Chapter Text
From the moment that Ryoma enters his cottage, his monitor shifts to show Kirumi slipping inside of hers to get ready for the night. He gives the monitor a long, tired look, as though to ask Monokuma, are you fucking serious? But the feed doesn’t change, and he has to resort to summoning Usami into his room and asking her for a pair of ear plugs, as well as an eye mask, because genuinely? Ryoma wouldn’t want to watch Kirumi sleeping as a matter of principle-- something about, y’know, him being a dude, and her being not that makes it just feel weird and oddly depraved-- but the fact that Kirumi is the one who killed him doesn’t help matters any.
Of course, Monokuma is showing him the feed from Kirumi’s cottage specifically on purpose. He’s willing to bet actual money that the rest of the people on this island are seeing something similar. Monokuma wouldn’t do it if it didn’t think there was a chance of it messing with their heads.
For extra measure, when Ryoma shrugs off his jacket, he scales the wall underneath the monitor and drapes it over the damn thing. Kirumi can have her privacy, please and thank you.
Ryoma takes a while falling asleep. What a weird motive. Global warming. It was something he was really stressed out about, once upon a time. Back when he had a family and friends who he cared about having futures. That’s not a reality for him anymore, and hasn’t been for a while, and since he himself doesn’t have much of a future either… well, whatever. Whatever Monokuma is doing probably isn’t the result of carbon dioxide emissions and the rise of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere. What Monokuma is doing is twisted and unnatural, intended to make them commit a murder.
And that hope talk that Nagito and Chihiro and the others got up to their first night here, when Monokuma first showed them all the blackeneds engaging on those monitors, that was all good and well. Good team-building exercise. But admittedly, Ryoma doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in that.
How are they going to stand up to a motive like global warming? It’s just going to keep getting worse. The sea level rising will be a visible stressor, an obvious one; they’ll have some very real concerns about drowning soon enough. But the real stroke of brilliance, on Monokuma’s part, is the temperature. They won’t notice it right away. It’ll just keep crawling upwards, pressing in on them from all sides and progressively driving them mad. And depending on how quickly the ocean level is rising, they’ll only have so long to pretend that nothing is happening.
(Besides all of that… wasn’t it a time limit motive that got Kaede to crack in the first place? Ryoma believes in Kaede’s goodwill, but… if she did it the first time, and doesn’t have any memories of it now… what’s to stop her from doing it again?)
He drifts asleep eventually, soothed by the pitch blackness from his eye mask and the buzzing silence brought by the ear plugs. Ryoma doesn’t dream, but that’s not so abnormal for him. He never dreamt in prison, either. There was nothing for him to dream about. He had plenty of time during the day to relive what happened to everyone he cared about. And there was nothing positive for him to look forward to, either.
Maybe he does dream, and he just has an inability to remember it upon waking up. Whatever the case is, when Ryoma eventually wakes up, he’s struck with a serious concern that he went both blind and deaf during the night until he feels the material of the eye mask against the bridge of his nose and remembers that he was trying to be decent.
Ryoma sits up, pulls out one of his earplugs and tugs off the sleeping mask, and his gaze flies straight to the monitor, which is uncovered. It’s showing the outside of the island now, focusing currently on Jabberwock Park, where the statue is partially submerged in water, but what catches Ryoma’s attention is the fact that his jacket his crumpled in a heap on the floor of his cottage. Also, there’s a piece of notebook paper taped to the bottom of the monitor with the word COWARD written on it in red ink.
Snorting, Ryoma decides to just leave it there. Fair enough, Monokuma. Fair enough.
He slept longer today, according to his student handbook, which says that it’s half past eight. Hell, he’s even slept in past the morning announcement. And likely the panic from the students in the other simulation that most definitely occurred upon realising how much water there is everywhere now. Ryoma casts a sad look upon the monitor as he pulls on his jacket, buttoning it up again and stepping into his shoes. He almost forgets to grab his hat, but snags it on the way out his door.
“Oh! Sorry,” Sayaka apologises, and Ryoma blanches. She was sitting right outside his cottage door, her legs crossed and her head resting against the wall. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she offers a quick smile, scrambling to her feet. “I was wondering when you’d wake up!”
“You were, were you?” Ryoma asks, unable to stop a small smile from twitching onto his face. He stifles it quickly when Sayaka notices and beams; she has no business having such a nice smile so early in the morning. (Well, really it’s not all that early. They were both up way earlier than this yesterday. Still, though, still.) “What’s up?” he adds, clearing his throat to try to distract from his mild embarrassment.
“Everyone got up at around half past six,” Sayaka explains, lacing her hands together in front of her. “The people in the other simulation were being really loud, you know?” Ryoma notes her lack of use of the term blackened. He has to wonder about it just a bit, but decides not to pay it any unnecessary attention. “But you weren’t there, I was a bit worried. I knocked for a while but you didn’t answer, and my handbook said you were in your cottage, so… I waited.”
