Archive of Our Own

Were Leon Kuwata still alive, Togami thought as he leafed through the pages of a book, he would probably have to thank him for committing murder.

Or rather, he would have to thank him for committing such a brainless, ill-planned murder. At first, when they’d come across Maizono’s bloodstained body propped up on the bathroom floor, he’d been angry. First kill was an incredible advantage, one he hadn’t intended to lose—there would never be a higher number of possible suspects, and he could take full advantage of the sense of betrayal within the group. How could any of us do such a thing? Who would resort to such a cruel act?

Togami smiled.

Still, Kuwata taking first kill had provided him with an even greater advantage; he now had firsthand knowledge of the workings of a trial, the rules Monobear had initially withheld, and, most importantly, who he would need to watch out for at those trials.

Most of all, though, Togami was grateful to Kuwata for indirectly providing him with the library. Opening new doors with every trial was a powerful incentive, and Togami was more than willing to exploit that. No doubt the killings would start again soon, now that Monobear had threatened to release their secrets to the outside world. Togami had his own plan ready, just waiting for the victim to be lured in. Now it was just a matter of patience: would Togami have to make his move now, or would someone else snap under the pressure and give him another round of practice before the main show?

It is believed that Taro Bank’s failure was due in part to corporate embezzlement on the part of its senior directors, led by chairman Daisuke Suzuki…

The information hidden in this library, behind closed doors that were far too easily opened, was worth the Togami family’s fortune in gold. Criminal records, under-the-counter deals, sordid tales of swindling and infidelity—the list went on and on. He just had to commit every possible piece of it to memory. When he won, he could take it back to Father.

Finally, he would have something to make his family proud.

It was on that note that the door to the library swung open. Togami reflexively tucked his reading under his jacket—this information he wasn’t eager to share—and scowled over towards the door. For a moment he thought it would Fukawa standing there, but instead it was Oowada who pushed the door the rest of the way open and shouldered his way inside.

“Hey,” he said, and nodded to Togami.

Togami rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed right now was some semi-illiterate oaf taking up space in his library. Oowada hardly looked like he wanted to be here either—he kept darting glances towards the open door, and his hands were shoved as deep into his pockets as they could possibly go.

Togami tucked his book farther under his jacket. “I want you to leave,” he said flatly. No point in beating around the bush with a gang leader, let alone one as moronic as Oowada.

“Eh?” Oowada twisted around to look at him, face turned down into an angry frown. “What’d you say, bastard?”

“Are you deaf?” Togami settled more comfortably into his chair, his elegant posture a deep contrast to Oowada’s slump. “I’m sure that bike of yours has done absolutely nothing positive for your hearing, but it can’t have degraded that quickly. There’s nothing here for you, so shoo.”

Unfortunately, that last jab had the opposite effect from what Togami had intended. Oowada relaxed at the insult, almost chuckling at Togami’s words.

“Relax, relax,” he said. “I’m just here looking for a motorcycle manual, yeah? I’ll be totally quiet, I promise. You can just read your book and pretend I’m not even here.” Oowada’s smile darkened into a toothy leer. “Unless you’re reading something dirty, that is.”

“Don’t judge me by your own perverted morals,” Togami snapped. He pulled his book out of his jacket—no sense in hiding it, really. It wasn’t like this idiot would have any idea of its significance. “And anyway, if you expected a library such as this one to cater to your interests, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. ”

“No harm in looking, right?” Oowada moved to the back of the shelves, directly behind Togami’s seat. He’d hoped, baselessly, that having the idiot out of his line of sight would help him to relax. He could still hear Oowada shuffling back and forth, though, rifling through books, and even occasionally whistling an off-key note or two.

After a single moment too long of Oowada’s version of ‘quiet’, the biker finally spoke up.

“Did you mean it,” he asked, “When you said you were going to kill someone?”

Togami sighed. Trust the idiot to ask such a question. It seemed even gang leaders weren’t immune to pointless sentiment these days.

“Yes,” he replied shortly, pointedly staring down at his book. “I am going to murder one of you, and I am not going to be caught.”

In 2009, another blow struck Taro bank’s overseas department…

“You know,” Oowada said, “Any halfway smart guy would watch his back if he started throwin’ around half the fuckin’ empty threats you’ve been making.”

Togami clenched his hands around the book, then slowly released the pressure. No point in destroying good literature over a pointless outside annoyance.

“What? You think you can kill me?” Togami laughed. “This game we’re playing… it requires far more than your brute muscle. The intelligence it takes to pull off a successful murder in this environment is something you could never even hope to understand. You don’t have your gang behind you here, Oowada. Do you realize that?”

For a long moment, Oowada was silent. Togami had just begun to hope he was going to leave when he spoke up again.

“You really think it’s smart to spout that shit alone in a room with me?”

Now that was amusing. “Now who’s the one with empty threats? The door to the library is open. Everyone knows I am spending the day in here. With the amount of students in this building, and the amount of time they spend aimlessly wandering the halls, at least one of them will have seen you heading this way. Not only that, but if I were to scream the others would come running in only a moment. You’re an idiot, I know, but surely you can’t be enough of an idiot to get away with a murder here.”

“Who said I want to get away with it?”

Togami paused. Something in that sentence was wrong, subtly but frighteningly. There was none of Oowada’s usual bravado in that statement, none of the posturing and barely constrained anger that Togami had come to expect from his speech. Just a simple statement of fact: who said I want to get away with it?

