Judgment day was here.

Makoto pulled on the collar of his dress shirt as Ms. Chouno passed out the first of the exam packets. He saw Ryuji shaking in his seat next to him, and the rest of the class wasn't much more confident in themselves either.

SMACK!

Makoto's test packet landed on his desk. He shifted his pencil slightly to the right, then slightly back to the left. He was just now starting to regret how much attention he'd invested in the whole Kamoshida situation. Nothing to be done about it now, though.

Homeroom teachers were proctoring today, but they'd rotate over the course of the exam week. Ms. Chouno reminded everyone, "Do not turn over your exam materials until timing starts." Some front of the class students had one thumb under the staple line already.

"Dude," Ryuiji turned over to Makoto, "you ready for this?"

Makoto shook his head. "I feel ready to die."

Ryuji instantly collapsed in his chair. "Yeah, same."

As the teacher circled back to her desk, there was one remaining test packet in her hands. Ms. Chouno filed it away and wrote the exam start time on the chalkboard. "You may now begin," she said. Time to get this over with.

Judgment day was back.

Makoto tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk, still contemplating the questions from the day before. The math teacher, Ms. Usami, was proctoring today, and all the test forms were already sitting on everyone's desks as soon as he walked into the classroom.

Ryuji came shambling in behind him and plopped down into his seat. The teacher called the start time and pencils began scratching, as Makoto racked his brain for anything he could scrounge up, and came up empty. He read over the question one last time and circled an answer at random.

He could see Ryuji doing just about the same thing.

Judgment day kept going.

Makoto raised his head from an essay question. Mr. Uchimaru's disapproving face scared him right back to test.

His eyes glazed over. He could hardly tell what the question said, and he found his pencil moving across the page on its own.

Some pages later, he was in the middle of another long answer. The sky outside had turned from blue to orange.

"Pencils down," Mr. Uchimaru said. The lead trail from the middle of the text box to the edge of the page was the story of Makoto's entire exam so far.

Judgment day was never going to end.

It was the last day of exams. Ryuji looked half asleep. Makoto felt like he was about to fall over any second.

His eyes darted around the classroom, he fought to keep them on the test. One last push.

Chalk struck slate. "And, we're done," the teacher, today it was the science teacher, said. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Pass your exams to the front of the class for collection. Grades will be posted as soon as they are available."

Makoto waited for the boy behind him to hand over a test packet, and he stacked his on top of it. He and Ryuji shared a look of relief. The afternoon bell rang. It was over.

CLACK!

…

zzt

CLACK!

"… whuh?"

Chair legs scraped across the floorboards. "That bad, huh?" a soft voice said from somewhere behind him. Makoto looked around. It was Haru. She sat beside him and laid her hand on his shoulder. They were in the student council room. "The school needs to lock up for Sunday," she said. "Wouldn't want to get stuck inside."

Yeah, that'd be pretty bad. Makoto propped himself up on his shaking arm. "Haru. Can you walk me to the train station?" Makoto said. He was still drowsy, not sure if he could make it there on his own. He wasn't even thinking forward to the rest of the trip home.

"It might be too late for that," she said. It was dark out. "Have you eaten anything since lunch?" Had he even eaten lunch today? Makoto didn't really remember, but he certainly hadn't eaten anything since. "We should take care of that first, then," Haru said. "Let's go."

Haru held Makoto beneath his arms and held him steady until he could walk on his own two feet. With her guiding hand on his shoulder, they made their way to the stairs.

"What will you do now?" Haru said.

Makoto hadn't thought about it all day, or even all week. The mid terms were the only thing on his mind… until now. "Kamoshida!" he said. "I have to get back to the investigation."

"Tomorrow, Makoto." Haru pulled him back one step. "… I heard that you agreed to do it." Makoto pushed open the stairwell door, and they stood at the top, looking down. "You didn't agree to Kobayakawa's request for my sake, did you?"

"No," Makoto said. He felt Haru give him some slack, and took the first step down towards ground level. "Actually, before exams started, I heard the track team this school used to have. How Kamoshida was involved with that." How all this time, nobody had done anything about him.

"Oh, I remember that now," Haru said, cautiously following behind Makoto's every step. "You weren't here when that happened, were you? And I can't imagine Principal Kobayakawa told you about it. He didn't even bring it up when he asked me to find you."

Makoto shifted his hand along the railing. "It wasn't him. It was Makoto Niijima who told me. About that, at least. I met her on…" What day was it? "It was right before exams."

He was grasping at something trivial. Behind him, Haru was just glad to see him stabilize. The rest of the way down the stairs, Makoto told her what Niijima told him. Familiar stories to the older student, but Makoto's new perspective spoke to old Makoto's regrets.

"I wonder why she kept it to herself this whole time," Haru said, now at the final hallway before the front door.

"She probably has to find that out herself," Makoto said. He opened the door, waved good night to the school custodian outside, and followed the sound of a rumbling engine to a car waiting just for them.

"Who's this?" a young man inside the car said.

"I'm Makoto Naegi," Makoto said with sudden energy, like someone or something flipped a switch. "And this is-"

"Yeah, I don't actually care," the Car Man said. "I wasn't talking to you anyway. Haru, what's the meaning of this? Or were you just fooling around? I've been waiting here for you."

"Naegi serves on the student council with me," Haru said. "He needs a ride home."

"No, you need a ride home," Car Man said. "I listen to your father, not you. And I suggest you do the same. I'm sure this kid has his own family to pick him up."

