Act I: THE TITANS, THE BEAR AND THE FORTRESS OF DESPAIR

Chapter 5: No nice things allowed

Eight years earlier,

Massachusetts, USA

Jason Botch was the biggest, meanest, most intimidating bully around Thomas Jefferson Elementary School. Every student was afraid of him, including the eighth-graders, and Botch was only in seventh. Even the teachers feared him. Even his parents feared him. Hell, the only person who could ever scare Jason Botch was Jason Botch himself, or so what the kids liked to say. However, unless someone opened a portal to an alternative universe, that weakness was not going to be exploited.

As a bully, Jason liked to think himself above one. His father was a policeman and he would like to be the same once he was old enough to drive a car and wield a gun. For now, little deeds towards a better future were his method. Indeed, he saw himself a warrior of justice who fought in the name of equality (no one had ever bothered to explain the difference between the two concepts with him) by leveraging the advantages of those thinking themselves better than others. Botch bullied those who could afford it and those he considered a threat to the advancement of humanity. A bit too philosophical for a seventh-grader, but there was no one to argue.

Lisa Benson was rich and spoiled. She put on a different dress every day at school, which bugged Jason to no end. So he let her go home one day with a tattered dress and several bruises on her stainless skin, that ought to have taught her a lesson or two. He also robbed her of her money and apple juice last Tuesday. The little bitch could take it. Lisa never cried, at least Jason never 'saw' her cry.

Richard Danver was the ugliest son of a bitch Jason had ever seen. Jason was sure Richard's mother must have given birth to him after getting 'experimented' on by some aliens and he was secretly paving the way for a full invasion, which also explained why he had been taking notes all the time. Once he had enough evidence, Jason would tell his father who would then call the national guards who would then call the President of the United States who would then call all the presidents around the world and prepare for total war. In the meantime, Jason would do anything he can to hamper the alien effort, such as burning away the strategic notes which Richard claimed were academic, throwing him into the pool (aliens were afraid of water) and pummelling the prick whenever he had the chance.

And then there was Colin Bricksweater, he was a Jew. Jason hated Jews. He hated Hitler and the Nazis as well, but Jews were still an evil breed. Too lofty and religious.

But for now, his target would be Amelda Mason. The fat little prick was in the same class as he was and for all his negative qualities, such as being fat enough to become a sumo wrestler yet never winning a thumb wrestling fight and never talking to anybody, Jason had left him alone. But not after today. Oh no, not after today.

It was during the final math exam and Jason was thoroughly confounded by the questions he was given. By God, what kind of horrid education this was. If Jason were the head of the United States Department of Education, he would do something to relieve all the pain students of the seventh grade were suffering. But he could not get there without a good record, and his record would be very very bad if he failed this exam. Next to him, Jason saw Amelda's paper was already full of words and numbers, so he asked for a copy.

And he was ignored. The prick was deaf, or perhaps he was playing deaf – either way, he got an A and Jason a D. The gap could have been much smaller had Amelda responded to his conscience and assisted his fellow classmate in a time of great need. But he didn't. Instead, he hoarded all the good stuff to himself and laughed at others' misery. For that, after class, Jason was determined to teach this A-hole a lesson for trifling with a D-bag like him.

"Amelda Mason, that's your name isn't it?" Jason demanded and he grabbed the fat prick by his collar and pressed him against the wall. Amelda may be fat, but Jason was strong. A lot of students went by in the hallway. No one said a thing. No one dared stood between Jason Botch and his quarry.

"Yes," Amelda answered. Jason could taste his fear, even if Amelda tried his best not to express it.

"What kind of name is that?" Jason sneered. "It sounds like a girl. Fuck me, your voice sounds like a girl too. Are you actually a girl cross-dressing?"

"I am a boy," said Amelda. "There is a banana under here. As for my name, my mother gave it to me, so..."

"So she must have one hell of a brain condition," Jason snapped. "Do you know why I am talking to you, fatty?" The fatty nodded. "Good, you could have shared that knowledge. You could have helped me pass the exam. But what did you do? You callously gave me the cold shoulder, and now I have to take summer school because of you. What do you have to say about that?"

"I am sorry."