Togami turned in his chair, maybe to read Oowada’s facial expression or just to scoff at him better. Whatever his intentions had been, they dropped out of his mind in the next second, because that was the exact moment Oowada lunged for him.

Togami scrambled backwards, trying to jump away, and Oowada caught his wrist instead of his neck. It didn’t seem to stop him, though—he simply pulled Togami forward by his arm, grinding the bones in his wrist together and using his other hand to lunge for Togami’s throat.

This can’t be happening, Togami thought as he tried to pull himself backwards, out of Oowada’s reach. His right hand was gripping the edge of the table, the only thing that was keeping Oowada from simply pulling him backwards and wringing his neck. He knew he should cry out, scream for help, but his throat felt tight. Swollen.

(In the distant part of his mind that wasn’t preoccupied with fighting for his life—the part that made him a true Togami—he noticed that there was something wrong with Oowada as well. His expression was strangely blank; there was no anger, no desire to kill. Just a strange sort of resignation.)

Oowada jerked him forward one last time, twisting Togami’s left wrist as he did so, and Togami heard a sickening crack, felt the bright flash of pain all the way down his arm. His right arm slackened, losing its grip on the table, and Oowada pulled him forward. He scrambled for purchase at the table as Oowada dragged him, hoping for something, anything to help him.

He found it.

Oowada reached forward with his other hand, wrapped his hand around Togami’s throat and began to squeeze. Just as he felt his hand start to tighten, Togami brought the desk lamp up and smashed it against Oowada’s face.

“Fuck!” Oowada stumbled backwards, letting go of Togami. Togami hit the floor, gasping for breath, trying to crawl away with one good hand.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

For a second, Togami looked up. Oowada had glass shards embedded into his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, and blood was already starting to drip down his face and pool on his chin.

And with, that, Togami finally screamed.

---

The next few minutes were a blur.

He remembered himself screaming—high and wordless and never-ending—then, a little later someone else screaming.

“Oh my God! Sakura-chan! Sakura-chan, come quick!”

He remembered arms, even stronger than Oowada’s, picking him up, cradling him as if he were a child. He remembered being brought downstairs, every movement jolting his injured wrist and making him moan. He remembered a babble of confused voices—high and low, angry and frightened, and everything in between.

“Is Oowada-san..?”

“What’s going on?!”

“Asa… wh… you see?”

“It cou… no!”

“Who started... fight?”

“Brother! Is he…”

After that, he remembered only darkness.

---

Togami woke up in a bed that smelled of cheap perfume. He stretched slowly, feeling the starchy sheets crinkle beneath his weight, then stopped as a bolt of pain shot through his wrist at the movement.

What was going on? His hand hurt, his neck hurt, his head ached, and this wasn’t his room. There was a memory pressing at the back of his consciousness, but he was still too drowsy to grasp it.

“Ah, Togami-san! Are you awake?”

Togami cringed. Why was Ishimaru speaking to him? More importantly, why was Ishimaru in the same room as him?

Togami propped himself up on his good arm, turning to get a good look at the room around him.

It was… plain. Obviously not his own, and probably not Ishimaru’s either, if the lavender sheets and trashcan were any indication. But other than the color scheme and the slight floral scent hanging in the air, there was no indication of personality in the room’s owner. Either the student living here didn’t care to decorate their room, or they simply never had time to.

Togami turned his gaze to Ishimaru. The boy was sitting in a wooden chair next to the (open, Togami noticed) door, his back ramrod straight and his arms placed neatly on his knees. His stare was focused on Togami, but it was missing its usual intensity. Ishimaru looked almost…nervous. Togami hadn’t though the idiot was even capable of such an emotion.

“Where am I?” Togami asked, trying to keep his voice level. “What happened?” Gingerly, he smoothed his good hand across the bandages on his wrist (broken or sprained, he couldn’t tell) up to the aching spots patterned across his neck and down across the tension in his ribs. He felt raw and bruised, and in some distant part of his brain he knew he should be paying more attention to, alarm bells were ringing.

Had… had they caught him? Was this some sort of impromptu trial? Togami wouldn’t have let himself be caught, was far too smart for that, but the wounds on his body and the ragged gap in his memory led to a conclusion he preferred not to entertain. Almost subconsciously, his he glanced down at his pillow, before remembering he wasn’t in his own room.

“You and I are in Maizono-san’s room at the moment!” Ishimaru barked, his voice, as always, a few decibels above a normal speaking tone. Togami scowled; at least he made other people uncomfortable on purpose, not just because he was too socially incompetent to do anything else. “Or, well, Maizono-san’s former room, anyway…” Ishimaru frowned. “We were going to take you back to your own room, but Kirigiri-san pointed out that you might not welcome us in there while you were unconscious. It is terribly impolite to enter another’s home without permission, after all!”

Togami couldn’t think of any way to respond to that without completely parting ways with his dignity, so he elected to ignore Ishimaru. Instead, he closed his eyes and did his best to think back to the night before.

Had it been the night before? Just how long had he been out?

Togami gritted his teeth. Pointless worries like that would only make it harder to concentrate. He pressed down against one of the bruises on his collar, forcing his brain to reach back. He remembered the library. He remembered hands like paws, big enough to drag the air from his lungs. He remembered breaking glass.

