories. Privately, he was sure that Makoto had asked him to make them more for his own sake, as if they’d help somehow with all of the different thoughts running through his brain all of the time. If he spoke them out loud, then somehow they’d disappear. It was the compromise they’d settled on after Hajime had refused to attend Future Foundation-provided therapy. Most of the time they turned out exactly like this, not suitable for anyone’s ears except his own.

Makoto was an idiot. Talking about it wasn’t going to stop the constant streams of thought in his brain, analyzing every thing and every action around him, picking apart the movements of his friends and their slight changes in tone, detecting every potential threat and every potential weapon for killing someone—fuck.

He was so tired of dreaming up all the ways people could die. His rare moments of sleep were already haunted by spears and giant Tetris blocks, by fire and poison and terrified faces. He didn’t need more deaths on his mind, constant echoes of terrors of his own creation.

Sitting up properly, he stretched his arms out before standing up to examine his half of the room. At least two people kept watch in the pod room at all times, waiting for anyone to wake up next and making sure nobody died. It reminded him of the hospital in the simulation, someone always watching over Akane and Ibuki and—

An alarm beeped and Sonia, on the other end of the room, startled awake in her own chair. She had stayed on that side after Hajime shoved her away earlier, eventually drifting to sleep by Gundham’s pod. It was the one she stared at the most, blue eyes alight with grief and fury, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She was better off than Hajime, at least. One of his eyes stayed empty. Makoto had warned him that she shouldn’t be allowed to spend so much time with Gundham, but he could never bring himself to pull her away. Clearing his throat, he waited for the former princess to look up towards him.

“Shift change. You should go sleep in an actual bed, I can wait for Kazuichi and Makoto if you want to go on ahead.” She shook her head, fingers trailing over the glass coffin holding the Ultimate Breeder.

“No, that’s alright. You’ve been here long enough, you need to rest before Fuyuhiko. It’s only a few more hours away. Besides, I…” Sonia trailed off, gaze shifting to the pod next to Gundham’s, covered with a sheet. Everyone had to be checked on, but there was just one person Hajime couldn’t stand to see. The only person in the room that caused his dead eye to come to life.

He couldn’t identify the emotion, but it had to be hate. It had to be, right?

At least he knew he wouldn’t be judged for it. Everyone had someone they couldn’t look at in this room, couldn’t face directly. Hajime was just the only one weak enough to require a sheet covering the pod. The only one who couldn’t be controlled if he had a fit of anger, or worse—one of despair.

Swallowing back bile, he nodded, making a quick exit from the room to the quarters right next door. A large room had been set up with beds and necessities for them, the six that were here and constantly switching out. Kyoko had suggested separate rooms, but after multiple nights of Kazuichi sneaking into his room or Sonia screaming in her sleep from across the hall, Hajime had fought for them to all be together. Makoto, almost with a child-like excitement, had insisted that he, Kyoko, and Aoi stay there too.

The lucky student in question had been sitting on the floor cross-legged when he walked in, laptop resting on a knee while he glared down at the screen. A glare from Makoto wasn’t usually all that effective, but whatever he was seeing seemed to be genuinely pissing him off. If Hajime had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have bothered disturbing the younger. Still, someone had to go fill in for him with Sonia until Kazuichi took over for her. The mechanic was nowhere to be seen—probably sitting at Akane’s bedside, as usual. Tapping Makoto gently on the shoulder, Hajime waited for him to look up from the email he had been so focused on.

“Oh, you’re back! Has it been six hours already? I didn’t even notice.” It wasn’t a long time to spend watching the pods, but Aoi had insisted. They had three pairs switching out, and she didn’t want anyone spending more time in the pod room than they did outside of it, in the fresh air and the real world—or so she said. Hajime was sure it had more to do with her growing concern for the five of them, Kyoko and Makoto included. While they hadn’t been in the program nearly as long, they still seemed just a bit too pale to her. As for himself, Sonia, and Kazuichi… Aoi had never known them before, but worried nonetheless about irreparable damage.

“Yes, I’m back. Will you find Kazuichi and tag Sonia out? She’s just finishing check-ups.” The shorter nodded, shutting his laptop and standing from his seat on the floor. “Everything alright?”