That's it? Really? Jason was infuriated by the curt response. After he spent so much saliva saying all those sentences, the fatty only uttered three words. "Oh, you had better be," Jason gibed. "Because I am staying for summer school and it all thanks to you. Because my pop is going to give me a good whipping with his belt and it all thanks to you. I am ruined."

"If we were caught, that would have been the end for both of us," Amelda choked as if any logical explanation would please a thoroughly pissed off Jason Botch at this point.

"And your point is?"

"Cheating is never the right answer."

"And your POINT is?"

"Look, if you want to be a warrior of justice, then you should do things by yourself," said Amelda. Even in the face of Jason's seething anger, he was still collect when he spoke, much unlike Colin who only stuttered unintelligibly. "You know, like Batman. He was alright when he worked alone. And then Robin showed up and ruined everything."

"Alright, then," Jason croaked. "How about I beat the living shit out of you all by myself?"

Jason's fist found Amelda's face and the latter slumped down next to the wall. Jason had planned to punch the fatty once, but after seeing his lack of palpable fear and his justification for wrongdoing, he decided to give some more. Besides, the feeling was great.

Pulling up the fatty again, Jason barked, "Here is a math question for you. If each punch shrinks your face by a centimeter square (cube) many punches do I need to finally flatten that face or yours?"

Amelda did not answer. Instead, he spat a goblet at Jason who stepped back in utter disgust. Oh no, he didn't. That pig didn't just spit on him. No one did that to Jason Botch. Now he was REALLY angry. This A-hole was asking for trouble, now he was going to get it.

Jason's rage died out in an instant when he realized it wasn't the fatty's drool that was on his face. Not that he had ever felt it on his face before, but even the biggest idiot must have some common sense to tell the difference. It was thick, warm, sludgy, and red. There were screams coming from the classmates, screams of terror and dismay. Jason never liked the loud type. He always preferred his victim silently accepting their fate. The screaming was not directed at him.

Repulsed, Jason let go of Amelda who dropped to the floor on his face. He laid there still, a puddle of red liquid spreading from where his face was. Red, like tomato sauce, like Superman's cape, like the nose of that crazy old clown that visited the school last Friday of every month, like blo-.

At that moment, all sense of coherency was lost to Jason. Putting the fatty in his place was one thing, sending him all the way to Jesus was another thing altogether. He had not planned this. He did not want this. He withdrew with his back against the opposite wall, coming to terms as to what he had done. The police would come for him, just like in those murder mystery series, and they would arrest him and put him into some juvenile detention camp. If failing the math exam was a bump in his path to becoming a policeman, then detention camp would be the roadblock.

Screaming like a little girl, Jason Botch wetted his pant where he stood.

It took three days for the whole thing to be sorted out - only three days for the school board to declare the expulsion of Jason Botch for violent assaults. The announcement, while warmly received by the entirety of students and teachers of Thomas Jefferson Elementary School, was never enacted. It was withdrawn following the request by none other than Amelda Douglas Mason himself (it took him quite fast to recover from that, some at school were even looking forward to his funeral) who had come to speak to them about his unusual bleeding condition and that Jason Botch had nothing to do with it.

Botch got away from that incident. He was still the biggest kid at school. But the incident had shaken him off and worn down all the meanness he had harbored for many years. Besides, no one would be intimidated by a bully who screamed like a little girl during incontinence in public. He needed to change.

"Amy, Amen, A...," he stuttered. His memory was not the best and that name was just awkward for a boy to begin with. Seriously, what kind of names were mothers giving to their kids these days? "What's your first name again, Mason?"

"It's Amelda," replied the fat boy. He had come back to school right the day after as healthy as a horse, much to the surprise of every student and teacher.

"Yeah, Amelda." Jason took a deep breath before he went on, "I want to...apologise for what I did to you. I was wrong and I did not deserve you standing for me like that. You had every reason to have me expelled."

"It's not your fault," Amelda insisted.

"No, everything is my fault," said Jason. "I am a horrible person. But I will change from now on. I promise. Will you forgive me for all the bad things I said and did to you?"

"Only if you forgive me for scaring the wit out of you," said Amelda, smiling.

Jason smiled back. For the first time, the smile was not out of sadism or a grim sense of 'justice is served'. It was genuine.