Togami opened his eyes. “What. Happened??” he asked again, his voice a snarl.

“Ehehehe…” Ishimaru slid his gaze to a point somewhere above Togami’s head. “Well, I, um… Kirigiri-san!” He suddenly called loudly, leaning his head out the open doorway.

After a moment, he could hear the soft tread of Kirigiri’s boots down the hallway. She stepped into view a moment later, standing in the doorframe. Her gaze flickered over Ishimaru, then locked onto Togami. Her returned her stare, and for one long moment the two kept eye contact.

Togami gritted his teeth. “What is going on?” he demanded. “I wake up to find myself in some unfamiliar room, with bruising all over my body and someone appointed my keeper.” He worried the edge of his lip with a tooth, tension and anger boiling inside him. “I demand an explanation.”

Kirigiri took a few steps into the room, until she was standing at Togami’s bedside.

“What a coincidence,” she said, staring down at him. “That’s what I had come here hoping to find.” Togami was used to being the taller of the two of them, glaring down at her dismissively over the rims of his glasses. This whole business of looking up at her wasn’t agreeing with him at all.

“If you’d like the facts of the case,” she said, “I can give them to you. I doubt Monobear will be supplying a file for this sort of case.”

“Absolutely correct!”

All three of them jumped, though Ishimaru was by far the most startled—he nearly fell out of his chair in surprise. Monobear was standing in the doorway, grinning his split-open grin and just generally looking incredibly pleased with himself.

And Togami had thought his day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Upupu,” the creature giggled, “It’s truly an unbearable tragedy! I was all set to start writing up my case report for the benefit of the rest of you students… but then you had to go and ruin it all! Screaming like a lamb to the slaughter! Ruining my trial before it even started!” Monobear’s expression darkened abruptly, and he wagged one clawed finger at Togami. “Honestly, depriving your headmaster of such high quality despair… I’m beginning to think you just don’t care for me at all.” He turned his back on the three of them, shoulders slumped, and sniffled pathetically.

“You’d be correct,” Kirigiri murmured.

Togami wasn’t listening.

Now that Monobear mentioned it, he remembered screaming.

He remembered screaming and panic panic panic and blood running down the bridge of Oowada’s forehead and into his eyes as the man roared like a beast in pain.

“Oh,” he said faintly, leaned over, and vomited over the side of the bed.

Or, well, tried to anyway. He’d spent the entirety of the previous today in the library, not even pausing for food, so his stomach was completely empty. All that his body could manage to expel was a sour hint of bile that hung in his mouth, making him want to gag even more. He retched again at the taste, gagged, and fell to coughing so hard he feared his lungs would come up.

“Togami-san!” Ishimaru yelped, and stood so quickly he nearly upset the chair again. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he panted, feeling anything but. “I’m perfectly fine.” His hands shook.

“I’ll, um…!” Ishimaru glanced nervously about, clearly unsettled by his inability to do anything to help.

“Ishimaru,” Kirigiri interjected, “Would you please go over to Kuwata-san’s old room? I’ll be able to guard Togami-san from here on out, and I’m sure Oowada-san would find your presence very comforting right now.”

Guard, she’d said. There was something unsettling about her choice of words, but Togami was in no shape to dwell on it.

“Ah,” Ishimaru said, visibly lighting up at the suggestion, “Of course! What a wise idea, Kirigiri-san!” He paused for a moment and bit his lip. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, though, taking this duty on your own?”

“Of course,” she said, with a small but confident smile. “I’ll be alert, I promise.”

Ishimaru nodded at that, and practically sprinted out of the room; going to visit his ‘sworn brother’, if that conversation was any indication.

Idiots.

He was suddenly aware that it was only himself, Kirigiri, and Monobear left in the room. He could imagine less desirable company if he tried, but it was a difficult task.

“Upupupu,” Monobear chuckled, breaking the silence that had been permeating the air, “And now it’s only two young students, left alone in a room together. What sordid activities could such bright young minds get up to together? What XXX-rated extracurriculars could transpire? It doesn’t bear even thinking about!”

Both Togami and Kirigiri very pointedly ignored their headmaster; that, at least, was one action they could agree on. Instead, Kirigiri had apparently decided that the best use of her time was staring at Togami with an aggressively bland expression on her face. Togami glared back.

“Well?” he snapped.

“Would you care for a glass of water?” She asked, perfectly calm.

He wanted to scream at her. She wasn’t supposed to see him like this, pale and weak and shaking. His self-control was slipping, and it was only the knowledge that it would make him look even more pathetic that kept him from upending the bedside dresser. Breathe, he told himself. He was in control. No matter what else happened, he must always stay in control.

“Yes,” he said finally, mindful of the sour taste in his mouth, “Do that. You should find some way to make yourself useful, yes?”

She didn’t bother to respond to his jab. He and Monobear both watched as she disappeared into the attached bathroom.

“You know,” Monobear said thoughtfully, “In a way, this is better, isn’t it?” His crimson gash of an eye was facing Togami, emotionless and cold. “Don’t you agree? Watching you bastards try to readjust to normal life with an attempted murderer in their midst… it’s pure despair, don’t you think?” Monobear giggled, paws clasped over his muzzle. “Oh, I can feel the excitement building within me! I hope you manage not to disappoint this time, Togami-kun!”