"That's besides the point!" Haru said. "We're here now. You knew—"

Makoto clutched onto Haru's arm. His legs gave out, landing on his knees. He covered his stomach, felt the hunger that had grown and grown all day. He saw the car door swing past him, a man in a fancy suit getting out, standing over him…

On the other side of a curtain, chopsticks clicked against a plastic lunchbox. The door opened to a sanitized room, and two men in fancy suits walked inside, ahead of a nurse. The older man pulled the curtain open.

Makoto looked up from his food to his visitors, one of whom he thought he recognized. He put his chopsticks down, lunchbox nearly empty. "I'll take that for you," the nurse said. Makoto nodded to the nurse. He had a bandage on the side of his head.

"So you're Makoto Naegi," the older man said. He looked dignified, even at the end of his patience. He turned to the younger man, "Go on. Apologize." The younger man huffed and crossed his arms. "Fine, then. Wait outside. Damned brat."

The door eased open and slammed shut.

The older man took a step closer to Makoto's hospital bed. "My name is Toshiro Sugimura. That," he said, head pointed toward the door, "the boy you met last night, is my son. I understand he was very rude to you. I apologize on his behalf. That was no way to behave, especially to a stranger in need of assistance."

"He was rude to Haru, too," Makoto said.

"Their relationship is more complex." The old man Sugimura interlaced his fingers. "There is more room for nuance in their interactions. Something I hope you will enjoy one day. But between the two of you, things are much more simple, and my son was clearly in the wrong. Of that much, I must ask you to forgive him."

"And how he acted towards Haru?" Makoto said.

Old Man Sugimura's steely expression turned from shiny to cold. "I must ask you to forget."

Makoto sighed. He didn't have it in him to fight it, not this time. Of course he didn't want to give up, but he was already pushing his limits. Old Man Sugimura extended his hand, and, swallowing his objections, Makoto shook. Forgive and forget, for now. And focus.

As the fine dressed man left the room, Makoto tried moving his arms, tried clenching his legs. He considered where exactly he was, and when the doctor came in to tell him he was clear for release, he changed back into his green hoodie. The bandage would have to stay. He tested his balance, a few steps, and he was back at the front desk when he stopped in his tracks.

Makoto turned back to the receptionist. "I'm looking for… a classmate of mine," he said. "If she's stable."

A girl with a battered face laid in a hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. She tilted her head toward the door as Makoto walked inside. She looked about to say something, but held herself back. Makoto looked around for a chair, and finding none, approached the edge of the hospital bed and patted on the corner.

The girl nodded, her black ponytail tugging against the raised end of the bed, and he sat down, careful to avoid her legs. "How are you doing, Shiho?"

"Getting better." Shiho ran her eyes over the far side of Makoto's face. "What happened there?"

"It's nothing, I just, last night," Makoto stammered like an idiot. "I passed out and fell on the sidewalk."

Shiho nodded. Her eyes danced left and right. "Exams that bad?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

Shiho's eye twitched. "I hope Ann did okay."

"She been keeping in touch with you?" Makoto said. Shiho raised her eyes and lifted her head just a hair off the bed. "I guess she told you what happened with Kamoshida last week."

"Two weeks ago. But, yeah." There wasn't much else to be said about it. Makoto covered his chin, poking at his bandage with the tips of his fingers. "You have something on your mind," Shiho said.

"I keep thinking about what he said." Makoto couldn't think of a way to tell her, about his investigation, about his suspicions. But he had to tell her somehow. Hiding it, and still interrogating the foremost of Kamoshida's victims, was that really okay? "That, and, Principal Koabayakawa wants me to look into something. I wanted to ask you about it. If that's okay."

Shiho looked away. It wasn't so surprising. Her breathing and the droning hum of the lights warded off an isolating silence. Makoto watched the blanket over her chest rise and fall.

After some time, Shiho turned back. "Okay."

Makoto traced over his face, where Shiho's bruises were. "Was this him?"

"… Yes."

"When did it happen?" Makoto said.

"This?" Shiho shook her head around, showing the extent of her injuries. Shrinking, gradually and slowly, but for now still prominent. "This was in his office. It always was. Right up until…" Shiho shuddered.

"We can stop if you need to, Shiho. This might not be so important," Makoto said. "It's not worth dredging it up if it hurts to remember."

"I have to face it eventually, don't I?" Shiho said.

"Just remember, we can stop whenever you need," Makoto said.

"Kamoshida always did this. He tortured all of us for… for some reason. I think there was a reason for it," Shiho said. "The worst of it was… the fourteenth." Shiho shuddered as the date left her lips. The day before her attempted suicide. "Can I ask you something, Makoto?"

"Of course," he said.

"Were you friends with Kamoshida?"

There was no telling what Kamoshida thought of Makoto. But friendships had to go both ways. That much, he was sure of. "No."

"I thought not," Shiho said. "But when he mentioned you, I was afraid there was a chance. And if it was possible, then…"

The door clicked open, and Ann caught both their eyes. "Hey, Shiho!" she said, but quickly turned to Makoto, eyes tensed. The bandage gave her pause for a second, but Ann addressed him anyway. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk Shiho about a few things," Makoto said.

"And he hit his head!" Makoto nearly froze up, but as he glanced back and forth he could see Shiho mouthing 'sorry' at him.

"Oh," Ann said. "Hopefully it gets better soon." She approached Shiho's bedside with a colorful paper bag in her hand. "Could you give us the room, though?"

One last non committal look towards Shiho, and she gave him the same non committal look back. Makoto got up from the bed to leave. "You get better soon too, Shiho," he said as the door latched shut behind him.