Day 5

Tartarus Keep

9:00

Residence Area

My awakening was a violent one. I jolted up as if electrocuted, nearly throwing myself forward, and seized at the white blanket that I was draped under, half-expecting it to turn into some monster and choke the life out of me. Breathing heavily and sweating like a pig, I clutched at my heart which was beating its way out of my chest.

"Relax," said a familiar cold voice. "Take some deep breaths. You're going to be alright."

Gathering my wits, I surveyed my surroundings and found myself in a room neither mine nor Hijiri's. There were no traditional Japanese paintings and no posters of American superheroes on any wall, no decorations on any table or locker, just mirrors. A lot of mirrors. Like one of those rooms in the carnival that was supposed to confuse you and reflect your body in distorted proportions. A sense of unnerving occurred as I stared into a dozen versions of myself, none of them distorted but each wearing those same painful eyes and frightened expression. At the end of the room was a desk with many adhesive notes stuck to the wall in front.

"Wh-what is...?" I uttered.

"Come on, breathe," Fitzgerald repeated. For all my distrust towards the Ultimate Detective, I was glad he was the first person I saw upon waking up. Out of all people, he would be able to hear me out the most. This was also probably his room, though I had no idea why he required so many mirrors considering how unkempt his hair and clothes were. He might be egotistic, but he was also practical, and looking at himself just for satisfaction would not be it. Was he really so paranoid that he put up all of these mirrors to be able to see every part of the room wherever he was? "You are still recovering from a trauma, so be patient and do as I say if you don't want to unconsciously hurt yourself."

My head cleared and the first thing that came to my mind was the event that unfolded last night. Hijiri had tried to murder me, using my tendency to socialize and compassion as bait, but failing to recognize the cynical and skeptical person I was within. Still, she nearly succeeded and I was only barely able to repel her attempt. But then, something horrible happened, I... I had no idea what came over me. The thoughts I had back then did not occur to me right now. My memory of the incident was as jumbled as my memory of how I got here in the first place.

But one thing I was certain of: I tried to kill Hijiri, and there was a part of me, a part I never knew existed in me, taking satisfaction of the deed. Like a butcher knowing his grim work would fill people's belly and allow families to have Easter dinner together.

And the blood. So much blood. More than my body could possibly produce. More than what ten human bodies could produce even. Not even Count Dracula could be so efficient. But it looked so...beautiful, even if it was probably unreal. But I knew what was real: my sister. When Alice was amputated, perhaps she...

STOP!

"Hijiri...," I stuttered the name. Last time I saw the Ultimate Geisha, she was in a state of terror as my hands were wrapped around her throat, choking the life out of her. I knew I did not succeed, for Monokuma had intervened in the nick of time (I got blasted by a magical girl working for him, out of all things. God damn it, has Dr Fate been getting laid lately?) and the fact Fitzgerald did not look at me like I was a murderer.

"Kaneshiro spilt the beans," said Fitzgerald. "She told us everything we needed to know, including admitting trying to end your life. A rather futile method, I must say. She has always struck me as a meticulous person, but to come up with such an easy murder plot? Even if she had succeeded, I reckon I would have been able to solve it in minutes. She lost some of my respect for that one." Hijiri lost Fitzgerald's respect for a childish murder plot, not because she had attempted to kill me in the first place; what a bizarre logic. I decided not to voice any complaint about that.

"But I...I..." I could not say it. The fear of his reaction was secondary to the fear of the realization as to what had gone wrong with myself. The unspoken words choked in my throat like a fistful of sand.

"You tried to kill her, didn't you?" Fitzgerald finished. His accusation felt like a sword stabbed through my heart. For several seconds, I was speechless and dumbfounded. "You are not in the wrong here. What you did was out of self-defense, a perfectly reasonable and human thing to do. It was to kill or be killed, I could not think of any other way around. Plus, you were in the right mind back then."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked. That Fitzgerald considered me blameless in this situation improved my mood a bit, but again, his reaction was only the second biggest thing I was worried about.

