Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Are you gonna kill us?”

The question didn’t surprise her, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed to hear it.

Stifling a sigh, Maki turned around to face the girl behind her. Her cheery expression was a stark contrast to her serious words, and though she had stated them with the same bubbly tone she used for everything, there was the faintest hint of an underlying threat hidden beneath.

Maki’s eyes flitted over white hair and tan skin before finally landing on a pair of blue eyes, meeting the other girl’s hard gaze. “Why would I?” she eventually replied, the answer already obvious in her mind.

The other girl hummed, before she said, “Because you’re a—”

The rest of her words crumbled into spoken static, jumbled and inaudible, but Maki didn’t bat an eye. Instead, she thought to herself, pondering quietly before simply saying, “Don’t give me a reason to, and I won’t.”

She didn’t bother looking over at the white-haired girl as she walked away, leaving a thousand unanswered questions in her wake.

Her eyes flew open.

Pushing herself upwards, she scrambled frantically in the darkness of her room, rummaging around her bedside table until finally — finally! — her fingers grasped a tiny plastic switch. Pressing down on it, Maki hissed as her bedside lamp burst to life, throwing an arm up to shield her eyes from the blinding light.

It took a while but eventually, the pain subsided as her eyes adjusted. Still, she couldn’t help but squint against the light as she reached for a tiny leather notebook, the red cover warm under the light of her lamp. Flipping through the pages, she unclipped the pen from the leather cover and clicked the top, pressing the nib to the empty paper.

The sound of pen against paper was supposed to be dull, barely audible. And yet, Maki’s mind imagined it to be much louder than it actually was. Perhaps it was the quietness of the room getting to her, or maybe because she was still blinking the sleep out of her exhausted eyes, but whatever the reason, the noise filled the gap between eerie silence and herself.

As soon as she was finished, she dropped the notebook and pen on her bedside table, letting out a heavy sigh.

Maki grimaced, rubbing a hand against her forehead. The remnants of her peculiar dream were already beginning to evaporate from her mind, leaving nothing but déjà vu behind. It bugged her still, the way that she remembered and forgot so easily, her memories slipping through her grasp like sand through an hourglass. The fact that she had to rely on scribbling down whatever bits and pieces remained as fast as she could was just… irritating.

To make matters worse, it was only the second day.

Letting out a groan, Maki turned over, reaching out to grab the old-fashioned alarm clock next to the lamp.

4:45am.

It was early. Way too early, even for her liking. Placing the clock back, she switched off the bedside lamp, deciding to get in another hour or so of sleep before she had to face the new day. Curling up under her blanket, her head pressed against a pillow, Maki dozed off.

…Or well, she tried to.

See, there was something about the human body that sometimes insisted on waking people up at ungodly hours of the day, often for no reason at all. And after what felt like an hour, Maki begrudgingly stuck out her arm to grab the alarm clock and check the time again, only to be greeted by a dimly lit dial stating that the time was approximately 4:55am.

Sitting there in the shadows of her room, Maki tilted her head back in annoyance, stifling a sigh. Well if I can’t sleep, she thought to herself, kicking aside the blanket to swing her legs over the side of the bed, then I’ll get moving.

Maybe she’d start the day with a shower. Maybe that would help.

Maki walked along a weathered stone path, shuddering slightly in the cold morning air. Without the sun out in the sky, it became really obvious that the school they had all been brought to was definitely located in the mountains. Her breath fogged up in front of her as she moved along, carefully making her way down a set of stone stairs.

Each step was uneven, the heights and widths inconsistent. One small step and you’ll go tumbling down, she thought, biting her chapped lips as she descended. Finally, upon reaching the foot of the staircase, she let out a tiny sigh of relief, pulling her cloak around her shoulders tighter before trudging on.

As she drew closer to the main building, the school looming over her in all its multi-storeyed glory, Maki pressed her bare hands against the doors and pushed, stepping inside.

The warmth that hit her face made her practically sag with relief, chasing away the chill that had sunk beneath her skin. As the doors swung shut behind her, she reached for the inner pocket of her cloak to pull out her handbook. “Alright, let’s see,” she muttered to herself, voice a little raspy, pressing the button to power it up.

Taking a step over to the wall, Maki leaned against it as she watched the screen boot up, bringing her to the home page. In a matter of seconds, she had already opened the map application, narrowing her eyes as the layout popped up on screen. Though Maki could see the general outline of the school, certain sections were still blotted out by shadows, indicating that she hadn’t yet explored those areas.

For a moment, she considered walking around the school. After all, it was five in the morning. Surely nobody would be up as early as she was. It was the perfect time to stake out the school a little bit, to fill in the gaps in her map. The thought of doing so brought her a strange feeling of comfort along with something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

…Was she a person who liked to be prepared? Or was it something else?

Either way, Maki had just about made up her mind to go wander the hallways for a while, biding her time until everyone else woke up, when her stomach let out a resounding growl.

Freezing in place, Maki could feel her face heat up a little bit, instinctively glancing to the side to see if anyone else heard it — which they hadn’t, of course; as far as she knew, she was the only one awake at this ungodly hour. With an exhale, she pushed herself off the wall, eyes fixated on a specific section of the unfinished map.

Maybe it wasn’t her original plan, but it wouldn’t hurt to spend her time at the dining hall looking for something to eat. And now that she thought about it, her throat felt parched too.

The journey there was short, her footsteps echoing as she made her way down the quiet corridor. In the near silence, Maki couldn’t help her thoughts from drifting, trying to piece together her straggling memories of the day before. She knew what had happened in a vague way; her thoughts were cloaked with the type of fogginess that accompanied memories of a stressful day, the type of blurriness that came with waking from a deep sleep and trying to remember what had taken place before.

She remembered things. Meeting people, that dastardly bear’s arrival, and the tornado of emotions that engulfed her from the inside out as the day went on and more obstacles began to pop up. But trying to muster up any specifics left her with nothing but the looming sensation of dread, a familiar high-pitched cackle, and the sickening feeling of déjà vu.

She wasn’t even sure if she remembered anything past the announcement in the gymnasium, the very announcement that sealed her fate.

Before she knew it, Maki had arrived at the double doors leading into the dining hall, shut firmly. Though as she stepped forward, one hand resting against the wooden surface, she couldn’t help but notice the dim light filtering through the frosted glass. An uneasy feeling coiled in her chest as a thought drifted to mind — Is someone else up too?

She shook her head. “Can’t be,” Maki muttered to herself, the sound of her own voice grounding her as her thoughts began to run rampant, whipping up scenarios of walking into a crime scene or someone she didn’t quite trust, like a certain bulky chef. Stifling a groan, Maki shoved her irrational thoughts down. Who was even awake at 5 in the morning?

You are, the little voice in her head reminded her. Maki simply deigned to ignore it.

Taking a deep breath, she moved forward, pushing open one of the two doors. As the hinges creaked loudly, the sound making her wince, light spilled through the cracks in the door. Eventually, she stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind her with her right leg.

Raising her head to look up from the herringbone floor, Maki froze.

There, seated at one of the many identical tables in the dining hall, glancing over at her with a disinterested look, was the lanky man she hadn’t talked with the day before.

Kenji, her brain helpfully supplied, pulling up a memory of Ethan chattering away about recording content with his phone or something else. Kenji was staring at her from across the room, and as Maki stood in place, hovering awkwardly, she could see the way he raised an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t expect to see anyone up at this hour,” he said, his voice gruff.