And then he was gone.

Damn bear, Togami thought wearily.

So he wasn’t being suspected, after all; his plan hadn’t failed. That had to be a good thing, right? But at the same time, he felt… frightened. It sounded pathetic to admit, even just to himself. But he’d never expected to be the target of a murder inside the walls of this school. In the outside world, sure; he was the heir of the Togami Corporation, after all. He’d been the target of sabotage and assassinations attempts than he cared to count. But they’d been impersonal, businesslike—poison slipped into his drink at a party, threats from hired thugs—not a fellow student strangling him in the library. People had tried to murder Byakuya Togami, the corporate head before. No one had ever tried to kill Byakuya Togami, the person.

The sound of the tap stopped, and a moment later Kirigiri returned. She handed him the glass of water, and he wordlessly drank it down. It was amazingly soothing, even beyond getting rid of the taste of bile in his mouth—he hadn’t realized just how sore his throat was.

“So,” Kirigiri said once he’d set the glass down on the nightstand. “Would you like me to tell you the details, now that you’re feeling better?”

“No need,” Togami replied. “I remember now.” He wished he didn’t. Though at least now he wouldn’t suffer the indignity of needing Kirigiri, of all people, to give him information.

“Hmm. In that case, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me?”

“Eh?” For a moment, Togami’s concentration slipped; he looked up at her, baffled. Was she taunting him? But no, under Kirigiri’s omnipresent blank expression, there was something approaching curiosity. Togami recognized the expression from when they’d first come across Maizono’s bloodied body in the shower: there was a mystery, and she wanted to solve it.

“Here’s what I know.” Kirigiri grabbed the chair Ishimaru had been using, dragged it over to the end of Togami’s bed, and took a seat. “First, yesterday evening around seven o’clock , Asahina-san heard screams coming from the library. She entered, and immediately after began to call for Oogami-san. She and the rest of us came upstairs with her. When we entered, we saw you on the floor, screaming and in obvious pain, and Oowada-san leaning against a bookshelf, also screaming and in…even more obvious pain.” Togami remembered the shards of glass embedded in Oowada’s skin and tried not to wince. “You both suffered serious though not life-threatening injuries, and neither of you seems to have any good reason as to why. So please, tell me.” Her calm demeanor slipped; her voice had grown cold and aggressive, and she was leaning towards him with a look of intense focus. “What happened last night?”

In that moment, everything clicked into place. “You think I did attacked first.” Togami’s mouth felt dry again.

Kirigiri just stared at him silently, never breaking her gaze.

“You think I tried to murder Oowada-san last night? Do you think I’m stupid?” Togami could barely keep himself from bursting into laughter. This was too much. “With witnesses absolutely everywhere, in the one place I was known to spend time, you think I decided it was a good idea to attempt to kill him?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. You’re not nearly as intelligent as you believe yourself to be, but you’re not stupid either.”

“So what, then? A psychotic break? A fit of passionate hatred? Possession? Please explain to me my motive, Kirigiri-san, because I’m completely at a loss myself.” He smiled at her, angry and amused all at once.

Kirigiri sighed, and the tension drained from her pose. “No,” she said, “I don’t believe you intended to murder Oowada-kun last night.” She shrugged. “He’s already confessed to trying to kill you, anyway; I was merely hoping to confirm that the scenario he put forth was indeed correct.”

Apparently, she was an even greater fool than he’d thought. “You know,” he said, “I’d almost been impressed by your powers of deduction in the case of Sayaka Maizono’s murder, but I can see now that my initial impression was entirely incorrect.”

For a moment, Kirigiri’s expression changed; she looked wildly, overpoweringly angry at his words. In only a split second, though, she’d settled back into her normal expression. Togami was left wondering if he’d even seen it correctly.

“You’re probably right,” she said calmly. Too calmly. She sounded self-satisfied rather than defeated or embarrassed, and there was a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose I was just curious as to what an entirely innocent man could possibly be doing with a knife under his pillow.”

Togami froze.

She couldn’t have—

He patted down his pockets frantically, searching for what he knew should be there.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Kirigiri said, and pulled an ID card and set of keys out of her coat pocket. “I suppose I should return this to you, shouldn’t I?”

Togami didn’t even need to turn the card on. He did anyway, though, glancing down at it just long enough to confirm the name on it was his and the number on his key matched his room.

It all made sense, suddenly. Why would they put him into a strange room while he was injured, rather than his own bed? Kirigiri-san pointed out that you might not welcome us in there, Ishimaru had said. More like Kirigiri’s investigation wouldn’t welcome them.

“You…” Togami spat, trying and failing to think up a word foul enough to describe her. “You cheater!”

He wanted to take the words back the moment they left his mouth—they sounded childish, spoiled. But it was true. He’d been clever, he’d been discreet, he’d been perfect in his planning. And yet Kirigiri had waltzed in, taken advantage of his injury and his unconsciousness and dismantled everything he’d planned with nothing more than a sentence.

“And anyway,” he snapped, “It’s a letter opener, not a knife.” He was bristling with anger, ready to lunge at her throat but for the knowledge that she could probably take him in a fight.

“Oh, well that makes sense, then. I expect you have a lot of mail coming in.”

“It’s for self defense.” Stupid, stupid. He was reaching, and they both knew it.

