Chapter Text
Fuuta had the same nightmare five nights in a row before mentioning it to anyone. The first two times, he chalked it up to all the stress he was under. It had been a week or so since his interrogation, and adjusting to life here came with its own challenges. The third night it happened, he was more annoyed than anything. The fourth time, he insisted that only a wimp would go crying to someone else about it. But on the day after the fifth dream, he fell asleep on Yuno Kashiki.
It always played out the same. It took place within his college dorm, though it wasn’t an exact copy if one looked too close. None of the windows or doors were present. His usual lamps and lights disappeared.
Instead, the room was lit by screens: his phone had the social media feed open, the computer monitor displayed a chatroom, and his small TV flashed with the online game he was playing. Each one was alive with messages and movevent and voices. His game was going well. He laughed into the mic and heard chatter in reply.
Then, the sound suddenly cut out in his headset. On the first night, this had brought a bout of annoyance. The latest nightmare, he experienced the sudden change with panicky anticipation. His subconscious was aware of what would follow.
Fuuta banged his hand against the headset. His eyes bore into the TV, trying to see what had happened to make the other players go silent. That’s when he realized there were no other players. They were just… gone. The second the realization hit him, the TV went black.
The most eerie part was that the power remained on – there was simply no connection to anything beyond the blank screen.
He moved to his desk, where the computer monitor flooded his face with light. The chat feed scrolled rapidly as texts poured in. His fingers touched the keyboard. The stream slowed, and that sinking in his stomach returned. He sent out a message. One by one, all the ‘online’ markers blinked out. He sent another message. The feed froze entirely.
His voice rose as he typed. He yelled to the others text back, dammit. Where the fuck were they going? They better answer him, this was stupid. They had to answer him right now. Answer him, he was begging.
Then that, too, plunged the room deeper into darkness.
His next shout caught in his throat. It was as if some grand cord had just been yanked out without warning. A small patch of light remained.
Fuuta rushed over to his bed. In his hurry, he knocked his phone onto the ground. He scrambled for it, but only succeeded in tearing a blanket from the bed as it hit the floor and cracked.
And then he was there once again. Curled on the floor, a blanket tossed over him, he clung to his phone as it displayed a fractured social media feed. A single post filled up the whole screen.
It went black.
Fuuta tried to suck in a breath. The darkness and quiet filled his lungs like smoke. He spoke to the silent phone even as it suffocated him. He cursed and yelled with whatever air he had left in him. He hoped for any sign of life on the other end.
Of course, she never replied.
He’d wake in a frenzy, gasping for air and ashamed of the moisture in his eyes. He never could return to sleep afterwards.
His mood worsened with every day he woke before the morning bell. He thought the prisoners were dodgy before – now, they practically leapt away at the sight of him coming. Still, after yet another night of broken sleep, he feared falling asleep while isolating in his cell. With much reluctance, he made up his mind to sit around the group as they milled about the common area. He hated how everyone acted as if it were just another day in their crazy lives. However, If it kept him awake through the eternally long day, he’d endure it.
A few of the others sat in a circle on the cool ground. The tables seemed perfectly fine, but it looked like they’d had some kind of game set up on the floor. He sat just outside their group, barely following the talk of first date fiascos.
“What about you, Fuuta?” He snapped his head up, cursing himself for being so close to drifting off. All eyes were on him.
“Huh?”
Yuno scooted back. She planted herself directly beside him, giving him a little nudge with her shoulder. “You got any disaster dates? I don’t know if we can top that last one.”
He hiked his mask further up on his face. “No, I’m not a loser like you all.”
At the sudden harshness, he watched the awkwardness spread through the room. Not that he cared. These weirdos desperately needed someone to bring them back to reality now and again.