“I could say the same to you,” Maki replied, keeping her voice cool.

Kenji grunted, shrugging noncommittally. As Maki continued to stand by the door, back pressed against the wooden surface, he eventually gestured at her with one hand. “So are you just gonna stand there, or…?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Y’know you can just sit down, right?” With a sigh, Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Or do you need me to invite you or something?”

Her shoulders were still tense, tightly wound up like a spring. Kenji’s barbed tone didn’t help ease any of her nerves either. Still, Maki moved forward, walking over to where Kenji sat. Her hand rested on the back of a chair. “Here?”

Kenji paused, before he shrugged again. “Yeah, sure, why not. Help yourself.” As Maki pulled the chair backwards, the awful sound of furniture grating against the floorboards causing her to flinch, Kenji picked up a needle, leaning over to continue working on whatever pile of fabric and cotton was in his other hand. “Not like you’re gonna kill me or something.”

“How can you be so sure?” Maki immediately retorted, the words tumbling out of her mouth on instinct. At that, Kenji gave her a hard look.

“Well, are you?”

Her throat dried. “I—”

“You’re the amnesiac, aren’t you?” Dumping his project unceremoniously on the tabletop, Kenji narrowed his eyes at her. “Seems like you don’t even trust yourself. Now everybody else, I can get it, but yourself?”

“What do you mean?” Maki bit out, sliding into the seat across Kenji.

The other man shrugged. “Nobody in their right mind would say something like, well what if I did kill you?” His voice pitched, mimicking Maki’s own, something that made her cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Only reason they’d do that is either they’re being all edgy and trying to act more dangerous than they are, or if they’ve actually got some reason for that.”

“Well, it’s neither, okay?” Running a hand down her face, Maki glared at Kenji. “I just… it slipped out.”

“It slipped out,” Kenji echoed incredulously.

Maki averted her gaze, nodding.

There was a brief pause, a moment of silence where her adrenaline subsided, and she was left feeling weirdly embarrassed about that entire conversation. But it wasn’t Kenji who broke the silence. No, it was a loud growl that came from Maki’s stomach that caused her cheeks to burn even more, staring daggers at the table in a desperate bid to avoid Kenji’s gaze.

She could feel his judgemental eyes boring right into her skin. “...Did you eat?”

Maki bit her lips. “Um.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Maki racked her brain. “I… don’t know.”

A sigh. “Seems like you’ve lost more than just your memories then.” His voice turned sharp. “Where the hell’s your sense of self-preservation? Go eat, idiot.”

Maki finally looked up, bristling. Before she could open her mouth, Kenji waved her off with a sigh. “Hold on, wait— my bad. Listen— Maki, right?” Folding his arms across the table, Kenji fixed her with a firm look. “I’m not going to stop you if you leave or whatever. That’s on you. All I’m saying is that there’s a perfectly good kitchen right over there—” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the back of the dining hall, “—and a whole bunch of leftovers in the fridge.”

With a shrug, Kenji fixed his attention back on the scraps in front of him, picking up his needle again. As he stitched a thread through the fabric, he said, “Choice’s yours.”

Silence. And then—

“Fair enough,” Maki sighed, rising to her feet. Brushing past the table, she headed for the back of the room, pointedly ignoring the other man as she moved. Because what could she say to that, really? Kenji had a point; she couldn’t remember the last time she ate, and it would be an idiotic choice to storm out of the dining hall for no reason apart from a few insults.

It didn’t stop a feeling of frustration from welling inside of her though.

Rummaging around the kitchen taught Maki several things.

The first was that while there were plenty of leftovers in the very large fridge in the kitchen, she couldn’t bring herself to eat any of them. It was all… flavourful stuff, things that she probably wouldn’t mind eating later in the day but couldn’t stomach early in the morning. That was new to her, though a lot of things probably were.

Kenji’s words about Maki not trusting herself repeated in her head as she slammed the fridge door shut, instead choosing to dig through the cupboards for anything else.

There was something disconcerting about that, the knowledge that even she didn’t know herself very well. The reactions she had yesterday to the announcement of the killing game proved Kenji’s point even further, as much as Maki disliked admitting it. She remembered feeling so many things, from deep-rooted fear and paranoia to the sickening sensation that she had been here before, amidst hundreds of other emotions.

It wasn’t just the larger things, though. It was the tiny details too. Like how Maki felt a certain way about filling in the stupid map on her handbook. It was a feeling she couldn’t pinpoint, but the closest she could get to describing it was safety. Like the sort of certainty that came with preparing for something — though for what, she didn’t know.

Her distaste for flavourful foods early in the morning did leave her with a conundrum though. Which brought her to the second thing she learnt while digging around in the kitchen — the pantry was locked overnight.

She found out about it the hard way, trying to brute force the door open with sheer willpower and the strength of her own arms. All she managed was to exhaust herself somehow, gasping as sweat beaded along her forehead, glaring daggers at the stupid pantry door.

It was only after she had attempted to wrench it open that Maki bothered reading through the tiny plaque hanging on the wall next to the door, which clearly stated in two languages that the pantry was automatically locked overnight. Great.

In the end, it took her much longer than she would have liked to admit to find a pack of crackers at the corner of a wall cupboard. It wasn’t anything massive, but it would be enough to tide her over until her appetite returned properly.

Coupled with a glass of water she had grabbed on her way out, she returned to the table, dumping the pack of crackers carelessly. Kenji raised an eyebrow at her. “Just that?”

“I’m not exactly interested in throwing up right now.” Maki took her seat and began breaking open one of the packets. For something so plain, it sure tasted heavenly in her mouth. She swallowed, before reaching for her water to wash it down. “I don’t like food in the morning.”

“New discovery, huh?” Maki nodded. Kenji tilted his head. “Didn’t you have a notebook? Aren’t you gonna write that down?”

Maki paused, narrowing her eyes. “How did you—”

“That Kanako girl kept blabbing about it yesterday at dinner,” Kenji interrupted, reaching for the open packet. He nicked a cracker, ignoring Maki’s pointed gaze. “Couldn’t keep her mouth shut about it. She kept going on about how she helped you out and whatnot. Not that I minded, but some of the others certainly did.”

Maki blinked. “Dinner?”

“Where do you think the leftovers came from?” Shaking his head, Kenji continued to take bites of his cracker, ignoring the crumbs that got all over his sewing project. “Then again, you weren’t there, were you? Raced out of the gymnasium as soon as you could, if I remember right.”

“Did I?” Maki muttered, mind drifting. She couldn’t remember anything beyond a haze; her movements from the day before remained nothing but a blurry recollection up until she had entered a room designated to her, crashing unconscious in an unfamiliar bed.

“Hey, you there?” Kenji waved a hand in front of her face, causing her to snap back to attention. “You sure space out a lot. Remember anything?”

“I wish.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.” Leaning back, Kenji drummed his fingers along the edge of the table, looking thoughtful. “You wanna hear about the dinner? Since you weren’t there and all.”

Maki was about to bite out a retort, something along the lines of a cold no. That is, until she stopped for a moment, sifting through her thoughts and what she had been about to carelessly spit out. In truth, she didn’t really mind hearing about the dinner, despite her first instincts being to dismiss Kenji’s attempt at a conversation.

