Day 10

I woke up a few minutes before I usually did, in order to ensure that I'd have enough time to get dressed and make it to the dining hall on time for breakfast. While Mitamura-san's perfectionist attitude was neither realistic nor healthy, Katsura-san had a point when she said that people would judge me on small matters, such as my clothes and grooming. I couldn't lead well if people didn't trust and respect me, so the only question was how to earn that respect.

Perhaps the best example I could think of to emulate was my old mahjong club president. She was always the first to come and the last to leave. She did everything she could to help the club, from cleaning up to reading mahjong books. Her playing skills were mediocre even by the standards of our club, but she never stopped trying to improve herself, so that she could give guidance to whoever needed. Her efforts weren't enough to get a team like ours anywhere without the help of an unusually talented newcomer, but we all respected her, since we appreciated what she was doing. She was a normal person, trying her best to help others even though it was likely beyond her abilities. My task was difficult, maybe even impossible, but if I gave it less than 100 percent, I'd be doing a disservice to myself and the others.


We didn't have much to discuss at breakfast, since we'd already thoroughly explored the third floor. Although the twelve of us were divided over three floors of a facility built for hundreds of students, and dozens of faculty and staff, it didn't take long to investigate almost every nook and cranny, considering we had nowhere else to go and little else to do.

Eventually, the discussion ground to a halt. Most of us simply sat there, while some of the slower eaters were finishing the last of their food. After a few moments of silence, Yuuki-san spoke up.

"I've got an idea, even if it isn't related to getting out of the school," Yuuki-san said. "When we get out of here, why not have Sae-chan write a book to tell the world about what happened?"

"It's an interesting concept, Yuuki-san," Inoue-kun said. "A tragedy like this deserves to be remembered, since, as they say, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Maybe that's why this killing game is happening a second time."

"You could be right," I said. "Then again, with our memories erased, we don't know anything about the previous killing game, or even whether Monokuma's telling the truth."

"I agree with Inoue-kun," Edogawa-san said. "That said, while I would be willing to take on this project, it wouldn't be right for me to profit from this tragedy."

I had to wonder how much money Edogawa-san had earned from her books. She probably only got a small portion as royalties, but a small slice of a large pie is still a big dessert. Of course, the look on Yuuki-san's face made it clear that she'd had forgotten to consider that authors made a profit from their books, and simply assumed Edogawa-san saw her writing a labor of love.

"Then maybe you could give the money to a good cause," Yuuki-san said. "Like, maybe the families of the students who died?"

"Hold on," Hoshino-kun said. "Giving money to the victims' families isn't a bad idea, but what about the relatives of the people who committed murders? Do you really think they deserve the money?"

"They should qualify, too!" Akasaka-san said. "They were victims of their circumstances."

"Kuro-chan's right!" Yuuki-san said. "They wouldn't have killed anyone if they didn't need to get out of here!"

"Yeah, right," Hoshino-kun said. "Sakuragi didn't need any of Monokuma's motives to kill anyone, while Mitamura killed Mizuhara to keep her own cheating under wraps. I could see both those assholes becoming killers in the real world. You're going to reward their families because their kids committed murder?"

"It's not about rewarding them," Iwasawa-san said, "it's about compensating them for the loss of one of their family, who might have earned a lot of money in their future career as an Ultimate. I'm sure Miss Mitamura would have taken care of her parents in their old age if she'd lived that lo-"

"If she'd lived?" Hoshino-kun said, before letting off a derisive laugh. "You mean 'if she'd graduated!' Don't you get that if she got away with her plan to kill Mizuhara to keep her skeletons in the closet, all the spotless would've died, including you?"

Iwasawa-san, went silent, Akasaka-san was crestfallen, Yuuki-san squirmed in her seat and I was at a loss for words.

It was difficult to admit, but Hoshino-kun wasn't wrong to say what he did. The fact that Mitamura-san and Sakuragi-kun had deliberately murdered Mizuhara-kun and Kurogane-kun, respectively and chosen to let the rest of us die was difficult to forgive, however you looked at it. I could perhaps sympathize with their fears and desperation, but in the end, they'd become blackened by choice, not by accident. For that reason, I believed that voting to sacrifice them was the right choice, if only because it was the only way those who had done nothing wrong could survive... but it also wasn't a decision any of us should have had to make.

"Say what you want about circumstances or reasons," Hoshino-kun said, "but in the end, even if Monokuma's keeping us here, he's not the one who's actually committing the murders. Sakuragi and Mitamura both gave him what he wanted, after all, and so will anyone else who follows their example."

"Enough, Hoshino-kun," I said. "We all are responsible for our actions, but Sakuragi-kun and Mitamura-san did what they did because they believed it was the only choice they had in the situation. My goal is to give us all another choice, one in which everyone still alive can survive and escape, so that none of us will be forced to sacrifice our classmates in order to live."

"So you're actually taking a side now, Miura?" Hoshino-kun said. "That's actually something of an improvement, even if this time, you're dead fucking wrong."

Hoshino-kun then stormed off, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on his plate. After a moment, Yuuki-san stood up, did a deep bow of apology while saying "I'm sorry, guys," and then left.

As silence reigned in the dining hall, I let out a long sigh.

"Taking a side or not taking a side..." I said. "I can't win, can I?"

"Not when you're playing against Hoshino," Sugiura-san said. "I have to admit he had a point, but he didn't have to be such a goddamn prick about it."

