You Reap What You Sow

She walked out into the aftermath of a disaster. Asahina was on her knees, hand clamped over her mouth, tugging at her collar in a useless attempt to loosen the imaginary vice around her neck. Given the sounds she was making, it might be prudent to fetch her a bucket. Hagakure sat next to Asahina. In normal circumstances, he would deserve a fierce scolding for ignoring the troubled woman next to him. However, saying he was ignoring her wasn't correct. His eyes were glazed, spine bent as he leaned on a wall for support. He would be forgiven.

Nearby, in a patch of shade, Togami had either adopted standing meditation as a hobby or was trying very hard to relax. Maybe he was unaware that his upper body was beginning to rock, though his feet remained firmly in place. In contrast, Komaru was on the move. She, her hands on her head, moved slowly away from the door separating them from her brother. Then, without warning, Komaru charged past Fukawa straight at Pekoyama and slammed her fists into her chest.

"How could you let that happen? I trusted you!" Komaru wailed.

"I didn't. . ." Pekoyama didn't try to dodge or defend herself. "I'm sorry."

Komaru hit Pekoyama one last time and then staggered away. She rubbed at her eyes with her forearm, though it was for little good when the tears were so quickly replaced.

Strangely, seeing her friends in such turmoil made it easier for Kirigiri to keep herself in check. It was like being at the scene of a fresh crime. Already, without her conscious decision, she felt her brain sorting and filing everything away to be dealt with later. The emotions surrounding her became observations in a notepad, to be calmly scanned later.

"Pekoyama-san, sit Naegi-san next to Asahina-san. You sit afterwards, too."

A distressed Pekoyama was one that easily fell into habits of obedience. She grabbed Komaru by the upper arm, paying no heed to the younger girl's violent attempt to escape, and forced her down next to Asahina. Asahina didn't notice, too busy shaking and mumbling.

"What are you doing?" Togami asked her. His voice was tighter than usual, but he had managed to school his expression into vague indifference.

"Heading off any impulsive acts of vengeance," Kirigiri said.

"You're going to let him get away with it?" Komaru demanded.

"Komaeda isn't getting away with it, but think for a second before you decide to act. Does it sound like your brother needs any more guilt on his shoulders?"

Komaru drew her legs in and ignored the question.

"I warned him, you know. I told him he trusted too easily. I told him that relying on anyone but himself was going to get him killed," Togami snarled. He sounded offended, as if it had been his personal responsibility to impart that lesson on Naegi.

"Give the kid a break," Hagakure said. "Why wouldn't he believe something like that? It's not like he was going to stick his hand down their pants to see if the bodies were real."

"They weren't real. They couldn't be. Kuzuryu-kun would have known we had them. I would have known," Pekoyama stammered.

"They weren't our real classmates," Kirigiri agreed. "But Komaeda did have access to real bodies."

"How could he do that?" Asahina shrieked from beneath the hand over her mouth. "What kind of sick person could even think of something like that? And a kiss. What did he mean by a kiss?"

"Naegi-kun and Komaeda-kun did kiss once," Pekoyama said slowly. "He told me that, but he never told me the circumstances behind it."

"It never occurred to you to tell us?" Togami snapped. "You claim to be his protector, and yet you didn't think that was important?"

"I. . . It seemed so minor compared to everything else. I didn't think it would have such a lasting effect."

"What about everything else he said?" Face red, Asahina continued her tirade. "Cannibalism? Flaying? What happened?"

"Tanaka-kun feasted on the dead." Pekoyama closed her eyes. "Naegi-kun stumbled upon him once."

The reaction was a spectrum of disgust, ranging from the twitch of Togami's nose to the full-body cringe from Komaru. If there was one benefit, the disgust helped shield them from the full blow as Pekoyama next explained the reference to flaying.

"Sick. Sick, sick, sick," Asahina was muttering.

"Medical experiments?" Togami prompted.

"Tsumiki-san used to host a television show where she tortured prisoners," Pekoyama admitted heavily.

"Wasn't. . ." Hagakure looked around uncertainly, as if afraid of everyone's reaction. "Wasn't Naegi-chi on that once?"

"Yes. He interrupted her last broadcast," Pekoyama confirmed. "Kuzuryu-kun wasn't happy Naegi-kun got it cancelled."

It was easy for Kirigiri to pretend the rising goosebumps on her skin were from a cold breeze. "He was punished for it."

"Not for that." A gust of relief went through the group, until Pekoyama started speaking again. "But that is why Kuzuryu-kun tried to brainwash him."

"Are you talking about that accursed video?" For once, Togami's abject fear was plain.

"It didn't work on him," Pekoyama said. "Trust me, we would know if it had."

"And the mauling from a bear?" Kirigiri asked.

"His pet bear attacked an assassin that snuck into his room. It wasn't a real assassination," Pekoyama added quickly, seeming nervous. "It was a setup. Kuzuryu-kun was going to save him and. . . He was trying to make Naegi-kun like him."