"You were drugged," explained Fitzgerald. "We found the empty injector and Hijiri has also admitted. The main component of the drug is eszopiclone. Its main effect is to induce sleep, which is probably what she had in mind when she used it on you. However, you seemed to resist it to a certain extent, long enough for the secondary effect to kick in: hallucination. Other components seem to intensify this. The secondary effect can outweigh the primary under certain circumstances and on certain people with special conditions. Whichever the case, you nearly died from an overdose back there."

"You sure know a lot about it," I noted. Fitzgerald might be the Ultimate Private Detective, but I refused to believe he had the entire CSI laboratory in his head. That would be even more Gary-Stu than Akihiko.

"Kagyuu told me," said Fitzgerald plainly.

"He did?" I bleated. The first good news of the day and now there were two fears I could safely put away. The Ultimate Chemist had been a constant source of woe for me. The fellow had locked himself in ever since the announcement of the Mutual Killing Game and refused to go out even during meals. Even if no one murdered him, that kind of morbid, distrustful mentality would sure knell his death toll one way or another. "You convinced him to come out?"

"It was quite an easy task," the Private Detective remarked. "We only need to tell him your life hangs on the balance, and the next we knew, the door flew opened and he literally flew at us. Quite a handy lad, I must say, albeit a bit timid. Thanks to him, we finally got that drug out of your system. Otherwise, we might have to fall back to the true love kiss as the last resort." Now I really want to meet him. If missing him for a couple of days wasn't enough, the fact he saved my life deserved some recognition.

"And Hijiri?" I worried. "Is she alright?" Though it was true she had attempted to take my life first, I still hoped I had not harmed her too badly. Unlike Rin, I believed justice was embodied within the laws and vengeance was never the right way, no matter how evil or contemptible someone was. Violence against violence only led to more violence, thus I had come to the conclusion that a passive approach was the best way to alleviate and stem it, proven by my success in the case of Jason Botch during primary school.

"Physically, she'll recover unless Yamamoto decides against it," Fitzgerald articulated. "Mentally, well, that is another story. Kaneshiro was in a wild state when we interrogated her, Yamamoto and I. We played the good cop bad cop routine and, let me tell you, it was my first time playing the former. I must admit, Yamamoto has one hell of a way of 'persuading' people. Anyway, Hijiri blabbered about how much blood it was spraying from your hand alone, saying that it erupted like a fountain and bathed the entire room."

My eyes opened wide in terror. Was Hijiri seeing it too? If she weren't the one injected, why was she also under the hallucination? That horror was small compared to the fact Dirty Fitzgerald was the good cop during the act, which said volume about what kind of bad cop Yamamoto was. The Ultimate Police Officer and the Ultimate Geisha had been on the wrong foot since the day they met, and only through my and Yume's intervention that their conflict did not escalate. With what had transpired, it seemed Rin would find justification for her corrupted ideals after all.

"I thought...she was afraid of blood?" The words garbled in my mouth. I could not imagine how traumatizing it was for her, even if it was just an illusion.

"That is nothing more than a charade," Fitzgerald chuckled. "A charade to make her look weak and unfitting of a killer. Obviously, the girl who could not stand the sight of blood would be the number one-hundredth suspect in a murder where the victim's throat is slashed."

"I see." Damn it. How much of what she told me were lies anyway? Nevertheless, while a little blood did not scare her, a swimming pool of one did.

"Obviously, the whole fountain of blood thing was not the case, otherwise you would not be here," Fitzgerald continued, noticing my reaction. "She stabbed you in the palm, yes. However, the injury is nowhere serious and you can expect to use it again within a couple of days. I suspect what she saw was merely the manifestation of her guilt at killing you. The first time is always the hardest; I have had the first-handed experience in this. We have gotten Kaneshiro locked inside her room in the meantime, and then perhaps we will have a vote as to what to do with her."

I looked back at my left hand wrapped in bandages. With so many things on my mind, I had almost forgotten about it. Quite strange that such injury would seem less severe than other matters at hand (I was no Guan Yu, mind you), but then again, I could not feel it anymore, as if the hand had disappeared. Perhaps this was what Alice was feeling right now, without a part of the body she was so used to having.

"Damn it," I muttered. Just thinking of my sister right now made me sick. She was so young. Hurting children was NEVER okay.