So perhaps even Sugiura-san and Hoshino-kun actually agreed on some things. That wasn't too surprising given their fairly cynical natures, but neither seemed very willing to admit it.

"Still," Sugiura-san said, "I'm actually glad that you said something to him, Miura. Some people try to stay neutral in order to avoid offending people, while others go with whatever's most convenient for them. With you, at least you said what you believe in, even if it isn't necessarily right."

I chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Sugiura-san said.

"Nothing, Sugiura-san," I said. "You and Hoshino-kun seem to agree on that point."

"A fact that I'm not happy to admit," Sugiura-san said. "Let's forget about that asshole for the rest of breakfast, okay?"

Everyone nodded and ate the rest of their meal in silence, but I didn't feel any better. We'd achieved coexistence, but that wasn't the same as trust and cooperation. We'd have to be able to talk about the difficult subjects in a civil manner, and openly address our disagreements, or we'd never be able to escape.


After breakfast, I caught up with Edogawa-san and Yuuki-san, the latter of whom was close to tears, in the hallway near Yuuki-san's dorm room.

"Are you feeling all right, Yuuki-san?" I said.

"A little," Yuuki-san said. "I'm sorry I said anything about writing a book."

"Don't be," I said. "I actually had the same idea myself."

"True," Edogawa-san said. "I'm actually touched that the two of you think I can handle the difficult job of chronicling a very real tragedy."

"Isn't that kind of what you do in your murder mystery novels, Edogawa-san?" I said. "You point out that each murder is a tragedy, and all Aiko is doing is ensuring that justice is done. She once said that all she can do is find the truth, and leave the criminal's judgment to those who are wiser than her."

Edogawa-san softly nodded, clearly remembering Aiko's lines to the murder culprit in the second novel. Over the course of the second novel, Aiko came to terms with her exposing the culprit in the first one, so she was able to do so again once she cracked her second major case. The killing game didn't offer much time for introspection, but I had to admit I'd gone through a similar process around the time of Mitamura-san's murder.

"You put that way better than I ever could, Kaori-chan," Yuuki-san said. "I feel awful saying this... but I'm a bit jealous of you and Sae-chan."

"You're jealous of me, Yuuki-san?" I said.

Yuuki-san nodded forlornly, ashamed to admit it.

"Yeah," Yuuki-san said. "You two are so smart, finding out the clues Akito-kun and Reiko-chan left behind and seeing through their plans. I'm grateful that you did, since you saved all our lives twice, but it isn't fair to just rely on you two all the time, is it?"

I shook my head. It was still a bit hard to accept that people had been relying on me even before I set out to lead the others.

"I couldn't have done this without a lot of people's help," I said. "Other people gave me critical evidence- you pointed out that it was suspicious that Mitamura-san briefly stopped by the kitchen- and we needed a majority vote to convict the blackened, most of you had to believe me. I'm just doing my best because I want to keep as many of us alive as possible, including you."

"I feel the same way," Edogawa-san said. "To be honest, Yuuki-san, you remind me a bit of my older sister Makoto- someone who isn't an Ultimate or even particularly good at school, but a kind young woman who's dear to me. I think the two of you would get along quite well, which is why I'd like to get out and introduce you to her someday."

"Thanks, Sae-chan," Yuuki-san said, "but I'm kind of surprised that you think of me as a bit like your big sister. I thought you were the reliable older sibling type."

Edogawa-san giggled.

"There are times when I've been called the mature one," Edogawa-san said. "That said, while I sympathize with those who want my sister to act her age, I hope she remains fundamentally the same person, the same goes for you."

"Glad to hear that," Yuuki-san said. "It sounds like you two get along, even though you're so different."

"Opposites attract, as they say," Edogawa-san said. "I've always been a bit reserved by nature, so I enjoyed having cheerful and outgoing people like you and my sister around. In fact, I actually admire your confidence and willingness to be casual with others- I'd even hesitate to ask for permission to call someone by their first name, since I'd be afraid that they'd get offended and say no."

I was tempted to point out that I'd never met anyone like that. My mom, the most polite person I knew, was perfectly fine with being called by her first name outside of work, and even Mitamura-san had eventually come to tolerate Yuuki-san using her first name. Of course, the more relevant fact was that I actually had that in common with Edogawa-san.

"Well, I wouldn't," Yuuki-san said. "Just keep that in mind and introduce me to Makoto-san someday, okay?"

"I will," Edogawa-san said.

We nodded, then Yuuki-san excused herself, clearly needing some time alone despite having cheered up a little. I gave her that space, hoping she'd be her old self the next time I saw her.


Shortly after Edogawa-san and I went our separate ways, Akasaka-san found me on the first floor of the school.

"Ah, Miura-san," Akasaka-san said. "Have you seen Yuuki-san since breakfast?"

"I found her just a little while ago," I said. "She's still a bit depressed that her innocent comment caused an argument... among other things."

"I see," Akasaka-san said. "I feel like I played a role, too, so I should apologize to her."

"If it makes either of you feel better," I said. "Like I said, I actually agree with what you said about the killers."

Akasaka-san smiled softly.

"You might be surprised, but I actually agree with Sugiura-san," Akasaka-san said. "While some of my siblings occasionally get into fights, and sometimes both deserve punishment, there's some times when only one party is in the wrong. My parents don't enjoy handing down punishments, but they do so when they must."

"As they should," I said. The most common interpretation of the phrase "Spare the rod and spoil the child" went a bit far, since my parents never spanked or hit their daughters, but I agreed that my sister and I needed discipline.

