"Hey, Chiaki–chan."

Mioda let Nanami approach, sure, and she didn't cringe too much, but the friendliness was more out of habit than anything genuine. The last thing she needed was to talk to such a likely candidate for the whole 'power–hungry mind–reader' deal. Her Number One Enemy was definitely a final hurdle, and as much as Mioda loved to jump the gun where possible – boss battles came last in games for a reason. If Nanami was the mind–reader, then this wasn't a fight she was ready for.

And yet, here she was. Trapped. If she ran, she'd raise suspicion. If she stayed and talked to Nanami, she'd definitely be left wishing she'd spent a few more skill points in lying. As confident as she'd like to be about the whole situation, Mioda knew she wasn't good at fibbing, and she knew from the trial room that the gamer was good at wringing the truth out of people.

"Hmm..."

The gamer didn't bother to return the greeting; she just tilted her head a little to one side, and came closer still. Mioda shivered in the dim light, feeling even more nervous than when she'd faced down her first proper–sized audience. She was shaking so badly, she'd dropped the microphone; trying to retrieve it, she'd only banged her guitar on the stage. Back then, all she had wanted to do was run from the jeering and the laughter, much like she wanted to run from Nanami right now–

–but she hadn't. Mioda had never run from a challenge, no matter how nervous or frightened she happened to be. And she was never going to, no matter how tense she was, no matter how many lives were on the line, no matter what happened. Sure, Mioda had little idea how she'd just jumped from recounting bad things to giving herself a pep talk, but that was thinking for you.

"…mnn…"

A friendly(?) reach for her shoulder made the musician flinch. Unlike the earlier cringing, it was obvious enough to be noticed. At least there was no slasher smile or anything horrible like that. The other girl just looked her up and down, then shrugged off her backpack and reached into it. All the while, she was frowning just enough to get Mioda's heart attempting to break the world record for the hundred–metre hurdles.

"…Hey. What are you doing?"

"N–nothing much!" she chirped, keeping the trembling out of her voice as best she could. It wasn't just a matter of pride – if Nanami was the mind–reader, Mioda definitely didn't want her know that they were all alone out here. "Ibuki totally would've used a dot–dot–dot for that, by the way!", she went on. "Because it means 'nothing' , y'know? But – um, Chiaki–chan kind of used the whole day's quota of dot–dot–dots!"

It barely resembled a joke, but Mioda giggled anyway. She was hoping that the other girl might laugh along – even if it was just for politeness's sake, it'd have eased her own fear. Unfortunately, Nanami just kept rummaging through the bag, as though nothing had been said at all.

The musician's shoulders tightened a little, and she hopped from foot to foot, disguising worry as impatience. "…So! Yeah! Hey, heya, hello, bonjour, seasons greetings to Dot–Dot–Dot–chan! And uh, that's a pretty deep backpack. Is Chiaki–chan off on some super–secret–important–side–quest? That, like, maaaaaybe has a super–short time limit?"

Once again, she was met with silence – and this time round, she'd run out of things to say. Standing there, with not even acknowledged words between herself and her maybe–an–enemy, Mioda felt all the more uncomfortable. She was fidgeting within seconds, tangling fingers through her hair, shuffling her feet, fiddling with her piercings. The tension had her wound up so much that when the gamer finally drew herself upright and answered, she actually jumped.

"Not really. I just wanted to be alone for a while, I think." She had been zipping up the backpack, but as she swung it back over her shoulder, Mioda caught a fleeting, pitying smile. "The trial… wasn't very nice."

Understatement of the year, but the musician decided to ignore it, in favour of pursuing that chance to get away. "So, sooooo, Chiaki–chan's saying that Ibuki oughta go away. Riiiiight? So, she can have a great long angsty monologue out here, with no guitar riffs interrupting her. A bit weird – okay, a lot weird, since Ibuki's pretty sure that Chiaki–chan's not the protagonist – but, hey! If that's what she's int–"

"No, it's fine. So, um… What's the book about?"

