Chapter Text
She couldn’t breathe- no, she was breathing, and that was the problem. She hadn’t been able to breathe for so long, and suddenly she could again. Air was flooding into lungs that had been empty for an eternity, and it was too much. They felt too full. They felt like they were going to explode. They felt… There . For so long they hadn’t been there, and now they were. Not just her lungs. Her chest. Her stomach. Her arms. Her legs. Her eyes. Every part of her. They were all there again.
“Monika!” She heard something. How long had it been since she had heard something? It wasn’t just sound either. There was sight as well. Too much sound, and too much sight, after how long she had spent in silent blackness. How long had that been? She didn’t know. Time had stopped having meaning. What was she hearing now? What was she seeing? She wasn’t seeing anything. Her eyes were closed. She tried to open them. She saw-
Sayori. Sayori standing right in front of her. They were in a classroom. They were wearing their uniforms. She was sitting. Sayori was standing. Sayori was looking at her. Sayori seemed worried.
“Monika?” she repeated. “Helloooo! Are you listening to me?” What was going on? How was she here? Was this even real? No, what a stupid question. None of this was ever real. That was the whole point.
“Um, y-yeah,” Monika replied, reaching up to rub her eyes. “I just spaced out for a second. Sorry.” Stay calm. Don’t freak out. She didn’t know what was happening, but she at least had enough sense left to know that freaking out wasn’t likely to help anything. Sayori didn’t seem to think that anything was wrong. Did that mean… She didn’t remember?
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Suddenly Sayori was leaning in closer, and Monika was startled backwards in her seat a bit. “You don’t look so good! You’re not getting sick or something, are you?”
“No, I just- I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Monika said, shaking her head and forcing a smile. Technically, that was true. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well… Alright. But you can go right home if you need to! I can handle the club meeting on my own if you need the day off.” The club meeting. That meant… Natsuki and Yuri were still here as well, right? And maybe that meant he was still here too. But if so, why? Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Why would he come back? Were they really going to go through all of this all over again? What day was it, anyway? What part of the story were they meant to be at right now? With questions like that in her mind, as afraid as Monika was of whatever was about to happen at their club meeting, there was no way in hell that she could afford not to go.