"Indeed, Miura-san," Akasaka-san said. "No one is always right, but I believe you should stand by your decisions, even when the choice isn't an easy one."

I nodded, but didn't feel entirely sure of myself. While I hoped to take into account the group's opinions, there were times when I'd have to make important decisions, and I'd have to walk a thin line to be decisive without being arrogant. If nothing else, admitting that I was fallible was a good place to begin.


A few hours later, I found Edogawa-san in the library, sitting in a chair by herself and reading.

"Oh, hello, Miura-san," Edogawa-san said.

"Hello, Edogawa-san," I said. "What are you up to?"

"I'm just reading my latest book," Edogawa-san said. "One silver lining of losing my memory is that I can actually read my own work without knowing how it will end."

"I can definitely agree," I said with a chuckle. "Knowing myself, I've probably already read that book, too."

"I thought you'd say that," Edogawa-san said with a smile.

We shared a laugh, though, but afterward, Edogawa-san's smile quickly faded.

"Is something wrong?" I said.

"I've been thinking about our conversation with Yuuki-san this morning," Edogawa-san said, "as well as one we'd had just a little while ago. I was a bit surprised that someone as cheerful and energetic as her could be so troubled."

"I think I know where she's coming from," I said. "There's little more frustrating than not being able to do what you want- or need- to do."

The killing game had a way of making us painfully aware of our own inadequacies. Those who weren't especially strong or fast would have little chance of thwarting a would-be murderer, those who were not especially intelligent would have trouble solving mysteries, and those with little internal fortitude could potentially crack and give in to despair.

"I know," Edogawa-san said. "That said, please give an honest answer- how good would you say your grades are?"

"Pretty good," I said. "Before I got scouted, my advisor and I discussed possible college choices, and they said many doors would be open to me, even if I didn't have much of a chance of getting into the big-name schools."

"That's good," Edogawa-san said. "Between us, Yuuki-san said she only barely passed her classes last year."

I was a bit surprised to hear this, even though I still remembered Yuuki-san casually mentioning that she'd had trouble with school. In addition to the many things that we were taught in the classroom, school showed us that results often mattered in life, even if we weren't necessarily good at what we were being asked to do.

"I think there's an important lesson for you here, Miura-san," Edogawa-san said. "You have your strong points- kindness, honesty, intelligence and many others- and while none of them are Ultimate quality, you still have many gifts to use for yourself, your friends and family, and society, depending on your choices. This may sound hollow coming from the Ultimate Mystery Novelist, but I hope you take it to heart."

I nodded.

"I will," I said. "My talent gives me just enough of a taste of what it's like to be the best of something that I want more, but I'm starting to realize that it isn't everything it's cracked up to be."

"That's true," Edogawa-san said. "Still, when I asked Yuuki-san whether she'd trade being the Ultimate Cheerleader for vastly greater intelligence, she gave a very emphatic 'No way!' When I asked why, she said she didn't just enjoy being a cheerleader, but saw it as being a part of her identity- something I also believe about my own talent."

"That makes sense," I said.

"Yuuki-san also made an interesting analogy," Edogawa-san said. "She said, and I quote, 'Even if I'd rather trade my Ultimate Talent for something else- brains, friends or money- I'd still have to admit that it's one heck of a bargaining chip. A lot of people don't have any of those, do they?'"

"No, they don't," I said. "There's little more ordinary than being lonely, poor or untalented."

"Exactly," Edogawa-san said, "and I think our talk perked Yuuki-san up. She might not have a sharp mind, but she has a good heart and a strong spirit, so I think she'll do just fine."

"I hope so, too," I said. "I'm sure she'd do well at any job she's qualified for."

Edogawa-san and I spent a little while thinking of jobs Yuuki-san would do well at. I personally proposed that she'd be good at providing "service with a smile" as a waitress, while Edogawa-san thought she'd potentially be a good receptionist once she worked on her manners- while on the job, she'd have to call me "Miura-sama" instead of "Kaori-chan," for one. Still, I could see Yuuki-san putting in the effort, learning and becoming good at her job, which was all the more reason why she didn't deserve to be stuck in here.


I went to the gallery and saw Hoshino-kun looking at Tezuka-kun's painting. The artist himself was also there, standing by and patiently waiting for Hoshino-kun to finish. From what I could gather, Hoshino-kun had probably just happened by, or perhaps reluctantly accepted Tezuka-kun's invitation, and was now being asked to give his opinion on the painting.

"Do you really want my opinion, Tezuka?" Hoshino-kun said.

"Well, it's not like you ask for permission anyway," Tezuka-kun said, "but shoot."

Hoshino-kun turned up his nose.

"It's pretentious garbage that tries to pass itself off as symbolic," Hoshino-kun said, gesturing toward a nearby trash can. "I might not have the skills to make a picture like that, but at least I have the good sense not to claim that it's a work of art, or that you're an artist."

"Hey, I never said that I did," Tezuka-kun said. "The school's talent judges- an art professor, a museum curator and the school's art teacher- were the ones who evaluated my work and chose me as the Ultimate Abstract Artist. I can't say I understand their criteria, but they seemed to know what they were doing."

"So they're also a bunch of dumbasses with questionable artistic taste," Hoshino-kun said. "Do they apply any sort of scrutiny to their Ultimates' work, or do they put a gold star on everything?"

