Work Text:
For Rantaro Amami, life is a continuous motion. Time just keeps moving on, and on, and even though he can wish for it to stop as much as he likes it won’t stop, and he knows this.
So long as he is alive, and so long as time exists, if he keeps moving, eventually, everything will be over. You just have to keep going, keep moving, and eventually everything will pass. All the hardships, struggles, everything - they will all go away once they’re done with; and when they’re done with will come eventually if you just put one foot forward.
Time flows, and never stops, as much as he wants it to or doesn’t.
So when he falls out of a locker, and when he is helped up with a girl with blue hair and glasses, and when his memories are a blur and he can’t recall anything, he thinks, that time will keep on moving, even if he does not.
One day, everything happening here will be in the past, he tells himself, and stares up at the robots before him. Large. Able to kill him in an instant if they wished - yet, they don’t. And if they wanted the torture method, they would have already done so.
Why is that?
His mind may be a mess, but something tells him to stay calm; rational, and although he knows that usually that isn’t the normal gut instinctive thing to do (no, the gut instinctive thing to do is scream, and that’s entirely fair), he follows it anyways. He has never had this faint, quiet voice at the back of his head before with this feeling of déja vû coursing throughout his body, but he listens nonetheless.
(He thinks, and once he looks around he realizes he is the odd one out. Not just with what he can’t remember, not just with how he talks.)
(It dawns on him that nobody else reacted as calmly as he did.)
(This time, his gut does not tell him to act, nor do his thoughts as he observes.)
He didn’t expect ‘Killing Games’ to have personal areas like bedrooms, but he supposes that life is just deciding to throw one mystery after another at him - who he is, why he can’t remember, why everything feels familiar, why his body is telling him to stay calm but his mind is telling him not to.
He feels like a stranger in his body, like his thoughts and his being are two separate entities. His body, although he moves it with his own will, has instinctive movements and feelings that feel strange; foreign; and at the same time do not. It feels oh-so-wrong and not right, but not right in the sense that it is on the tip of his tongue and the edge of his finger on placing how, exactly, it is wrong. It is there and yet it isn’t present - the feeling ghosts against his mind, but he can never quite grasp it.
And his thoughts, although they belong to him, at the same time, have a lingering feeling, as if he has just drank half a cup of milk and with the same cup poured a glass of orange juice. It is like an aftertaste to something that he himself has not eaten and, try as he might, he cannot find who, what, or why that is.
But most of all, it leaves questions, fears, and things in his mind that he cannot possibly answer. It leaves feelings of insecurity and a pang of fear for who he is, and it leaves him alone in a blank empty space even though he is surrounded by fifteen other students.
But at that moment when he sits down on his bed and looks up from his pondering and his feelings of something he can’t quite name, he spots a tablet on his desk and yet another question is thrown into his hazy, unorganized (but organized enough for him to think) thoughts.
He blinks because he does not know why or what that is; because a tablet on a table was never mentioned, because it looks the same as his Monopad and said Monopad is right next to him, not on the table and he certainly did not place the new one there. It is yet another mystery and it stares at him quite ominously, as if taunting him, because it adds yet another mark on his psyche and yet another hole on his non-existent plans.
So after what feels like an eternity of just looking, just staring, he leans forward to pick up the tablet that shouldn’t inflict so much fear into him as it does, and the moment his fingertips brush the screen surface it comes to life.
The words Survivor Perk Monopad light up the screen, and a map appears, and all he can do is stare.
With shaking fingers he presses a video icon, and;
“...I get that this is probably pretty confusing, seeing...yourself like this...”
Only share this information with people you trust. How you determine that will mean your life or death.
Rantaro Amami.
He rereads it, processes it, rereads it, doesn’t, and then rereads it again. Like some sort of messed up, weird loop that he’s trapped himself in, and all he can do is follow and go with the flow.
He thinks, that moving text on a screen shouldn’t make him this dizzy; shouldn’t make him feel so afraid. He thinks, seeing himself on a screen shouldn’t feel so wrong, because it’s him, yet it does feel wrong and it almost wants him to throw up.
He wants reassurance; to know, to wake up from his weird dream that’s just begun.
He doesn’t want to know that he is a survivor; and he doesn’t want to think about the implications of what that means.
He finds that he cannot sleep and that the video hasn’t really answered anything, actually, and instead has multiplied his questions by two. No, three. No, four.
He decides a hundred times over is likely a good number.