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow, focused her gaze on his bandaged wrist. “I can’t imagine what good it did you from under your pillow.”

“In the same vein, I can’t imagine what good it would do me in a murder attempt from underneath my pillow.”

“Which is why you’d move it, I expect. It was tiny enough to slip inside your coat easily. You’d have to go after someone trusting enough that you could get close to them, though, and frail enough that you could dispatch them with a single strike. Those two criteria rule out most of the student body.” She pursed her lips. Kirigiri was only half talking to him, he could tell; the other half was off in a world of deductions and evidence and discoveries. “Fujisaki-chan, then? Naegi-kun?”

Togami kept his expression perfectly flat, but nevertheless something in his eyes must have given him away. “Ah,” Kirigiri said quietly. “Poor boy.”

“I didn’t know you cared so deeply for him, Kirigiri-san.” He hissed out the last syllable, tossing the honorific out like a curse.

“Not him,” she said. “You. If you’d gone through with this plan, the only thing awaiting you would have been failure and death. You should thank me for saving your life, Togami-san.”

“What, you don’t think I’m the sort who could kill a person? Is it my looks, my position in life, my personality?” He adopted a mocking, airy tone. “Oh, poor Togami-kun, we never thought he’d do something like that. He was always such a good boy, always at the top of his class. I’m sure he must be innocent...”

“No,” Kirigiri said. Her eyes were flat, emotionless. “I believe that you could kill someone, Togami-san. I know what sort of man you are.”

He remembered a hand closing over his wrist, dragging him up, pulling and twisting until his bone gave way.

“I just don’t believe,” she continued, “That you’re the sort of man who could look himself in the mirror afterward. You talk about killing and manipulating and surviving like you’re above it all, but deep down… you’re human as well. Even if you refuse to admit it to yourself.”

He could lure Naegi to the sauna, under the pretense of wanting to talk without surveillance. Bring the letter opener and stash it in a locker beforehand. Go early, hours early, so no-one would see them enter together—no one would question Togami’s absence from the group. Then, when Naegi arrived, distract him, guide him into position, then strike.

Strike, and watch Naegi crumple and fall. Watch the life bleed out of his face as he looked up at Togami. He would beg, maybe—or no, probably not. Naegi wasn’t the sort. He would just stare up at the ceiling as Togami pushed his body into the sauna, tied something heavy to it (him) so the body (Naegi, Naegi’s body) wouldn’t be found.

Naegi wouldn’t beg, Togami thought. Instead, he would probably stare up at Togami, eyes wide with shock and a little bit of curiosity and ask him a question.

“Why?”

Damn it. Togami’s breath had sped up without him even noticing; he was pulling in huge gasps of air, each breath feeling like all the oxygen had fled his lungs. He didn’t feel panicked, or afraid, just… distant. Resigned.

Kirigiri was watching him expressionlessly. “I can always discern guilt, Togami-kun, whether it’s found in the evidence, the victim, or the culprit themselves. Yours is written all over your face, and you haven’t even murdered anyone yet. What makes you think you could succeed in hiding it from me?”

“Get out,” he snarled, clawing his hands into the bed. “Get out get out get out.” Now he was angry again, white-hot rage boiling up inside him. He hated Kirigiri for staring at him and condescending to him and making him feel someone else’s death. This wasn’t in the plan.

She stood without a word.

“I’ll return soon,” she said, then turned and left. Part of Togami’s brain noted that she hadn’t bothered to lock the door behind her. Still, he didn’t move for a long time, until his breath came normally and he could release his grip on the sheets. Then, exhausted, he turned over, buried his head in the cheap pillows and starchy covers, and drifted restlessly into sleep.

Togami dreamed of committing murder.

---

He was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder.

Togami gasped and snapped awake immediately, leftover adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He jerked upwards, trying to fight or flee or something, but the pain in his ribs and wrist stopped him almost immediately.

“Whoa, hey, sorry!” Naegi jumped backwards, his hands held in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise.”

When Togami didn’t respond, he relaxed his stance and smiled.

“I really am sorry! I just didn’t know how to wake you up. Probably should have just called your name or something, I guess…” He laughed weakly and scratched at the back of his head. “You probably shouldn’t put your weight on your wrist like that, though,” he added. “I think that’s not supposed to be good for it, and I don’t think I really splinted it that well in the first place.”

That, at least, caught Togami’s attention. “You did this?” he asked, looking down at the dressing on his wrist.

“Well, Oogami-san helped a lot,” Naegi replied, “Since she knows about injuries just from personal experience. I honestly didn’t do anything that vital, really. But I was the one who made the splint, yeah.” He paused for a moment and laughed nervously. “I, er, was in the animal-rearing back in junior high. They taught us basic first aid there, to use on injured animals. I was the one who pulled the glass out of Oowada-san’s skin, too.”

Togami took a moment to consider that. Fifteen of the country’s most talented students, pulled from every aspect of human achievement, and the best they could do for first aid was Naegi. “That’s…honestly pathetic,” Togami said, very nearly at a loss for words.

“It is, isn’t it? It would be better if we had a Super High-School Level Nurse or something useful like that.” Naegi, bit his lip. “Although that would be probably be a pretty silly title, wouldn’t it?”

“Says the Super High-School Level Good Luck.”

Naegi laughed.