After all, she barely knew anything about these people, apart from what snippets she had experienced from briefly meeting them all yesterday.

So instead, she settled in, reaching for another cracker. “I wouldn’t mind,” she answered.

Kenji grinned.

Maki wasn’t sure how much time had passed, far too engaged in conversation with Kenji — though it was more like her listening and him rambling, instead of a proper discussion.

Kenji was surprisingly alright to talk to, despite whatever first impressions Maki had of him. He wasn’t as utterly incomprehensible as Seika, or as theatrical as that theatre actress or the swordsman — Masahiro? — and he certainly wasn’t as anxiety-ridden as that historian Takeo. If anything, she would put him up there with Mikiyo as one of the few people she had met so far who hadn’t given her a headache interacting with.

Eventually though, the sun slowly began to rise, sunlight streaking through the glass windows along one wall of the dining hall. Their conversation had long since diverted away from what was apparently a dreadful first dinner into anything and everything else, from their opinions on the people they had both met — of which Maki had less positive things to say than Kenji, surprisingly enough — to Hope’s Peak — which Maki realised she barely knew anything about, despite supposedly having been invited there — until finally, they landed on the topic of talents.

Or rather, Maki’s lack-thereof.

“So you remember absolutely nothing? Nothing at all?” At Maki’s nod, Kenji grimaced. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

Maki tapped her pen against the leather cover of her notebook, having pulled it out from the inside of her cloak earlier. She had jotted down some lingering thoughts that had crossed her mind over the course of her morning, though she hadn’t encountered anything beyond that. “I do remember sometimes,” she eventually said in reply, “but it’s… mostly all gone.”

Kenji rubbed his chin. “Is there anything you’re drawn towards?” At Maki’s confusion, he picked up his unfinished sewing project, holding it out in front of her. “I sew these. Plushies. Toys.”

“Uh huh.”

“So if I’m out and about and I spot some kid carrying a toy,” Kenji continued, fiddling with the limp fabrics, not yet stuffed with cotton, “or if there’s something pretty in the display of a store, or if there’s a sale on fabrics—” He shrugged. “I usually get inspired. I’ll start thinking about my next project.”

Did she experience that? Racking her brain, Maki went through whatever she could remember of the day before, trying to recall the flurry of emotions and thoughts that crossed her mind with each person she met — and especially during the eventual reveal of the killing game. Unfortunately, she came up short; despite the time she had spent with Mikiyo in the greenhouse gardening, or the places she had visited such as the kitchen, no sense of familiarity rose to mind.

She paused. Except…

Before she could vocalise her thoughts, the sound of the door creaking as it opened snapped Maki out of her daze. Startled, she turned around to glance at the entrance, at whoever it was that had joined them.

Immediately, she clenched her jaw, fingers curling into fists.

Hiroshi stood in the doorway, his tall form sending a shudder through Maki’s body. The sick feeling of wrongness that had dissipated after a good night’s rest and some conversation with Kenji smashed back into her at full force as she watched the cook walk into the room, his footsteps loud against the wooden floor.

Maki glared at him. Kenji, meanwhile, called out a greeting. “Morning. Hiroshi, was it?” His voice was frustratingly casual, the exact opposite of how on edge Maki felt. “Why’re you up? It’s still early. Thought a big guy like you would need more sleep.”

Hiroshi gave the two of them a cursory glance. As his eyes met Maki’s, she averted her gaze, gritting her teeth as she stared pointedly at the surface of the table. Eventually, she heard his low, rumbling voice. “I rested well, though I appreciate your concern. Somebody has to make breakfast.”

The sound of fingers snapping. “Right. You’re the chef.”

A pause. Maki continued to glare firmly at the table, her every nerve on fire the longer Hiroshi lingered nearby. She could feel his presence, something uncomfortable and grating in a way she couldn’t describe or understand. It winded around her chest and coiled tight, making her feel…

Vulnerable.

“Is there… anything I could get you?” Hiroshi eventually asked. “The both of you, I mean.”

“I’m good,” Maki bit out, forcing herself to relax as much as she could. Raising her head, her eyes flitted over to Hiroshi, who seemed to watch her, though not unkindly.

Memories of her fractured conversation with him and Kanako in the kitchen the previous day rose to her mind. Hiroshi’s words resonated in her head. “I understand you said you forgot your talent, but that’s a completely different issue from forgetting everything.

“Perhaps that’s the reason why you may have felt so uncomfortable around me.”

Kenji’s voice drew her attention away from Hiroshi, and away from the deeper implications of her inexplicable paranoia towards him. “I’ll have tea. Any kind.”

“Do you prefer sugar? Or milk?”

Kenji gestured aimlessly. “Don’t care. I’m not picky about it. Do your worst.”

Hiroshi dipped his head, a glint in his eye. Maki suppressed a shiver.

As the chef departed for the kitchen, Kenji glanced over at Maki, furrowing his brows. Jabbing a thumb at the kitchen and then at Maki, all he said was, “What the hell was that?”

“Does it look like I know?” Maki retorted, burying her face in her hands. She resisted the urge to let out an annoyed screech.

Kenji kept talking. “You looked like you were going to flee. Or maybe claw his other eye out; leave him with another scar, why don’t you?”

“Look,” Maki forced out, pressing her hands against the table, her fingers curling tightly around the edge. “I don’t know why I keep feeling like that around him.”

Kenji raised an eyebrow. “Like?”

Maki spluttered. “Like— I don’t know! He just makes me feel… eugh—” Shaking her head, Maki glowered. “Just forget it.”

Kenji didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

“Drop it,” Maki ordered, and Kenji raised his arms in front of him defensively, leaning back into his chair. Maki ran a hand through her hair, combing through one of her pigtails in an attempt to quell her nerves. “Just… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Suit yourself,” was all Kenji said before he returned to work on his sewing project, flawlessly weaving the needle and thread in a way that made Maki ache.

Somewhere along the way, Kenji had tossed Maki another needle and some thread, and a couple of fabric scraps. “You’re staring,” he pointed out, to which Maki couldn’t do much else but grumble under her breath reluctantly. “Quit your moping.”

“And what’s this for?” Maki eyed the needle suspiciously. A possibility came to mind. “Wait.”

“You could go walk around the school if you want,” Kenji said without even looking up from his own stitching. The needle weaved in and out, over and over. “No one’s stopping you. And I’d get it, considering…” He trailed off, before letting out a cough. “Ahem. Considering your weird hatred of Hiroshi, for some fucking reason. But,” he added, finally looking up, “you could stay. Sew a little bit.”

“Sew,” Maki repeated. Kenji nodded. “I don’t sew.”

“You could try.”

“Why?”

A shrug. “Why not?”

And so Maki found herself fumbling with the needle and thread, struggling to stick the end of the thread through the hoop in the thin needle until Kenji simply sighed and did it for her. There, she sat and weaved her uneven stitches across the scraps of fabric that Kenji had provided, a constant feeling of frustration lingering inside her.

At one point, she glanced up at Kenji, eyeing his neat stitches with a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t voice any of them.

Bit by bit, as time ticked past and Maki’s stitching became more even, the other students began trailing into the room. It started with Takuya, whom Maki didn’t even notice entering, unaware of his presence until the door slammed open a few moments later with the arrival of Masahiro. The swordsman seemed unaware of Maki’s death glare as he called out Takuya’s name, walking over to sling his arm over the archer’s shoulder.

