Chapter Text
The night feels colder since Sato passed away.
Illuminated by the prying moon and a procession of flickering streetlights, Mahiru’s path home lies smothered by endless rain. She must walk it alone. Alone like she has for months, despite Sato’s daily requests to accompany her. She always turned them down, saying ‘Sato, I can’t let you do that just for you to come back to campus’. Sato assured her she could, but, regardless of who had the last say, Mahiru had the final word. She always had the final word.
This humid evening, Mahiru holds her umbrella closer, rigid handle prodding her. Now that she’s begging the boys to walk her home, there is not a single living soul willing to do what Sato begged her for. Because not one of them understands why she’s next, the third in a string of murders. Unable to explain herself, she couldn’t push past the first line of rebuffs and couldn’t be bothered finding a way around the back. Why fight for a deadweight? For Kazuichi to scream at his own shadow? For Nekomaru’s voice to reverberate down the streets? Will Gundham’s tenuous grasp on reality protect her? How about Nagito’s frailness? Togami’s biteless bark, and Teruteru’s Teruteru? And, worst of all, Fuyuhiko—
Fuyuhiko hasn’t attended school since Natsumi passed. Mahiru should’ve followed in his footsteps. That, or accepted her friends’ offers to stay in their dorms, or let Akane carry her straight to her door. As entangled as she is, she refuses to drag any more girls down into the depths of such a senseless conflict. As alone as she is, she can’t take another Sato.
Her palms grow wet, but not from the rain blackening the school and shrouding the gate. Beyond the shroud is an insurmountable maze of buildings. No shortcuts. No reasonable detours. Cabs won’t travel a distance this short, and she can’t ask dad to pick her up because even picking up the phone is too much for a deadbeat like him. So she’ll be confined to the route she always takes. A route lacking light, with sharp turns and… And…
She shrinks away from the cold, yet no warmth greets her — only a wall.
Why can’t anyone see through her when she says it’s fine? When she says it’ll be fine? Why hover by her side a little longer as she delays her departure if you won’t do anything? Why repeatedly offer her help without ever putting their foot down? Does anybody care enough to take charge? Anybody who’s still alive…?
The door next to her slides open, almost knocking the umbrella out of her hand.
Stepping out is Byakuya Togami. No, not Togami, he must be miles away, lounging in an air-conditioned limousine. As the lack of resemblance between them strikes her, Mahiru can’t fathom how she could’ve seen Togami in any of this stranger’s features, especially in his long kempt black hair. Perhaps it’s his build, similar, but slightly too tall and too thin. Or the way he holds himself, at least before stepping out into the open. Although those keen eyes may seem familiar, Mahiru would remember a boy who dresses in the girls uniform top and skirt over pants. Are those chunky boots up to dress code? Or rainproof?
“My eyes are up here.” When Mahiru looks up, his eyes, vibrant in spite of the bleakness of this evening, are already locked onto hers. The stranger’s androgynous voice buzzes in her ears as he says, “You’re Koizumi, right? The photographer?”
Recognition shouldn’t be frightening, yet his rapt scrutiny of her face is relentless, pouring over every blink, every breath or lack thereof. Mahiru nods, eyeing the weathered umbrella in his hands. Nothing but an umbrella that’s as old as his boots.
“Oh, cool, the Togster wasn’t kidding.” The stranger chuckles, letting the door close. The Togster? That couldn’t be referring to Togami. She almost chokes on her held breath when he says, “You DO look like Wendy’s post-haircut.”
Would Togami say something as childish as that…? Of course he would, she frowns, but would he give that as a description with which to find her? Concealing a dry cough, she asks, “Did Togami… Send you?”
“Yeah! Did he not tell you he’s getting you a ‘chaperone‘?”
He didn’t. He said he ’could’ get her one after declining to walk her home because his ‘chauffeur’ was waiting for him. And, when Hiyoko asked why said glorified driver couldn't drop her off at her place, he left without elaboration.
The stranger, her chaperone, says, “You don’t look happy to hear that.”