Fitzgerald's eyes locked into and scrutinized mine. Those cold, chilling orbs uncannily reminded me of my own, for we were both people acting on calculation and rationality. There were more similarities between an accountant and a detective than meets the eyes. Yet, I cannot bring myself down to his level, a narcissist and a pariah, not even in the blackest of night. After a few seconds, he asked, "Is there anything you are not telling me?"

Most people's basic instinct was to answer no, despite the insurmountable evidence otherwise only they were privileged to. However, I was not 'most people'. I was the Ultimate Accountant, but not the Ultimate Creative Accountant, and I knew for a fact that lying to the Ultimate Private Detective was the equivalent to digging my own grave. I still remembered how he said he hated liars.

"Yes," I replied frankly.

Fitzgerald tilted his head. "Is it important to the situation at hand?"

"I don't know." I shivered. This... was a fact. I truly had no idea.

"Do you wish to tell me?" inquired the Ultimate Private Detective.

I paused. Fitzgerald was probably the first person who I could disclose with thanks to his open mind and secretive nature. Still, I doubted not even him would do much help to me and if he would, I didn't like his method. This was something I needed to solve myself. "No," I answered flatly at last.

"Alright, then," said Fitzgerald. For a seeker of truth, he was perfectly comfortable with me keeping the detail to myself. "I will inquire you no further on that matter. Should you wish to disclose anything, I am all ears."

"Well, I guess things ended well," I said, lying back and forcing a humorless smile on my face. "I am alive and so is Hijiri. Both of us were so close to killing one another, but thanks to that one stupid rule about not being allowed to murder someone in their own room, we both made it out of there alive. Courtesy of Monokuma, I might add. And now Inu has finally come out of his room, so that's a bonus."

Fitzgerald did not say anything for a few moments. For the first time, there was a hint of trepidation and regret on his cocky face, like a hard rock finally showing its roundness after some very long time in the stream. That hint was gone within the moment. My heart raced when he finally said, "You are correct about breaking a rule. But that is not the one that saved you and Hijiri."

A cold feeling swept over me. "What are you talking about?"

"The rules forbid killing someone in their own room after you enter by force," Fitzgerald elaborated, his voice still devoid of any feeling. "Also, it does not say that the game master will intervene, merely stripping you of your rights as the hidden murder." He took a deep sigh as if to allow himself, and me, to brace for what he was about to say next. "Remember rule seven?"

9:30

Main Hall

Fitzgerald warned me against pushing myself out of bed after getting stabbed and nearly died from an overdose and I appreciated his concern. However, I needed to see it with me very eye. Words or mouth were cheap, documents only one level above, only through visual confirmation could an accountant know with certainty that something presented in the account balance really did exist. It was a luxury I had no access to most of the time I was working, but my belief still held.

My feet were still wobbly and I could not use my left hand to support myself. Naturally, I stumbled a lot until Fitzgerald helped me up and supported me along the way. Having been pulled into hiding spots by the dirty detective twice, I was now comfortable letting him take me.

"I almost took you for a prudent type," said Fitzgerald wearily.

"And I almost took you for a callous type," I countered, earning an inquisitive glance from the Ultimate Detective.

"I deserve that one," Fitzgerald replied.

We entered the Main Hall together and saw everyone else was there aside from Hijiri who was obviously locked up. The last time so many people were in the same room was when Monokuma declared the first motivation. The mood was as solemn as in funeral until Inu, Minako, and Yume ran at me, the latter two with red face and tears in their eyes. The combined impacts (Yume had a wheelchair, too) nearly toppled me. In fact, without Fitzgerald, I would probably not be standing anymore.

"Amelda," exclaimed Inu. "You are alright."

"Golly, I was so worried for you," sobbed Yume.

"We thought you were dead," Minako wept. Out of the three, the Ultimate Herbalist was particularly affected, and I could clearly understand why.

A sense of embarrassment washed over me. Since day one, I was the attention hugger and the trouble-creator, the latter quality only second to Hokuto. I had caused quite a ruckus during the first day by sending Akihiko flying up a tree and driving more people up the wall by beating them savagely at Dead of Winter (it felt good and I had no regret). The next day, I scared people shitless, Hijiri's lies notwithstanding, with the spontaneous bleeding. And now, they were treating me as though I were someone who just came back to life, and I could not feel any different from that description.