"Well, aren't you cynical, Hoshino?" Tezuka-kun said. "So I'm assuming that you also question why you got in, don't you?"

"I'm as hard on myself as I am on others," Hoshino-kun said. "If I were the Ultimate Abstract Artist instead of the Ultimate Astronomer, I'd work hard to be worthy of the title, not churn out crap like that."

"Considering that you know as little about aesthetics as I know about stars, I can't see that happening," Tezuka-kun said. "You're a... a..."

As I was about to step in and try to break up this argument, Tezuka-kun noticed me.

"Oh, Miura, good timing," Tezuka-kun said. "What's a word for someone with very little appreciation for the arts?"

"A philistine," I said.

"That's it," Tezuka-kun said. "You're a philistine, Hoshino."

"And you're a pitiful excuse for an artist, Tezuka," Hoshino-kun said. "Don't show me your work again until you produce something halfway acceptable."

Hoshino-kun stormed off, not even bothering to acknowledge me as he walked by. As soon as he was gone, I turned back to Tezuka-kun, who looked somewhat annoyed.

"Are you all right, Tezuka-kun?" I said.

"Yeah," Tezuka-kun said. "I've heard people like Hoshino talk shit about my work before, so it doesn't really faze me."

"That doesn't excuse it," I said. "There's a line between constructive criticism and outright insults."

"That's right," Tezuka-kun said, "but if I know he's full of shit, what he has to say doesn't bother me. Asking for his opinion was a waste of time, but my feelings aren't hurt."

I smiled, a bit relieved.

"Still, Hoshino-kun's an asshole, but he's got some real balls," Tezuka-kun said. "Most people who say the kind of shit he does hide behind screen names and all sorts of stuck-up artsy jargon, and wouldn't dare do it to the artist's face. He might have his head up his ass, but at the very least, I owe it to him to say that straight out, to his face."

As the mental image formed in my mind, I couldn't help but giggle.

"What's so funny?" Tezuka-kun said.

"N-Nothing," I said. "How are you going to say it to his face, if his head's... up his... ass?"

"Ah, good point," Tezuka-kun said. "Anyway, my point is that Hoshino and I are a lot alike- we just say whatever comes to our minds. It's damn near impossible for us to get along, but I can't hate him for being what he is."

It wasn't hard to see why two people with very similar personalities often weren't compatible with each other. Two headstrong, belligerent and argumentative individuals would often bicker, while on the other hand, two wishy-washy and indecisive individuals wouldn't get anything done. By comparison, Yuuki-san and Edogawa-san were different people who nicely complemented each other- Yuuki-san helped draw the reserved Edogawa-san out of her shell, while Edogawa-san could give Yuuki-san good advice.

"That's good," I said. "I suppose it's too much to ask you to be friends with him, but please try to be civil with him, OK?"

"I can't promise too much," Tezuka-kun said, "but I'll do what I can."

I nodded in approval, then tried to give a good analysis of his picture. I couldn't think of many substantial criticisms that would help Tezuka-kun improve, but he was fairly satisfied, and didn't think I was giving him empty praise. He listened attentively, and thanked me for my time with a smile on his face.

All the while, I couldn't help but think about the sentiment behind Hoshino-kun's actions, and realized that while he could often be unpleasant, even unlikable, he had an uncomfortably true point. Much of the everyday kindness and courtesy people showed to others was superficial, perhaps even self-serving. Not only did the killing game encourage us to sacrifice our classmates, but it also encouraged us to redouble our efforts to keep up the façade. If Hoshino-kun's words offended us, it was partly because that reality was so difficult to accept.


For dinner, I had Sugiura-san cook the same miso stew as two nights ago, and supervised her every step of the way.

"Don't mind me," I said, after a few minutes passed in silence.

"It's all right," Sugiura-san said. "In fact, don't take your eyes off me for a moment. That way, if something goes wrong, the two of us can vouch for each other."

"I understand," I said. "I may not know much about the recipe you're making, but I'll check it out if I see something out of place."

Sugiura-san nodded, then handed me a list of her ingredients, as well as a brief description of the steps involved.

"I jotted this down from my memory," Sugiura-san said. "It should be the same as last time, though."

I nodded as I looked over the sheet. Sugiura-san had placed most of the ingredients and utensils on the counter, so it was easy to count them and see that she had everything she needed.

"I see," I said. "I think you'll make a good dinner once again, Sugiura-san."

Sugiura-san chuckled.

"Don't expect too much out of me, Miura," Sugiura-san said. "If my dad thought I was any use as a cook, he'd have me in the kitchen. Still, if you're that easily impressed, watch closely- you might just learn something in the process."

Sugiura-san walked me through the various steps as she made the stew, and by the end of it, I'd learned enough to try to make it myself.


We then served dinner, and I ate my portion in front of everyone else- with the exception of Hoshino-kun and Kagami-kun. Kagami-kun "coincidentally" wasn't hungry, while Hoshino-kun was honest enough to admit that he didn't want to eat anything a known poisoner made.

Of course, some of the others were fairly cautious- I noticed Katsura-san, Inoue-kun and even Edogawa-san start eating only after I had finished.

Eventually, dinner ended, and a minute or so passed in silence. Finally, I stood up and addressed the others.

"I have a proposal for you all," I said. "Would it be all right with you Sugiura-san if cooks for us from time to time?"

The others paused and looked at one another. Tonight's dinner had gone well, but Mizuhara-kun's death was still firmly ingrained in our memories.

