Himiko woke to a sheet of ink-dark hair falling in front of her face and an apologetic smile. The fan was still humming in the corner, blowing warm air over her exposed leg, practically hanging off the bed. The window was open, letting in the sounds of traffic outside. Blinking in confusion at the unfamiliar girl leaning over her, Himiko slid her leg back under the sheets.
"Sorry," the girl said, chuckling softly. "I, ah, didn't realize my brother had company." Himiko's face reddened, and she sat up, tugging nervously at the strap of her tank top. Korekiyo's arm was still curled around her waist, and he was frowning in his sleep. Probably dreaming about his latest research project, the dork. There was still a smear of cranberry-colored lipstick on Himiko's jaw from the night before, and she realized too late that the sister could probably see it. She lifted a hand to cover it, trying to act natural.
"I'm not his girlfriend," Himiko lied, hand still clamped to her face. The sister raised an eyebrow, taking a small step back. She had the same piercing golden-brown eyes as Korekiyo, and Himiko immediately felt foolish.
"Of course you're not. I was just coming to wake Korekiyo. We're expecting visitors soon, so I wanted to make sure he was up."
"Oh. Oh, sorry. Um, I should go then," Himiko muttered, starting to extricate herself from Korekiyo's grip. "Sorry." The sister's gaze dropped to the way his hand tightened briefly against Himiko's hip before letting go, and Himiko's face burned hotter. She had enough money to take a bus home, probably, from what Korekiyo always slipped into her bag when he thought she wasn't looking.
"No, I wasn't trying to kick you out," she assured, meeting her eyes again. "You can stay if you'd like. I'm sure our grandparents would love to meet such a...good friend of Korekiyo's. He's always been a bit of a loner, you know."
"If you're sure. I wouldn't want to impose at all..." Himiko's hand dropped from her face enough to flutter nervously in the air, and the sister (they really did look similar, wow, almost like twins) shook her head with another barely stifled laugh.
"Please, stay as long as you'd like. Just...perhaps don't mention that you spent the night, hm?"
"I can manage that," Himiko agreed, a smile spreading slowly across her face. She ran her fingers through her sleep-mussed hair and took a quick glance back at Korekiyo, now sprawled out even more across the bed, mascara smudged under his eyes.
"I'm making breakfast if you'd like some. Do me a favor and make sure he gets up before too long, okay?" She started towards the door, then paused halfway out of the room, turning to look at Himiko again. "I'm Miyadera, by the way."
"Yumeno Himiko. Nice to meet you." And just like that, Himiko became a fixture of the Shinguuji household, waking up in Korekiyo's room and chatting with Miyadera over coffee and never truly thinking, even when she was signing the Danganronpa paperwork, that this fragile joy would end.
A year or two later (who could tell, really, when time slipped by so fast?), in a very different bed in a very different room, Himiko once again woke up to an unfamiliar woman looking down at her, smiling awkwardly.
"Himiko, you're awake," she said, sounding so relieved it made Himiko's stomach knot up uncomfortably. The nurses had warned them that it might take them a while to recognize people they used to know, and that specific memories may never return at all, but knowing that and actually experiencing it were two very different things.
"Um, yeah," Himiko replied, sitting up with a grimace and leaning back against the wall. She was still covered in little bruises and scrapes, more sore than she'd ever been. "Sorry, but who are you?"
As soon as she asked it, she processed the woman's appearance enough to realize why she almost looked familiar. That long, dark hair, falling to her waist. Those unnaturally golden eyes, sharp enough to feel like they were staring right into her soul. The tall, angular frame, gorgeous enough to be a supermodel. Himiko's stomach clenched tighter, and her hands balled into fists.
This stranger looked undeniably like Korekiyo Shinguuji (good riddance, rest in pieces). The stranger bit her lip, hesitating like she was worried Himiko wouldn't like the answer.
"Right, sorry, they warned me that you might not remember. I'm Shinguuji Miyadera. You...well, you were my brother's girlfriend." She shifted from foot to foot, expression pained. "I thought...I mean, I knew your father wouldn't show up, and...Korekiyo would want me to be here for you, I think. He'd want someone to be here for you."
"No," Himiko said. "No, you're lying, you have to be." She'd figured, once Tsumugi told them everything, that Korekiyo's crazed ramblings about his sister had probably been made up like everything else, but still. He was still the monster that had killed two of her friends, still the only one she'd waited to see die with something approaching excitement. She shook her head, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. "You're lying."
"I'm not," Miyadera said delicately, taking a seat beside her bed. "If you want me to go, I will. I understand that this might be a lot to take in, after how the writers chose to exploit him."
"Prove it." It felt like her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. Miyadera nodded, fishing a cell phone out of her purse.
"As you wish," she said, unlocking the phone and handing it over. "He had plenty of pictures of the two of you."
With shaking fingers, Himiko took it, tapping on the photos app. Almost immediately, her gaze landed on her own face. A sleepy smile, an arm around Korekiyo, an unfamiliar park in the background. Himiko swallowed roughly. As she kept scrolling, intermixed with other things, there were more and more pictures with her in them, just as promised. Her and Korekiyo on a million different occasions, in a million different places. Some with Miyadera in them too. Some of just Himiko, playful, candid shots that suggested the person who took them wanted to savor every glimpse of her. They didn't look faked, and there were so many of them. What would anyone gain from faking something like this anyway, saying that someone she'd grown to hate so much was actually someone she loved?
Hands acting on their own, Himiko closed out of the photos, going instead to his voicemail. There were several old messages saved from someone with the contact name Himiko (with a heart emoji next to it, she thought she was going to be sick). Hugging her knees to her chest, she selected one at random, lifting the phone to her ear. Her own voice floated out.
"Hey, uh, I guess you're still sleeping. I went to the store with Miya. Call me when you wake up if we're not back yet, mmkay? Wanna hear your voice. Love you."
Even if the pictures could have somehow been faked, this couldn't. Himiko let the phone drop to the bed, drawing in a harsh breath. She had too many questions and wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers to any of them.
"How long?"
"Huh?" Miyadera looked confused for a moment, then realization came over her face. "Oh. You were together for a couple of years, friends awhile before that."
"Oh." All she could think of was a murderer burning. Who was this person she had loved? Silence stretched between them for awhile before Himiko spoke again. "Korekiyo is dead."
"Yes," Miyadera agreed.
"He's dead and I'm alive. Why don't you hate me?" Himiko's heart was pounding in her ears, so loudly she couldn't even hear the reply. She'd been drawn to Korekiyo, almost, before how horribly things had ended. When they were preparing for the seance, he'd hugged her and told her everything would be okay. What had that been? The influence of a buried memory?
"Why don't you hate me?" she asked again. "He's dead. I wanted it. Korekiyo's dead."
"It's not your fault." Miyadera wrapped her arms around her, and Himiko started to cry for the first time since the killing game ended, feeling the ache of exactly what Tsumugi had done to them all.