“It’s just Byakuya, he’s facing some problems bringing the medical equipment we need over to the island. The Future Foundation doesn’t see the need to care for some of the pre-existing conditions your class has, they’re just barely allotting enough supplies for taking care of the… last bits of Junko. It’s like you aren’t even humans to them, they just have no empathy!” Makoto rubbed his temples, forcing a weak smile onto his face. It hadn’t escaped Hajime that the bright-eyed boy that they had met in the final trial and the tired man before him right now seemed so far apart from each other. Because of us—because of me.

“We aren’t human to them.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. “But we are to you. You’re the best of them, Makoto. I know you’ll work things out.” The younger’s smile twisted, not exactly happy, and he nodded in response.

“Right. The Ultimate Hope, that’s me. I have to be able to fix this.” Hajime raised an eyebrow, not meaning that at all, but Makoto was already walking out of the room to take over watch duties. That had gone… stunningly bad. Whatever part of his soul had been able to produce hope for the others in the Neo World Program had been hiding, his mind and body too used to the actions and words of another. Another who had no idea how to give someone hope for the future, much less comfort someone just the slightest bit. All Hajime seemed to be good at these days was making things worse.

A warmth squeezed around his hand, like someone urging him to stop thinking, and he yanked it away from—from nothing. There was nobody there. He just needed to get some rest before Fuyuhiko’s surgery today.

Two beds remained empty, waiting for their last members. Akane was awake, but still too weak to leave her hospital bed, and Fuyuhiko would join them today. Hopefully. Sitting on his own perfectly made bed, he wondered if all of the remnants would end up sharing a room for the rest of time. The three of them awake so far had their nightmares, some worse than others, and it was impossible to imagine the rest being able to sleep easy after all that had happened. It was too easy to imagine everyone around the room, as if their spaces were already there waiting for them. Glancing around, Hajime could imagine each and every one of them smiling at him, if he could just bring them all back, if he could just wake them up.

A flash of pink and white hair danced at the corner of his eyes, a gentle smile and a false one, and he slammed his head down on the bed, covering his vision with a pillow. Sleep now, hypotheticals later. Hypotheticals that could never, ever be reality anyways. It was dangerous to get lost in thoughts of a happy ending.

He didn’t deserve an ending just yet. There was too much to fix.

#me and my fucking em dashes #anyways i'm just sharing this to see if it's?? interesting??#i've been writing hella fanfic but i'm always very hesitant to put it on the internet #but i've had soOoOOo many worms lately thinking about facing trauma and healing relationships and how that process is just so bumpy #i have a whole lot more that isn't hajime pov but this is all i'm sharing ATM #i just really want to put these folks in therapy. and that begins at the beginning!#moon babbles #danganronpa #i GUESS #cw surgery #cw medical #just in case #hajime hinata #sonia nevermind #makoto naegi #dr2 #moon writings

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carxby · 5 months

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#art #drawing #digital art #draw #fanart #anime #Makoto #makoto edamura #laurent x edamura #edamura #grepre #great pretender #he has depression #chainsmoker #pov your friends trick you into human trafficking and you are so cool and normal abt it #ep 8 #i’m having thoughts

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randomkposts · 1 month

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So I read something on LiveJournal about flirting and sex in japan from a forginers POV for fanfic reasons, and found something that made me think about Hinata Hyuga.

So first I should post something for context

"and mostly, if you are Japanese and you like someone, you embark on a series of subtle, indirect stealth manoeuvres, because liking prohibits action, especially for women, but also for men.

Why is this the case? Japanese social interaction is all about intuiting the other person’s wishes without discussing them openly, at the same time that they are intuiting your wishes without discussing them openly, so that although nothing is ever verbalised, the two of you will always exist in a compromise position of equilibrium. If you like someone, that intuitive part goes into overdrive, because you should be able to understand everything about that person without them ever telling you, and you should be able to please them without ever asking how, even more than you would with a normal person. So it’s more important than ever to be indirect."

Negotiating through a third party, is more relevent to final fantasy 8 and Squall and Riona's romance, which I might table and come back to sometime in the future. Hinatas too introverted to use that method effectively anyways.