Thankfully, the two of them took their seats far away from Maki and Kenji’s table.

Satomi and Fumi arrived next, the former giving Maki a shy smile while the latter called out a greeting, followed by Eloise shortly after. Takeo stepped in sometime later, accompanied by Keebo of all people, who met Maki’s gaze from across the room and gave her a friendly wave.

Maki didn’t wave back. The robot seemed… almost dejected by that, Maki noticed, watching him depart with Takeo to Eloise’s table nearby.

The memory of her peculiar, unfinished conversation with Keebo popped into her head, like a reminder of sorts. Maki continued to stare at Keebo for a moment longer, unknown familiarity swirling around in her gut, until Kenji stuck his hand in her face and snapped his fingers, causing her to flinch and swear under her breath.

Eloise left at one point, returning after Yuina’s arrival with Ethan in tow. While the theatre actress went over to join Fumi and Satomi, and Eloise returned to the tablewhere Takeo and Keebo were sitting, Ethan instead chose to grab the chair right next to Kenji, eyeing the two of them eagerly as he took his seat. “Hey! What are you guys doing, huh?”

“What does it look like?” Kenji retorted, to which Ethan leaned in. His hands fiddled with the straps of his satchel.

“I’unno,” Ethan eventually replied. “Sewing? Stitching? Well, this guy over here’s definitely sewing something,” Ethan declared, nudging Kenji in the arm with his elbow (to which Kenji simply grunted). “That actually looks pretty good! You, however…” As Ethan turned his attention towards Maki, she avoided his gaze, biting her lips. “You sure are doing something.”

“I don’t sew,” Maki stated. Discarding the needle and fabrics on the table, she glared at her mess of thread and scraps. She’d been trying to do something circular at the very least, but it seemed like it was coming out pear-shaped.

Ethan hummed, grabbing her project to inspect it carelessly. “Well that’s definitely stitching to me,” he commented. He grinned. “I bet you I could do better.”

He continued to stare at her, fingers fiddling with the needle. An unspoken question hung in the air unanswered, disguised under Ethan’s innocuous statement, until finally, Maki let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” she muttered. “Go for it.”

Letting out a small cheer, Ethan grabbed the needle, and proceeded to immediately prick himself. “Shit.”

Kenji glanced at the blond, expression turning incredulous. “You— How did you stab yourself already?”

Ethan waved a hand aimlessly, the very hand with a bleeding finger. Blood trickled down his skin. “Needles are sharp,” he declared. “And I am not an expert.”

“Yeah? Well you’re getting blood over the table,” Kenji retorted, to which Ethan grinned nervously. With an irritated sigh, he rose to his feet, grabbing Ethan by the arm and proceeding to drag him to the back of the dining hall — to the kitchen. “Get that shit cleaned up. Don’t give me that look!”

As their voices began growing faint, Maki tuned out, distracted by the arrival of yet another person with the slam of the door. Turning around in her seat, she watched as a dishevelled Kanako staggered into the room, a significantly more put together Yui trailing behind her with his hands in his pockets.

Her eyes continued to follow the author as she stumbled over to the chair next to Maki, letting out a groan as she proceeded to slump over, burying her head in her arms on the table. Maki inched to the side slightly, chair screeching as she moved.

“Kanako.” The author in question did not respond as Yui called out her name, standing above her. He tapped a finger against the table. “Kanako.”

“Uuurrhgghh.” Raising her head, Kanako stared at Yui, glasses crooked. “...Coffee.”

“What kind?”

“Black.”

Reaching out to pat her on the head, Yui ignored the way Kanako swatted his arm away. “Coming right up. Oh, hey Maki,” he called out, seemingly switching up personalities on the fly. Tilting his head to the side, Yui shot her a shit-eating grin. “You want anything? It’s on me, I promise.” He raised an eyebrow. “My treat.”

“Die,” Maki deadpanned, to which Yui cackled.

“It’s a free kitchen, Yui,” Kanako grouched, to which he simply tapped her lightly on the head.

“I thought you owned the kitchen?”

Kanako’s arm shot out, fingers curling around Yui’s wrist in a vice grip. “If you bring that up again,” Kanako muttered, “I’m starting this killing game myself. My bare hands around your throat.”

Yui stared, before wrenching his hand away from Kanako’s death grip. “Alriiight, I’m gonna get you your coffee. Sorry about that, Maki,” he added, giving her a wink, “she gets all grouchy in the morning. Isn’t it cute?”

Maki stared at Kanako, who had returned to being collapsed on the table, dead to the world as she conked out once more. Is she… snoring? She glanced up at Yui, narrowing her eyes. “...Didn’t you two first meet yesterday?” she eventually asked.

“Yes. Your point?”

Maki paused, before shaking her head. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Yui.” Kanako glanced up at the taller man, face stormy. “Coffee.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m on it. See ya in a sec, Maki-o!” And with that, Yui spun around on his heel before racing off, disappearing into the kitchen and leaving Maki alone with her thoughts and a near-unconscious Kanako. She rested a hand against her cheek. Huh.

She was so distracted by her conversation with Yui that she didn’t notice the door open again, nor did she notice the person who came through. When Maki felt another person brush against her, she jolted, whirling around to see Mikiyo give her a calm smile as she slid into the seat next to Maki. “Good morning. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Morning,” Maki echoed, eyeing Mikiyo. As the other girl folded her arms across the table, Maki noticed the dirt dusting her sleeves and hands. Lingering memories of a greenhouse and potting plant after plant, feeling at ease for the first time, drifted through her mind. Not a remnant of her forgotten past, but just a reminder of the day before.

If Mikiyo noticed her staring, she didn’t say anything. Instead, the purple-haired girl hummed. “How’re you feeling?”

Maki blinked. “Sorry?”

“You left for your room first thing after the situation in the gym,” Mikiyo explained, with a wave of her hand. “Not that I really blame you for that. It was pretty intense.”

“Intense is a bit of an understatement,” Maki sighed. Her hands absentmindedly found their way to the pen resting on her pocket journal, which she had forgotten to keep after getting sucked into sewing scraps of fabric with Kenji. Foggy memories drifted to mind, consisting of gymnasiums and yelling students, though unfortunately, the details weren’t clear.

Mikiyo tilted her head, braids and purple locks falling over her shoulder. “Hey, you good?”

“I’m fine,” Maki muttered, tapping the pen against the cover of the journal. Without another word, she flipped to a semi-filled page, scribbling down something before it slipped her mind. A gymnasium but different; one that was more run-down, more dilapidated.

Slamming the journal shut, Maki exhaled. “I was just… thinking.”

Mikiyo glanced at her, meeting her eyes. For a moment, Maki braced herself for another question, perhaps something to do with her memories given the way the herbalist looked at her journal, but it never came. Instead, Mikiyo turned around in her seat, staring at the rest of the students scattered around the room. “You know, I didn’t expect the girls to get along as well as they do.”

Maki furrowed her brows. “...The girls?”

“Fumi, Satomi, Seika and Yuina,” Mikiyo explained, glancing over her shoulder. There was a calm look on her face, no trace of invasive curiosity in her eyes. Her voice was genuine, not masking a hidden intention. The previous subject had been discarded, not talked about in the slightest.