Togami looked down at his bandaged wrist. He’d never admit it, but his knowledge of first aid was even worse than Naegi’s. (Though, he thought to himself sarcastically, if they ever needed theoretical knowledge on open heart surgery procedures or how to relieve intracranial hypertension, he would definitely be useful.) Still, though, the splint at least looked functional enough, and Togami had a sneaking suspicion that he’d be in quite a bit more pain without it.

“Hmm,” he finally said, grudgingly, “With this sort of medical treatment, I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose the use of my hand entirely.” He took his weight off his injured arm, though, and Naegi smiled as though he’d just been thanked instead of insulted.

“Anyway,” Naegi said, and the smile dropped off his face, “Kirigiri-san asked me to come get you.”

Of course, he thought. She was probably trying to subtly punish Togami, hoping being around Naegi would make him feel some form of remorse. He wondered if she was planning to tell the others of his plan—probably not, as that would complicate matters further. She wouldn’t want to create a situation she couldn’t control, after all. So for now it was only himself and Naegi, and the unspoken fact of murder between them.

Togami hated this school.

“What could she possibly want with me?” he asked, trying not to let Naegi see how confused he felt. Surviving a murder attempt wasn’t very good for his thought process, apparently.

“Well, it’s not so much Kirigiri-san who wants you. It’s Oowada-san. He… well, he says he’d like to talk to you.”

---

Inside, Togami was screaming. He didn’t want to see that disgusting oaf, not now and not ever again, didn’t want to have to stand in the same room as the lump of muscle who’d tried to kill him not even a day ago. He was hungry and weak, and all he wanted to do was go back to his own room and scream until his throat was raw.

Outside, Togami was smirking, hands folded in front of him and his glasses pushed up on his nose. He’d had to lean on Naegi once or twice to get to Kuwata-san’s old room, but now that he was inside and around witnesses he wasn’t going to show any sort of weakness.

Oowada was sitting on the edge of Kuwata’s bed, hands folded across his lap. They hadn’t restrained him in any way—Oogami’s presence in the corner of the room was a prison stronger than any pair of handcuffs or steel cage. He glanced up for a moment, then quickly lowered his head. It was long enough, though, for Togami to notice the multitude of bandages plastered across his face.

Along with the group he expected: Oowada, Oogami, Kirigiri, and, of course, Naegi, there were also a few others in the room. Ishimaru was kneeling in a corner, his face turned towards the ground and his cheeks red—Togami wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d just never left this room after Kirigiri sent him away from his. Next to him, hugging her knees to her chest, was Fujisaki. She’d looked like she was either about to cry or had only recently stopped crying. (Knowing her, it was very likely both.) A few feet away, Asahina was sitting cross-legged next to Oogami, her nervous expression in stark contrast to Oogami’s perpetually calm one.

There was no sign of Yamada, Celestia, Hagakure, or Fukawa. (Togami was especially grateful for the latter’s absence; knowing what he knew, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay composed in her presence.)

“Hey,” Oowada grunted, for all appearances intently examining his socks.

Togami’s heart very nearly beat its way out of his chest.

“Hello, yourself,” he replied, looking down at Oowada dismissively. “Do you have something meaningful to say, or all we all just going to stand here staring at our respective footwear until we collectively rot? I’ve no doubt you’d all consider such a thing a productive use of your time, but I, unfortunately, actually have better things to do with my life.”

“Togami-san!” Ishimaru protested. “You shouldn’t speak so rudely to others!”

Oowada cut him off with a wave. “Nah, nah, I definitely fuckin’ deserve it.” He sighed, and finally looked up to meet Togami’s eyes. Togami immediately wished he hadn’t said anything, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the first to look away.

“I just…shit, man,” he said. His eyes flickered to the blue-black marks lining Togami’s throat.

“Very eloquent.”

“I don’t even know what the hell that means.” Oowada tugged nervously at the side of his pompadour with one hand. “I’m not going to say sorry or anything lame-ass like that, because there’s no way a sorry makes up for what I tried to do to you.”

“Brother…” Ishimaru murmured with a small sniffle. Fujisaki whimpered softly.

“What was your motive, if I may ask?” Kirigiri, of course. “I have my suspicions, but it would be better to hear it from you.” Of course she had her suspicions. Kirigiri was probably suspicious of her breakfast every morning.

Oowada went slack, his very posture conveying brokenness. Normally, Togami relished seeing that reaction in those who opposed him; it was the greatest part of acquiring a new contract instead of his competition or finally taking control of a rival’s business. Here, though, divorced from its usual context, Oowada’s self-loathing and shame just looked…pathetic.

“I knew I was going to try and kill someone from the moment I heard what that fuckin’ bear was up to,” he said, his voice low and rough. “If my secret gets out, it’ll destroy my gang. They’re like my family, y’know? I… I fucked over my only real family. These guys are all I have left. No matter what happens to me in this place, I just don’t want them to lose faith in me. Not that I deserve their trust, but…” Oowada gritted his teeth. “Shit. I try to cover up one murder by committing another. I really am the lowest of the low, aren’t I? I wanted to act like what I was doing was okay, like I was more than a murderer.” He looked up at Togami. “That’s why I picked you as my victim. I kept telling myself that it would be okay if I killed you, since you kept going on about hurting others. What a joke. I kept thinking I’d be protecting everyone else, when really I was just trying to keep my guilt away. I’m so weak, aren’t I?” A horrible laugh bubbled out of his throat, wild and humorless. “All I do is lie and kill and lie and kill and lie and kill… I’m so weak!”