Mahiru is a little happy. A little relieved, too. Not enough to help the bitterness go down, but that’s not his problem, so Mahiru asks, “Who are you?”
“Name’s Rinne, class 77-A.”
A girl? Rinne’s a girl…? Somehow, that makes sense, and a wave of shame passes through her for assuming otherwise. Unease foams up in its wake. Rinne’s a girl from Sato’s bracket. If only knowing nothing about her class wasn’t the norm. Sato always asked Mahiru about her classmates, so why didn’t she return the gesture? How did she never consider asking?
“I live on campus, but I’m no stranger to night walks,” Rinne says, eyes scurrying around Mahiru’s face as if searching a map. For what, Mahiru isn’t sure, but she’s thorough if she’s anything like Togami. Which she is, because he wouldn’t wait for a response before speaking either. “So… Would it be alright if I walked you home? I kinda need the money.”
“How much is he paying you?” Enough for her life? “He’s ripping you off.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m the one ripping him off—” Rinne steps through the threshold, and her umbrella is immediately undone by the initial onslaught of rain, drenching her sides. A few stumbling steps out, she opens it again. Turning to Mahiru, she gleefully wipes water off her arms as she says, “See? Not too bad. Just, uh, maybe brace yourself as you step out?”
Mahiru giggles; that’s why Rinne feels so familiar. Of course Togami would have a second friend as silly as Ibuki.
Stepping out and holding the umbrella taught, Mahiru’s heart almost tugs her backwards, deeper into the school. She almost forgot how dangerous it is to be around her. How Rinne’s also a teenage girl, like her. Like Natsumi and Sato. She treads towards Rinne, whose smile widens the closer she gets, and mutters, “Rinne, you…”
“I’m good! A little rain never hurt anyone,” she says and starts towards the gate, trudging straight through the ankle-deep puddles.
“A little…?” Mahiru echoes Rinne, tone tinged with doubt
And she responds, light as a feather, “Just a little.”
Even if Mahiru tells Rinne about the danger, she won’t leave. Why doesn’t anyone understand? How do you feel safe on campus after two murders, after the first shutdown did nothing to protect Sato? Having hopped off the footpath to avoid a pond, Mahiru catches up. She steadies her voice with a gulp and says, “You’re going to catch a cold. I’ll tell him you went with me, alright?”
“I’m not doing this for money. Won’t deny it’s a bonus, but we do gotta stick together,” she says, washing Mahiru’s protests away with a reassuring glance.
Arriving at the gate, the girls retrieve their school IDs. Rinne’s thumb covers her details, but not the absence of a photo. Can identification work without a photo? The guard raises an eyebrow as he checks it, but that’s all he does, returning it without comment. What should’ve lasted a moment longer drags into a minute as Rinne brings up the weather, unprompted. Based on their apparent delight, being a guard must be boring. At least Rinne allows Mahiru to shelter behind her, keeping their attention away from her.
The lights reflect off their umbrellas as they step out into the street. Once the guards dissolve into the distance, Mahiru asks, “Were you friends?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Though that isn’t saying much,” Rinne answers as she scans their surroundings. If she claimed she could see around distant corners, Mahiru would believe her. “Sato was always focusing on something else.”
“Yeah, she adored archery…”
“I was going to say ‘you’.” Rinne pauses long enough for her to wonder what she’s implying. “Was it one-sided?”
“Our friendship?” Mahiru’s face heats up. When Rinne rolls her eyes, the heat drops straight into her stomach, burrowing deep and seeping into her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Why are you acting so… So—”
“Familiar?” Rinne interrupts her like she’s stoking the heat on purpose.
“No, presumptuous!”
“Right, presumptuous.” Rinne doesn’t raise her voice, step away, or frown as she says, “I’ve been told that before. It’s a habit I haven’t curbed yet. Sorry.”
The rain’s thrumming heightens, drowning the flames. As often as she asks for apologies, she’s never had one offered so freely and shamelessly. Rinne’s explanation was strange, but was Mahiru too harsh? “No, it’s fine, it’s fine, really. Geez… What was it you asked?”