Maki felt her shoulders slump too, relaxing. “Ah, right. Kenji told me. They grouped off at dinner last night.”

“Fumi and Satomi were already a pair,” Mikiyo said, turning back to glance at the three girls seated at a different table across the room, their fourth nowhere in sight. Though I don’t really mind it if she’s not here, Maki thought, grimacing slightly as the loud, chaotically confusing memories she had of Seika crossed her mind. “I’m surprised that Yuina and Seika joined them though. Well, Yuina I can understand. She’s got a flair for the dramatics, but she seemed reasonable enough when I talked to her. Seika though…”

“I understand,” Maki said, and Mikiyo simply hummed.

“I do wonder where she is, though,” she murmured to herself, eyes growing distant before she shook her head. “Ignore me. Just thinking out loud.”

Maki glanced past her, eyes fixating on another figure — Keebo, who sat next to Takeo and across from Eloise, a cheerful expression on his face as he prattled away about something or other to the other two. It was all so… familiar.

It reminded her of—

—another dining hall, with plants growing along the sleek, marble floor, tall strands of grass and flowers blooming from the narrow cracks in the flooring.

There were vines creeping down from the walls, acting as a pretty backdrop to a long dining table, metal chairs filled with unfamiliar people.

Maki sat at the very edge, staring at the other students chattering inaudibly and laughing to each other as they dug into their food, lingering by herself.

A girl with blonde hair. A boy with a dark cap.

A robot, the only face she could make out clearly—

“—ki? Hey, you there?”

The feeling of a hand grasping her shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts, leaving her with memories that were fading fast.

Within a few moments, Maki dropped her pen back on the table with a clatter, staring down at another page in her journal. It was now filled with hastily scribbled words that were nearly illegible, courtesy of how quickly she had been writing in a desperate attempt to pen her memories down before they slipped through the cracks again.

Just like they did now. Stifling an irritated groan, Maki shut the journal, muttering curses under her breath as she tucked it back in the hidden pocket beneath her cloak, along with her pen.

“So,” Mikiyo started. Maki could feel her gaze boring into her skin. “Another memory.”

Maki sighed. “Yes.”

The sound of fingers drumming against the table. “...Hey. I’m not going to pry.”

Tilting her head, Maki looked over at Mikiyo. The other girl shrugged. “I mean, if you want to share, I’m all ears. I don’t mind listening. But I’m not going to barrage you with twenty questions or steal your journal or anything. Unlike some people. Speaking of which—” Mikiyo glanced past Maki. “Hello, Yui.”

With a mug in each of his hands, Yui strode up to the table, flashing Mikiyo and Maki with a confident smirk. “Hey, babygirl. How’s your morning going?”

Maki cringed, recoiling against the back of her chair. Her gaze darted to Mikiyo, who simply smiled. “Call me that again and I’ll break your guitar.”

“Assuming you can even reach it,” Yui countered, winking as he slid a mug across the table to Kanako, sliding into the seat across from her. “Oi, Kanako, your coffee’s here!”

“Mmrrgghhfh,” was all Kanako said as she raised her head, reaching out to wrap her fingers around the mug. Raising it to her lips, she muttered her thanks as she took a sip of the scalding liquid.

She paused. Pulling the mug away, Kanako grasped it tightly with both hands, staring at Yui with an impassive expression on her face. “Yui?”

Yui paused. “Yeah?” He leaned back into his chair, arms folded. “What’s up?” Was that… sweat along his forehead? Or was Maki imagining things?

Kanako brought the mug to her lips, closing her eyes as she took a long sip. Eventually, she placed the ceramic cup back down on the table with a clatter, fixing Yui with a firm look. “You added sugar.”

For a moment, nobody said anything. Kanako simply continued to stare at Yui with hard eyes while the guitarist floundered awkwardly, clearly unsure of what to say. At some point, Ethan and Kenji had arrived back as well, the two standing near the table; though while Kenji quietly took his seat, Ethan had reached for his pocket, pulling out his phone to start recording.

Maki, too, was enraptured by the strangely tense scenario unfolding in front of her, eyes darting back and forth between the brown-haired girl and the orange-haired boy.

After what felt like an eternity, Kanako sighed, giving her coffee a morose look. “It’ll do.”

The rest of breakfast went relatively fine, as far as Maki was concerned. Then again, it wasn’t as if she had much of a comparison to go off of; the only meal time she’d had with the rest of the students was the disastrous lunch from the day before, right before the dreadfully awful announcement that sealed her — and everybody else’s — fate.

In short, the only comparison she had was an attempt at a communal lunch that rapidly devolved into an all-out food war, complete with furniture throwing and body slams. On that basis alone, her first breakfast went extremely well.

As soon as Ethan had stopped recording, only halting when Kanako threatened to break his phone, he had swiftly gotten sucked back into his impromptu sewing lesson with Kenji, only putting down his misshapen project when Hiroshi finally brought out food for everyone to eat. Despite the mouthwatering smells, Maki couldn’t bring herself to relax and dig in. Even as she grabbed something — anything, really, she wasn’t paying attention — from the spread in the middle of the table, she continued to feel on edge, mainly due to Hiroshi’s presence nearby.

When Kanako raised her head, finally perking up and seeming considerably more like the overzealous girl Maki had met the day before, she waved Hiroshi over as the man had begun to walk off, carrying a plate of his own. “Hey, Hiroshi!” the author called out as Maki went rigid. “Where are you going? Just pull up a chair and join us here!”

Hiroshi stood by the table for a while, silent. Maki averted her gaze, staring down at her meal instead, which consisted of a slice of toast, a fried egg, and a banana.

Eventually, she heard that familiar, low voice. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Hiroshi said, causing Kanako to let out a whine and Yui to groan.

“Why not?” Yui complained.

A pause. Maki swore she could feel a gaze boring into her skin, making her cheeks burn as she fought the urge to jump out of her chair and ditch the place.

“...It would be better if I sat elsewhere,” Hiroshi answered after a while, causing Maki to exhale shakily. Raising her head, she forced herself to meet Hiroshi’s gaze. The taller man gave her a firm nod, as impossible to read as ever, in no part thanks to the mask covering half his face.

Maki swallowed the lump in her throat, giving another nod in return. A silent thank you, because despite neither her nor Hiroshi understanding why Maki felt a certain way around him, the cook seemed to respect it anyways.

The sound of chair scraping against the floor caught her ear, causing Maki to glance over at Kanako, who was now standing on her feet. Grabbing her plate and mug, she proudly declared, “Well there’s no point eating alone, right? Yui and I will join you then!”

Yui raised an eyebrow. “Are we really?”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here if you’d prefer that,” Kanako said cheerily, giving Yui a bright smile. “Alright then, Hiroshi, let’s go!”

As Kanako raced ahead, Hiroshi shaking his head as he followed after her, Yui blinked, sitting up straight. “Wait, hold on, I was just kidding—”

“It’d do you good to think before you speak sometimes,” Kenji said with a sigh, placing his second mug of tea down on the table with a loud clatter as he watched Yui scramble to gather up his plate of food and speed after the departing duo.