So to get to the point.

"Subtle signals

- Shyness. Pronounced shyness is form of flirting, since it’s a sign of liking, especially from girls, but also from guys. She interacts with everyone else more than him, she doesn’t sit next to him, she doesn’t talk much to him, she doesn’t initiate anything with him. - Attentiveness. You make life easier for the other person without being asked to. For example, when you got to a restaurant in Japan it’s normal to share food, so flirting means not ordering what you like, but ordering what s/he likes, which you already know without asking, because you’re observant. Stuff like that.- Eye contact. It’s the opposite to the west, where you gaze deeply into someone’s eyes if you like them. Direct eye contact is a bit rude in Japan at the best of times. If you’re flirting you look down and away a lot.- Indirect compliments. I can’t think of a good example. It’s pretty rare to give direct compliments and even more rare to compliment someone’s looks. (It’s especially rare for guys to compliment girls directly.)"

So by that standard Hinata might be trying hard to flirt with Naruto, but their love languages are different cultures. And by that I mean Naruto is a social outcast and orphan who starts the series pranking people to get attention in his life that he otherwise lacks, would not pick up on Hinata's crush this way, and in contrast Hinata was raised to be the future leader of a nobel clan- regardless of her temperment- and so is taught these rules of indirect flirting.

Sex surprised me even more, more about that under the gif

"The biggest difference is that sex in Japan is not a mutual sharing experience with both partners spontaneously doing whatever they feel like or enjoy whenever they feel like doing it. Sex has rules and sex has roles just as every social interaction in Japan has rules and roles. There is an active partner and a passive partner. Active means moving; passive means unmoving. In heterosexual sex, the active partner is always male, and the passive partner is always female. In gay sex you work out your roles beforehand: the seme is active, the uke is passive (for gay guys); the tachi is active, the neko is passive (for gay women). If you are familiar with seme/uke conventions from yaoi manga, you can use them as a way of relating to what I’m talking about, because those conventions are not a fictional construct, randomly decided upon by a group of yaoi mangaka. Straight people have sex like that too, in reality.

So there is an active partner and a passive partner, which causes various flow on effects. You can’t have “Whoo-hoo! Go for it!” sex because both partners are constrained by their roles. The passive partner (obviously) because she can’t move, and the active partner because he has to take care of the passive partner, instructing her on what to do and exerting himself so that she has a good time.

I also can’t emphasise enough just how passive the passive partner is. The way a woman kisses is by submissively opening her mouth, not moving her tongue unless she is cued to do so; if she’s really feminine she won’t open her mouth at all, until she’s told to. Sometimes women will move around a (very) little during sex, but mostly not at all. "

And I'm thinking ' I thought the Seme/Uke thing was some kind of story narrative trend, like ABO is today. I had no idea that was a real way people had sex. '

That sure was a culture shock. Am glad someone talked about it on the internet as thats one of those unspoken culture things people get unconfortable talking about, and would probably be hard to find out even if I knew how to read or speak Japanese.

Finding it really hard to picture some of the ships I ship with one of the parties being unresponsive durring sex, particularly ships involving Rivals like Sasuke and Naruto, or Joker and Akechi (it is hard to be in the P5 fandom without finding at least one Akeshu fic you like).

Also important in Japan, is showers. That is the signal for someone asking you if you want to have sex with them.

"Shower is important. You should shower directly before and after you have sex. Before is more important than after. This makes me sound like I only ever dated people with OCD, but it’s the norm"

Which shows up in scenes like below

youtube

Not having a shower before is considered gross (even if you had one before you came to visit)

To end it off on a paraphrased quote from one of the writers boyfriends

"Seiji told me much later that dating me made him feel like he was gay, because I was active in bed, and he couldn’t connect that with anything except masculinity."

And now the link to the article in question so you can read it in full for your fanfic or travel reasearch

Last thing to keep in mind, this thing was posted years ago, I do not know what modern Japanese dating culture is up to, but it does shead some light on Japanese media I grew up around such as Naruto, and offer new insight to parts of it I didn't pick up on the significance of.

Such as for instance, final fantasy VIII features (among other things) a Japanese romance, and this offers insight into cultural differences of romance that I had no idea about.

