Summary: Sanity clashes with insanity in some of the strangest places. In this case, it's over a jug of milk.

Warnings: Spoilers for some things up to and including Chapter Two, a bit of dark stuff, very much Koizumi-centric, oneshot.

Author's Note: This fic was posted to my Ao3 and Tumblr accounts, along with the rest of my SDR2 fics, some time ago. I am posting this alongside another (shipping) fic, just to gauge the activity/size of the SDR2 fandom over here.

Clash

Sometimes, strange things happen.

Sometimes, you find yourself in a weird situation, like when you've just discovered that your English class is missing from the usual room (on that note, here's a hint: They're probably in the library). Sometimes, you manage to forget something that should have been really obvious and ever so easy to remember – like when you're working on something, you put down that pencil for a moment, and – auugh, where did it go? And then, sometimes, both of those happen at once, leaving you lost, confused, with that odd feeling that you honestly know what you're doing, and maybe wondering if you shouldn't be getting your brain checked up.

But such things eventually pass; the weird situation sorts itself out, or the good guy sorts 'em out, and you'll remember where you put that pencil, eventually (or someone else will remember for you, either way). Mahiru Koizumi, the heroine of this story, knew this full well; though of course she was always prepared for the strangeness, she still kept her cool whenever odd things happened (which was often, considering the bizarre natures of her friends). It was all going to be all right, it was just a trick of the mind; once it had passed, it was all gone, all safe. If it hadn't just been a trick – well, maybe she'd have started blaming higher powers, gone into the occult or something, gone insane…

…and now, let us quickly recap the general idea of Super Dangan Ronpa 2: Koizumi, also known as Little Miss Rationality, now finds herself stranded on a desert island with fifteen (at best odd, at worst psychotic) strangers, with no memory whatsoever of the last two years of her life, and under orders to kill her peers, before they all butcher each other.

Orders that have, by the way, been given by a stuffed teddy bear that can't seem to decide what its face is supposed to look like.

'Uh–oh' doesn't even come close on this one.

Koizumi deals surprisingly well with things at first; stalking about with her head held high and shoulders thrown back, a shining example of discipline without being too nasty; she sorts out every fight, helping out everyone from the mostly–sane Hinata to the nasty Saionji. Helping, after all makes the plain girl feel much better about herself and her situation, makes her feel much more confident, as though she is above those who require her aid (and she is, isn't she?). She's respectful still, but she does change – she slowly becomes more… aggressive is the wrong word, try pedantic; order becomes more and more important to her. People begin to respect her, or so she thinks – Souda even takes a leaf out of her book and coughs up enough courage to try and enforce order himself, even if all he did was boss the Token Lawful Good Muscle Guy around. Life's good, for now – after all, if she's respected by more people, she's got far less to worry about; people won't kill those they respect, surely. And so, the girl stays sane, never losing her head, not in the trial, not during the execution, never.

But then, one fine day, a day with a clear blue sky and not a single annoying Mono–thing in sight, Koizumi's sanity takes one hell of a hit.

The first attempt to give breakfast to a disadvantaged, surely needy (if slightly insane) young man ends in all of about twenty seconds; that day, Little Miss Order meets Chaos, loses its grip, and ends up running away, biting back a scream as she nearly trips over one of its outstretched legs, the beast snickering at her misfortunes as best as it can with a loosened gag–

–and then she's out of there, leaning against the door with her chest heaving and knees shaking with exhaustion, numb fingers just barely retaining their grip on the breakfast tray. It's still cackling in there, the thing Koizumi can't even begin to come to grips with, Komaeda, Komaeda, ah – Komaeda; so pitiful yet so terrifying. Its green eyes are much like a demon's; the pupils two whirlpools of darkness in two green seas, two black holes threatening to drag the girl down, down, down into its insanity – it's a frightening thing, she tells herself, she's not a coward, she's strong, strong, strong….