"I'm not against it," Katsura-san said, "but I think she should be supervised, just as she was tonight."

"If that's the case, then I should, too," Iwasawa-san said. "After all, you trusted me to cook for you all this time, didn't you?"

"She's right," Tezuka-kun said. "I get that Sugiura has a 'reputation,' but I don't think we'd be asking this question if Mitamura hadn't killed Mizuhara on Sugiura's first shift."

"True," Katsura-san said. "While I can't help but be a little on my guard, we should also recall one point that lessened the suspicion on Sugiura-san- everyone knew she was cooking the food, so she would have been too obvious of a suspect. As such, I'm in favor of allowing her to cook, as long as the cook is announced in advance- this also goes for Iwasawa-san, of course."

Four people abstained from voting- Katsura-san, Inoue-kun and the two who weren't at dinner. Everyone else voted "yes," so with a two-thirds majority, we agreed.

"Thank you," Sugiura-san said. "What happened to Mizuhara was tragic, but I appreciate being given a second chance to earn your trust.

We spent the rest of the meeting working out the schedule. The two would take turns cooking lunch and dinner- tomorrow, Iwasawa-san would cook dinner, while Sugiura-san cooked lunch- while Iwasawa-san continued to make breakfast every day. Perhaps it was too much to ask for unconditional trust under these circumstances, but for now, I was glad that we were willing to move past the issue of Sugiura-san's talent, and give her a chance to be a part of this group, not just another person trapped in these walls.


After dinner, while I helped Sugiura-san with the dishes in the kitchen, I saw Hoshino-kun and Kagami-kun stop by and open the fridge.

"Oh, Hoshino-kun, Kagami-kun," I said. "What brings you here?"

"Dinner, obviously," Hoshino-kun said, "preferably something that doesn't make me drop dead by the end of the night."

"Your stew's completely fine," Sugiura-san said. "Cold, but still fine."

"If you say so," Hoshino-kun said as he started rummaging around in the fridge. "You did lie about your talent, after all, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't believe that."

"Technically, she didn't lie, Hoshino-kun," Kagami-kun said. "She simply chose not to disclose that fact. Considering what being the Ultimate Poisoner has brought her, I can hardly blame her- things didn't turn out nearly as badly as they might have."

I imagined the worst-case scenario- the rest of us getting together and lynching Sugiura-san- and was grateful that it hadn't come to that. The cynic in me knew that no one wanted to be executed for killing Sugiura-san, while the idealist in me believed that we'd seen too much death to willingly kill one of our number again.

"You can say that again," Sugiura-san said, "but even if you sound like you're defending me, I notice you didn't touch your food either, Kagami."

"Well, I do also sympathize with Hoshino-kun's caution," Kagami-kun said. "He's simply taking into account the nature of our 'game.' The object of the game is to get away with murder, and all of us are players."

"That's true," I said, "but people are also innocent until proven guilty. When we suspected Sugiura-san of killing Mizuhara-kun, Mitamura-san, the true killer, was the one who benefited most."

Hoshino-kun, having taken a few odds and ends out of the fridge, nodded. While he didn't really get along with anyone else here, since he hadn't committed murder, we were on the same side in the first two trials. He wasn't about to apologize for suspecting Sugiura-san, but he probably realized that he'd let Mitamura-san lead him down the wrong track. Kagami-kun then took his turn, and browsed the fridge. After taking a few things and shutting the door, he turned to Sugiura-san.

"Anyway, Sugiura-san, I've been meaning to ask you something ever since the last trial," Kagami-kun said. "If you had a chance to wipe the slate clean, and start over without your reputation as the Ultimate Poisoner, would you do so?"

"In a heartbeat," Sugiura-san said, without hesitation.

Kagami-kun paused, at a loss for a moment, even though he should have expected this answer.

"I thought so," Kagami-kun said. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Kagami-kun and Hoshino-kun left the kitchen, carrying rice balls. After leaving the dining hall, they went their separate ways- perhaps they were united in their suspicion of Sugiura-san, but they didn't think of each other as friends.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Sugiura-san said. "Kagami started acting a bit weird after I answered his question."

"I can only guess," I said. "I talked with him this time last night, and he seemed to speculate what sort of talent he had before he lost his memory. Maybe someone- perhaps Kagami-kun himself, deliberately chose to wipe his memories."

"So in other words, someone chose to make him an ordinary high school student," Sugiura-san said. "I don't get why he'd erase his own talent- I'm not all that proud of being the Ultimate Waitress, but at least I'm good at something."

"I don't get it, either," I said. "An Ultimate talent isn't just your ticket in to this school or the basis of a future career, but also a part of who you are. Of course, maybe if he was ashamed of that, he'd erase his memories."

"Or ours," Sugiura-san said. "Still, if the mastermind is a skilled actor capable of constructing a persona, then it could even be Yuuki, since most of us wouldn't suspect someone like her."

"Good point," I said. "I suppose there's little we can do until we obtain some evidence."

We shared a few theories as to who might be the mastermind as we washed the dishes. Even though Sugiura-san had proven herself trustworthy for the moment, one of us, whether her or anyone else, was the mastermind, just like how every time we stepped into the courtroom, a murderer was among us. Perhaps the most disturbing part about the killing game was how it forced us to confront each other's dark secrets and realizes what we were capable of, but I chose to believe in my friends until I found any reason not to.


Monokuma Theater

They say to 'write who you know,' but for most people, that's some pretty awful advice.