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midnightdemonhunter · 1 year

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Oh 11037 i’ll be with you still, you are the angel that I couldn’t kill.

#danganronpa #leon kuwata #sayaka maizono #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #you know what.#leosaya #because im insane #midnight draws #also of course #mini makoto cameo #chapter 1 #decided to shade an older sketch and got hit over the head by Oh Ana with these two #oh ana mother mother...please listen to it and think of chap 1 #no i couldnt kill ana....#love love how it works for both of their povs #get it cause sayaka wasnt able to kill leon but also leon was never able to properly kill sayaka. she lives on after death and it is her #message that gets HIM killed #you are the angel that i couldnt kill!!!!!!!

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dangans-ur-ronpas · 2 months

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Chapter 18

are we finally getting somewhere with the trial? please??

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

was tempted to start this chapter with toko waking up and gasping 'i think i like girls!!'

wanted to say that everything would've been resolved way earlier if people were just a little nicer to toko before remembering that aoi was literally doing that and she STILL obsessed over byakuya. can we get this girl to a therapist please

shoutout to @digitaldollsworld for reading this at ass o'clock in the morning while i was still writing it. a real hero tbh

Content warning tags: self-deprecating language, implied self-harm, canon-typical manipulation and language

< previous - from start - next >

There’s a moment of stillness. Someone shouts in alarm, and a few people nearly step away from their stands with intention to help. But just as quickly, the dark figure slumped behind the rail begins to clamber slowly upwards, hands bracing against the balusters as she totters to an upright position.

Slowly, carefully, Toko Fukawa stands up straight, trembling all the while. “I-Is this a trial? W-what’s going o-on?!”

The stammer certainly sounds like Fukawa.“...Toko? That’s really you, right?” Asahina tries tentatively. “Um, are you okay? Are you feeling alright?”

“I…” She looks around, hands fisted tight around her braids, twitching with the same nervous quality of a bird. Her eyes must have landed on Byakuya, and the venomous stare he was giving her, because she squeaks and cowers again. “I-!”

“Chihiro’s body was found today. Approximately twenty minutes after you left the library.” He says coldly, words clipped and harsh. “Kyoko says you were both in the boy’s bathroom before the body discovery alarm. Can you verify this?”

“W-what?!” She stutters. “I-I don’t know w-what’s going on, I n-never know-” She’s shaking violently, as if she’s about to faint again.

“Let’s try a different question.” Kirigiri cuts in. “Toko. What were you doing between 12:30 and 1 o’clock today?”

“Wh- A-are you accusing me of s–something?!”

“No. But everyone else has given testimony on their whereabouts during this time. Yours would help grant us a better understanding of the course of events.” Kirigiri says patiently. Fukawa sways for a moment, thinking carefully, before she answers.

“Th-the library,” She half-mumbles, hands twisting in her braids over and over again, the black coils weaving over her pale fingers like eels. “Um, I w-wanted to talk to B-Byakuya alone, so I w-went to the library, a-and we t-talked for a bit…and then-”

He suddenly realizes what she’s about to say, but it’s too late to stop it. “Then, u-um, he h-hit me…w-with a book.”

He can feel eyes turning towards him, and the air turns disapproving. He scowls back. “She’s left out the part where she tried to blackmail me with the secret that she peeked at the other night.” He explains, and at once Fukawa flushes darkly and begins stammering something out.

“I-! I wasn’t b-blackmailing you!”

“What other word should I have used then? Manipulation? Coercion?” He asks sarcastically, and she shrivels and withers at his words.

“I told you m-my secret too, s-so it’d be fair-”

“You told me you were a serial killer who targets the men you fancied. Forgive me if I wasn’t immediately won over.”

The atmosphere turns a little less hostile at that. “Okay, yeah. If it’s like that I kinda get it.” Hagakure is nodding sagely, as if he understands everything. “But, seriously. You shouldn’t hit girls, man…”

“...Are you really going to do this now?” He just needed this trial to be over, already. The adrenaline of the earlier reveal had worn off, and now he felt sick with anger and exhaustion. “The whole thing barely took ten minutes. I wasn’t interested in dragging it out any longer than I had to.”