She said it like it was a perfectly innocent question; even framed it with a sigh just before she said it, and a nodding at the book just after. Maybe it was just a horrible coincidence, but Mioda's first conclusion wasn't along those lines, and it absolutely showed. There was a bizarre gasping noise, and she stood very straight, arms falling to her sides. There was a way out of this situation, she was sure of it. But… but… but… but she wasn't an excuses girl, not at all, but–

–she was tired. She was very tired. She was so very tired, and the question had flustered her, and her overactive imagination was gibbering about what the potential mind–reader might do to her if she was found out– if, if, what an awful little word, sounded like a scream choked off. What if Nanami attacked her? What if she poisoned Mioda somehow? What if she pretended to be nice, but in the morning, the brainwasher found herself tied up by the others? She couldn't do anything about the ifs; in her panic, all these nightmares seemed very much possible.

I can't– what if– I can't– what if!

"I, uh… um… I–it's about… well…" the musician stalled, finally remembering to tuck the book behind her back.

What if she saw?

…Should there even be an 'if' on that one? There's no way she didn't notice!

She shook her head, trying to clear it a little. There was a way out, there had to be – and there was, it was very simple, she just had to think it through. But even with the narration's best attempts – no, she didn't even see the glaringly obvious solution, didn't think to try and make Nanami believe everything was okay. She'd been caught completely off–guard, and now she was caught in an icy fear, equal parts intimidated and surprised. Sure, the gamer had been basically innocent so far, but Mioda had this awful hunch that she was about to be rustled.

It's so hard to lie. Maybe I should give in.

But, at that moment, right when she was about to give up, explain what she was, and hope that maybe this wasn't her sworn enemy after all – well, a seagull flew low over the beach.

There was no goofy moment there, no heroic feathered fiend to the face. No chorus sang out, but with that bird came the best thing Mioda could have asked for – inspiration, riding shotgun on dirty grey wings. Her new, and utterly brilliant, idea went like this: Give an alternate title for the book. Maybe, just maybe, Nanami hadn't seen the real topic in the low light; maybe, just maybe, she could be fooled after all.

A demented, awful sort of hope came to life. Nothing was over yet, not while Mioda's will still burned. Taking careful aim at that slither of hope that a lie could set alight, the guitarist flashed a broad grin Nanami's way; hoped it looked okay, even though it felt forced enough to have been more like a general baring of teeth. "Ibuki's book is d–definitely about birds! Parakeets and parrots and parasites! Big birds, little birds, birds with arms, all the birds!"

The gamer held a pause there, and though Mioda would never have admitted it out loud, the quiet frightened her. Silence was something she'd never liked, really – awkward, joyless, devoid of music, devoid of life. It was all the naturally chatty girl she could do to hold back herself. She badly wanted to fill the silence, enough that words felt like they were crawling up her throat, tickling and burning in equal measure. All that stopped her from babbling was the thought that she might somehow make the situation even worse. What if she blurted out something that proved she was lying, or revealed her role?

Biting her lip, she stared at the ground. In hindsight, maybe this whole lying thing hadn't been the best idea.

"Please be careful", said Nanami, and the brainwasher's heart skipped a beat. She was now at least eighty–three–point–seven–five percent certain that she was facing down the mind–reader, that they knew about her, and she was utterly unprepared. There was no–one to help her out, and no matter how many times she told herself that Ibuki doesn't need anyone, never has and never will, she'd have felt an awful lot more comfortable if someone had been there. As it was, all she could do was back away from Nanami, her mind clawing for an excuse to leave. So close to being rustled, so close to failing, wanting to run and not being able to – it felt like the trial all over again, and it felt like it was much too soon.