“He doesn’t think,” Ethan snickered in-between spoonfuls of rice. “There’s no brain in there! It’s just empty, rattling back and forth like…” He paused, rubbing a finger against his chin. “Erm. I don’t know how to explain this. It’s like—” Mid-sentence, Ethan swapped over to a different language, one that Maki didn’t quite recognise, the unfamiliar words alien to her ears. As soon as he was done, Ethan gestured vaguely. “I— Yeah, I don’t know the words for it in Japanese.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at him blankly. Ethan dropped his spoon, burying his face in his hands with a haggard sigh. “Forget it.”

The rest of breakfast passed by uneventfully at their table, mainly consisting of Ethan chattering on about anything and everything that came to mind, occasionally roping Kenji or Mikiyo into conversations. Maki stayed silent for the most part, regularly replenishing her plate whenever it became empty as she finally satisfied her stomach after a full day without food.

The only real interruption that occurred throughout breakfast was when the doors to the dining hall slammed open with a thud so loud that Maki choked on her spoonful of rice, causing Mikiyo to hammer her in the back as she hacked up her food. “MORNING, DORKASSES!” Seika shouted at the top of her lungs as Maki wheezed, catching her breath after spitting out her food. “I bet I kept all of ya waitin’, hm?”

There was no reply. The only sound that could be heard was a high-pitched cackle and the distant scraping of another chair. As Maki took a sip of water from her cup to ease her sore throat, she glanced over and caught sight of Seika sitting next to Yuina, prattling on about something to the other girls around her.

“I will never understand her,” Mikiyo said, following Maki’s gaze. She silently nodded assent, taking another swig of water.

“You don’t have to understand her,” Ethan said, causing the two of them to look back at him. “She’s loud, she’s weird—”

“She’s a menace,” Kenji deadpanned, causing Ethan to splutter, hands flying up to cover his mouth as he stifled a laugh. The older man shrugged. “I meant what I said yesterday when she nearly got herself killed.”

Right. “The explosion,” Maki confirmed, to which Kenji nodded.

“If you’re going to be that reckless,” he started, drumming his fingers along the tabletop, “then don’t rope everyone else into it. It’s that simple.” Shooting a glare over at Seika, Kenji grimaced. “And don’t insult people and not expect it to bite you in the ass.”

“I punched her yesterday,” Ethan proclaimed proudly, flashing a grin as he clenched his fist. “I don’t regret it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Maki replied, feeling the barest hints of a smile tugging at her lips as Ethan barked out a laugh. Even Kenji couldn’t help but smile slightly, shaking his head as Ethan scrambled for his camera.

“Wait, I think I might have some footage in here—”

Maki’s eyes widened. “You recorded it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I was uh—” Yanking an expensive-looking camera out of his bag, Ethan fiddled with the buttons. “I was recording yesterday, after I woke up and all. Thought it’d be cool to look back at it and, well… always get b-roll footage if you can!”

Mikiyo was silent, glancing back and forth between each of the three people sitting at the table. Finally, she scratched her chin, looking thoughtful. “So… all three of you hate Seika?”

They all paused. Mikiyo let out a laugh. “Oh man. All three of you hate Seika.”

“Hate is a bit of a strong word,” Kenji grouched, while Ethan nodded enthusiastically. Maki simply didn’t reply, returning to polishing off the rest of her breakfast.

The first few people to leave were Masahiro and Takuya, chairs screeching as they got up to head for the door. Or at least, they would have left if Takeo hadn’t called out after them. “Ah— could you two wait please?”

At the sound of his voice, Maki turned to look, glancing between the duo and the historian, who looked slightly frazzled. She squinted. Huh. What’s going on?

Masahiro wasn’t satisfied, cocking his hips as he placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. “Well?” he asked, turning his nose up at Takeo. Scoffing, he waved his other hand. “Out with it, you. We’ve got many a place to be; plenty of foes to vanquish.”

Takuya nodded, though he did shoot Masahiro a sideways glance. “Masahiro’s right. We were planning to look around a bit, especially that weapons room we were in yesterday—”

“Weapons room?” somebody else called out, voice curious. It was Yuina, Maki recognised, staring at the duo intensely. “What do you mean, weapons room?”

Seika elbowed her harshly, causing her to squeak. “Hey—!”

“Don’t think I forgot the way you spoke t’ that bear yesterday, Yuina,” Fumi said, causing Yuina to stutter. “Though… what weapons room? Where’s the thing?”

“North wing, first floor,” Takuya answered politely, ignoring the way Masahiro glowered at him, lips twisted into a scowl. “I know it sounds a bit fishy—”

“Understatement of the century, kid,” Kenji sighed.

“—but really, we just wanted to check it out,” Takuya quickly explained, holding his hand up in front of himself defensively. His eyes darted back and forth as several suspicious gazes landed on him and his companion. “Especially given that we’re stuck in a… well…”

“A killing game,” Masahiro finished. Rolling his eyes, he sighed dramatically. “You’ll be as good as gone in battle if you continue to hesitate foolishly like that, my good friend,” he complained, leaning over to rest his elbow on Takuya’s shoulder. He shot a hard look at everyone else. “And— okay, seriously, use your brains for one moment. I have a sword strapped across my hip here.” At that, the swordsman gestured to the sheathed blade resting across his hip. “What do you think we’re going to do? Get more weapons?”

Silence. Takeo opened his mouth before closing it, shrinking as Masahiro glared at him, waiting expectantly. Eventually, someone else spoke. “There could be better swords in there, maybe,” Satomi pointed out, though she quickly let out a startled shriek as Masahiro swiftly unsheathed his sword, the blade glinting in the light of the dining hall as he held it up to the air. “Um, I-I mean—”

“Hey, what’re you doin’, skewer boy?” Seika shouted, “keep that shit away—”

“Uh, Masahiro?” Takeo stuttered, Keebo and Eloise staring at the situation with widening eyes. “Could you not—”

“—are you seriously pulling out your sword right now?” Maki found herself saying, in utter disbelief, voice overlapping with the others. In the corner of her eyes, she spotted Ethan pulling out his phone again.

There was another excited shout from another corner of the room. “Oh, a sword!” Kanako gasped, and when Maki looked over at her, she could see Yui pull her back, preventing her from speeding over to Masahiro. The author turned back to the guitarist and the cook, chattering excitedly. “Do you think he’d let me—”

“Not now, Kanako,” Yui said quickly, as Hiroshi nodded assent.

Masahiro hadn’t spoken as voices rose around them, suspicious clamours mixed in with indignant words and curious questions. All he did was turn his blade around in the air dramatically, ignoring the way his companion sighed — and oh, did Maki feel pity for Takuya, the archer averting his gaze to avoid the spotlight that Masahiro had ejected the both of them into — in a bid to show off his sword.

Eventually, he looked directly at Satomi, pointing the blade in her direction, causing another flurry of shouting. “For the record, ghoul—”

“G-ghoul?” Satomi squeaked, paling even more — that is, if that was even possible—

“—this hallowed blade of mine is one-of-a-kind,” Masahiro proclaimed proudly, raising his voice to be heard. “Forged from the strongest steel and the purest gold by the practised hands of a master blacksmith.” With a glint in his eyes, his voice pitched. “There is no other sword from across the plains of this earth that would befit my hand like this one does! Do you all hear me? No other!”

“Masahiro,” Takuya uttered, “please keep your sword,” Stepping away from the swordsman to stare up at him, Takuya folded his arms.

For a moment, Maki wondered if the swordsman was going to deny the archer and continue waving his sword around like a reckless lunatic. However, as the two stared off against each other, Masahiro’s shoulders eventually slumped. Muttering out a reluctant “Fine,” he sheathed his sword in a single fell swoop.