“Still, hitting is sort of-” But Hagakure shuts up at the glare Byakuya gives him, and quickly amends. “Never mind. Gender equality. Especially in self-defense. Cool, got it, my bad.”

“So, I suppose it is safe to assume that the source of the blood on your hand, and the book from earlier, was because of this confrontation?” Celeste asks. And, without waiting for an answer: “Then, that would also mean that the reason you were holding that file on Syo was due to what Toko had revealed to you.”

She sounds all too satisfied with herself for reaching that conclusion. “And so, it seems that the most damning evidence that had been implicating you has been disproven. Is that not reassuring?”

“...Don’t patronize me.”

“Why, I wouldn’t dare.” She laughs lightly, a soft sound that perfectly conceals her shrewdness.

“Toko. Please, continue.” Kirigiri says again, and there’s a quiet rustle as Fukawa yanks at her hair, the strands scraping over her fingers.

“A-after he h-hit me, I left…u-um, I went to the bathroom t-to w-wash my face, and when I touched the faucet - I-I mean, I wiped my f-face with my hands earlier, a-and the b-blood…” She trails off and shakes her head, and shoves her face into a fistful of her hair.

Byakuya suddenly recalls something, something that Fukawa had mentioned during their confrontation in the library in a hurried, muttered tone. “Syo comes out when you see blood.” He remembers aloud, and her incoherent words begin clicking together.

Her pale face immediately darkens to an ugly, blotchy pink. “Yeah, um. I-I’m scared of b-blood, so…a-and when she’s out, I d-don’t have any m-memory of what s-she does.” She cradles her face in her hands, swaying a little like a swooning maiden. “S-so you did remember…” She mumbles, apparently to herself, and he feels his stomach turn with disgust.

It’s not worth wasting the effort on her to think of a response, so he opts to ignore her fawning instead. “So Toko left the library and went to the boy’s bathroom, and fainted after seeing the blood on her hand.” That seems logical enough, but something about this sequence of events bothered him.

According to Kirigiri, Syo only woke up shortly before the body discovery. If Fukawa went to the bathroom right after leaving the library, why had it taken so long? And that aside, there was something that bothered him about her story. Something that he couldn’t place a finger on.

He’s not the only one who noticed the fallacy. “Excuse me, Toko,” Makoto tries tentatively. “So…that means from around 12:40 to one, you were unconscious?”

“Y-yes? What, do you n-not believe me?” She immediately goes on the defensive, cagey and snappish. “Y-you think I’m l-lying, right? J-just because I’m l-like this, you th-think that e-everything I say is a l-lie-?! Y-you all think I s-strung Chihiro up, I kn-know it!”

“Toko…no one said that.” Asahina has her hands raised, in some attempt to calm her down. “We just want to know what happened.”

She was proving to be an impossible witness. Byakuya raises a hand to press to his temple, feeling his pulse throbbing beneath his fingertips. “Kyoko. Can you verify what Toko has said?” He asks, exasperated, and Kirigiri actually seems to startle a bit, head snapping to look at him.

“...I can’t.” She says, after a pause. “Because she did not enter the bathroom at that time, or else I would have noticed it.”

She remains fixated on him for a moment longer, before turning away. Belatedly, he suddenly realizes this was the second time he’s caught her off guard. The first time was when he pointed out the fact that access to information on Genocider Syo was limited.

He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on that though. “So, that means that either you, or Toko, is lying about their whereabouts during this time.” He sighs. “For now, we need to identify which one of you both is deceiving us.”

Both are equally suspicious. Kirigiri has been mysterious, even more so than usual, and purposefully vague about her activities. And he didn’t trust Fukawa at all to start with, but she was also clumsy and awkward. It was hard to imagine her being able to plan everything ahead to this degree, from planting the evidence, to staging the actual murder…

“Wait. Something’s not right.” Makoto says suddenly, and his voice is clear and contemplative, his chin tucked over his knuckle. “If Toko fainted before she actually washed her hands, then how come her hands are clean? Remember, when we first met Syo, she showed us that her hands were totally free of blood.”