He knows that he is a survivor, and this isn’t his first killing game. That explains why his gut is telling him to do certain things, at least.
But ‘you asked for this’?
Who would want that? Who would willingly ask for a killing game?
He lifts his hands up and stares at them - did these hands, his very own hands, bloody before?
Who was he, before his body became his own?
Just what kind of monster do I not remember?
He thinks, that, if time goes on, and if time keeps moving, someday, somewhere, somebody will find out and connect all the pieces of the puzzle to his existence; and whether or not it is him, he doesn’t know.
Time will keep on moving; keep flowing; and one day, all this will be over and done with. One day this whole ordeal will be just memories to him.
(Right?)
He awakes the next day and walks out of his room with the most steady steps he can muster.
Your name is Rantaro Amami. You are the Ultimate Survivor. Nobody must know. If they do, they will be out to kill you.
Your name is Rantaro Amami. You are the Ultimate Survivor. Nobody must know. If they do, they will be out to kill you.
Your name is Rantaro Amami. You are the Ultimate Survivor. Nobody must know. If they do, they will be out to kill you.
Your name is –
Become unreadable, he wills himself, you are the remains of a monster; you are your own person now. Don’t let anybody know. Don’t give anybody any information that could allow you to do so.
He thinks, if this brain of mine has truly gone through situations such as this, and if this body of mine has done this dance with death once over before, then let me end this game.
He cannot trust anybody, he realizes. He doesn’t even know if he can trust himself.
All he can do is keep on moving forwards, all he can do is wait for time to tick away.
(This is a path of isolation, he thinks.)
The time limit motive is announced.
The mastermind pulling the string wants to put fear in them, and this makes sense, and he hates it. He hates that this mastermind making them kill people “makes sense”, hates that he can think that thought, hates himself for thinking it, hates his past self for being in a past killing game.
He tells himself that time will keep on moving.
But he knows that, if the time limit motive is used along with the First Blood Perk, then time will go on, someone will die, and he, too, will go.
He observes his classmates. The mastermind is in this academy, somewhere. One of these fifteen students in the very room he is in is the mastermind, and he doesn’t know who.
It could be anyone. He doesn’t know anything about any of these people.
(The ‘yet’ lingers in his thoughts.)
Amongst them, one of them stands out to him. He can easily see through Kokichi Ouma’s facade and lies and sees that he uses them to protect against himself, he can clearly tell that Miu Iruma uses that arrogant front to hide a more sensitive side that is scared; afraid. He can tell that Shuichi Saihara looks at his nose and not his eyes, and that Himiko Yumeno’s tiredness is from years of keeping everything in.
He cannot, however, tell what Tsumugi Shirogane is thinking all the time.
Something seems wrong. Like she’s there, but she’s not. Every time she looks at him it feels like she hates him, and he can’t put a finger on why, exactly. Doesn’t know if that would contribute to being the mastermind. But she’s definitely off, somehow.
(She seems almost familiar, but he doesn’t know why. Perhaps it’s because she was the first face he saw when he awoke, perhaps it’s not.)
It’s as if she wants to avoid him. He deduces that, there’s a high probability that she’s actually quite petty; that she observes as much as he does even if she doesn’t appear to do so.
Perhaps she has a dislike for him and avoids him because he reminds her of someone. Perhaps it’s because he claims he can’t remember.
Perhaps it’s because she’s smarter than she looks and can see right through him like a piece of glass.
So he waits for her to leave, because it’s like those blue eyes that look innocent can stare right through him and read his every move, because he suspects she’s not quite as simple and plain as she claims to be.
(He doesn’t think she’s the mastermind because then it would be too obvious, to him, someone who was “used to these things already”.)
She steps out that door and he opens his mouth.
“This is exactly what Monokuma wants us to do...so what else is part of his plan? If my memory is, then...can I even trust myself?”
(No, he thinks, I really can’t.)
But he has to fool the others to think that he cannot remember; he has to fool them to think that he’s some sort of cryptic amnesiac because if he doesn’t then it will result in his death and hating.
“A-Amami-kun?” Saihara asks, and his eyes again, are only looking at his nose and not his eyes, “What’s wrong?”
Oh, a lot of things.
He just wished he was a regular Ultimate like the rest of these students - obtained it by some way other than surviving another killing game. Whether or not that meant killing everyone or successfully getting away with murder.
Either route is not good.
“‘What’s wrong’, he says…” his voice is bitter and he wants to laugh because everything has gone south from the day prior. What’s wrong is that he knows who he was but he does not know what he did.
