A/N: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge at the AMF, C23 – write an alternate ending.

Saving the Suicide Club

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The needle piercing her ear awoke her and she screamed. A long, loud scream. But no-body reacted. Nobody except Saya who held her. Everybody else was holding hands and lining up on the roof. Slow and deliberate. Almost like they were being controlled by some larger force.

Mitsuko…

They were being controlled by Mitsuko. Except Saya. No, even Saya. She was being controlled as well. She was Mitsuko.

Kyouko looked up and met Saya's eyes.

It was Mitsuko who spoke. 'Kyouko…I like you.'

Those weren't Saya's eyes any more. Even her body…was no longer hers.

'I'm going to make you…mine.'

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They took the call like it was an ordinary one and it was, for them. Because working for the police meant that calls that put lives at stake were a commonplace. But that didn't make it easier. Never easier.

Someone was asking them to save others. Or, if her words were to be taken at face value, she was asking them to save her. Only her. But that didn't matter. If they knew lives were in danger they'd try to save them all. That was how they worked. How they wanted to work.

How real life often didn't let them work. But they tried anyway. Because they were honest, passionate people that would eventually break under the strain of all the lives they couldn't save, and the relief from the ones they could wouldn't save them from that. But they weren't there yet.

They would still try and save everyone.

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Kyouko struggled. She tried to worm her way out of Saya's arms but she couldn't do it. Mitsuko's grip was too strong. Just one arm was holding her in place. The other was fiddling with the needle again. Piercing again. Kyouko only let out a whimper this time. No-one was going to listen to her scream any way.

'Almost done.' It sounded like Saya's voice. Deceptively so. But it wasn't Saya. Saya wouldn't be doing this. Saya's blades…

A tear squeezed its way past Kyouko's eyelashes. Saya's blades were always cutting her own skin, and hadn't Kyouko wished a thousand times that they'd cut her instead, anyone but Saya's crying body.

But this wasn't a blade, and it wasn't for that reason, for that pain. It was a needle – a needle imprinting the mark of Mitsuko on to her earlobe. A mark…that all those girls lined up on the roof were bound by. A mark that was spreading: through these suicides, through the internet, through Mitsuko…

'Please…' Her voice was a pale, fragile thing, but still she used it. Still, she hoped it would get past Mitsuko and to Saya. To her friend. 'Please, Saya…'

Saya's lips simply twisted into a smile. 'I am Mitsuko.'

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Hurry. Hurry. The words echoed through their minds as they rushed to the school.

A phone call. A few cryptic remarks. But they couldn't let it go. If more people were going to die. If more people were going to commit suicide – Somehow, they had to stop. And people like them who fought for life had to stop it.

People like them in blue uniforms and with gold badges and black guns and batons and silver cuffs had to run. But what good did those do against people prepared to end lives? They didn't know; they couldn't answer such questions, face such things –

But someone was trusting them and they had to face such things. Someone, somewhere, didn't want to die.

And there were many people who would, if they failed. If they were too slow.

They kept running, the words echoing through their minds. Hurry. Hurry.

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Saya – no, Mitsuko – finished her work and let go. Kyouko stood up, but she didn't run. There was no point in running. The stairwell was blocked. For now, the edge of the roof was blocked too. But it wouldn't be blocked forever. They would jump, eventually. And two other girls grabbed her arms in a vice-like grip and dragged her to her feet.

Whether she wanted to or not, she would jump too. Or fall off. Or be pushed off. But what did the words matter. They all meant the same thing in the end.

Everyone linked hands. Mitsuko in the middle. Mitsuko reaching out for her. One of the girls pushing her. Mitsuko grabbing her, so she couldn't let go.

'I like you the most.' She smiled – and it was Mitsuko, all Mitsuko.

Tears streamed down Kyouko's face. She wanted Saya. Saya.

'You'll be my replacement.'

Mitsuko…I hate you! And she glared through teary eyes.

Mitsuko just smiled back, because Kyouko could do nothing. Not even die. Because Mitsuko was going to stop that. Just like she'd saved Saya from that train.

Mitsuko would live on.

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They found a body. Someone had already fallen. Or been pushed. Maybe it was the girl who'd called. Maybe it was her punishment. She was one of them anyway. One of those girls in the club. With the mark tattooed on to their earlobes.

The rest of them were in a long line on the roof, preparing. Not quite close yet.

Close enough. They'd thought of things: of mattresses, of mats. But there was no time now. No time to do anything but try and catch who they could. So many students – there weren't enough of them to save them all…

And the teachers climbing up to the roof, they probably wouldn't be able to hold everyone back either.

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The door burst open. A few of the girls at the back were caught, screaming. Voices, adult – teacher – voices were yelling. Telling them not to jump.

But the first row was already over the railing. Mitsuko was dragging Kyouko. Smiling. Holding her with that single impossibly strong arm. Pulling her close. To Saya's body, smelling strongly of Saya even though it wasn't Saya's mind, heart and soul behind them…

'One…and two…and…'

And then they were falling. Saya, Kyouko and those girls – that first row. The rest of them couldn't do it. Kyouko could see. The teachers had gotten through. Blocked the rest of them.

She was going to die. Saya was going to die. But at least some of them would be saved.

But Mitsuko will just strike at them again…

But no. There was something at the bottom too. Specks of black – no, blue. Officers holding out their arms. Trying to catch them. Catch her.

Catch Saya! Please!

Then Mitsuko wouldn't win. Mitsuko would be stopped. Hopefully. Maybe.

They caught Saya. And her. And several others. But still there was the crunch and the splatter of other girls hitting the cement. Dying. Becoming Mitsuko's victims.

She cried in the officer's arms. Saya – no, it's still Mitsuko! – frowned. But the girls were dead or restrained. And the police were here.

Someone…stop Mitsuko. Get her away from Saya. Away from us…

Maybe they could do it. What their teacher on their own couldn't do.

Break her hold.

Post A/N: The original ending of Jisatsu Club was that the police were too late and everybody except for Kyouko, who became Mitsuko's new vessel, died in the mass suicide. But if the police did get there in time, and they had called the school ahead of time and warned them, then maybe they could have saved a few – namely both Kyouko and Saya, Mitsuko's previous vessel. Which means Kyouko wouldn't have become the new Mitsuko and maybe, just maybe, there'd be a chance to break the cycle.

Though I'll explore that little tidbit another day fic another day. :D