The weight of that last sentence hit like a physical blow. Kirigiri's own instinct was to stumble back, but she didn't.

"Pekoyama-san," Kirigiri said carefully, "tell me this is because of despair. Tell me this isn't what your class is normally like."

Pekoyama's shoulders curled inward. "It was all her. I hate it. I hated them. I hated myself until he came along. I wish I could have been the one to kill her."

"What is wrong with you people?" Asahina was saying.

"We talked about this," Kirigiri said gently. "The video."

"I know," Asahina said. "It's just so frustrating and I can't punch Enoshima because she's dead!"

Suddenly, Asahina found herself with a translucent, purple rock on her head. She tilted her head and let it slide off into her waiting palm. Meanwhile, Hagakure was reaching over and putting another rock on Komaru's head.

"They're calming crystals," Hagakure explained without being asked. "Seems like a good time for them. And things are so intense that I'm letting everyone have a free trial!"

He handed each of them a purple crystal. Kirigiri rubbed it between her fingers. Ah, not real crystal, of course.

"All right, everyone take deep breaths." Hagakure sat down in the middle of their unconsciously formed circle. He held his palms out at shoulder-height and combined with his messy hair, it made him look like a hippie guru. "If everyone freaks out, we're going to set Naegi-chi off."

"If this is how you plan to occupy yourselves, I'm going back in," Kirigiri said over the buzz of Hagakure's low hum. "I came out here only to keep the peace, and I don't think Naegi-kun should wake up alone. Togami-kun, I trust you can manage from here."

"But of course," Togami sniffed.

With that, Kirigiri walked back into the quiet sanctuary that was her room. She did it so briskly that she missed Komaru looking over the group with confusion. She missed Pekoyama's eyes widen and her hasty, but futile gesture for Komaru to keep silent.

She also missed Komaru's next words:

"Hey, where's Touko-san?"


In less than a minute, they had gone from three adults to one. Well, technically everyone in her brother's class was an adult, but Togami and Kirigiri were the only ones that gave off Real Adult vibes. She also counted Pekoyama because she had those glasses and serious faces and grey hair like one of those strict, elderly teachers that were always on tv.

Pekoyama was the one adult remaining. Kirigiri was staying with her sleeping brother, (Komaru wasn't sure what she was planning to do. Watch him sleep?) and Togami had left in a fit after she pointed out that Touko was nowhere in sight. Not before bossing them into Asahina's room first. If he had the means, she bet he would have locked them in.

"What's the big deal with Genocider anyways? Fukawa turns into her all the time," Hagakure asked. It wasn't his room, yet it had taken a mere second for him to claim Asahina's bed like it was his own.

"She is an experienced killer," Pekoyama said, as if that didn't apply to her, as well. What tears they had seen before had dried, and now the woman stood stoically by the window.

"But she and Fukawa-san don't share memories," Asahina said. "So, there's nothing to worry about."

That only seemed to aggravate Pekoyama. She touched the window carefully, like a lioness testing its claws. Then, it exploded out of her. "This is ridiculous. Why help. . .?"

Without finishing her sentence, Pekoyama suddenly yanked the door open and disappeared. Hagakure made a half-hearted attempt to leap after her, then realized exactly whom it was he would be chasing and sheepishly settled back down.

"Say, Aoi-chi, are you planning on taking off, too?" Hagakure asked, eyeing the thin-lipped woman.

"No, I. . . I want to. I want to do something after what we just heard, but it isn't going to help." Asahina sat down. She flexed and stretched her legs until she was seated in a lotus position, so that standing up couldn't be done on a whim. "I'd probably make things worse again."

Again? Komaru wondered but didn't ask.

"Aren't you mad?" Asahina asked Hagakure.

"Hey, don't you start getting ideas!" Hagakure shouted. He started shaking and held his hands above his head to shield himself from something that wasn't coming. "Look, if this Komaeda dude can control ghosts, then we shouldn't be messing with him. 'Sides, Toges and Kirigiri have it covered."

"Ghosts?" Komaru and Asahina both said. One with disbelief, the other with apprehension.

"You heard Naegi-chi: Komaeda summoned the ghosts of our classmates to make those crime scenes!" Hagakure declared. Having successfully scared himself, the Ultimate Clairvoyant suddenly dove halfway under his bed to look for something. His muffled voice added, "It takes a crazy amount of psychic power for something like that."

"You're such an idiot!" Asahina said.

"Then you tell me what happened!"

"Uh. . . Well, I guess. . . Hey, Naegi-san, what did your brother mean when he said Towa messed up?"

"Right. That. Back when we were on the boat, he wanted me to watch the broadcast Enoshima made of you guys in the Killing Game. He thinks it will make me become a crazy hope fanatic like him."

"Wow. That's messed up," Asahina said.

It was, but it made more sense now. For so long, Komaru had heard the people around her drop the words hope and despair with such gravity, with weight that she didn't understand, as if there was another whole definition to them. After her brother's raving, however, she was beginning to understand. Despair wasn't just a feeling, but a state of being. It was an existence so painful that the only way to keep yourself running was to pretend the bad things were good things.