If everyone did that, the market would be crowded with stories about salaryman Taro Yamada, his wife Ko, and his kids, one of whom eventually grows up to be a writer.

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule- namely, me.

Check out my work- a school story/murder mystery hybrid, with such characters as the supermodel who masterminds the apocalypse, her badass twin sister, the emotionless genius who's good at everything, and a (supposedly) wheelchair-bound sociopath and the little hellions who are her friends.

Don't delay, order my books today!


Day 11

Before breakfast, I found Inoue-kun sitting in the dining hall, drawing in a sketch pad, while Tezuka-kun looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, good morning, Inoue-kun, Tezuka-kun," I said. "What are you up to?"

"Morning, Miura," Tezuka-kun said. "I'm teaching Inoue a little about drawing."

Inoue-kun showed me his drawing.

"Here's what I've been working on," Inoue-kun said. "Apparently, Tezuka-kun considers this halfway decent."

"...for a beginner," Tezuka-kun said. "Still, it's a hell of a lot better than what you started out with, so at least you're improving."

That was a somewhat backhanded compliment, but I hadn't seen Inoue-kun's previous work, so I didn't have anything I could say to that.

"It looks a lot better than anything I could do," I said. "I know that I'm a mere amateur when it comes to writing, but when it comes to art, I can only embarrass myself."

"You shouldn't think of it that way," Tezuka-kun said. "Sure, the majority of people are probably pretty crappy at art, but if they stick with it, most of them will probably get at least a little better, and maybe a few of them will actually become good artists with their own unique visions."

"That's true," I said. "You might be a good art teacher one day, Tezuka-kun."

"I dunno," Tezuka-kun said. "I can probably motivate people to stick with it and get better, but don't know how to teach them. My own art teachers just taught me how to hold a brush, use a chisel, and so on and so forth, not what to draw or sculpt."

"My language teachers did the same thing," Inoue-kun said. "We had some creative writing assignments in English, but my teachers generally wanted to teach us how to use the language well, and then leave it up to us what to do with it. I'd say Tezuka-kun's doing the same thing."

"Thanks," Tezuka-kun said. "At the very least, when I do criticize, I try to keep it at least a little constructive, unlike SOMEONE I know..."

Inoue-kun chuckled softly. He hadn't witnessed Tezuka-kun's conversation with Hoshino-kun, but he knew who Tezuka-kun had in mind.

"I'm glad for that," Inoue-kun said. "I'll be sure to show you my next piece, too."

As Inoue-kun made that promise, the other students came into the dining hall, and Inoue-kun had to put his art away to eat breakfast. Even though our discussion of possibly using the building plans to find a way out of here hit a snag- not only did no one know where to find the plans, but the front door and iron plates were clear proof that the building had been renovated- I was in a good mood. The old Inoue-kun probably would have concluded that he or Tezuka-kun would be dead by the time he finished his next work, so if nothing else, he'd started to accept the idea of working together and trusting on one another.


A few hours later, I found Fukuda-kun and Akasaka-san investigating the chemical lab.

"Oh hello," I said. "What are the two of you up to?"

"We're looking through the chemicals," Akasaka-san said, "trying to find out if any of them are ones we'd need, and which ones are too dangerous to keep around."

"Good thinking," I said. "Of course, you'd have to dispose of them safely."

"I know," Akasaka-san said. "It's a shame that my grades in Chemistry were so-so."

"Yeah, but you passed, didn't you?" Fukuda-kun said. "You're better off than me, at least. Sure, you don't have a very bright future as a scientist, but at least the teachers send you off to the next year without making you take supplementary lessons."

For a moment, I had to admit that if nothing else, I was somewhat comfortable. I had to work hard to get good grades, but my graduation was more or less a given, so my parents made reservations to eat out before my sister and I took our exams. Many of my classmates couldn't say the same.

"Speaking of careers," I said, "do you two have any idea what you were planning on doing?"

"I was thinking about becoming an office lady," Akasaka-san said, "at least until I settle down and get married."

"Good for you," Fukuda-kun said. "Me, I'm not nearly as close to figuring things out, since my folks expect me to get married and be the breadwinner for my family. I'm almost glad to be stuck in here, since I don't have to think about my career."

I had to admit I hadn't thought about that, either. I assumed that if I got out, I'd go back to school and try to get my life back on track as much as I could.

"Your turn, Miura," Fukuda-kun said. "What about you?"

"I was planning on getting an office job of some kind," I said. "It's not what I'd hoped for, but I'd always thought of it as the most realistic choice available to me given my abilities. I'd always thought that ordinary people had to make compromises and give up on their dreams, while the truly special- namely, the rest of you- could do what you wanted."

"That isn't necessarily true, Miura-san," Akasaka-san said. "Being the Ultimate Checkers Player can impress many people, but it doesn't mean much by itself on a resume. That said, I do have to admit that some of my opponents undoubtedly wish they had my talent."

One time, when I was little, I took part in a checkers tournament at my local elementary school, spurred on by the overconfidence of youth, and what was probably my Beginner's Luck. Dad had let me do that as a lesson in how the world works- there are many people out there who are better than you, and that life often involves competing with others for what you need. He'd made a similar point when it came to writing, saying that the few who could make a living out it had outdone everyone else.

"I don't blame them," I said. "Anyway, it's been a bit of a surprise knowing that just because the Ultimates can practice their talent so easily, they have trouble with other things."