Yuno alone sat unaffected. She always seemed the star of her own little show. She turned to the others, jabbing her thumb at Fuuta. “This guy thinks he’s hot stuff, huh!” She feigned a thoughtful look. “I wonder why you wouldn’t have any dating stories… a complete mystery…”
This gained her a few laughs, bringing the atmosphere back up. “Well, let me tell you what happened to me at this one restaurant…” She pushed her hair over her shoulder and launched into a story, completely returning the easy attitude to the group. Fuuta scoffed. Though, he was grateful the spotlight was off of him.
He couldn’t remember actually falling asleep. The conversation continued on as normal, but the world slowly crept out of his perception. It was a miracle that he didn’t dream. Just empty, peaceful sleep. Waking up was just as gradual. He stirred a bit, his mind far from reality. A woman’s voice came into his perception. Then a hand toying gently with his hair. She was saying something about beauty products and hair care. His breathing was deep, steady.
Then he remembered.
He flung himself upwards. He had been lying across Yuno’s practically bare legs for god knows how long. He sputtered out a stream of colorful language as he backed away from the group.
Yuno only smiled sweetly when he’d finished. “I hope it was a nice nap.”
Her round eyes were the very picture of innocence. Fuuta wasn’t going to let that work on him. He only knew a bit about prisoner 002, and it was that she knew how to seduce a man. He was disgusted for ending up in her lap, with her hands in his hair no less. He shuddered to imagine what she was trying to accomplish.
“What the fuck was that?” He adjusted his mask, having been skewed in sleep, to cover his burning cheeks. He ruffled his hair around for good measure.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” She steepled her fingers. “I was happy to help you relax.”
“I don’t need your help with anything.”
“You’ve looked like you needed the rest.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“That means you’ve looked like shit the past few days.”
He blinked. She hadn’t missed a beat; the insult sounded strange in her unbearably sweet voice.
He was grateful for the honesty, at least. It ruled out his previous fears, and saved him from a fight. He turned on his heel. “I don't need your pity or anything. I’m fine . Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Hey, I’m really sorry.”
She sounded genuine. He didn’t care. He was too busy storming out of the room, prisoners clearing out of his path.
—
He should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it. The others gave him weird stares the remainder of the day. Fuuta couldn’t tell if it was pity or mocking, and couldn’t decide which he’d despise more. At one point, Shidou approached to ask how he was feeling. He hadn’t even been in the common area earlier.
Fuuta simply shrugged him away. “I know Yuno put you up to this. Tell her to mind her own business, yeah? And you too, old man.”
“Listen, if you need anything before curfew, I really don’t mind –”
“I said it’s none of your business!” he called over his shoulder.
Curfew in Milgram was a joke. The cells didn’t lock. It wasn’t as if there was any trouble they could get into at night that they couldn’t already attempt during the day. Regardless, every night, Es made their way around the panopticon to ensure each cell had one and only one occupant. Fuuta waited for them, kicking his sheets into a pile, when he heard his name said softly from behind.
Yuno leaned against the cell entrance, silhouetted with the bars. She held something out to him. A steaming cup.
She opened her mouth, and Fuuta almost did a double take at the change in her voice. There was an odd coolness to it, like she was an entirely new person than the Yuno that’d been parading around Milgram all this time. Like she’d finally stopped performing her own personal show.
Fuuta had seen his fair share of videos of internet personalities who sounded like jackasses when they thought all the cameras had been turned off. This was… different.
“Here. It’s a special chamomile tea recipe. My mom showed it to me when I was really young, but I haven’t really stopped using it. I’ll even make it for my baby brother sometimes.”
“I’m not your baby brother.”
“Mom said it’s a good recipe to try whenever the nightmares get really bad.”
He tensed. “What?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“I’m going to call it an invasion of privacy.”
Her performer’s voice returned momentarily as she feigned shock. “Well goll-y! Someone better act quick and put me behind bars for such a heinous crime!” A wicked little smile. “Oh, right.”
She shoved it into his hands, despite his speechlessness. “I’m not forcing you to drink it. But I am forcing you to take it before Es gets here. I grabbed it from the kitchen after hours, we’re not supposed to go in unsupervised.”
