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Himiko closed the door behind her with a sigh, grateful to have gotten through the day without having a run in with any crazed fans or paparazzi. It was a simple afternoon out with Angie, nothing extravagant, but simpler outings had been ruined. In the months since the conclusion of Danganronpa 53, the public attention didn’t seem to have waned at all. A pessimistic part of her was beginning to wonder if it ever would.
Before she could spend too much time focusing on that roiling pit of doubt, a voice called out from the direction of the kitchen. “Himiko? That you?”
“Yeah, hi, Gonta,” she called back, slipping off her shoes and jacket before venturing deeper into the house. Angie had already wandered off somewhere, leaving her alone to face whatever injected that uneasy tension into Gonta’s voice.
“Can you come here? Gonta thinks you should come get Kiyo. Or...not Kiyo?” His voice wavered slightly. Combined with what he said, that definitely wasn’t a good sign. Himiko suppressed a groan and headed for the kitchen.
The wide, brightly lit kitchen rarely found itself empty. With sixteen people in and out of the house, several of whom had an outsize interest in cooking, eating, or both, it was to be expected that the kitchen acted as the heart of the home. At the moment, that heart was dismally tense, occupied only by Gonta—who was giving off the impression of cowering despite his hulking frame—and a Shinguuji, leaning against the granite countertop and playing with their hair. The moment Himiko entered the room, Gonta’s face lit up.
“Himiko,” he repeated pleadingly, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and the black-clad figure by the counter. Their back was to her, but she already had a sinking suspicion of what she was walking into.
“What’s the problem?” she asked anyway, a futile exercise in hope.
“What’s the problem indeed?” Sumire answered, turning to face her. “How pathetic. I only told this great fool that if he failed to apologize for letting some of his insects loose in the house, there would be consequences he might not like. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” she continued, directing that last question to Gonta. Her prettily made up face, all blood red lipstick and flawless skin, was drawn into her usual icy smile, seething with barely-concealed malice.
“Gonta didn’t mean to let them out. And the bugs weren’t going to hurt you,” he ventured cautiously. Himiko couldn’t tell if it was fear of Sumire’s reaction or uncertainty about how to address her. Probably a mix of both. “They just wanted to say hello, really. Gonta will be more careful.”
“How unfortunate,” she lamented, straightening up to turn and take a look in the freezer. “Will you be more careful about eating the last of the ice cream too? Korekiyo lets me out so infrequently, and you seem intent on spoiling the occasion every way you know how. I’m certain you don’t want to cross me again, lest I butcher you like a—”
Himiko didn’t let her finish, grabbing her arm with a confidence she didn’t truly feel. The freezer door closed heavily. Sumire turned on her, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
“Are you taking his side?” Each word was enunciated as sharply and precisely as a knife on a cutting board.
“I, well, I just don’t think this is worth your precious time, right? I’m sure he won’t do it again, so let’s just get out of here, huh?” Korekiyo’s body had grown familiar to her in recent months, including the bony arm she had in a vise grip, but all the minute differences of Sumire’s presence in front still threw her off-balance, powerless to do much but attempt to usher her away from Gonta as quickly as possible.
“That eager to get me alone?” Warm breath ghosted against her neck, followed by the press of lips and the sharp, stinging graze of teeth. “Last time must have left quite the impression on you.”
Himiko sighed again, but didn’t stop dragging her along until they were in the upstairs hallway, hopefully not in earshot of anyone else who might be around. “Why do you do that?”
“Bite you?” Sumire asked in amusement, making heat flare to her face.
“No! Well, that too, I guess, but why are you always so mean to people? They’re starting to warm up to Kiyo a little bit; they could like you too if you tried. You don’t have to fulfill the role Team Danganronpa wrote for you.”
“It’s really very simple, dear. It’s about control. Most things are.” She didn’t elaborate which part of the question it was in response to, merely reaching out and stroking Himiko’s cheek like she was a pet. Her fingers trailed down her jaw and onto her neck, sharp nails brushing over the already-fading bite mark.
“There’s something deeply wrong with you.”
“That goes without saying, doesn’t it? And yet you love us anyway.”