He shakes his head and thinks - no. If he keeps going down this route then they will find out. He cannot trust himself but he can trust his words.
He cannot trust his past self, whoever his past self may be and the ghost he has left behind in his body, but he can trust his current selfs’ words and actions.
“Hey, I have a question. This might sound weird, but...does the term Ultimate Hunt ring a bell for anyone?”
He observes the faces of the remaining students in the room.
(Observation. The ghost of his past self seems to be quite good at that. They had the same eyes has he, after all.)
No fear, he notes. No surprise, either.
Only confusion.
So, a dead end?
Well, he thinks bitterly, time will keep on moving. He will reach the end and look back one day.
He thinks in bed, staring at the ceiling.
(The best way to expose the mastermind is when they need a spare Monokuma.)
He thinks, perhaps, with his knowledge he can put a stop to this madness before this madness goes on any longer.
He finds out that some of the people here do not share the same thought process with him.
Ryoma Hoshi says that he will give up his life for another person, that anyone can come and kill him if they wished.
“So if the rest of you want to live, I’ll hand my life over to you.”
He blinks.
He thinks, he should be panicking, but he is calm instead.
“Hoshi-kun. There’s no need for that.”
“Hm?”
“There’s no reason for that, because I’m going to end this game - I’ve already decided.”
“You’re going to...end this game?”
Oh, they don’t know. He’s got an ace card that he wants to burn up his sleeve but if he can use this information to help them all when he doesn’t know what horrible things he has done, dammit, he’ll do it.
“It’s about ending the game itself. That’s the real goal.”
“Can you...even accomplish such a feat?”
Korekiyo’s smooth voice. He wants to laugh - can he, indeed? If anyone can put an end, it’s him and his own two hands which he doesn’t know what have done before.
“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t think I could,” he laughs bitterly, emptily.
“And then how will you end it? You understand that the time limit expires tonight, yes?”
Yes, Toujou-san, he thinks, I know. It’s the game ending or all their lives ending. Too bad that any one of them might be the mastermind. Too bad he can’t say anything or else they’ll come for him.
He laughs bitterly again, “Sorry, can’t tell you. Actually, if I could, I wouldn’t be having so much trouble.”
He steels himself when Hoshi talks again - he has to make everyone stop doing what they’re doing. He has to make sure his plan works.
A shadow covers over his face.
(He has to make them afraid of him so they don’t do anything.)
(He is also scared of himself. He also cannot trust himself. They must be the same for this to work.)
“So don’t any of you go and do anything unnecessary, alright?”
He sees Akamatsu flinch. Hoshi leaves the room.
“Anyway, Amami-kun...were you being serious when you said you knew a way to end this game?”
He knows. He has an inkling.
“Not sure.”
A half lie.
“Well, even if I did have an idea, I couldn’t tell you. Can’t risk anyone interfering.”
“Okie-dokie,” Angie says, and it’s the first time she’s spoken up, “Then Angie will go pray for your strategy’s success, Amami-kun. But,” she leans in and smiles, “if you’re lying, then Kami-sama will punish you for three generations to come, okay?”
He laughs again.
It’s either he dies with everyone else or the game dies. There’s a lot on the line.
“Now that’s a threat - I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations, hm? I guess I have to do my best.”
He leaves.
He’s telling the truth, there.
He looks at the map. There is a hidden room in the library.
He suspects that he’ll have to get there to do anything. He deduces, that, the mastermind wants to go in and out without looking suspicious - and having a place that everyone can access makes sense.
He comes up with a plan.
Time will keep moving, and when the sun rises again tomorrow, he doesn’t know what state he will be in.
Kaito Momota calls for a meeting when the music begins to play.
He goes with them.
(He knows where he has to go and he knows what he must do.)
He excuses himself to the washroom. He hopes that those words will be his final lie to everyone before this is all stops.
He moves quickly, and he walks into the library through the backdoor.
(Unknowing to him, a picture is snapped.)
He moves the bookshelf.
He pauses when a camera flashes from a bookshelf, and he walks towards it. That wasn’t there before, was it? Of course, it wasn’t, and the monitors didn’t need extra cameras, so why –
A shot put ball lands by his feet.
He freezes, and his gaze slowly moves up.
(Time will keep moving, he tells himself – )
He feels pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain it hurts it hurts it hurts I can’t do anything I –
Darkness.
( – But it will not move for him.)