Ryoma grunts. “Earplugs. Didn’t want to spend the night listening to Toujo snore, y’know?” Bit of an unfair statement. Kirumi likely doesn’t snore. Sayaka laughs anyway, even though she definitely doesn’t know who Kirumi is.
“Your monitor was focusing on someone specific too, huh?” She frowns, and slowly sinks back down to sit. Ryoma doesn’t see much of a reason not to sit beside her, so he follows suit, popping a candy cigarette into his mouth to kill his morning breath. “Kuwata-- that’s who mine was focusing on, he’s got red hair--” Ryoma remembers that name, and thinks with a mild rush of satisfaction that he was correct. Kuwata is the one who killed Sayaka. “--he actually talks in his sleep. It was really difficult to catch even a wink,” after letting out a laugh, Sayaka seems to sober up a bit, staring off towards the pool. “I suppose I can’t blame him for being restless, though, huh?”
“You definitely seem like you didn’t get a very good rest,” Ryoma remarks, gesturing towards the bags under her eyes. Sayaka’s upper lip curls when she glances at him. “You might want to ask Usami for a pair of plugs yourself, kid. Don’t wanna look all tuckered out.”
“Mm. I don’t know if it would help.” Sayaka folds her legs into her chest, rests her chin on her knees. She drums her fingers on the pavement beside her. She’s got good rhythm, Ryoma notes. “I think I’d be sleeping pretty terribly regardless.”
There’s a moment of silence. Ryoma offers her a candy cigarette.
Sayaka smiles wryly but accepts one. “You’re a real hero with these things, what’ll happen when you run out?”
“I won’t,” Ryoma replies distantly. At that, Sayaka actually lets out a laugh, covering her mouth with one of her hands, the other still holding the cigarette. From the look on her face, that was a real laugh, not just the fill-the-blanks chuckle that she seems to give from time to time. Ryoma offers her another half-smile, and Sayaka regards him steadily as she puts the candy in her mouth.
“Jeez, I was supposed to be checking on you, not the other way around,” Sayaka mutters, though the impact of her words is admittedly a bit killed by her smile. Ryoma bumps her with his shoulder.
“Believe me, you’ve helped me plenty just by chatting,” he tells her, and when he gets up to leave, he surprises himself with the realisation that he’s being genuine. Sayaka gives him another lopsided smile as he walks away, and as he turns the corner, it occurs to him that he doesn’t really know where he’s going. He kind of just took off in a random direction.
Ryoma shifts his candy cigarette to the other side of his mouth. Maybe the airport. He hasn’t actually been many places here yet. He slides his handbook from his pocket and takes a peek. Seems like it’s just that Nagito guy hanging out there. Maybe not. Nagito’s a bit of a headache in an entirely different way from Kokichi. At least with Kokichi, Ryoma has the reassurance that he’s probably lying when he pulls any kind of bullshit. With Nagito, thus far all the things he’s said have seemed to be entirely genuine. He considers the supermarket for a split second, but notes that Angie and Ibuki are in there, so--
The airport it is. Ibuki seems pleasant enough, but she’s so high energy, and Angie? Nope, not this morning. Ryoma’s feeling kind of decently well-rested for once. He doesn’t need to fend off any conversations about God. Nagito can’t be that bad.
Not like Ryoma’s an airport connoisseur or anything, but he’s been to a couple. That was sort of the nature of his talent, back when he deserved it. Usually they were domestic flights, going around Japan for tennis competitions up north and then later down south, too. But he played in Europe a few times. (And America. But he’s trying not to think about America right now, if he can help it. Or ever. His old apartment has long since been sold, his belongings all packed up in boxes that are now collecting dust in a storage facility, but Ryoma still remembers the picture of his girlfriend that used to sit on his dresser. She never looked directly at cameras; always glancing off to the side with her tongue between her teeth. He really… misses her.)
Anyway, this airport is… pretty standard. Since this is a simulation, Ryoma doesn’t see any real reason for the planes here to be functional. There is a tall floor to ceiling window overlooking the actual port and a luggage carrier off to his right. The floor is really shiny, too. Ryoma scuffs his shoe on it as he looks around, wondering if Nagito is actually here, or if his student handbook was glitching. After a moment, he spots the guy, sitting underneath one of the plastic trees that’s in here as decoration. Nagito doesn’t appear to have noticed him yet; his legs are crossed tailor style and he’s looking down at his student handbook, but since Ryoma doesn’t feel all that inclined to try and startle him-- it’s not his favourite thing-- he clears his throat.
Nagito’s eyes are grey. A very clear, pale grey, in fact. Almost like water. Ryoma watches a smile spread across his face, and he raises a hand to wave, and… well, Ryoma’s made his bed. Now he’s going to lie in it, even if this is going to be a mistake. He tugs his hat down over his eyes and makes his way over.