I was supposed to be the one setting moral standards for my little sister. In that respect, I had failed as much as defending her.

"I'll live," I said. "Thanks for worrying about me. Inu, I am glad to see you again. I was about to think when we finally get to open your room, only a rotting corpse would be what is waiting for us."

"Well, I...," Inu inhaled deeply before continuing, "I was afraid. I am sorry I am...such a burden to you all." Compared to the last time we met, the Ultimate Chemist looked even thinner and less colorful. Unless he had been sneaking in the dead of the night, I could not see how he had been eating this whole time. Specks on breadcrumbs around his mouth told me Yume had done something about that. "But... it's bad enough that we are all locked in here. I don't want anyone else to die. So..."

"It's good that you find the courage when I need," I told him and pat his shoulder. "My gratitude for saving my life. I don't know how I can repay you for it." The fellow flushed a bit at the comment.

"Saving your life is a bit of an... overstatement," Inu stuttered. "In fact, with the amount of toxin in your body, I was expecting... a few days before you can wake up."

"Perhaps my body is not like most people," I said. There was no humor to be had in that statement. At this point, I was well aware of something unnatural within me. First, the Jelly Juice of Doom had no effect on me. Then, I managed a spectacular three hundred sixty degree flip, landing on my feet where most others would have felt the ground on their face or butt. The incident with Hijiri was the icing on the cake.

"That is... a logical assumption," Inu acknowledged.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Yume chimed in. "Amelda is standing before us right now, very much alive, whereas a few hours ago you said you doubted whether he might ever wake up. It's a miracle, truly. That's how I see it."

I did not answer. I liked Yume. He was the most friendly and most admirable friend I ever had. But I was too tired to play along with him. I could not outright lie when the Ultimate Detective still held my arm and prevented me from dropping. But at the same time, I did not want him to know the truth. Telling him the truth would render my secret with Fitzgerald pointless.

So I stayed silent. As I had always done in a dilemma or impasse.

"I'm sorry, Amelda," cried Tatsuya. "It's that m-m-m-m-message I gave, wasn't it? Oh dear, I almost play a part in killing you. I could not help it. Sending things around is in my blood now. I could not imagine what my p-p-p-p-purpose would be without that. And I all I s-s-s-s-see is my hubris."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "The mailperson is blameless if they don't know what is inside. That's the rule. You don't kill the messenger." The Ultimate Delivery Boy lightened up.

"You are not m-m-m-mad at me?" he sniffed.

"Of course not," I told him.

"You are really okay there, Amelda?" advised Hokuto. "You still look a bit rough. Maybe you should take some rest."

"I will," I promised. But not before what I had come here for.

"Don't push yourself," advised Inori.

"That's a bit hypocrite, don't you think, Inori?" Kazuki remarked. "Out of all people here, you should be the one in bed." The Ultimate Patient's face reddened. Ouch, that was brutal. Honestly brutal. As expected from the Ultimate Flautist. He turned to address me next, "I'm glad to see you are alright. Would be a very dull place without you."

"Good Lord, you live," said Elize, relieved. "After what had happened, I think I would die on the spot if I ever see your corpse."

"I guess that's one problem out of the way, then," Ashley concurred.

"Guys, please," Kai urged, waving her arms frantically. "Give him some space. He's suffocating already."

She was right. It was hard to breathe when there were four people so close. A few minutes like this could, in all accounts, be fatal. It had been only less than twelve hours and my life had been jeopardized at least thrice. Yume and Inu agreed, stepping back. Minako was still crying but El Viento separated her in the end.

"Good to see you are still with us," El Viento addressed. "You carry the heart of true warriors. You persevere despite foul play from your dishonorable opponent. No danger is insurmountable if you believe you can fight it."

"Thanks," I said, although 'fighting' was probably the least on my list to do.

"Amelda Mason, do you know what I am about to say to you?" asked Rin grimly, arms crossed in front of her chest. The Ultimate Police Officer was an authoritative figure and her appearance complemented that. Yet, I had not seen how so imposing before.

