The Exposed Nest

The kettle whistled. For a few long moments, the two women only stared. Then, realizing no one was going to pour it for them, Koizumi slowly rose and walked into Hotel Mirai's kitchen.

"I wish you brought along a couple of your guys," Koizumi called into the other room as she poured steaming water into one of the two waiting mugs. "It'd be nice if we didn't have to handle all the grunt work."

Sonia was silent. The two of them had taken over a table by the double-windows in the back, windows through which the former queen stared through wistfully. She didn't even look away from the outside until steam was tickling her nose. Once Sonia took the mug, Koizumi took her seat again. She sipped at her drink. Truth be told, she wasn't a huge fan of tea, much preferring the stimulus of coffee. However, she didn't want to feel more worked up right now.

Why was that? Because she was stressed. No point denying it. Anyone would be after hearing their friend had been used as a punching bag. She hadn't quite understood at first – Komaeda wasn't tough and shouldn't a man know how to defend himself? But then a memory had risen up, one of an innocently gleeful Sonia shooting a grenade launcher while telling her that looks were deceiving and you could never be quite sure who somebody was.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took another sip. Rather than calming her, the hot liquid reacted negatively with the knot in her stomach and sloshed around until she felt like she might throw up.

"Oh?" Sonia said calmly. "It appears that Nidai-kun has returned."

Koizumi did her best to tune Sonia out, but it was too late. If there had been a knot in her stomach before, now there was a baseball. She didn't want to think about that. Thinking about him just made her more ill and uncertain. A voice in her head said that choosing between Pekoyama and Kuzuryu's suggested actions should be easy, yet she just couldn't; even though Pekoyama was right and people needed to be accountable for what they had done, plus Komaeda had been getting away with it. . .

But at the same time, Kuzuryu's accusations had hit like a hammer, driving a nail into her chest. And every time she squirmed, every time she rested, she could feel the ice-cold steel in her heart.

She couldn't be the only one feeling this. Yet Sonia was as composed as ever: the picture of regality. Koizumi knew she was a plain girl, but within the radiance of Sonia's elegant maturity, she felt every bit of it.

"Hey, Sonia –"

Her mouth snapped shut. That was right. She didn't want to think about this. Of course, now she had the Queen's attention, and she had to say something.

Hastily, Koizumi said, "Uh, just wanted to know what you were thinking about. You've been really quiet."

She mentally slapped herself. That was just going to lead back into the subject she didn't want to discuss. Maybe it was destined they did.

"Do you think he'll survive?" Sonia asked.

"Hm? I guess so. I mean Kamukura kept Owari-san alive, and she was in worse shape than him. So, once Kamukura decides to be responsible and show up, I don't see why not."

"I wonder. . ." Sonia stared out the window as she scratched at her wrist. "They say that it isn't only the body that needs to be protected, but the mind as well. That sometimes, it is possible for someone to will themselves into the grave. Komaeda has never been very fond of himself."

Koizumi squirmed, uncomfortable with the current thread of conversation. "He's not the only one going through that though. Have you heard how Kuzuryu has been talking lately? It's like the only thing he can do is worry about Pekoyama-san and hate himself."

"He carried the burden of leadership," Sonia said defensively, although not with heat. "The weight of failure is greater than you know."

That sounded heavy. Not just the words themselves, but the very way they were spoken: low and wavering, like a dying gasp. For the first time since they had sat down, Koizumi noticed how tired Sonia looked. Swollen bags lay under her eyes, and she seemed skinnier, even though Koizumi knew the other woman had been eating well.

"Are you okay?" Koizumi heard herself asked. "You carried that burden, too."

"I did. For nearly all my life, I had. Even when I was a mere princess, there were expectations of me," Sonia said. "It's interesting, isn't it? This is the first time that I needn't worry about what I say, or how I present myself."

Koizumi wrinkled her nose. "I don't know about that. I don't think we should go around looking like slobs. Boys might not care what they look like, but we should have standards. But are you okay?"

"Do you remember what Pekoyama-san said?" She put the mug aside. Only the faintest hint of steam rose from it. "She said that the more dangerous – the worst person – is one who thought they were doing the right thing."

"She never said the second part," Koizumi said. She put her hand on Sonia's knee for comfort. "She said the first part, but. . ."

"It doesn't matter. That's who I was," Sonia continued. "They tried to warn me, but I didn't listen."

Koizumi couldn't think of how to respond to that.

Suddenly, a wretched scent crawled into her throat. It stung the hairs in her nostrils, and the moment it grazed her lungs, they contracted and rejected the smell with such force she retched. She clamped her hand over her mouth and nose but could still pick up traces of the smell. What was that - ?