"Eh?! Why would Ibuki have to be careful?" She laughed then, and tried to put as much confidence into it as she could. But her mind was thinking something quite different from what she was saying, something along the lines of Expletives deleted, I haven't been careful enough, guess the bad girl wins, it's all downhill from here folks, and it showed. Despite all her efforts in vocal training, Mioda couldn't quite keep the worry and the fear out of things. She shivered in the quiet that followed her words. What she'd just said hadn't sounded brave or assertive in the least, and to her, sound was almost everything. She wasn't dealing at all well–

–but she wouldn't allow herself to just give up. She couldn't, not with that pep talk she'd just given herself fresh in her mind. Too much was depending on Mioda; lives could be hanging in the balance here. Sure, she hesitated, thinking a few things that would've made Kuzuryuu go pale. But after that – she didn't back off in the least. Several deep breaths were taken, then she went on. "It's Nagito–chan and Peko–chan who oughta watch out! Like, they got injured and all, yeah? Yeah! So, it could totes happen to them again! Stabbity stab stab! Splish splosh splash! Squick!"

"Mioda." There was a warning there, and it went completely unheeded. It was a stupid move, yelling over the top of the other girl, but Mioda was in blind panic at this point, feeling trapped and cornered. Her general dislike of Nanami's controlling nature wasn't helping much, either – her voice was high with nerves, almost to the point of whiny.

"And! And! And, and, and, aaaaaaaand meanwhile, Byakuya–chan's gonna have to go through an entire character arc to redeem himself! Everyone blames him for nearly derailing the case, you know?"

"Mioda."

"Or at least, Mahiru–chan totally does, and Ibuki's on board with anything she says, so, so – he's gonna have to go through a friendship fetch quest for at least two people, yeah? Not that Ibuki knows much about games, but if he wants to be leader and all, it'd totally be a game of thrones, which she knows aaaaall abou–"

"Mioda!"

The exclamation was sharp and loud enough that the brainwasher just about swallowed her tongue, once again left speechless and shaking. As much as she hated the thought that Nanami could guide the conversation, be on top and cut her off whenever she pleased… Well, that's exactly what had just happened. With nothing to be done about it beyond worry, paranoia crept in the wake of her shock: Maybe there were two brainwashers on the island, and the other one was standing right in front of her. Or, maybe the book just hadn't been right when it said that the mind–reader couldn't read the brainwasher. Whatever the reason, Nanami was in complete control of what was being said. For someone as used to being as dominant in conversations as Mioda was, the experience was uncomfortable at best, terrifying at worst.

"Th–that's me! What's up?" the brainwasher managed, after a long, dreadful moment. It was much too short and lame a line, but there was a tight feeling in her chest, as though she'd been running for hours on end, as though she'd just been thrown into an icy–cold pool, as though her world was falling apart – wait, that's not an 'as though', I'm really losing it here–!

But no – she'd already opted not to run, she'd decided on that an eternity ago. She couldn't change that now; sure, Mioda was frightened, but she'd read something about that being totally natural, even for really brave people. She was, after all, the brainwasher, which meant that she was the only thing standing between the mind–reader and the rest of the island. If Nanami was the mind–reader, then it was her role to stop the other girl. She needed to take comfort and courage from this fact, lift her head, and face her enemy head–on.

…Which would be a whole lot easier if the gamer just had answered her earlier, and not stared blankly into the distance, forcing Mioda to try again. Just breathing was hard enough, let alone speaking – but the guitarist wasn't going to give up, not just yet. "L–like, um. Chiaki–chan does h–have something to say, right? Did she want to complain about the imminent copyright infringement? Ibuki's not… wasting her time with some kind of dead–end free time event, is she?"

The response she got involved daintily clasped hands, a dreamy smile, several steps in her direction, and an expression that toed the line between stern and gentle. Before her opponent had even said anything, she knew she was in deep, deep trouble.

"Just…" Nanami hesitated.

Just…

…get out of here.

Just…

…stay out of my way, and my plans.

Just…

…know that the island's not big enough for both of us.

Just…

…run while you can. I'll spare you, but next time round, you're dead meat–!

Just…

"…be careful, that's all. I really don't want to find you, say, walking alone on the beach again."

Just… huh?

Nanami must have spotted her confusion, since she smiled. "I mean… That's a pretty dangerous thing to do, isn't it?"

Since this wasn't at all the vicious attack the brainwasher had been expecting, she risked a glance up. As soon as their eyes met, that crazed hope flickered again (just like in a romance novel, Mioda decided, only, like, way less romantic). Maybe Nanami was just normal, after all.