“I-I-!” She squawks, indignant, but she can’t seem to formulate a reply for a few moments. “M-maybe Syo washed my h-hands or s-something, I don’t know! S-she’s the one that k-kills people, so o-of course she would h-hide her tracks!”

“But, again, the sinks of the boy’s bathroom were all dry.” Makoto points out, and Fukawa sputters some more. “And…”

He pauses, and his head dips for a moment, enough for a shadow to cast over his face. “Toko. How did you know that Chihiro is dead?”

Byakuya figures it out a half-step after him, and silently kicks himself for not picking up on it earlier. And the others pick up on it as well, and the atmosphere turns dark, thick with unease and suspicion. Same as the elevator ride down, but this time, directed at Fukawa.

She’s gaping like a fish. She turns left and right, shuffling slightly. The rails of the stand stand tall and straight like the bars of a cage. “I-that’s-the portraits!” She yelps, and jabs out a pale hand in Byakuya’s direction. “Ch-Chihiro’s portrait, i-it’s crossed out! Th-that means s-she’s dead, so-”

“He’s dead.” Byakuya corrects sharply, and glares so fiercely the confused question that Fukawa was preparing simply vanishes. “But the fact that you weren’t aware of that means that Chihiro never came to speak with you about it. When he already discussed the matter with the rest of us.”

“I-that doesn’t m-mean I k-killed he-him!”

“Maybe that doesn’t implicate you,” Kirigiri concedes. “But earlier, you said ‘strung Chihiro up’. How were you aware of what the crime scene looked like?”

Fukawa squeaks, and smacks her hands to her mouth, as if she can retroactively shove the words back. “Th-that- i-isn’t that like S-Syo’s habits? S-so o-of course I would a-assume-”

“Syo said the crime scene doesn’t match what she does.” Makoto interjects. “All her victims are pinned by her scissors. Like you said, Chihiro was crucified using a cord.”

“I-”

“The time period doesn’t make sense. If we assume that Kyoko is being truthful - why did it take so long for Syo to wake up, in the time between you fainting and Chihiro being found?” Byakuya stares at her icily, and she squirms and shudders beneath his gaze. “You woke up awfully quick just now. For someone accusing us of labeling you a liar, you don’t seem inclined to tell the truth about anything, do you?”

His words drip with vitriol and acid, and Fukawa digs her fingers into her scalp and stamps her foot and screams, a long, strangled noise of frustration and anger. It’s a piercing sound, sharp enough to make Byakuya flinch, and it echoes for a moment up to the high ceiling of the chamber. And then everyone is silent as she catches her breath, hands pulling slowly away from her thoroughly disheveled hair.

“Fine,” She spits, and somehow, her voice is steadier than he’s ever heard it. “I hung up Chihiro. A-and I framed Byakuya for it.”

The confession sounds almost giddy with how breathless she is, but maybe Byakuya was imagining it. After a moment’s pause for people to register what she said, there’s no small amount of shock.

“You- you did?!” Yamada, standing directly next to Fukawa, cows as far away as the stand will let him. “Wha- but you seemed so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but the implication of the word ‘harmless’ hangs in the air. “Yes, I did.” She snaps back savagely. “I-it was easy. H-he’s so small, a-and I knew B-Byakuya would be l-looking for s-stuff on Syo…and, t-the extension cord…”

Byakuya suddenly remembers, then. How she had stumbled as she left the library, foot smashing through some box and getting tangled in its contents. And how he hadn’t paid any mind to it, already too preoccupied with his own survival to care.

“How did you manage it without turning into Syo?” Kirigiri asks, and Fukawa’s face twists. It's only as she turns her head, and Byakuya notices the subtle glint of her bared teeth, that he realizes that she’s grinning.

“He had been i-ignoring me f-for so long…I was w-working so hard. T-to be normal and good. S-so he would l-look at me…” It’s not hard to figure out who she was referring to by ‘he’. Byakuya feels eyes on him once more. But his attention is turned to her raised forearm, exposed by the sleeve drooping around her elbow from how her hands are clutching at her scalp, and the strip of white that is almost imperceptible against her already pale skin. “I-I thought if I could - I could g-get over it, I could prove th-that I could be normal, then…”

She trails off, energy quickly depleted. “So, you had been training to not immediately faint at the sight of blood.” Kirigiri concludes, and Fukawa nods once, jerkily.