The laughter eventually fades and dies, but the photographer knows full well that it's still alive, all tied up and bruised in the warehouse, her heart aching when she thinks of it; what the others did in her name (no, in Order's name) just seems so wrong, and yet so right. No, it can only be right; Komaeda, after all, is a murderer – its failed attempt at the party speaks for itself – and even neutralized, is still carries that a strong, unspoken threat about its person. In fact, only a minute ago, when Koizumi had first walked into the shed the thing was being kept in, laid her breakfast tray at its side, and their eyes met, a single thought had gone through her head, even before she'd said a word or tried to remove the gag.

What if you were going to kill me at that party?

It wasn't a nice thought; instantly, the photographer had frozen on the spot, the thing's eye had twitched a little – and at that, brave, strong Koizumi had turned on her heel and fled. She had just needed more courage back then, and now, standing outside, she raises her eyes to the clear blue sky and tries to gather it. The photographer's perfectly right to be doing what she's about to, after all – because she's so rational, so calm, collected, so responsible, she is going to bring the thing breakfast, she is going to do that, because she's strong, kind, strongstrongstrongstrongihavetobestrongmustbe

strongihavetobestrongforeveryoinefacehimfacehimfACEhIM–

After a brief pause, during which she takes one last, heaving breath, she turns and walks back, shaky footsteps echoing on the porch as she hesitates outside the place he is being held in. Rationality dictates that if she doesn't do this, he could die, and then she (and, indeed, the others) would all be convicted of murder by that ridiculous Monobear. But her instincts; ahhh, her instincts – she can tell that her knees are shaking, and she gulps. This guy is so dangerous, so influential; surely, if she comes into contact with someone so insane–

noiwillbestrongstrongstrongstrongiHAVEtobestrong

The door creaks in a sudden gust of wind, making Koizumi jump; not that high, but just enough to unbalance her, cause the milk to slop over the edge of the tray, white spattering on the grey plastic. She shivers a little, but moves closer to her target, the only thing in the barren room cleared of furniture, praying that the door won't slam; there's no way to tell whether it will or won't.

And then, she hears it. It's soft, almost ambient; the rustle of dead leaves in autumn, but still dangerous, like the shaking of a rattlesnake's tail.

"Hinata, did you know? Light isn't the fastest thing in the universe, because darkness is always waiting for it. Fascinating, don't you think?"

The thing is speaking.

"I'm not Hinata", she says to it firmly, though her voice echoes and shakes with the echoes (yes, it's just the reverberation's fault, she's strong, strong, strong!), and she takes another step forwards to prove just how firm she is about it. "I'm–"

"Ahhh, I might have known. Koizumi, then." There's something derogatory in the creature's voice, something almost poisonous."The photographer. Ahahaha… an ability almost as useless as mine, don't you think?"

"It's not useless!", the photographer snaps, hazel eyes flashing murder; she takes another step to prove her dominance, and she's pleased to see that the thing doesn't move in reply, even if that's just because it's tied up with rope. "I can–"

"–take pictures", the thing finishes; the sarcasm evident in the rasp and wheeze of its voice. "You'll need to spoon–feed me, my hands are tied."

"…Well, yes. But, but I can… do other stuff", she flounders, suddenly feeling very much unsafe in the room as she kneels next to the teenager, the walls pressing in around her, the dark curling around her. To make matters worse, the creature's voice floats about her ears as she digs in the semi–darkness for a spoon, causing her fingers to tremble, even as they brush the cold metal of the spoon.

"Ohhh, you must feel so useless. It surely takes a tremendous hope to keep you alive…"

"Shut up", Koizumi whispers, sitting up bravely – at last, her shaky hands have found a grip on the spoon, and something to hold has strengthened her resolve, a little like a small child's favourite stuffed toy. She's the one feeding the beast here, not the other way around; she's in control–

"What was that?" Green eyes glitter greedily as the photographer grimly focuses on the thing before her, white teeth flashing in a macabre grin; the sight almost unnerves her, but she sets her jaw, dips her spoon into the yoghurt pot.

"I."

Lift the implement out of the pot

"Said."

Move the spoon close to the thing's head

"Shut."