“I think I’ll pass.” He stared into the discolored liquid with clear distrust.
“Mm, I guess it seems like some silly home remedy to you. I can vouch for it, though. I… I’ve needed it a lot. And it’s worked every time, so I can promise it does some real good.”
“Heh, maybe for you . I doubt it’ll do a damned thing against the same nightmare five nights and counting.” The statement was meant to criticize her gift. Seeing the change in her expression, he realized it hadn’t come out that way. “It’s fine, though. I’m fine, I mean.”
He turned his back, hoping she'd just leave already.
She stood in silence for a moment. Then, gently, “you really do think you’re hot stuff, huh?”
They both turned at the sound of Es’ boots clicking down the hall.
Yuno left with a small wave and nothing else. Fuuta hurried to hide the tea in the corner of his cell until Es had finished their rounds.
It certainly wasn’t the most delicious thing he’d ever drank, but it was better than the disgusting leafy concoction he’d anticipated.
That night he slept dreamlessly until morning, and a little later.
—
It took until lunchtime for Fuuta to catch Yuno alone. He claimed the seat next to her, forcing the others to stay well away with his glare.
He moved things around on his plate. He couldn’t quite decide what to say. She ended up speaking first, sounding back to her old self.
“You look much better! I’m glad you could sleep. My services are available twenty-four seven! I take payment in cash and card, please and thank you.” Not receiving the slightest smirk, she exhaled. “Or, for a discounted price, I could also show you how to make the tea yourself for next time.”
“Whatever. Thanks.”
“Of course! It’s not that difficult. Honestly, the hardest part is sneaking into the kitchen, but the most common obstacle is less than a foot tall, and doesn’t have opposable thumbs.” She wiggled her own thumbs for emphasis.
“Alright, you can cut the crap. Why are you being so nice to me?”
She studied him. “Do I need a reason?”
“In a place like this, yes.”
Fuuta stabbed at his food as if he needed to hunt the meat himself. Her eyes moved between him and her plate.
“I guess you’re right.” She thought for a moment. Her words had softened when she spoke next. “I suppose… it was the least I could do. You know, seeing that I owed you one. Es told me what you did in your interrogation –”
He recoiled. “That brat!”
“– how you attacked them, because you heard what they did to me.”
“Except it didn’t do a damned thing, since this place is all kinds of fucked up.” He was back to taking his frustration out on his poor vegetables.
“Still, I’m grateful. No one asked you to defend me.”
He opened his mouth, ready to tell her that the whole point of being on the side of justice was defending those without being asked. That was what any decent person should have done. But he closed it again. He was tired of giving his speech to these oblivious killers. No one understood him.
Yuno smiled. “No one’s… really done something like that for me before. I’m just glad I could repay the good deed.”
“I wasn't looking for payment, jeez. You’re the only one who thinks of everything like that.” He hadn't realized how true the statement was until the words passed his lips.
Mahiru appeared by their table. “Ah, were you going to join us in the common area?” she asked Yuno. “We were going to try and play some more games after lunch, Mikoto agreed to teach us that new one.”
“Ooh, Sounds fun! Here, I’ll walk with you.” She picked up her empty plate and started to follow. “Do you want to come along Fuuta?”
“Hell no.”
She smiled. “Alright, hot stuff. “I’ll catch up with you later, then.” They started to leave.
“Hey, Yuno–” He’d reached out, but quickly retracted his hand. “Really, you don’t need to think of everything as favors and payments. I’ve had my eye on those old geezers. Let’s just say, if anyone here helps you out in the hopes of getting something in return,” he narrowed his eyes, trying to look the role of a murderer for once. “I’ll sure as hell give them what they’re asking for.”
Yuno’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. T-thank you, Fuuta.” She waved, lost in thought, before departing.
He didn’t think he’d said anything that surprising. Everyone here really was weird.