“Wait, so you did all that just because he ignored you?” Hagakure asks, mouth agape.

“Yes!” She shrieks vehemently, so sharp and sudden that Byakuya nearly jumps. “You don’t get it! None of you g-get it! I-I can stand it i-if he was mean to me, o-or if he h-hated me, but- it’s the worst when h-he acts like I’m n-not even there!”

Her voice breaks, and for a long moment the only sound in the room is her quiet sobs. To some degree - and Byakuya is furious with himself for even thinking this - he understands why she might behave this way. Clearly, she had been abused, and likely neglected, and this manifested into the extreme, self-demeaning, aggressive behavior she displayed now. Her actions had a twisted logic. She herself was pitiable.

But just because he understood, did not mean he had to accept it.

“Well, you have my full attention now.” He says coldly. “Congratulations. Why don’t you try and keep that attention by telling us what we all want to know?”

“Yeah, how about you tell us how Chihiro died?” It takes Byakuya a moment to place that the question came from Owada, who had been mostly quiet for a while now. He’s not blazing with fury anymore, but there’s an edge in his voice now that Byakuya can’t read. “I don’t give a shit about your fucking crush. I want to know how you killed Chihiro.”

Fukawa tilts her head in thought, and the action is somehow reminiscent of Syo. “B-but, I didn’t kill Chihiro?” She says, and she sounds almost innocent. “I-I just found the b-body…I-I think if I d-did kill him th-then Syo w-would have woken up r-right away.”

As if anticipating it, Kirigiri raises her hands, as if trying to stop the rush of questions and shocked exclamations from the others. It’s no use though, as Owada bellows: “Like hell we’re believing that!”

“Guys, the time limit-!” Makoto has to shout above the din. At that, Byakuya glances at the clock hanging over Monokuma’s chair, the flashing red digits initiating a countdown. How long had it been already? How much time was left? There was no way for him to tell. He’d totally forgotten about it. “Just. Toko, can you tell us how you found the body? Please?”

“W-why should I?” Byakuya feels his jaw physically creak with how hard he’s grinding his teeth. It seemed that in the time Fukawa spent unconscious, she had absorbed the worst aspects of Syo’s personality.

“We may all perish if you don’t.” Sakura points out, a low threat in her voice.

“I-I don’t care.”

Byakuya thinks he might scream. “Why?! What else do you have left to lose?” He demands, and his voice rasps slightly, throat sore from how much he’d been talking. “We know what you’ve done already. You’ve already revealed everything about me. What else do you want?!”

And she giggles, a breathless, insane sound. “I-I don’t c-care what happens t-to me,” She sings. “I hate you. I h-hate everyone here. I kn-know I-I’m gonna get t-targeted no matter w-what I do, b-because you all th-think I’m so horrible…so I should h-hit back f-first, right?” She wobbles, hands knotted in her hair again. “B-but I hate you the most. I-I wanted y-you to know how you made me feel, even j-just a little.”

Even without seeing her face, he can sense her malice, thick and unpleasant like the smell of rot. He hasn’t been the target of such blatant contempt in years, and the complete hostility that she radiates makes him feel a little unsteady.

“Fine. We will figure out the details ourselves. You’ve given us enough clues already.” Kirigiri replies coolly. “Unfortunately for you, only one person will be dying after this trial.”

He’s not sure how she can be so confident about that. The pounding in his head is getting worse, and as his eyes slip closed, he finds he’s not even sure where to start with everything; after all this, they were still not any closer to a definite conclusion. All they had done so far was run blindly around each other, getting lured to dead-ends and circles.

Through the low throb of pain in his skull, he can just barely make out the sound of quiet muttering fromMakoto’s direction. If he opened his eyes, he might have seen the other boy tapping his foot, resting his chin in his hand as he thinks. And if he could have seen, he might have noticed how Makoto’s eyes were darting, drawing invisible lines between fixed points in his mind.