"It'll be fine, Chiaki–chaaaaan!" she beamed. "'Cos, um – Chiaki–chan likes coming here too, right? Soooo, Ibuki can be alone together with her tomorrow morning, right? That'd– that… tha…?

Quite suddenly, she fell silent. It wasn't out of fear, or because Nanami had cut her off yet again – Mioda stood much straighter than she had been, even smiling in the face of her potential worst fear. It wasn't like she'd just run out of things to say, either. The day that happened was the day she figured she'd be retiring from showbiz.

No, no – she had felt their gazes lock.

In a brainwashing sort of way.

At first, she couldn't keep the grin off her face. There was no way now that Nanami could be the mind–reader; much like Souda, there wasn't so much as a low wall to stop the brainwasher from plowing right in. A little confused protesting, but – otherwise, her mind was dead easy to put to sleep. What should have taken minutes only took seconds, too; there didn't seem to be much inside Nanami's head that was at all opposed to taking a nap. Maybe that was because she tended to fall asleep on her feet a lot?

Okay, Chiaki–chan! Forget all about that convo. It was… pretty awkward and stuff.

No.

The brainwasher blinked, but decided to let that one slide. Even Souda had grumbled a little, when she'd first tried to order him around. Maybe this was just a version of that, just a bit louder. Um, if she's a little nervous about it – it's no biggie? Ibuki'll pick out some parts for Chiaki–chan to remember later. For now, though, Chiaki–chan should forget the whole thing. Okay?

No.

The gamer's gaze was still locked in, and she was even drooling a little. But Mioda had felt something in that abyss lash out twice now – something big, something that coincided with twin lightning strikes over the sea – and happiness quickly shifted into unease. She hopped from foot to foot. Maybe she was out of her depth here, after all. Maybe she should stop, while Nanami wasn't entirely aware of what was going on. Maybe her target already knew… but if things turned into an all–out mental battle, and Mioda lost, she would definitely know.

And by a similar sort of twisted logic, the brainwasher didn't have a choice but to continue trying. It was hard to just back off and pretend that nothing had happened, when she'd tried to order Nanami around and had been sensed. If she wanted to avoid having to explain everything (and she was all about not having to explain), then the only way forwards was to brainwash the other girl, and do it properly. So, Mioda gathered her resolve as best she could given that she had no real idea how, then tried again.

Look, Ibuki's doing this for everyone's good – and hey, she's pretty good at being good! Soooo – Chiaki can leave all her problems with Ibuki to be fixed up, all right?

It's not all right. I won't let you.

Since those italics just about hissed with raw power, the brainwasher was expecting to be shoved back. Ehat she wasn't expecting was the harshness of it. Nanami made it look easy, graceful, even simple – she frowned, and looked over at the ocean. To Mioda, it felt as though she'd simultaneously been slapped and watched her best friend get hit by one of those bullet trains; a sudden, painful jerk that left her breathless and utterly lost, head and heart pounding. Hell, it even happened fast enough to get a gasp out of her.

Nanami chewed at her lip, watching the waves. "That'd what?"

"Eh? That'd what, Chiaki–chan?"

"That'd what."

Mioda blinked. Nanami blinked back. Something prickled at the back of the guitarist's neck.

"Uhhhhh. Chiaki–chan, Ibuki's kinda got the memory of a goldfish. When there's these super–duper–long paragraphs, even though everything in 'em happened super–fast – anyway, it gets really confusing…."

The other girl yawned, then heaved a long–suffering sigh, glancing her way. Challenging, almost. Mioda shivered in response to it, and tried to find something interesting about her shoes. "You wanted to be 'alone together' at the beach. With me. Tomorrow morning. And you said that'd– that… tha…?"

"That'd what?"

"…Yeah, exactly. You stopped there." She frowned a little. "Mioda, you seem a little out of it. Are you all right?"