"That's true," Fukuda-kun said, "but of course, like Akasaka said, a lot of us have to realize that things don't come as easily to ordinary people. I guess the moral is that you just have to appreciate what you've got."

I thanked Fukuda-kun, then left with his words on my mind.


Just before dinner I went to the kitchen and saw Iwasawa-san and Sugiura-san. The former was cooking while the latter watched her- not to make sure she didn't poison anything, but to appraise her work. The two waved to me, but seemed mostly caught up in their respective tasks, so I didn't really get a chance to join in.

"So, Miss Sugiura," Iwasawa-san said, "what do you think of my cooking, as someone who worked in a restaurant?"

Sugiura-san shrugged.

"It's hard to say," Sugiura-san said, "since I don't cook the food- I just bring it to the table. That said, most of the chefs there know a lot more recipes than you do, many of which are more complex. Unless you've got a pretty impressive resume, they won't even call you in for an interview."

Iwasawa-san nervously chuckled.

"I figured as much," Iwasawa-san said. "I don't have a resume set up, or even a suit, so I wouldn't do well in an interview."

"I'm sure Katsura would be able to give you a few pointers," Sugiura-san said. "Maybe not enough for you to be able to fake your way into the kitchen of a fancy restaurant, but enough that you'd probably stand a chance against those with your level of qualifications."

"In other words, people from a farming village who don't have many marketable skills," Iwasawa-san said. "Let's be honest- the only reason I cook is because I knew a few recipes and decided to volunteer."

"I won't deny that," Sugiura-san said, "but like I said, the level of competition is most important. Your cooking's probably mediocre at best in the grand scheme of things, and mine isn't much better, but we're the best cooks this class has, and we have to do the best we can."

Iwawsawa-san nodded, then Sugiura-san turned directly to me.

"There's a lesson in this for you, too, Miura," Sugiura-san said. "You probably haven't taken on many leadership activities in the past, much less any in which there's lives on the line, so I don't think you're a good choice for leader. That said, you're our best choice, so don't let us down."

I nodded.

"I get what you're trying to say, Miss Sugiura," Iwasawa-san said, "but please don't put too much pressure on Miss Miura."

"It's all right, Iwasawa-san," I said. "It's fine for Sugiura-san to remind me of the gravity of our situation, and I understand that she's bitter about... what happened before."

Sugiura-san's expression turned a bit pained.

"I suppose it sounds selfish of me to judge you while I'm not doing anything to help," Sugiura-san said, "but if I thought I was a better leader than you or Mitamura, I would've stepped forward. If that changes, you'll be the first to know."

I nodded.

"If there's anyone more qualified to lead, I'll gladly step aside," I said. "I'm not doing it for fun, personal fulfillment, or the desire for others' respect, but simply to keep as many of you alive as possible."

"Miss Miura's right," Iwasawa-san said. "I still feel out of place at a school in the big city, but none of us were prepared to have to deal with this. Miss Miura's just trying to do something about it, just like Miss Mitamura did."

"I know," Sugiura-san said. "I doubt anyone would believe me if I claimed innocence in the case that got me my 'other' title, but if getting along with the group makes things easier for Miura- for everyone- then that's what I'll do."

I smiled and thanked Sugiura-san, bowing in gratitude. Our group couldn't succeed by virtue of one person's leadership, but with everyone helping out and working together, often doing the small things that aren't always appreciated. It was a tall order, but if nothing else, I was glad to be able to count on Iwasawa-san and Sugiura-san.


In the evening, I went up to the vending machine to buy a snack for Edogawa-san. I saw her there, talking with Yuuki-san.

"Hello, Miura-san," Edogawa-san said.

"Hey there, Kaori-chan," Yuuki-san said.

"Good evening, you two," I said. "Do you mind if I ask what you were discussing?"

"Sae-chan and I were talking about the school's admission policy," Yuuki-san said. "I said I thought it was a trap of some kind to get us all here, but Sae-chan said this was a real school, since it goes back some ways. We're only the 33rd class, but it's not as though this is totally new"

"That may be true, Yuuki-san," Edogawa-san said, "but I still appreciate your sharing your theory. At this point, there is very little we know for certain, so it would be unwise to prematurely rule out any possibilities."

"Me too," I said. "I suppose it's natural that some people would think Talent High School was too good to be true."

"Yeah," Yuuki-san said. "I mean, I kind of get why all the really good schools are tough to get into- everyone wants to get into them, so they get to pick the best students, don't they?"

"That's about it," I said. "My dad said there are dozens, or even hundreds, of applicants for jobs at his company. As a result, virtually everyone who's hired works out well."

Yuuki-san seemed a little sad. Perhaps having so much competition for jobs was good for the company, but it was little comfort to those who didn't get hired, some of whom would have been a good fit, and all of whom would need to look elsewhere for a way to work for a living.

"Here's the thing," Yuuki-san said. "People like me, Daichi-kun, Akito-kun, and probably most of us here couldn't get into one of those top schools, but we could get in here, right? They say they want to study our talent, but it's a bit odd that they don't want better grades."

"Maybe it goes to show that talent isn't just in the classroom," I said. "For example, Iwasawa-san's being a farmer doesn't tie into any subject, but it is a valuable skill, and they want to understand how she got so good at it."

"Gotcha," Yuuki-san said. "I guess it just seems kind of random from the perspective of people like me, who just get letters telling us whether we got in or not. I mean, this way you could probably let your relatives come to your super-elite school, and no one'd know the difference, right?"