“No, really, I’m okay,” Monika insisted, pushing her hands against the surface of the table as she got to her feet. Doing so felt strange. She knew they were her own legs, but they felt foreign, unfamiliar. It had been ages since she had last used them. Or at least, she thought it had been ages. “Do you want to head to the clubroom now?”
“Sure!” Sayori agreed, before a sudden realization crossed over her face. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention! I convinced someone new to join us today!” Hearing that made Monika’s heart skip a beat. Someone new. That meant they really were back at the beginning, right? They were about to go through all of this all over again. She didn’t know how, or why, but at least she was starting to get some sense of the picture around her. The game had been reinstalled, perhaps, by a player who just didn't know how to let go. Maybe... Maybe things could go differently this time.
“A new member? Who is he?” As soon as Monika said that she realized that she had slipped up. She wasn’t supposed to know that the new member was a boy. Thankfully, Sayori didn’t seem to notice.
“He’s my neighbor, and we’ve been friends forever! His name is
E̷̳̜̱̖̥͖̱̹̗͖͔̬͟͜͡͡ͅͅͅR̢͍͎͇̟̻͉̣̜͖̫͚̬͔̟̻̭̣Ṟ̵̢̹̥̪̝̪̤͇͎͜͞O̻̯̝̥̲͉͘͞R̨̡̛͉̞̗̝̻̭̹̹͉̣̳̫̮͍̙͢:͟͝͏̝̼̥͖̗͙̗͕͙̥̝̝͖̞̱͍̞̫̟͘ ̵̕҉̵̭̜̻̮̜g͙͔̬̹̯̺̝͎̗͈̣͘͝ͅl͝҉̢͓̟͈͕͔̤͙̳͟͞o̵̸̗̹͎̯b̢̼̠͓̜̯̹̺̜͇̻̫̻̳̮͙̩̱̝̯͞a̸̡̹̲̟̭̘͈̱͔͕͔̖̞͔͚̠̪ḽ̷͉̰͍͈̯.҉̷̨͈̘̥̰̤̫̮̝̰̯͖͖̳͘̕v҉̢̜̤̤͇͓͓̳̫͙͔̫͟͜͠a̧̩͉̯̝͈̰͜r̷̷̛̰̱͇͈̣̠͙̜͍̬̙̖̟̙͓̣̬̼͘̕(̵͏͏̮̻̻̦̯̩̰̝p̵̨̠̼̗̫̠͚͕͖̗̰̺̣̼̖̝̰͝ͅͅl̢̡͙̭̜͉̙͓̱̳̥̲̲̤̣͈̠̱͇̩͎͜͢ą͇̥͚̤͎͙̻̹̖̫͔̺͚y̛̘̖̙͉̪̣͢e͢҉͘͞҉̜̻̫̪̹̝̦̺̹͈͓͎͎̭̮̣̜̟r̤̱̬̗̺͓͓͉̯̫͚̩̮͞_͞͏̺̣̬͙̪̯ņ̶̺̭͚̪̭̤̺̠͍͕͇̝͓̫̗̥͔͘a͏̢̧̘̫̠̳̝͓̤̯m̹͖͕̝̮̻͚̖͕e̶̘̰̩̙̝͔̜͙̘͖̩̣̪͘ͅ)̶̧̡҉͓̻͉̝̹͎̦͈̥͚̝̖͚̭͈̗͚̜̗ ̛̙̪͙̹̗̬̠̗͖̥͈̦̮͘n̶͍̠̤͚̟̪̻͇̤̯̲͎̣̼͇̪͉͘͝o̴̸̶̰͎̗̰̯̗t̵̢̠̦̩͇̹̭̫̬͜͡ͅ ̸̸̧͖̫͚͎̲̗̺̦͉͕͎̳͕͙̘̙̥͉͞ͅf̛̛̞͈̘̥̕͢o̵̥̺̰̟̖u̫̹̼͇̹͍̰̖̩̝̭̗̰̣̝̘̤̕n̸͡҉̦̞̳̹͖͍͔͓̪̥̲͖̠ḏ̴̢̟͙̩̳̫̻̬̪̯͙̞͍̩̟̮̥͘͢.̸̛̝͈̣̗̠͇͔͓̠̯̲͡ͅ ̨̖͈̤̜̖̤̤̱̥̞̩͟R̷̨̬̻̖̭̣̳̘̻͇̻͍͠e̴͉̱̲͘͘͟s̺̦̝͖͘͜e̛҉̮̗̦͔̣̝͕̯̘͔̟̳͖͙̠̥̺t̮͕͖͎̟͉̭͠ͅt̴̞̹̳̙̬̬̳͓̙̗̬̭̟͎͙̮̞̰̕i̗̯͙̖̯̹̗̦͈͉͚̙̺͠͠͡͞n̢͕͙̘͉̠̭̝̯̯̦̲̜̦̜̜̝͡g͢͏̱̩͓͕̭ ̶̨͍̭͓̮̝͚̕̕i̵̡̡̕͏͔͓̺̪̤̙̝̲̹͓̫͉̘̞̱̱̝n̴̸͚̳͕̼̝̦͕̘̼ ̷̞̰͙̞͇̻̬̫̗̭̪͕͎͙͘͝͞1̧͕͉̰̗̙̮̫̯͓͡͝0̵̴̘̮̜͚̺̫̪̩͚̙̼̞͟͞͠
͏̨̝̥̩̱͚̩͉͎͈̲͔̟̳̪͇̹̤̥9̕͟҉͞҉̻̻̙̬̣̻̳
̶̶̢͍͖̝͙̻͚̻̺̯̰͍̖͝8̴̧̢̲̮̘̙̺͙̞̫̮̼̗̗͇̠̬̪͠͠
̷҉̜͖̜̮̭̯̥͉̞̯̝̣͓̻̕͘ͅ7̵͘͜͏̱̻̦̲̣͍̙͕̺̝̗̰̺
̡̛̛̘͔̪͇͍̬͓̦͉͓̰̻̬͓̞͍̰͘ͅ6̹͙͔̩̰͖̥͕̙͖̝͍͎͕͢͜͞
͡͝҉̸̤̤͇̼͎̘̦̲͞ͅ5̷̢͈̭͔̤̘̣̥̙͕
̶̵͚̖̞̹̺͈̤̯̤͘4̛͕̳̱͍̯̙̯̰̣̺͍͕̘̥͉̳͟
̶̨̨͈̻͉̟̰̮̩͇͝3̢̦͈̩͈̪̘͟͝
҉̶̤͚͍̞̬̠͍̫͚̳̬͚͚͕̻̣͢͝ͅ2̴̙̮̰̥̼̜̺͘͠
̯̙͔̩̰̪͇͚͜͡1͟҉̛̟̤̖̩̳̤̝̪̜͇̰͓͘ͅ
̙̫̯͈̝̻͎͔̺̫͎͟r̛̫̬͝ͅe҉̷̛͎͎͈͕͚̘̦̗͔͠͞ͅs̵̶̨̬̗̺̦͎̳̦̩̰̟̙̮̼̼͚͝͡ͅe̤̹̳̺̰͕̮̲̹̺͈͜t̷̙̞͖̩̙͙̝̼̻̳͡;̛̩̯̻͈̬͓̖͜