"If you are saying you told me so, the save the bothering," I replied. The police officer was taken aback by my challenging tone. I did not like her method. Even if what Hijiri did was wrong, she did not deserve that. Jason Botch did not become the nicest kid from the biggest, meanest, most intimidating bully at school out of the punishment he received. I was going to tell her that there was no better revenge than forgiveness but feared that would only agitate her further, and she was not in a good mood, to begin with. The only thing I could say was, "She's not a member of IXIX."

"Seriously, IXIX?" asked Ashley incredulously. "Getting trapped here and being forced to kill each other wasn't bad enough already? And now terrorism is on the menu as well?"

"Drugging someone and slashing their throat," Kazuki mused. "Does not sound like what IXIX would do."

"I was hypothesizing back there," Rin bickered. Very few people took her seriously before today. But now, things were likely to change, for the worse, that is. "You nearly got murdered there and still, you defend her. You don't defend a dog that has bitten its master. What do you have to say about that?"

"She's not a dog," I replied. "She's a human being."

"She crossed the line," Rin barked. "The line between a human and a beast. Humans do not kill each other like that."

"She did not kill me," I said. "I am not yet dead."

"If you were, then it's a good hiding she will get from me before Monokuma gets his turn," Rin retorted. The fact she brought up Monokuma as a positive force was disheartening. Without the evil bear, no one would have to kill anyone. "She deserves nothing from you or any of us. Criminals like her should rot in prison or in hell."

"That is not how I believe," I challenged. "God created all humans equally, and the rights He bestowed upon us cannot be stripped just like that."

"You won't think like that once you see what is behind us," Rin retorted.

"Guys, please," Yume interrupted, on the verge of tears. "It's already horrible enough the way it is. Please stop arguing."

"He's right," said Fitzgerald. "We can settle our views at a later date. Right now, there is a bigger matter we need to attend to."

Which brought me to my original purpose. Fitzgerald offered to help, but I could walk there on my own. As the crowd parted, the scene was revealed in front of me. My heart sank. I already knew what to expect.

The only person who had not spoken a word since I entered this room.

The only person whose death could have devastated Minako so.

Akihiko Kazuhiko lied dead on the floor, his face up and covered by a blue blanket. I did not need to see the face to know for sure it was him. Even as a corpse, the Ultimate Librarian looked stylish with the cardigan and denim ripped jeans. Perhaps it was a good way to go, carrying your beauty to the grave. There was no obvious injury on his body aside from a few flecks of blood in T-shirt.

I approached him with heavy steps. My legs had recovered at this point. I knelt down next to him.

"Why you?" I muttered. For all my disliking to his actions towards females, I admired his resourcefulness and how he had been handling things with a clear mind from the start. With his help, I was able to put the items in the storage into places so that they would be available once we required. His loss was crushing to me, our whole group, and particularly to Minako who seemed to get on with him the most.

But in all honesty, his compassion was his downfall. He was selfless to a fault, even risking his life to save Minako from the rampaging drill. I should have warned him about this. But it was against my nature to take such drastic action (I considered it so as we were all distressed by the motivation and he was one of those who were coping better). Plus, as I nearly became a victim myself, I doubted I would be so convincing.

"May your soul rest in peace," I said.

"Mason, I know you are emotional about this," Fitzgerald admonished. "But let's not get too emotional. This is still a crime scene and keeping it intact is vital to finding out the culprit behind this."

"I know," I replied. I grabbed the blanket covering his face and slowly pulled it off. The cause of death became clear to me. One of Akihiko's eyes opened wide, not knowing what had happened. The other was bleeding from where something the size of a toothpick had punctured it, presumably causing catastrophic damage to his brain as well.

Whichever the case, he died a clean death, expiring before his body hit the floor. He probably felt no pain, fear, or despair at his fate.

Not a bad way to go.

I almost felt jealous of that. In the upcoming trial, those who remained might not have that luxury.

Author's note: It's been a while. Sorry, I have been busy studying for exams and doing a story commission for someone who offers to pay real money. I will keep this story going, that's a promise. My previous work, The Long Journey, was updated monthly and it ran for 2 years before finally coming to a conclusion, but now I am more efficient than I was back then.

I just watched It. It was awesome. And now I am floating. You should see It if you want to float too.

Anyway, Inu is back. Unfortunately, someone else had to go.

This is the first murder and the next time will be the investigation. Hope you enjoy it.