Pop it into the creature's mouth, cold steel past its tongue

"Up."

Remove the thing, stare pointedly at it until it swallows, gives you that look of gratiu–

–disgust. It pouts, almost like the old Komaeda for a moment, all wimpy and malleable, even if those psychopathic eyes are narrowed slightly. "I don't like yoghurt. Get me toast."

"No. You're having yoghu–"

"No, I'm having toast", it snarls; feral eyes lighting up with an almost malicious sort of light. "Hinata would have brought me toast. He's useful. Hopeful. Helpful."

There is a long silence at this, during which she stands, slowly, haltingly, her eyes going wide. "Wh… what did you just say…?"

"Ah, I see. You like to help others to feel above them. By giving them false hope, you create your own… A manufactured hope is all that keeps you alive. My… what a shaky, fragile thing." A small, sick giggle. "So, a lucky guess… Then again, I guess that's my skill."

Koizumi turns on her heel and stalks off, refusing to hear another word

You walk into the foyer of the hotel, and there she is; in your face in a split second, a big, broad, totally fake smile across her freckled features. Koizumi's always like this, it seems; her greetings are almost too warm, in all honesty, but you don't exactly like to mention it in the face of such joy. "Ah, perfect timing, Hinata! I've been waiting ages, but no-one's showed up! Why does this always happen when you need someone?"

You stop eating for a moment, frown, tilt your head slightly. "You've been waiting…? For what?"

"You see, I was just about to go… deliver this, but…"

Is that… a breakfast tray?, you wonder, and she smiles, as though reading your mind. She waits until you blink and blurt out "Oh! Is that for Komaeda?!" before she bothers to reply, of course; letting you reach your own conclusion is something she likes to do, even as she yanks the leash you know she's got you on.

"Well, it's like we said… If we just leave him there, he'll die of starvation…" She pauses; you can taste the button press needed to continue; your slight nod and encouraging smile is all she needs. "And… how long are we gonna keep this up, anyway?"

"Yeah… It's not like we can keep him there forever…", you drawl, more to keep her talking than anything else. Keep her talking, and Koizumi can't boss you around; she's got no need to. So, you say a few little lines in between the photographer's monologue of complaining, filling in the silence whenever she pauses for breath; something in her eyes says that she's not telling the whole story, but she's probably got good reason for that.

"That's what I thought until a few minutes ago." Her face twists into a full rant mode sort of affair, and inwardly you groan.

Out loud, you say: "Mm–hmm."

"Now… Now I think I'd be okay with forever."

"What do you mean?"

"I went to visit him just now. I thought I'd be kind and bring him breakfast…"

"Oh, I see."

"And then… ugh… can you believe this?! It makes me sick…"

"Mmm?"

"It… I mean, he said he didn't like the food I brought and that I should come back with toast. Does he even understand the situation he's in?!"

What, on a tropical island where's he got all the food he could ever eat?

" Wow… that's… pretty bad", you murmur out loud, hearing the click of the button somewhere, hoping that maybe whoever's pressing that will press a bit faster. You blame the odd flashes of fear across her face on her… her… no, not her fear, Koizumi's never scared. It's just her sprite, yes, her game sprite, and whilst you've no idea where that came from, you've a hunch that you're correct in your guess.

The photographer's face brightens instantly. " …You think so too?"

Uh–oh. You've made a mistake, but there's no going back now; you grunt, lower your head, but you know there's no escaping this ridiculous mini–quest she's gone and put you on.

" So… how about you take this back to him in my place? He can't make me run around in circles… I'm not his servant, and I don't wanna be. Besides… I just remembered there's something else I wanted to do."
" …Something else?", you wonder, then wonder why you even bothered asking; she clams up the moment you say it, she's gone like the summer breeze right before a big thunderstorm.

" Anyway, thanks Hinata! I owe you one."

And so, tray in hand, you stroll off to do Koizumi's bidding.

Ohhh, if only you knew what she'd just got you into…

END

(Spooner's note: The end's dialogue is pulled directly from the scene in the game.)