“Were you friends?” Couldn’t she have phrased it like that from the beginning?
Mahiru nods, but Rinne waits. And waits. Until Mahiru says, “Since middle school.”
“Oh, wow…” Reverence tinges Rinne’s voice, as if she couldn’t fathom being friends for such a long time. She bows her head, low enough to look up at Mahiru. “Condolences. We’ve all been feeling her absence, but that must’ve been… soul-shattering for you.”
“Oh, it’s not—… Yeah, but… I’m alright.”
Rinne lets out an inarticulate hum that fades as she turns away.
Waiting for her mind to clear itself of the prickling pressure, Mahiru asks, “How about you and Togami? Are you best friends?”
Rinne hoots and cackles at the mere implication. “Oh, no! No-no-no, no, we met at Hope’s Peak, and I honestly think he forgets I exist when we’re not talking. Maybe when we are, too, I don’t get a word in edgeways.”
Would Sato have said the same about her? Breathing against the cold spreading through her chest, she says, “Togami can bulldoze over anyone, huh?”
“Oh, definitely! But I get a lot out of shutting up and listening to him. The journalists are always after him for a reason, you know? Thooough I don’t think anyone’s reported that he’s at Hope’s Peak…?” Rinne holds, waiting for Mahiru to react, yet continues when she doesn’t, “Prolly struck a deal with staff. You think there’s an Ultimate Press Suppressor? Sorry, Former Ultimate Press Suppressor?”
“That might be a bit too specific.”
“Don’t think so… There’s an Ultimate Agitator, whose talent is making mobs,” Rinne says. Satisfied with Mahiru’s perplexion, she asks, “Have you seen some of the talents? Sorry, not sorry, Togami, but ‘Affluent Progeny’ isn’t a talent. How can your family be a talent?”
“Oh, you mean, like, Ultimate Princess.”
“Yeah! They even pull that for the Ultimate Yakuza!” Rinne whistles to herself, as if she didn’t trample over Mahiru’s reprieve. “Isn’t it suspicious that the leader’s son got chosen? Surely it’s not genetic.”
“He wasn’t their first choice.” Mahiru regrets her words as soon as Rinne prods her for more. “M-Maybe he was, but he almost wasn’t the next in line. His sister… She gave it up for him.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Rinne doesn’t resemble herself when she frowns.
“From her. We… We were in the same class in middle school,” Mahiru says and Rinne’s frown worsens. It makes Mahiru’s skin crawl, like someone took her face and stretched it over their own. Refusing to hear the pity she can barely stand seeing, she cuts Rinne off, “We weren’t that close. Actually, she was kinda a bully.”
“That’s still two—...” Rinne stops herself, ‘curbing the habit’, and her words sound hollow when she says, “How senseless.”
Yet they ring through Mahiru’s head.
She’s right. It is senseless. Why? Why did you do this, Sato? Why did you do this to Natsumi? To us? I should’ve stopped you. Maybe if I let you talk and I listened, I would have noticed what you were planning sooner and—
Mahiru barely registers Rinne calling out to her, a good few steps down the road, “Koizumi? Are you alright…? Why did you stop—”
“Why does—…”
Both stop. Mahiru’s hand convulses around her umbrella, aimlessly knocking droplets down around her. Trapped by Rinne’s eyes, she forces her question out. “Why does Hope’s Peak allow talents like his?”
Rinne hesitates. Despite her hesitation, she responds with an inflection sharp enough to regress her to a stranger. “Same reason they have Lucky Students? It’s not in their interest to take in what could be a Reserve Course students free of tuition, and yet.”
“But Lucky Students aren’t…”
“The dregs of society? Criminal scum?” Rinne surmises, a smile cutting its way onto her face. “Fair enough, but it’s not like other students can harm you.”
“How can you be so sure?” Mahiru lets out a tearless cry when Rinne chuckles. “Do you think I’m joking…?!”