“Hello, Hoshi,” Nagito greets. His smile is very easy to hear in his tone. If not for that unnerving coldness he demonstrates when interacting with the people who were in his killing game, Ryoma would think that he’s just a typical friendly guy. He has a similar countenance to Rantaro, really. Laid-back and quick to smile. Nagito’s smiles touch his eyes, though. “What brings you to the airport?”
“Nothing in particular,” Ryoma grunts, decisively seating himself on the bench across the way from Nagito. They’re close enough to hear each other without having to shout (the airport is empty, after all) but Ryoma doesn’t have to be sitting right next to him, in front of the very same plant. That’s definitely for the best. “Haven’t been here yet, so I thought I’d pop by. You’ve probably been here a few times already, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Nagito nods. “Since Jabberwock is where my killing game took place. It’s strange to call it that, isn’t it?” Ryoma assumes that he’s referring to the use of a possessive in regards to the killing game. He hums. “I knew there was a killing game before the one that I was in, of course, but it’s something to thing about. Everyone here has been in a killing game before. And everyone in the other simulation, too, though they don’t remember that. It’s almost a shame. The fact that they lost their memories sort of means that any hope that they find won’t be to its fullest potential.”
“You talk about hope like it’s a tangible thing,” Ryoma remarks, and this is definitely not a conversation that he wants to have but he can’t help commenting on it. Nagito gives him a polite little eyebrow raise and says nothing, waiting for him to continue. “As opposed to a vague concept that allows people the strength to keep going. This fascination with hope and despair… they didn’t have that in my killing game. Or-- maybe they did,” Ryoma recalls Kiibo’s adamance when he was saying that Shuichi put an end to the hope and despair nonsense. “But that was after I died.”
“Hm,” Nagito draws his knees into his chest, his expression becoming contemplative. “I imagine that that has something to do with… and this is just speculation from a piece of trash, so you don’t have to take me seriously if I’m wrong, but… your mastermind. Shirogane was the mastermind of your killing game, wasn’t she?”
“Apparently,” Ryoma mutters.
“Well, in the past, we’ve had to face off against Junko Enoshima. The epitome of despair.” Nagito’s eyes are clouded with something that Ryoma can’t quite read. Disgust, perhaps. He’s heard the name Junko Enoshima before. Supposedly, she (and the people from Nagito’s killing game…?) was responsible for the Tragedy. Whatever the Tragedy was. Ryoma hasn’t been paying enough attention to everything that people have been discussing, clearly. “Your mastermind was… different, though. Someone who admires Enoshima, obviously-- though I don’t understand why--” he scowls. “But not her. So maybe Shirogane cared less about hope and despair until the end.”
Ryoma is still having a difficult time reconciling his image of Tsumugi, the sweet, slightly self-deprecating girl that he knew in the simulation, with the mastermind who put them through all of that. She’s no older than the rest of them, and he didn’t know her for very long, but Tsumugi always seemed… kind. Distant at times, and maybe blind to a few social conventions, but kind nonetheless. And the Tsumugi he’s been seeing now, she’s so… reclusive. She makes the occasional commentary, but otherwise she keeps to herself. It isn’t as though everyone else is particularly eager to make friends, of course, but it’s just, jarring, that’s all. It feels like only a couple days ago Tsumugi was completely different.
“Were you friends with her?” Nagito asks quietly. Ryoma jumps, remembering where he is, and meets Nagito’s apologetic expression. “Sorry, I knew you were thinking and I didn’t want to interrupt that, but you seemed disconcerted. You don’t have to answer me.”
“No, it’s… fine,” Ryoma says after a moment. For some reason Nagito’s deprecation is making him feel almost guilty. He’s… weird. A weird guy. “We weren’t especially close,” Ryoma wasn’t close to anybody, in his killing game, “but I thought I had some idea of who she was, yeah. The way she’s acting now is… like a completely different person.”
“People can be like that. They’re never as predictable as they’re made out sometimes.” Nagito smiles. “You think that you know somebody but then they turn around and reveal themselves to be a total stranger. I hear that I’m that way, though in my personal experience I try to tell the full truth as often as I can. Unless I need to lie, for any reason. People only see what they want to see. Ah, but, I’m not saying that Shirogane wasn’t deceiving you and everyone else-- that’s a little bit different, I think I just went on a tangent, which you don’t need to hear from--”
“If you say garbage like me again,” Ryoma interrupts. “I’m going to… well, I dunno. But you gotta stop putting yourself down like that, kid. You have good insight when you’re not constantly invalidating it.”
Nagito gives him a quiet, measured look, and then breaks into a smile. “You could stand to learn from yourself a little.”
“Sure,” Ryoma chuckles. Maybe he shouldn’t be so judgemental of Nagito right away. It’s obvious that there’s a lot he needs to understand about the guy. “Seems like we’ve both got a long ways to go, huh?”