Although she wasn't Owari, the smell was pungent enough to easily trace to its source. For most of their conversation, Sonia had been scratching at her wrist – a wrist that shouldn't have been able to feel itchiness. But she hadn't just been scratching. Her nails had dug in and peeled four straight lines off the outer layer of skin. That wrist wasn't alive; it couldn't bleed. But it oozed something the colour of rot that she immediately looked away from. Whatever was coming from those scratches was thick and had stuck to Sonia's fingers like tar.

"I'm the same as him. That was me." Sonia repeated that like a broken record. Then she started to cry.

Koizumi instinctively reached out to take her hand, but hesitated when her consciousness prodded her sharply to remind her why she was covering her nose. She shifted her seat instead so that she could put an arm around Sonia's shoulders.

"I don't. . ." Sonia was scratching at the back of her hand, although this looked more like clawing. "Please!"

"Hey, wh-what's wrong?"

"Get it off!"

Sonia's nails dug into the back of her wrist and pulled toward her knuckles. What was she doing? Koizumi seized her wrist and tugged her living hand away from its dead counterpart. Although the arm was stiff, she didn't face much resistance.

"Stop that!" Koizumi cried. "You can't rip it off. We don't know what would happen. Y-you need to talk to Tsumiki-san first, or Kamukura."

Sonia didn't seem to be listening, but at least she wasn't trying to tear herself apart anymore. Instead, she was trying to curl into the back of her chair. A part of Koizumi wanted to run away, or maybe grab a wet washcloth to throw over Sonia's wrist. But she couldn't leave her alone; what if Sonia decided to go ahead and rip her hand off?

"I'm sorry," Sonia said. It couldn't be right, but it sounded like Sonia was talking to her.

"You don't need to apologize to me," Koizumi said, confused.

"I did this. I led everyone to this."

It was hard to know what to say when she didn't have any leadership experience to draw upon. The only thing she had led was a regular photography club and planning the time and place to shoot a sunrise was nothing like planning the fate of millions of people. There was little she could do but hold her and offer meaningless assurance.

Eventually, Sonia cried herself out. Thankfully, that included calming down to the point where her hand no longer twitched toward her wounded wrist. The puffy bags under her eyes were even more swollen, making her look older.

Koizumi gently kneaded her shoulder. "You okay?"

Sonia nodded, too breathless to speak.

Carefully, anxious not to provoke anything, Koizumi stood. "I'm going to get some bandages. Will you be okay?"

"You are going all the way to the hospital?" Something flashed in Sonia's face, almost like she was afraid to be left alone.

"No. I stocked the first-aid kit in the kitchen a few weeks ago." She gave Sonia a quick smile. "I didn't think it would be very responsible to keep everything on Third island when something could happen here."

"Then I shall await your return."

She didn't take long. Sonia was pressing her fingers into her brow by the time Koizumi sat next to her and wordlessly began wrapping her hand. The tar-like liquid flowed funnily as the bandages squeezed against the flesh, and quickly stained them with a dark colour that could be mistaken for old blood.

"Did I help Enoshima-san bring you into this?" Sonia asked her quietly.

Koizumi chewed on the question, trying to parse its meaning. When she thought she had an idea, she answered, "No, you didn't make me do anything. I wanted to come with you and. . . I wanted to listen to her."

It wasn't something she thought about often, or really at all. The last couple of years of her life were hazy somehow, like she had been drunk through most of it. It bothered her to try to remember; made her skin prickle and her blood run hot in her veins.

"As did I," Sonia sighed. Tired blue eyes met Koizumi's own. "I wish I hadn't."


Given how everyone's nerves were already high-strung, the sudden pounding on the door made Asahina leap into an upright position before she even felt her heart racing. It wasn't her door being pounded on, but one further down, and the only reason she could hear the person speaking was because her window was open.

"Naegi! Come on, man. Open up!"

Rage simmered under her skin. Who the hell wanted to disturb him? Well, enough was enough. She might not have been there to protect him when he really needed it, but she sure as heck could protect him from people trying to interrupt his beauty sleep!

She stormed out of the motel room. Adrenaline pulsed through her body. There was too much of it to be contained, so it bled from her pores and gathered in beads of anticipation-sweat along her joints. It was a miracle that things weren't bursting into flames from the sheer intensity.

Her target was easily found. With his garish yellow jumper and hot pink hair, it was hard not to notice Soda; he basically came with his own spotlight. But it wasn't his clothes or even how he pounded on Naegi's door that infuriated her; it was the crude club he held at his side.

"Back off! Now!" she snarled.