"At least until the students in question fail to make the grade," I said. "My dad says that if you admit students or hire employees that don't qualify on the basis of merit, it'll catch up to you sooner or later."

"Quite true," Edogawa-san said. "Of course, talent isn't as easy to rank objectively as one's grades. Tezuka-kun is an accomplished artist, but is he truly the best in his age group?"

I shrugged, and thought about Tezuka-kun's conversation with Hoshino-kun. Tezuka-kun hadn't put much stock in Hoshino-kun's opinion, but didn't say that the people who'd evaluated his work were necessarily infallible, either.

"I don't know about that," I said, "but he never claimed to be. The talent scout who recruited me had been to quite a few mahjong tournaments, and analyzed the results of many others. The fact that I'd never really played before might have been what convinced them to bring me in for an interview, but it's not as though they picked some mahjong champion, named them Ultimate Mahjong Player and called it a day. They probably wouldn't even have done a follow-up test of my talent if that was the case."

As Edogawa-san remained silent, unable to think of a rebuttal, Yuuki-san sighed.

"I guess we can't prove anything that way," Yuuki-san said. "I was kind of hoping we'd find out who the mastermind is by figuring out who isn't supposed to be here. My theory was that Sousuke-kun lied about having a talent or something, but I can't prove it."

"Who knows?" I said. "Still, Yuuki-san, if you think of anything that might help, please share it with us, and if you have a question, feel free to ask."

"Roger that!" Yuuki-san said, doing a friendly salute.

As far as mysteries went, finding the mastermind was on an entirely different level than finding the blackened. The killers had left evidence around the crime scenes, and had made mistakes that exposed their guilt, but the mastermind remained incognito, a tree hiding in a forest. If there was some sort of evidence as to their identity, it most likely lay in the memories we'd lost, in some currently inaccessible part of the school or dorms, or somewhere only the mastermind could reach. Little was certain besides the fact that more murders would occur before we got anywhere close to finding a clue, but I remained determined not to allow that to happen to those who'd trusted me to lead them, and those I considered my friends.


Author's Notes

Thank you for the reviews.

While Danganronpa often deconstructs the idea of having an Ultimate Talent, I decided to take a different approach to it. The games show that the Ultimates aren't necessarily better than the ordinary students, and I did choose a lot of students whose talents were largely irrelevant to the killing game, but at the same time, they've achieved many things that would make many adults jealous, and often succeed in highly competitive fields(especially writing, sports and music). Most of the cast, with some notable exceptions, are genuinely passionate about and proud of their talents. Perhaps the Ultimates aren't without their shortcomings (Kaori's probably smarter than most of the cast), but the grass is always greener on the other side, and you can hardly blame those who enjoy something but aren't all that good at it for wanting to be Ultimate-caliber.

It's also somewhat unfortunate that, given the nature of the game, the cast doesn't make any real progress in figuring out the mastermind until the last chapter, since most of the vital clues toward the mastermind's identity are hidden.

Next up is the motive for this Chapter. Updates may be less frequent from this point on, since I'm finding less time to write.


Omake

In my first year of high school, I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the piece of paper that asked me to list possible career choices, the hardest short answer question of my life. My teacher said that it was by no means our final decision, and the counselors would help us make sense of our options. He meant what he said, but some questions don't get any easier just because you have a lot of time to think about them

As I was pondering what would be the best way for me to earn a living, as well as the best way to spend most of my waking hours for the rest of my life, Dad walked up to me.

"Need any help with your homework, Kaori?" Dad said.

"Actually, Dad, this is the career survey sheet," I said. "I'm having trouble coming up with a career goal... or at least a realistic one."

Dad nodded. I hadn't completely intended the subtext in that statement, but it came through anyway.

"I understand," Dad said. "I know how much you like writing, and that it can be difficult to write off your dreams as unattainable. To be honest, I don't work at this job because I like it- it's solely about the money."

I chuckled. While I did owe my parents my respect, I had to admit that after over a decade and a half of growing up under them, we were significantly more comfortable around each other than most other people, so we were free to say what was really on our minds.

"Wow, that was blunt," I said.

"I'm only saying what everyone in the company really thinks," Dad said. "No matter what the company's mission statement says, it's all about making money, and everyone who works for it- your mother and I included- simply wants a piece of the pie."

"Good analogy," I said. "You do have to eat to live, after all."

"Quite true," Dad said, "and because of that, there's nothing wrong with working solely for the money, as long as it's about fulling your needs. My work helps support myself, my wife and my daughters, puts you and your sister through school, and will allow me to leave money to provide for my loved ones after I'm gone. Because of that, all Mei and I want is for you and Misaki to be able to support yourselves in adulthood, so that we know you will be fine on your own."

"I know," I said. "I suppose I could live with that."

"It won't be easy, though," Dad said. "You'll need to keep your grades up, work hard, get into a good school, make a good case for yourself in the job search, and then do a good job once you're actually hired. It's hard work, but so is everything else that's worth doing."

"Got it," I said. "I think I've actually got things figured out for now."

"Good to hear it, Kaori," Dad said. "Your mother and I are always there if you need advice."

I then wrote "Business" down as my first choice, the first step on a journey of a thousand miles. Perhaps my final destination wouldn't be where I hoped to end up, but most people could only hope to get what they needed, not what they wanted. I then resolved to come to terms with that and life's other disappointments... at least before the recruiter from Talent High School showed up and changed everything.