They were all silent for a moment after Oowada’s words. Kirigiri, Togami noticed, perked her ears up at the mention of covering up a murder; Togami had to admit he was interested in that little fact himself. Oogami was her usual inscrutable self, and the rest of the group just looked horrified.

They don’t understand, do they? We’re all living with murder every day of our lives here, and yet they refuse to admit it as a possibility.

Then again, was he any better? He’d planned and prepared for his very own murder, but until yesterday he’d never really considered what the act itself would be like. He’d carefully considered every moment before and after: acquiring the weapon, hiding the body, misleading his fellow students, even what his final line to the rest of them would be in the moment before he graduated. He’d thought about every aspect of it except for the one that mattered most. Had he ever truly considered how killing someone would have felt?

And when had he started thinking of this murder as a ‘would have’ rather than a ‘will’? There was no moment he could think back to where he’d first lost his resolve, but nevertheless it was gone. Or maybe he’d never truly had any in the first place. All he felt right now was anger, at both himself and every other person in this miserable place. He’d never felt that before: they were pawns to be used, and there was no point in feeling any sort of emotion about lesser beings such as themselves. Now, though, he looked around the room and all he could see was fellow human beings. Human beings he loathed with every fiber of his being, to be sure, but humans nonetheless.

Suddenly, Fujisaki spoke, snapping Togami out of his reverie. “Oowada-kun,” she said, her voice hesitant, “I don’t really understand everything you’re talking about right now, but I don’t agree! What you tried to do was…” she bit her lip and buried her hands into the fabric of her skirt. “It was really, really terrible! But, still, I admire you a lot, Oowada-kun. I think you’re very strong.” She squirmed nervously, blushing, and her next sentence came out in a rush. “Much stronger than me! My secret doesn’t sound nearly as important as yours, and yet I keep holding back from revealing it. Uuu…” Tears began to well up in her eyes. “If anyone here is weak, it’s definitely me!”

“Why argue over the title of weakest? I say you’re both weak.”

Most of the room’s occupants objected to that, loudly; for a moment Togami was afraid Oowada was going to try to pummel him again. He cut them off with a wave of his hand and let his smirk drop off his face.

“We all are, aren’t we? Three of our number are already dead, and instead of working to prevent further killings we all just bury our heads in the sand.” Or plan them ourselves. “If we want to prevent further casualties, we need to be suspicious.”

“Isn’t that a really pessimistic way of putting things, Togami-san?” Naegi frowned. “I think that if we want to get through this, we need to trust each other instead of constantly being at each other’s throats. Er.” He stopped when he realized what he’d said. “I didn’t mean it that way, I promise!”

“If nothing else, your idiocy is certainly at a Super High-School Level.”

“Hey!” Asahina frowned. “Don’t insult Naegi-kun like that! Just because he’s not all nasty and rude like you doesn’t mean he’s stupid.”

“No, the fact that he’s stupid means he’s stupid.” Dammit, he was trying not to pointlessly aggravate everyone right now, wasn’t he? Togami snapped his mouth shut.

“Anyway,” Asahina said, shooting Togami a dirty look. “I agree with Naegi. We can’t work together if we don’t start trying to trust each other.” She looked upwards for reassurance. “Right, Sakura-chan?”

Oogami was silent for a long moment, tracing a callus on her palm as she thought. “I… I am not so certain myself,” she said finally. “I do not wish to spread distrust among our ranks or prevent us from working together, but I also see the benefit in caution. I would not have expected such violent acts from either Maizono-san or Kuwata-san, and yet…” she trailed off. “All I am saying is that desperation can make people disregard their honor, and we would be fools not to recognize that.” She smiled softly down at Asahina. “I would not wish to see you harmed as the result of my carelessness, after all.”

“I agree with Oogami-san,” Kirigiri said. “Monobear’s time limit on revealing our secrets will come very soon, and,” she glanced at the camera in the corner of the room, “I’m sure he’s monitoring our conversation. He’ll be trying harder than ever to entice us to murder.”

They were all silent for a moment.

“If—if that’s what it takes, I’m willing to reveal my secret!” Asahina balled her fists and looked around the room with fire in her eyes.

Togami stiffened—he certainly wasn’t—and several of the room's other occupants shared his reaction. He was about to open his mouth in protest, but Naegi cut in first.

“I’m not sure if the best idea, really. I mean, my own secret’s more stupid than anything else, but it’s like Togami-san said the other day—just because our secrets aren’t a big deal, doesn’t mean other people will feel the same way. If we act like we’re trying to pressure everyone into telling their secrets, it might just make everything worse.”

Togami thought of the secret Fukawa had confessed to him and shuddered inwardly.

“But then what is it we should do?” That was Ishimaru, exuberant as ever. “I can’t condone murder, but I also cannot smile upon the keeping of secrets between classmates!” He folded his arms and frowned. “It certainly is a puzzle, isn’t it…”

“I think it might just be best to leave the telling to Monobear himself.” Kirigiri looked to be deep in thought. “If we pressure each other into revealing knowledge we’d rather not give, then it only serves to creature deeper tension between us. If it’s Monobear who shows such information, then the only one we have to blame is him.”