“The place where Chihiro died. And Toko found the body. That’s what we need to figure out,” He says aloud, slowly. “I don’t think Chihiro died on the second floor. There’s no place with enough blood that could justify it, or enough evidence of a clean-up to suggest that it happened there. Even in the hallway where the body was found, the only blood there was against the wall from where Chihiro was crucified. There’s no splatter to match the method of death.”

“Yeah, but there’s no place on the first floor to suggest that Chihiro died there, either.” Asahina points out.

“No, there is one room. There was no blood there, but there was evidence that it was cleaned recently.” Even as he says this, Owada is beginning to gasp, ‘Wait-’, but he continues. “And, it’s somewhere someone got injured recently, so any blood that was missed can be explained away.”

He turns to the pale, silent figure of Kiyotaka Ishimaru, as still and unobtrusive as a ghost. “Taka. Can you please tell us what happened?”

___

Of course, Mondo blocks him before Taka can even respond.

“How dare you.” His voice is a low rumble, and he somehow looks angrier than Makoto has ever seen him. He can practically hear the creak of wood where Mondo was gripping the bannister, knuckles white and bulging. “What the fuck are you trying to pull, Makoto? What the fuck are you trying to say?!”

Makoto swallows, his heart feeling like it’s about to pop out of his chest. He’s seen Mondo both at his most violent moments, and at his kindest ones, his face softening with sympathy as he was listening to Chihiro, the hearty reassurance and gentle clap on the back he had offered to them both. But now Mondo looked like he might actually kill him, and would make it hurt while it happened.

But despite that, he presses on. “I know you said that a trophy fell on Taka’s head, and that’s how you found him. When I went to look at the trophy room, the floor was still wet, and it was clean - like, really clean. And I assumed it was because you went back and cleaned it up after Taka got injured, but looking back, that doesn’t make sense.” He glances briefly at Kyoko, who merely closes her eyes in silent assent. “If your friend had a concussion, wouldn’t you stay by his side?”

Mondo’s face pulls into a snarl, a vein bulging at his temple. “So what if I went back and cleaned it up? Maybe Taka wanted to rest alone. What the hell does that matter?”

“No, I think it does matter. You don’t act like it, but you’re really nice, Mondo. When you were talking with me and Chihiro, and told us about your bro-”

He cuts himself off for a moment, suddenly hesitant. He’s already revealed Byakuya’s secret. He didn’t want to have to reveal Mondo’s as well, even now. He didn’t want to betray anyone else, but-

He already hates me for what I’m doing. He thinks to himself. Whether he reveals Mondo’s secret now or not, he knows that no matter what, he was going to be hated; there was no chance at the friendly ribbing and pleasant exchanges they had in the past. But even despite that, he finds himself unwilling to form the words on his tongue.

He needn’t have bothered though. Kyoko is the one who speaks up in his stead. “There’s no point in hiding the fact that you care deeply for Taka. We all remember the display of friendship the two of you put on the other day after spending weeks at each other’s throats. And as someone who’s familiar with violence, I imagine you’re also familiar with basic first aid; so why would you abandon someone with a head injury to clean up the other room?”

Mondo glares at her furiously, but there’s sweat beading on his forehead now. “You-you meddling bitch, what the fuck are you-?!”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.” She sighs. Makoto thinks she looks a little haggard, with dark rings of exhaustion under her eyes, and wonders when the last time she slept was. Despite that, her eyes are still sharp, and meet Mondo’s glower with a cool stare. “But, since we are missing out on Toko’s testimony, I think we should have our last witness speak for himself.”

And before she had even finished her sentence, Taka was opening his mouth.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #byakuya togami #danganronpa fanfiction #my earlobe itches. i think i got bit by a mosquito. it's right over where my piercing closed up too....#really hoping that toko's personal reasoning makes sense here. oohh babygirl you are so full of problems....#might make a separate post trying to analyze toko in this context. maybe. idk yet #byakuya straight up clocks out partway through this so makoto gets to narrate #both bc he's tired as hell and also bc i got worried i was making things too repetitive with his pov #i think its pretty clear by now who the culprit is. amazing team effort by the class to start figuring it out in the last stretch of things #curious if anyone else thinks they know what the full story is before it all gets revealed next chap (eyes emote)#sorry for da wait btw i was simply turning into soup. u know how it is

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