"Oh–! Yeah, Ibuki's fine. She was just gonna say, it'd be totally safe and angsty if she was alone together with Chiaki–chan! So, yep. Does she wanna do it, or is Chiaki–chan chiaken? Ibuki came up with that one herself."

There was something interesting about her shoes, actually; or at least, the area just in front of them. Nestled in the sand was a bell. It was partially melted (and from the looks of things, still smoldering), but – it still kind of looked like something she'd seen before. She squinted at it, wondering what it might be.

Nanami shuffled her feet. "So long as nothing's happened."

"Great, great! Ibuki had better get to back so she doesn't miss breakfast and all, but – um, at five thirty–awesome tomorrow morning, Chiaki–chan can meet Ibuki in her cabin! That way, they'll be safe even when they're walking over! Simple but awesome, hmm?"

As far as Mioda's plans went, this one was indeed simple, and she felt pretty awesome about it. All she had to do to get ready for the trap was to re–brainwash Souda and Tsumiki again, and read that book. With a few brainwashed people and a ton of knowledge on her side, she should be able to keep the gamer from getting out of the cabin, and find out how to get her to stop resisting as well. Getting hold of Nanami at five–thirty in the morning would give Mioda hours before anyone else woke up. Overall, this was looking to be almost perfe–

"Hang on… No, I can't do it. Something's happened, I'm sorry."

Again, bad news cut through her happy celebrating, and again, Mioda caught herself thinking all manner of nasty words. Her heart wasn't just pounding anymore; it appeared to have skipped the hammering phase, and was now imitating heavy machinery. Or possibly heavy metal, with just a hint of industrial metal – whatever it was doing, it was about as loud and panicked as its owner's voice.

"No? No?!" she repeated, her voice squeaking in panic. "Nada? Nil? Zilch? Non? But, but – Ibuki doesn't want Chiaki–chan going out on the beach alone! Unfair and dangerous!"

Looking up, she didn't seem to be the only one who was rattled. Nanami's hands were shaking, and she'd gone very pale. For whatever reason, her gaze was completely fixed on the melted bell–thing; she took one slow step back, then another. "Bad", she mumbled, then shook her head, flipped her hood up, and raised her voice. "I'm sorry. It's just, if someone saw us together… that'd look really suspicious, I think. I should go. Now."

She turned away, and Mioda blinked in some confusion. Even though she'd had the upper hand for nearly the whole conversation, everything about Nanami's body language seemed to indicate fear. "E–eh?! All of a sudden, Chiaki–chan's going chicken–chan! Forget Ibuki forgetting one tiny thingyummy – is Chiaki–chan sure she's okay?"

"Remember how I told you to be careful? Well… I think I have to be careful, too." She reached down, picking up the smoldering Whatever–It–Was.

And Nanami started walking.

I have to deal with her! She has to know my role – that's why she's running away! If I don't stop her, this could be really bad!

"But… but… b–buuuuuuuuuut…"

But, Mioda couldn't argue.

But, she didn't have the strength – didn't have the nerve, didn't have the courage to challenge Nanami right now. She hung her head, sneaking the occasional death glare in at the other girl's back. There had to be a way out, something she could say to get a decent outcome out of this whole mess.

But, as hard as she thought…

"…okay, Chiaki–chan."

Just for now, Mioda slumped her shoulders, and walked in the opposite direction to her enemy.

Beaten? Sort of, though she'd never actually admit it. To the musician, that was almost as bad as giving up.

Ashamed? Definitely.

But.

She was determined; she was desperate; most of all, she was competitive. In the morning – the proper morning, not this weird, cold time where the sun was just coming up and the birds raising hell a short distance away – she would go after Nanami again, and again, and again, until she won.

This kind of loss would not happen again.

A/N: Only one perspective for this chapter, because it got so long! Koizumi's side of things is a similar length, so you can expect to see a whole chapter of her before the format returns to normal.

Whiiiiich is probably good, b/c wowwwwww Mioda, how did you manage to be serious for a whole chapter, I thought that was Koizumi's job, ect ect. At least when we last left everyone's fave photographer, she was off to see Hanamura. Ought to be a fun chapter, mmn?