Asahina was still waiting for a response. Hastily, Komaru said, "It is, but at least all he wants is for me to watch a movie. I was scared that he might want to hurt me, cause that's everyone said he might do if he despaired, but he doesn't want to hurt anyone!"

Hagakure fumbled the bag of salt he had just pulled out from underneath the bed. "Dude – I mean dudette – you were listening to the same guy, right? The kid snapped on Aoi here."

Komaru frowned. Wasn't it obvious? Her brother was scared, and how couldn't he be after that awful story he had told them? He was protecting himself. He might hurt someone, she would admit that, but it would be as the means to a greater goal, not the goal itself.

"I'm not saying he wouldn't, but he doesn't want to," Komaru stressed.

Asahina sighed. "I know the real Naegi wouldn't hurt anyone, but I'm not seeing how you drew that conclusion from that Naegi."

"But. . ." She trailed off, unable to articulate what she understood so clearly.

"You think he'll be okay when he wakes up?" Hagakure asked.

Asahina sighed. "Kirigiri-san's with him, but . . . We'll see."


Komaeda dragged his fingers through his hair one last time. He felt no obvious knots. Despite his efforts, however, his hair stuck out at all angles like a porcupine. That was no surprise, though. It was nature's way that the strongest, most valuable members of a species looked the best. A worthless specimen such as himself deserved to look like he lived on the streets.

He pulled his shirt on and spent a minute picking at the lint. . . Why waste his time with this? Why bother? No one would care if he was neat. No would even notice. They were too caught up in their own Ultimate worlds, worrying about themselves and their friends . . .

It was a tad chilly. He shrugged on his hoodie. A little worn, but there was nothing to be done about that. Even the Ultimate Heir was going to have problems replacing his clothes. (And if that made him smile, that was his secret. Let the Ultimates experience what it was like to live like. . .)

He stepped out of the washroom and shut the door. His eyes automatically turned to his bed, to the dark space underneath. Oh, he was sure nothing was missing. That was all his luck was good for: petty little fortunes as such, but never anything ground-breaking.

He dropped to his knees, turning his face to the side as he groped underneath the bed. Might as well get to work. . .

He had just closed his hand around the box's lid when the door opened. He felt a flash of something like irritation, but mostly curiosity. Who would be looking for him?

When he looked up, the door to his cabin was shut. And there was no one there. Komaeda wouldn't consider himself exceptionally intelligent, but he was observant. He had been sure he heard that door open . . .

"What's got your boxers in a knot?"

He jumped. Genocider Shou watched him from the comfort of his bed. She was sprawled out on her side, head in her hand, resting on her elbow in a seductive manner as if she were expecting Togami to run in at any moment.

"Did you want something?" Komaeda asked.

Grey eyes raked up and down his body. Her tongue poked out, wetted her lips. This was a new experience.

"Hold still, won't ya?" she said.

Without waiting, Genocider hopped off the mattress. With a silver flash, a pair of scissors appeared in her hand. One, she allowed to hang from her finger, and its blades opened as it swung back of forth. She pressed the dull side of the other pair against his chin. He quickly found himself looking skyward as she pushed up. Claw-like fingers pressed into his jaw, pulling down and exposing his teeth as she hemmed and hawed over him like he was a prized bull on the market.

The scissors fell away from his chin. "You know what, I've made my decision. You don't turn me on at all!"

Genocider beamed at him, hands on her hips, looking immensely proud of herself.

"That's not surprising," Komaeda said.

She crossed her arms, tapped her foot and looked at him a little closer. "Yep. Not aroused even a bit. I don't think I could get wet thinking about you if the world depended on it."

"I can't see a situation where that would be an issue," Komaeda said. He had never been sure what to make of her. Obviously, he'd known about the Ultimate Serial Killer, (he'd stumbled across that secret student file after Yukizome had caught him building a bomb. Again), and there was no doubt that she was very talented at what she did. But he wasn't how to handle the casualness with which she preened and talked at him.

Genocider continued to stand there proudly.

Komaeda exhaled. "Well, if you need my room, I'll get out of your way –"

He gasped. The swelling of his chest jangled a nerve somewhere, making the entire left side of his body light up. His left arm stretched awkwardly above his head, tugging at the muscles in his shoulder. What. . . ?

He tried to bring his arm back to his side and at once, a fiery pain shot down his arm. Something hot hit his nose. He turned his head trying to see it, getting flashes of colour that he couldn't decipher. As he gradually became aware of the burning in his hand, the hot thing made its way down his face to his lips. . .

Salty. Wet. Metallic.

"I'm not attracted to you at all," Genocider said softy. She stood before him in a half-squat, poised to spring. "Which is why I just don't get it."

Spidery fingers reached above his head, and then white lights burst in his eyes as there was the sense of something in his hand stretching.

". . . I don't understand why I need to gut you."