Unable to tear their eyes away from their friend's execution, the remaining students of Hope's Peak Academy watch helplessly as Makoto Naegi is pulled away to his execution. They don't know if this is the final execution, and they don't know how he's going to die, and they don't know how they're going to cope. Naegi had been kind to everyone from the start, spreading hope. In fact, they thought he was less of a SHSL Good Luck student, and more of a SHSL Hope student.

They watch his death. They watch as the sweat drips down his face, and every trace of light leave his eyes. His hands rest upon his knees, his body tense. The watch as his desk moves backwards throughout the "classroom", and note every time he flinches when the block hits down behind him. They watch as a fake Monokuma dressed as a teacher, point at the blackboard in front of Naegi, and sway in a repetitive pattern.

Naegi wants to look, but he can't turn around. It's detention after all, and he's there for a purpose. To learn, and face the consequences. His knuckles turn white on his knees, and his hands quiver. A tremor runs through his spine, and suddenly, his whole body is shaking. His face is a mess of sweat, and fear. With knit eyebrows, wide eyes, and teeth biting hard on his lower lip, Naegi awaits his presumed excruciatingly painful death.

It's then, that he hears it. He hears the echoing boom of a block behind him, and it clicks in his mind, that he will eventually make his way underneath it and-

It sounds worse than he assumed. It sounds awful, and Naegi knows that he shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have murdered, because Togami would be able to figure it out. Togami can read him like a book. Naegi thinks about how can still remember the blood on his hands, and how he briefly wondered what it would be like to taste it. He remembers touching his crimson hand to his lips, and tasting the metallic blood of his classmate.

Closer, he's getting closer, and he's praying, to whatever God there is to save him, and he feels his body shaking from the block's reverberation. Knowing that nothing is there to save him, he whispers, "I'm sorry, Togami-kun."

And then he's there, and he can feel it in his veins, in his skin, tight in his throat, and worming it's way out his nostrils, he can almost hear it taunting, slithering around him. It constricts him, and chokes him, and binds him with his own damn fear, while his bones rattle with the feeling of delicacy like they would break any second but for some reason they don't.

He tastes it, he hears it, but he can't see it, and he smells the filth of rust and oil and he knows that there's no chance of getting out and his heart feels like it's pounding so hard his ribs are going to break and he can't breathe and then

Nothing.

He is weightless. At least, to himself. But in fact, he is no longer himself. The blood leaking out from under the block, and crushed bones is proof enough that Makoto Naegi no longer exists. With the school trial complete, they all turn away. He was their last hope, and now he was gone. How were they to continue? How were they to move on from this death, of all deaths?

No one had even thought Naegi to be a murderer. They wonder how they could be able to trust anyone else, how long until the next murder, and how someone they had so dearly, so blindly, so naively trusted stab them all in the back.

Yet, they did not expect for Togami to be the one to take it. He took the death too hard, rumours being spread around the remaining classmates that he blamed himself. Togami spent the majority of his time in the library, or in his room. He refused food, contact, and most definitely Touko Fukawa. Whenever anybody had come to check up on him, he was sitting at the desk, either with his eyes shut, or his hand scrawling on yellowed paper.

And every night, right before it was "night time," Togami would slip a piece of paper underneath Naegi's door.

He still had nightmares. Ranging from him and Naegi being exposed, to the crushing sound of Naegi's bones, and his raspy last breaths. He'll find himself tangled in his sheets, glasses askew, body in a sheer layer of sweat. Disgusting, really.

Sometimes, Togami will dream, though. He dreams of holding Naegi's hand in a park, like Naegi said they would do once they got out. The would have their very first official date, and Naegi would buy him sweets, and kiss him goodnight. It's not often Togami has a good dream, so he always likes to write it down, and give it to Naegi when he's done.

However, all dreams come to an end. Reality is the bitter truth, and the bitter truth slaps Togami in the face like a bitch every day. Makoto Naegi wasn't coming back, no matter how many times they begged, or how many hands were put together. No matter how many eyes cast to the ceiling, and wails rolled off their tongues, in search of their foolish God. He was nothing more than a mess of rotting flesh and blood.

Togami dreams of Naegi's blood. Washing over him, waves, endless waves. He wakes up, and almost as if he was possessed, he grabs the lamp that sits on the corner of the desk, and finds the one he wants. He finds his culprit, his victim, his legacy. Eye contact, the subtle smirk. He gives his victim his best.

Raising the lamp high above his head, he strikes. Blood splatters, and he laughs. Oh, he thinks, Naegi must have had a field day! He finds it fun, in a twisted way, before eventually, the lamp drops from his fingers, and he drops to his knees, his adrenaline rush suddenly gone.

In the morning, they find Byakuya Togami, dead in front of a mirror.