Takuya closed his eyes, muttering something that Maki couldn’t hear. Opening his eyes again, he glanced over at Takeo, who had been wordlessly stammering as he watched the entire fiasco go down. “Could we leave now?” he asked politely, dipping his head at the historian. “Or is there something else you’d like us to do?”

Takeo froze, before he nodded frantically. “Oh, yes, right— Erm—”

The sound of glass chiming rang through the entire room, diverting everybody’s attention away from the swordsman and the archer, as well as the stammering historian. Eloise had a wine glass in one hand and a spoon in the other, tapping the metal utensil along the rounded glass as the chaos in the dining hall slowly subsided. Nodding at Takeo, all she said was, “Go on. Just like we discussed.”

Takeo blinked. “Right.” Rising to his feet, a flash of uncertainty crossed his eyes before he straightened up, steeling himself. As he gazed at everyone around the room, eyes shifting from person to person, he began to speak. “We were discussing this last night at dinner — that is, me, Eloise, Ethan, and Keebo.” Upon hearing his name, the vlogger briefly lowered his phone, expression puzzled before clearing up. “While I’ve explored most of the school for myself yesterday,” Takeo swept on, gesturing at himself, “I don’t believe everybody else has done the same. Is that right?”

At that, Takuya and Masahiro shared a glance, the archer’s eyes creasing as he looked back at the historian. In the distance, Maki could see Seika whispering something into Yuina’s ears, the two having an intense back-and-forth.

As she refocused her attention on Takeo, Maki’s eyes briefly met Keebo’s and Eloise’s — the former curious, the latter almost sympathetic, though not unkind. Suppressing a shudder, Maki turned back to the conversation, hearing Takuya speak. “Well, you’re not wrong,” the blue-haired boy admitted, giving Takeo a small nod. “What do you suggest, then?”

Another voice rose through the air. “The most optimal solution would be to split into four groups of four, since there’s sixteen of us in total,” Keebo said, causing everyone’s attention to hone in on him instead. Though the robot baulked slightly under the weight of everyone’s gazes, he caught himself and continued on. “Additionally, the map says that the school can be categorised into four different areas — North, South, East and West.”

That was correct, Maki thought, her own mind flashing back to the time she spent wandering the corridors of the campus, eyes flitting back and forth between the digital map in her hands and the environment around her.

“Real talk here,” another voice called out — Fumi, raising her voice to be heard from afar. The green-haired girl had her arms crossed as she spoke. “What’s stoppin’ us from just… going ourselves? There’s no real reason to team up just to look, right? You said it yourself — you went looking around on your own yesterday.”

Takeo’s face flushed slightly, the historian muttering under his breath as he shot Keebo and Eloise a pleading look. The robot took pity on him, raising his voice in return. “Well it would be more time efficient—”

“Time efficient how?” Yuina asked, joining the fray. The actress tapped a finger against her chin, her other arm folded across her chest. “The map seems to only update individually,” she pointed out, making sure to enunciate every syllable of the last word she spoke. “All this would do is waste my time— ow! —our time,” she quickly amended, shooting a glare at Seika who had jabbed her elbow harshly into Yuina’s ribs. “I swear, if you do that again—!”

“Right… about that.” As Keebo spoke, Yuina shut up, giving the robot a haughty look as she kicked back into her chair and waited, a mocking image of patience. The robot gestured over at Maki’s table, causing her to blink as he said, “Ethan? You wanted to talk about this, correct? I recall you saying as much last night.”

“Wh— OH!” Dropping his phone on the table with a thud, Ethan dug out his handbook from his satchel, furiously tapping on the screen as it lit up. “Right, right, right, I completely forgot! Okay, yeah, so—” Waving the device in his hand aggressively, Ethan launched into a speedy explanation, stumbling over his words as he yammered off. “The technology on this thing? It’s not bad, like… there’s a whole function where if you enter a room, or an area, it’ll load on your map. It shows up as you explore. See?”

With that, he displayed the screen of his handbook openly for everyone to see, though it didn’t seem to be all that effective if the squints and confused “Huh?” sounds from different people were anything to go by. Even Maki couldn’t make out much of the screen despite sitting close to the boy; he had waved it far too quickly for her to spot anything beyond a blur of coloured lines.

“So, the thing is, I was looking at the settings yesterday. There’s that screw at the top corner, if you wanna click on it or something, I dunno.” Ethan shrugged. “There’s supposed to be this function where it’ll automatically upload everything so everyone’s maps are updated at the same time, but if you look at it, you’ll notice it’s all greyed out. You can’t check it or enable it. So what’s the deal with that?”

Ethan paused for dramatic effect, before he let out a laugh. “Oh man. The wifi here’s too shit for it to actually happen.”

Silence.

“...Are you serious?” Yui eventually spoke. Looking over at the guitarist revealed his incredulous expression, his own handbook grasped tightly in his hands. “That’s it? The wifi’s just fucking awful?”

“Yeah, well I talked to Monokuma about it—”

“You WHAT?!” several people screeched, while others paled. Maki stared at the boy with wide eyes, clenching her teeth as the black-and-white bear flashed through her mind, causing her to feel vaguely ill.

Ethan froze at the barrage of people yelling, face falling for one split moment before he picked himself up. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! Takeo and Eloise were there too! So was that robot,” he added, jabbing a finger at Keebo, who began to splutter in a way that was uncomfortably familiar to Maki.

About a dozen sharp stares turned directly to the three students Ethan had listed. Takeo shrunk under the weight of their gazes, slowly lowering himself back into his seat, while Eloise looked nonplussed. “We didn’t exactly summon him, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she explained, taking a sip from her porcelain mug. “It was after dinner, when we were heading to the dormitories. Ethan was still trying to figure out the settings, and that bear just… appeared.”

Takeo coughed. “Y-Yes, that’s what happened.”

“...I can vouch for that as well,” Keebo eventually said, though he still levelled Ethan with a hard look. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said just now!”

Ethan furrowed his brows. “...What?”

“I understand that I’m a robot, but to simply call me ‘the robot’ and gesture at me like that was extremely rude! It felt almost robo—”

“Yeah, yeah, moving on.” Waving Keebo off, Ethan fiddled with his handbook, tongue poking out of his mouth as he pointedly ignored the robot’s stuttering complaints. “So the bear said that the wifi’s bad. That’s the reason why the map isn’t updating automatically for all of us. Key word, automatically.”

“So there is a way to upload it manually,” Yuina mused, looking thoughtful. “Then again,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair, “couldn’t we just upload what we have right now, and then go fill in the gaps ourselves?”

“That’s what I said too!” Ethan cried, slamming the table so hard that Maki jolted, and Kenji let out a string of swears. “My idea was for all of us to just upload our stuff and go check what’s left, but nooo, Takeo and Eloise and Bot Boy over there were all, oh, we gotta do it as a group, y’know?”

Maki hummed. “It’s not a bad idea,” she said, causing Ethan to gesture at her like her agreement was hard evidence supporting his idea. “It does seem to be a lot more convenient that way.”

Mikiyo nodded at the trio nearby — Takeo cowered while Keebo still looked somewhat annoyed, all while Eloise calmly continued to sip at her drink. “Clearly, you three have a plan. What is it?”