Even though he was the one with a weapon, Soda was the one who backed away. He held the club above his head to block a blow that never came. It took him a second, but the finally realized that he looked like an idiot. The club lowered, not to his side, but to an offensive rather than defensive height.

"Hey! Don't sneak up on me like that!" His pointed teeth clicked as he gashed them together. Those red eyes were sharp, but she found they didn't intimidate her in the slightest. "Man, to think everyone says we're the scary ones."

"You're the one with a club!"

"I wasn't gonna hit you with it."

"Are you gonna hit Naegi-kun with it?" She clenched her fists, ready to snatch that club away and break it over Soda's head instead. She didn't want to think he would do that. She wanted to believe Naegi, Pekoyama and Kirigiri when they swore the formers Despairs wouldn't hurt her friend on purpose (with one notable exception), but who else was he expecting to find in Naegi's room?

"You trying to piss me off?" Soda shouted. "I not gonna hit my soul brother."

"Then why do you have a club?"

" 'Cause we're gonna go hit someone else with it! Like me and him, not me and you." After an awkward pause, the silence got to him and he began rambling. "Pekoyama just came back and started saying all these crazy things, so I gotta check how much of it is true before we go smash that guy's head in."

Pekoyama told them? Why? Asahina had thought it went without saying that this was a secret to be kept between best friends, not shouted across the island. How could she? They didn't deserve to know. Naegi had told them and that meant. . .

A black haze poked at the edge of her sight, the same one that had reared its head when Togami had pulled her aside and quietly told her Kamukura had left the island. It was that comparison that let her shake her wrath off, at least as much as she could. She held her breath, forcing her chest to tighten with something other than anger. She wasn't going to kill anyone; especially not after making that vow less an hour ago.

Yelling at this idiot, however, was a perfectly acceptable way to blow steam. "So, you're going to break his door down while holding a club?"

Soda scoffed. "Come, on. Naegi knows this isn't for him."

God, the arrogance of this guy! She wanted to throttle him, but she couldn't because what had she just said about violence? But Kirigiri had never said anything about verbal beatdowns, and it would be awfully hypocritical of the detective to get mad at her for that.

"You're the one who hit him with a wrench!" she shouted.

"That doesn't count!"

"Who are you to say that? Of course, it counts! He has the scar to prove it."

The club finally fell to Soda's side. "O-okay, but we weren't friends then, so it was like a totally different life ago."

Her teeth grinded together. "This is why all of you suck! You think that if it isn't a big deal to you, it isn't a big deal to anyone. That's not how this works. It is to him, and you can't just sit at home and ignore it. Things don't unhappen because you don't talk about it. I bet you didn't even apologize."

"Did, too! Uh, I must have." At her glare, he added, "Give me a break. That happened almost a year ago, so my memory's foggy."

"You didn't," she said curtly. "If you had and you meant it, you'd remember. At least Komaeda knows he's a horrible person."

"Hey, don't compare me to that freak." Perhaps from overheating, or perhaps because he needed something to wring, Soda pulled his beanie off and began twisting it like a wet towel. It exposed a pink bird's nest of hair that somehow stuck out in as many places as Hagakure's head.

But Asahina wasn't finished. "You're the same as Komaeda. You hurt him and then you pretend that it's no big deal and act like you're friends. You know, I used to ask Kirigiri-san why Naegi-kun spent so much time with him, but I get it now. All of you treated him the same way. Where else would he go?"

"He could have gone to me!" Soda barked. "I didn't know all that stuff with Komaeda was happening. He could have told me. We were supposed to be brothers!"

Waspishly, she asked, "Do you leave scars on your other brothers?"

It took him a second to understand. Then something broke in his face. It was hard to describe: a sagging of the features, of sorts. Neither had realized how tense his shoulders and neck had been until they slumped. Soda kept hold of the club, but it was now a loose three-fingered grip instead of the white-knuckled one from before.

"He sees that scar every time he looks in the mirror," Asahina said. "And he doesn't care because he thinks he did something to deserve it. He thinks he deserved everything you guys and Komaeda did to him."

"But we didn't say that," Soda said. "I mean, I know I didn't say he deserved anything, but I don't know what that freak told him."

"I'm not the one you need to convince."

The nice thing about any kind of beatdown was that she usually felt better afterwards. And she did. Somewhat. There was still a deep sense of frustration grinding at her bones, but her hands were no longer shaking. As a bonus, she didn't think Soda was worked up enough anymore to beat anyone either. Not even Komaeda.

"I. . . Look, I'm sorry!" he blurted out as she started to walk away.

"It's too late for that," she said regretfully. "Just leave him alone. He doesn't need this after today."

With those words, they parted: two very different people, but both burdened with regrets.