“No! I just don’t understand why—”
There is no rain, there is no path, there is nothing but the two of them and whoever lurks in the shadows. For a moment, it’s as if Rinne can sense the shadows, and it’s not all in Mahiru’s head, but she breaks the illusion with an earnest question.
“Are you scared he’s going to hurt you?”
Yes.
Yes, but it’s not that simple.
The volatile liquid corroding her insides can’t be dread alone, but she hasn’t tried decomposing it before. It’s part resentment, part grief. What may be confusion, and a hint of denial.
Above all, it is revulsion.
He’ll get away with what he did; what he must have done. Because who else would kill her? Who else would kill Sato like she killed his baby sister? And who else will get away with killing her friends because she won’t speak up? First Sato, now Fuyuhiko—
Her friends?
Was Natsumi her friend?
When Natsumi pulled her hair to ruin her shot, or insulted her work to put her own on a pedestal, Mahiru couldn’t say she liked her, but Sato didn’t know about the times between those. Talks over lunch where Natsumi softened as the topic strayed from photography. About how Mahiru misses her mother, or how Fuyuhiko has drifted away from Natsumi because of a girl, a mutual friend.
How could Mahiru want Natsumi to die? First she was her upperclassman, then she was her brother's classmate! Even after what he did, she did not want to hate Fuyuhiko, but why couldn’t he have let it go?! Why couldn't have Sato let it—
“Koizumi.” Through rain and teary eyes, Mahiru sees Rinne’s faltering smile. With the details blurred, she swears they’ve met before. A warm hand rests heavy on her shoulder. Rinne’s tone is steady as she says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You’re sorry?! Y-You’ve done nothing wrong, I’m the one who should be—” Mahiru’s vision clears and she’s crying. “D-Dammit!”
Umbrella falling to the wayside, Rinne raises her other arm in a wordless offer.
Mahiru throws herself into her arms, her whole body aching as she unravels.
“Why…? Why, why?! Why did she leave me? Why did she have to t-throw this at me, and just die?! I didn’t want this! I didn’t want any of this…” Mahiru screams, muffled by the hug. “Poor Natsumi... Poor Sato…! Why’d I take that stupid photo? I–I want them back… I just want them back!”
Rinne cradles her head closer, entangling her fingers in her hair and holding her still. Her shirt gets wet with tears and other liquids Mahiru doesn’t want to consider, but Rinne won’t let go, shielding her from the rain.
“Is it...?” Mahiru asks after she calms a little, and Rinne releases her grip, “Is it selfish that I don’t want Fuyuhiko to hate me anymore…?”
“It’s not.” Rinne stares off into nothing. Or around the corner, into nothing. Like a dog into the night. When she speaks, it’s as if to the darkness. “He won’t hurt you.”
“H-How can you be so sure…?” This time, Rinne doesn’t laugh at her question.
“Take this with a grain of salt,” she says, a deliberate touch to every word, “But word around the block is he has a kind heart, despite being a yakuza. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s second-guessing his actions as we speak.”
Although her words makes her feel safer, Mahiru doubts that. She doesn’t understand how Rinne would know that, or why she peers around the corner as they continue their walk. Word around the block… Word around the block.
“You never told me your talent.”
“Wow, how forward…!” Rinne snaps away from the corner and turns to look Mahiru in the eyes. “I kid, but... I really am an intensely private person. Not even the forums have caught a whiff of me.”
Not an answer, but it does remind Mahiru of another non-answer she gave. “Does this have anything to do with your habit? Is being presumptuous your talent?”
“Oh, uh.” Rinne’s eyes widen, hair obscuring them as she leans away. Not used to being on the receiving end, is she? “It’s an aspect of it, sure.”
What kind of talent would include that? Evidently something social, to the same extent as Togami’s Affluent Heir shtick is? But Rinne can’t be that rich, not with how down to earth she is. Ultimate Agitator? Ultimate Socialite, Communicator? Politician? No offence to her, but her demeanour does not belong in a press conference.
“I’m not telling you what it is,” Rinne responds as if directly to Mahiru’s thoughts. “That’s the worst decision I could make while walking alone with a girl down a dark alley.”