Takeo averted his gaze, fingers fiddling with his tie. Eventually, he spoke, voice strained. “I figured it would help us to get to know each other a bit better, if we get into groups to search. Especially since we’re…” He hesitated, before he sighed. “We’re stuck here for a while.”

The way the mood dropped was palpable, the dining hall seemingly sinking in temperature at the implications lurking beneath Takeo’s carefully spoken words.

The killing game, the only way they could escape this dreadful life they had all been tossed into.

Monokuma calling out Takeo in the gymnasium the previous day, instilling seeds of doubt within him — and everyone — about just how trustworthy the strangers around him could be.

Maki stared at a girl with blonde hair, who desperately tried to implore them all to continue working together; to avoid giving up as they tried to escape their fates.

Each failed attempt only lowered everybody’s spirits, and before she knew it, they had all gone their separate ways.

The sound of someone clearing their throat. As Maki came back to herself, blonde hair and a series of nonsensical obstacles fading from the periphery of her mind’s memories, Takeo fidgeted in his seat. “Um, I know that the situation isn’t really ideal—”

“Yeah, no SHIT it ain’t!” someone shouted, followed by the slam of a fist on a table.

Takeo deflated. “I— oh dear.”

The clatter of a mug against a wooden surface. The sound of a comforting voice, as calm as always. “What Takeo is trying to say,” Eloise started, “is that it’s better if we know each other than if we don’t.” As she spoke, Keebo nodded enthusiastically, in full agreement. “It wouldn’t do us any good to distrust each other simply because we’re trapped in a life or death situation,” the hairstylist continued, absentmindedly twirling her hair as she spoke. “In fact, that would only make things worse.”

Briefly, she paused to collect herself, before opening her mouth again. “I know that we’ve all sort of split off into our own little groups,” Eloise said, giving a quick glance at the girls, nestled in a corner of the room; at Masahiro and Takuya, still hovering awkwardly, having never found the opportunity to sit down; at Kanako, Yui and Hiroshi; at Ethan, who sat next to Kenji; and at Maki, resting in a chair next to Mikiyo.

There was an itchy feeling blooming beneath her skin under the weight of Eloise’s gaze as the hairstylist seemed to pause, her eyes lingering on Maki for just a bit longer.

“...I actually think that’s fine,” Eloise eventually said, finally tearing her gaze away from Maki, who couldn’t relax. “Already splitting off into groups, I mean. We don’t have to do any massive scrambling or mixing up for this. It’s just to explore the school a bit more and get to know each other a bit better. That’s all it is.”

Silence. Eloise watched everyone patiently.

Eventually, someone spoke. “So,” Masahiro said, flashing a grin as he gestured around the room with a flourish. “Who would like the honour of teaming up with my trusted partner and I for an escapade in unfamiliar territory?”

As soon as the swordsman spoke, his voice shattering the tense silence, it was like a switch had been flipped.

The girls had paired off immediately, already their own group of four. While the rest of the students had been trying to figure out who should go with who, the quartet had already made their way over to the front doors, Fumi holding it open for them to file through.

“We’ll be taking the South Wing!” Satomi called out to the rest as they left, giving the rest of the group a shy wave. Maki didn’t wave back, but Mikiyo did. “We’ll meet you guys back here at lunch!”

“W-Wait, when is lunch?” Takeo shouted after them, only a few moments too late. Dragging a hand down his face, he muttered to himself. “I suppose I’ll have to find them later…”

With one group accounted for, the rest had to split. And…

Maki had a plan in mind, a specific person she wanted to group with. Teaming up with Keebo would be a good opportunity for her to try and talk it out with the robot, to pick up their confusing, halted conversation where it left off the day before. Even if the conversation didn’t go anywhere again — which she was determined not to let happen — perhaps just being around Keebo would help her to jog her memories.

She may not have remembered the flashbacks she had before, the memories disappearing as quickly as they came, but the fact that she had noted down a familiar robot in her notebook more than once was motive enough for her to seek him out.

Because at the end of the day, Maki didn’t know herself; didn’t know who she was. It was a gaping hole in her mind, a vacancy she was hoping to fill in, one way or another.

So her plan was simple: Team up with Keebo.

Unfortunately for Maki, her plan had derailed and exploded into nothing but dust and rubble as soon as she felt something heavy tackle her, causing her to stagger slightly. Stifling a yelp, she glared at the mysterious interloper, only to come face-to-face with Kanako, who had wrapped her hand around Maki’s arm. “Wh— Kanako?”

“Heeeey, Maki!” Kanako greeted as she yanked her away, dragging her over to a different table. Maki glanced over her shoulder, only to be met with Mikiyo’s pitying stare and Keebo’s confusion as she was pulled away. “Sorry for tackling you like that, but I really wanted to team up with you.” Kanako grinned. “I hope that’s fine?”

Maki spluttered. “I was already planning to team up with—”

“Sorry,” Kanako said again, not sounding very sorry at all. Coming to a stop, she winked at Maki. “But hey! You can talk to them later at lunch. There’s plenty of opportunities, unless someone finds a way out of here, somehow.”

As Maki stammered, Kanako waved at the other two members of her group. “So! Which wing do you guys want to take?”

A pause. Eventually, Yui broke the silence, sounding strangely concerned. “Er, Kanako? Are you really sure this is a good idea?”

“Have you guys ever heard of exposure therapy?” Kanako simply replied as Maki locked eyes with the last member of their group in dawning horror, heart beginning to thump wildly.

For what it was worth, Hiroshi at least stared at her apologetically, only looking away to give the author a hard look with narrowed eyes. “Kanako, there was a reason why I chose to switch tables earlier.”

“I’m aware,” the author replied cheerily. As everyone continued to stare at her with befuddled reactions, Kanako eventually sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea—”

“Maybe?” Maki hissed.

“—but I mean…” Kanako gestured at Hiroshi, then at Maki. “You guys are both nice, and it’s a bit of a shame that Maki’s unable to experience that because of this… issue.”

“So you decided to jump straight to exposure therapy,” Yui stated, as Kanako nodded. The guitarist stared, before facepalming. “Oh my god, Kanako, you’re not a therapist—”

“Hey!”

As they bickered, Hiroshi stepped over to Maki cautiously, causing her to instinctively take a step to the side — away from the cook, who stood hulking over her. “You’re free to leave if you’d like,” he said, as Maki forced herself to take a deep breath. Exhale. “Kanako’s heart may be in the right place, but her methods are flawed.”

“I’m aware,” Maki said flatly. With a sigh, she turned on her heel, about to silently slip away and team up with Keebo — or if the robot wasn’t available, someone else — only to be greeted by the sight of everyone else filing out of the dining hall, swept up in conversations with each other. Takuya and Masahiro were already heading out of the door, accompanied by an excited Ethan, camcorder in hand, and a cheery Eloise. Behind them, Takeo and Keebo were on the move, Mikiyo and Kenji trailing a little ways off.

As Maki watched them all depart in horrified silence, she stared at Mikiyo, who turned to wave at her, shouting, “You guys take the West Wing!”

And with that, everyone else had left. Leaving Maki alone with a cheerful author who had a tendency to act before thinking, a guitarist with a penchant for aggravating everybody around him, and a cook who inexplicably made her body sprint straight into fight or flight mode.

Oh, this was not going to go well.