“I think that’s a good idea. And…” Fujisaki blushed. “Well, I’m not so comfortable revealing my secret just yet, but,” she ducked her head and blushed. “I think it’ll be okay, even if Monobear does tell everyone. I’m tired of worrying about things I can’t change.”

Asahina threw her a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit, Chihiro-chan!”

“So we are in agreement, then?” Kirigiri spoke softly, her tone commanding and confident. “While I certainly don’t want to suspect anyone in this room,” her gaze flickered to each of them in turn, “Or outside of it, I think by now we’ve realized that Monobear is a far greater foe then we imagined. His greatest power isn’t in his ability to seal the school off or the weaponry he controls; it’s that he makes us turn against each other.”

Oowada nodded. “I fucked up big time,” he admitted, “But I’m not going to try any of this kind of shit again. Even if it hurts my gang, it’s not worth killing someone else.”

“And I’m sure Oogami-san would be willing to keep an eye out, yes?” Oogami nodded in agreement at Kirigiri’s words. “Please do remember this: if you are tempted to commit murder, you shouldn’t think of it being worth your life if you fail to deceive your fellow students. Instead, ask yourself if it’s worth the life of twelve innocent people should you succeed.”

There was a long silence after Kirigiri’s words.

“Anyway,” she continued finally, “I don’t have much else to contribute here, other than a reminder to stay alert.” And with that, she turned to leave.

They followed her out in ones and twos—Asahina hanging off Oogami’s arm, Ishimaru and Fujisaki doing their best to support the much heavier Oowada. Togami made sure he was the last to leave, but to no avail; Kirigiri, arms folded, was waiting in the hall for him as he stepped out of the room.

“What is it you want now?” he snapped.

She watched him carefully. There was something indescribably odd about Kirigiri; the way she moved, the way she talked, the way she stared without blinking—they all contributed to making her seem just a tiny bit off. Togami wasn’t even sure anyone else noticed anything, but he could never stop thinking about it whenever she was around. “I just wanted you to know,” she said, “That Oogami-san won’t be the only one watching. Right?”

“Leave me alone,” Togami snarled, and stomped off down the hall.

---

Togami was hungry, but he didn’t go to the cafeteria after leaving Kuwata’s room—more human contact was the last thing he needed right now. Instead, he headed straight for his room.

Kirigiri’d at least had the good sense to look the door behind her, and as he walked into the room he couldn’t feel a little bit impressed despite himself. He couldn’t see a single thing that looked out of place—even his pillow was in the exact same position he’d left it in. He walked over and checked underneath it, just in case, but the letter open was gone.

Togami fell onto his bed with a sigh, ignoring the wrinkles it was sure to leave in his suit—the thing was horribly rumpled already, anyway. Above all else, he felt old, like he’d aged twenty years in a single day. He wasn’t even sure what emotions were running through him.

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, and tried to collect his thought. Kirigiri’s speech didn’t really mean anything, surely. She’d taken him by surprise by catching his plan, that was all. He could recoup, wait for suspicion to die down, and try again. A Togami never gives in, after all.

He could drive the point of the blade through Naegi’s throat, (he’d have to wear gloves, of course, to keep the blood from staining his hands or clothes) a single strike to send him toppling down and drive the light out of his eyes—

“Dammit!” Togami slammed his fist against the soft surface of the bed. He wasn’t supposed to think about the actual act—it was all about the benefits, not how he chose to achieve his goals. His father had taught him that much, at least.

And yet…

Togami felt like he was going to scream, or maybe try to throw up again. He didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. The rules he’d followed in his old life weren’t working here. Why had he ever expected them to? He gnawed on his fingernail furiously as he thought. It was the others’ fault, right? Acting so sappy, talking about hope and trust and cooperation like this was some sort of team building exercise. They were his enemies—nothing more, nothing less. (As if there could be anything less.) It was as simple as that.

His greatest power isn’t in his ability to seal the school off or the weaponry he controls; it’s that he makes us turn against each other.

“Shit.” Togami ran his hands through his hair, grabbed fistfuls of it and tugged until he felt like his whole skull was going to come off. He didn’t want to listen to Kirigiri—she was the one who’d beaten him, and even if there were no witnesses besides the two of them, it stung more than he cared to admit.

But… he didn’t want to kill any of them. Not anymore. He knew he should want to; it was the straightest path to his goal, and therefore he should be throwing his entire being into it. But the foolish goals the others held—holding out for rescue, breaking their own way out, destroying Monobear instead of each other—were sounding more appealing by the minute. He’d never met these people before in his life, and yet they felt strangely familiar to him. Like old childhood friends he’d forgotten about over time, only to finally meet again. It was a silly, bizarre emotion, but nonetheless it made it impossible for him to think about them as nothing more than insects.

Fine, Togami thought. He’d play along with their plans. But if they try to get me to join in their optimism-and-friendship club, I’ll gun them all down myself.

(And of course, if it turned out to be a tactical error, he could always abandon the idea. The thought strengthened him. It wasn’t him growing soft, it was just…an alternate battle plan. Of course. That was all. He could put his efforts behind such an idea.)

With that thought in his head, Togami stood up, shook the most obvious wrinkles out of his suit, and walked out of his room. The teamwork could wait until tomorrow. Right now, he needed something to eat.