Mahiru doesn’t appreciate being read for filth. So much so that Rinne notices and adds, “Hey, I can’t judge you for being curious.”
“Can I know why you can’t tell me?”
Rinne smiles, sweetly scrunching her nose. “Now, why would I tell you that? All it’d do is incite further speculation.”
“I’ll speculate either way, so why not make it be guided speculation?”
As if on a pivot, Rinne’s head turns to her. One second searching her face. Two seconds searching. Mahiru’s smirk spreads to Rinne, albeit with a concerned tint.
“Guided? As in you won’t get carried away? Is that a promise?” Rinne speaks without pausing for breath. When Mahiru nods, she purses her lips and examines the insides of her umbrella before relenting. “It’s because telling you not only defeats the purpose of my talent, but may also scare you.”
Scare her? Could such a friendly girl have a scary talent?
What a stupid thought. Mahiru thought the same about Natsumi. About Sato. Of course a girl can have a scary talent, she berates herself; how could she think otherwise? Look, Rinne’s a prime example. She keeps discerning Mahiru's feelings with pinpoint accuracy. As if she’s known her for months, and Mahiru didn’t notice until she searched for a reason to be scared. Yet knowing that’s her talent at play doesn’t stop Mahiru from feeling at ease, from reciprocating. She has met her before, she must have.
“If I guess, you’ll tell me, right?” Mahiru asks, and Rinne trips over her boots.
She gapes at her, both pleading for utterly different reasons. Exasperation drips thickly from Rinne’s response. “You promised.”
“I promised guided speculation, didn’t I?” Mahiru emphasises the ‘guided’, giggling.
Rinne emphasises ‘speculation’ right back. “And what part of speculation involves being told the answer?”
“The good part?”
Rinne snorts. Short and contained, lacking a smile, yet Mahiru’s beams at the acknowledgment.
“Come on, Rinne, you’re not as scary as you think.”
“You… You think so?” She asks, the weight of her own words dragging her to a halt.
“Of course! Remember what you said? Us girls have to stick together.”
Rinne echoes Mahiru, parsing every syllable as if they could be ripped away, before saying, “In a sense, yeah. I… I did say that. Or, something like that.”
The third fourth of the walk is spent by Rinne mulling over her answer. The longer she thought, the more confident Mahiru grew in her guess.
“Guess away,” Rinne says, “You have three chances.”
“Won’t need three.”
“Ooh, confident, are we?” Rinne taunts as Mahiru pulls out her camera. “Too confident?”
Aiming the camera square on Rinne’s smirking mugshot of a face, Mahiru declares that she must be the—
“Ultimate Fraudster.”
Click!
And the camera saves the moment forever. She may have wiped Rinne’s smirk clean off, but the expression was nonetheless priceless — jaw as slack as her umbrella. Dead in the shot, she was in awe.
After a few discombobulated exclamations, Rinne asks, “What the actual shit?”
“Friends with Byakuya Togami, being presumptuous and following the word on the street. It all points to one option.” Mahiru might as well bow. “Financial fraud.”
Rinne claps, strangling her umbrella. “So that’s what I get for messing with a photographer, eh? You got me. Right on the money.”
“We don’t have a Rinne or an Ultimate Fraudster in our batch, lady.”
When Mahiru arrived at school early the next day, she didn’t expect anyone except Rinne to be in her classroom. Especially not a boy denying her existence. She squeezes the bento in her hand. Rinne and her didn’t talk about much after she got her talent, quickly moving to gossip. In retrospect… If what he’s saying is true, that means Rinne changed the subject on purpose. “Are you sure? Could you check—”
“The girl openly told you she’s the ‘Ultimate Fraudster’, and you didn’t think anything of it? Hah, were I you, I’d be checking my bank account right about now.” He slams the door in her face as if he owns the place.
Mahiru hands shake as she grips the box harder. No wonder Sato didn’t like her class. Rude, entitled boys, disappearing girls. Should she ask Togami? Or is he going to deny her existence, too? It’s way too early, frankly, and yet who does she find when she enters her classroom?
