Chapter Text
Kyoko killed the person she loved most.
The envelope drops from her gloved hand as a sudden wave of pain flickers through her fingers. She doesn’t bend to grab it, instead holding tight to the scrap of paper between her fingertips. She reads the words again, again, again, again, but it doesn’t change what’s written there.
It changes everything.
It changes nothing.
Unlike the rest of her classmates, Kyoko chose not to read her so-called secret in the gym. Something told her it was more important to see their reactions – loud, soft, gentle, or nothing at all. Besides, whatever her paper revealed, she wouldn’t be able to remember. She can’t confirm that it’s true, but she can’t deny it either. Best to read this next clue on her own, away from everyone else, and judge whether the others correctly guessed their secret or were surprised to see it revealed, to file those clues away for later.
(Makoto and the others think this new motive won’t lead to murder, but Kyoko knows better. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she does. Someone else will die. Their mastermind knows them well enough for this, and they seed motives intended to get under their fingernails. This, too, will—
Her fingers fill with pins and needles. She drops the paper.)
Kyoko’s brow furrows.
She brings a hand to her forehead.
Her head aches.
“Onee-sama?”
As she reaches up, her fingers refuse to stretch out, instead curling like a monkey’s paw.
What?
Her eyes snap open.
An unfamiliar bedroom sprawls before her, but it’s not the most important thing right now. She draws her hand down to cradle it against her chest, but as she does, she notices that it isn’t…. It’s not….
She lowers her head and stares at her hands, covered with dark red skin that stretches and wrinkles and roils along her hands, lapping and overlapping, like stretched taffy in the shades of raw meat. In the center of one hand is a smaller, harder scar – a white circle that seems to come from a through-and-through wound, like getting stabbed with a knife or shot with a bullet. As she stares at it, that circle throbs, and she squeezes her eyes shut, taking deep breaths until the pain passes enough that she can focus on something – anything – else.
Kyoko licks her lips. Her eyes slowly open again. On a nearby table, she spies a pair of black gloves. Her lips purse together, and she reaches for them.
Without thinking, Kyoko cradles her hands to her chest again. She steadies herself, then looks up at her reflection mirrored poorly in the steal covering the outside window. One hand reaches out to the black ribbon in her reflection’s braid and just touches it.
Tears pool under her eyes.
She doesn’t know why.