Byakuya Togami.
She wants to comb his hair more than usual. Perhaps it’s the sagging shoulders accentuating his weariness, or the way his bangs obscure his eyes when he leans forward like that. He stares out the window, at the entrance below, eyes so gentle it’s unbecoming of him. Far more fitting of Rinne, her heart chimes.
It’s only when she closes the door that he looks over. “Oi.”
“‘Oi’? No ‘morning’ or ‘hello’?” Mahiru walks up to his desk, holding the bento behind her. “Geez…”
Despite sitting down, he still exerts his presence as if towering over her when he says, “Tsk, that was my greeting. Do not take it for granted. What are you doing here at this hour?”
She couldn’t help but find his seriousness silly now that she knows he enjoys the presence of not one but two polar opposites. “I could ask you the same.”
“I asked first.” His frown deepens, bags darkening under his eyes.
“I…” Why is she hesitating? “I came to give a gift to the chaperone you sent.”
“Chaperone?” Right, that’s why she hesitated.
“Oh, come on, the one you SAID you’d send! Rinne? The Ultimate Fraudster?” He doesn’t need to raise his eyebrow to indicate how confused he is. Her throat tightens as Rinne’s joking encouragement to get to school as early as possible so Togami can confirm she’s alive replays in her head. Is he trying to make her feel crazy? “Black hair, green eyes, a tomboy. Calls you ‘the Togster’?”
“The… what?” Judging by his expression, the Togster is somehow more mortifying than Hiyoko’s Mister Ham Hands.
“The Togster!”
“Is it not too early for a practical joke?”
“I’m not— Look, I took a picture of her.” She places the bento down on his desk and pulls her camera out. It’s as the photo slides and clicks into place that everything clicks together.
Friends with Byakuya Togami, being presumptuous and following the word on the street.
No photo on her ID.
Her expression is filled with such awe for someone who guessed her talent wrong. What if the awe is because of how close she got? Closer than anyone has gotten? In retrospect, she did act too close. Far too close for someone who has only heard of Mahiru through Togami’s recollections. As perceptive as Rinne claims to be, Togami is biased. He’s blunt, he has a brutally simplistic view of the world… but he’s kind. Nosy and pushy, but kind. He has his moments. Offering a shoulder to cry on, fretting over skipped meals, late nights.
Making sure everyone comes home safe wouldn’t be out of line.
Mahiru can’t help but smile.
Fraudster, huh…?
Rinne shifts to peek over the top of her camera, taking care to feign curiosity, before she turns the camera to oblige him. He looks at himself, unimpressed. “Koizumi, do you think all fat people know each other?”
“No, no, just these two.”
He sits back down. “Well, we don’t. And I’d rather you not associate me with someone who can’t understand the importance of a good umbrella.”
“Hey! Don’t be mean, they match her boots,” Mahiru says, chuckling as he rolls his eyes. “Speaking of the importance of an umbrella, you seem to be sniffly today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He squints, looking her up and down, but not at her face. Not yet. “Why are you acting so…”
“Familiar? Presumptuous?” Mahiru offers, pausing long enough for him to confirm. He doesn’t, staring blankly at her. Searching her face for something, and she knows what. “It’s because I need someone to deliver this gift to Rinne.”
His eyes drop to the box as she pats it, but he doesn’t relent, saying, “I don’t know if this Rinne exists.”
“Yeah? Well, word on the street is, she does.” And she pushes it closer to him.
Mahiru steps backwards, and sits at her desk. The fun she had teasing him slips away to apprehension because Rinne hasn’t moved. It lingers as she opens her bag and prepares for class, still too early. He’s staring at the gift. As laughable as the concept of Togami declining food is, she didn’t have a read on Rinne. Does he like food, or is it an act? It’s a bit scary, having a stranger in your class, but she already has a murderer.
She exhales as the bento box skids against the desk and opens. A begrudging ‘thank you’ assures that he does, in fact, like food, so maybe she should make this a habit.