Naegi hadn't realized that climbing the masses of stairs with Kirigiri would be so different from doing the same thing when Togami was the one at his side. It wasn't that Kirigiri was being unkind about the fact that he couldn't move fast at the moment – she even slowed her usual brisk pace enough that he could keep up, if he worked at it.

But that was just it – he was the one straining to keep up with her, while her occasional glances at the upper floors betrayed an impatience she wasn't speaking aloud. He would have liked to move faster so that he didn't waste so much of Kirigiri's time, especially when she was being nice enough to walk with him – but after several flights of stairs, every step was beginning to make his head whirl as dizzily as it had the night before. He really could have used a break to catch his breath and let the dizziness subside a little, but Kirigiri's steps never so much as paused.

Her lack of reaction to his weakened physical state only highlighted just how gentle Togami had been with him. When the other boy had matched his pace to Naegi's, it had felt like they were walking together, just at an unusually slow pace, not like Naegi was holding him back from somewhere else he wanted to be. Togami had never once given Naegi the impression that he'd wanted to be anywhere other than by Naegi's side. He'd paid more attention to Naegi's health than Naegi himself had, slowing when Naegi's footsteps faltered and pausing before Naegi ever had to ask for breaks. He'd checked Naegi's head injury, made him tea, even held him upright and all but carried him to his room.

And Naegi hadn't appreciated any of it. He felt his steps slow even more than they had been as harsh guilt weighed down on him. Togami must have offered up a hundred tiny gestures of kindness, each one so small as to be nearly invisible, but together comprising a softness that Naegi never would have expected the harsh-tongued heir to possess. Togami had certainly never shown that side of himself to anyone else. Naegi hadn't even understood how much Togami had given him, freely and without hesitation. Was it any wonder the other boy had gotten fed up and left?

Well, he knew now, and the understanding was an almost physical pressure at his throat, as all the words of gratitude and returned affection begged to be spoken. That was just one more reason to add to the long list of why he had to try to talk to Togami and fix things as soon as he could. He couldn't let Togami go another minute longer than necessary believing that Naegi hadn't appreciated everything he'd done. Naegi should never have let these things go so long unspoken in the first place.

But before he could do anything like that, Naegi had to find the other boy – and that meant searching the newly-unlocked fifth floor. And as much as Naegi wanted to see Togami again, to throw his arms around the other boy and babble out all his explanations and apologies and affections in a mad rush that the heir couldn't avoid or ignore – he knew he couldn't focus on that alone. Exploring the new area was important, too, especially now that there were so few students left to search. If there were any secrets hidden on the new floor, he had to be alert enough to spot them.

So as Naegi finally struggled up to the top of the final staircase, he did his best to put the aching mess of his feelings for Togami out of his mind. It didn't entirely work, not when the awareness that Togami wasn't beside him gnawed constantly at the edge of his thoughts – but maybe if he pretended long enough, he'd be able to convince himself.

Stepping out of the stairway and onto the fifth floor, Naegi shivered at the chill in the air. It wasn't just the exhaustion or the unsettling perspective shifts from the sudden bursts of dizziness – there was something different about this floor. Not that any of the new areas they'd found had been especially pleasant, but something about this particular floor sent unease prickling across the back of Naegi's neck.

"I – I don't think I like this floor," Naegi said, pulling his hoodie and jacket tighter around him. It didn't help much, though – the icy shivers snaking through him came from somewhere deeper than the air temperature. "This isn't going to be a good place."

"Probably not," Kirigiri said, shrugging. "None of what we've found so far has been good."

She didn't seem to be taking his concerns very seriously, heading towards a pair of classroom doors without much hesitation. But Naegi supposed there wasn't much she could do, even if she felt the same sense of fear permeating the area. The only options they had were turning back or pressing on – and turning back wouldn't get rid of whatever dark secrets this floor held.

The first door turned out to be nothing more than an empty classroom, with blotchy black and white walls and more absurd chalk art on the board. Kirigiri gave it a cursory glance before letting the door swing shut again, not even bothering to go inside.

"You don't want to look at it?" Naegi asked, following her to the adjacent classroom door.

"I'll come back to do that once I've gotten an overview of the entire area." Kirigiri smiled faintly. "I doubt you'd be up to inspecting the different rooms in the detail I generally use."

Naegi had to admit she was probably right on that score, so he didn't object as she opened the second classroom. This one didn't look much different from the first. The only differences were the red and white zebra-print wallpaper and the chalk pictures scribbled on the board.

"Are those supposed to be us?" Naegi asked, squinting at the blackboard before Kirigiri could close the door on the room. The blackboard had a huge picture of a laughing Monokuma in the center, surrounded by three figures running in different directions – a long-haired girl, a boy with messy brown hair, and a boy with rectangular glasses. The words "I'm going to punish you!" were scrawled across the top of the board.

"Presumably." Kirigiri rolled her eyes. "More childish taunts. I plan to ignore them."

"Yeah." Naegi gave the board one last glance before Kirigiri closed the door on it, his eyes lingering on the expressions of cartoonish terror on the figures' faces. Childish or not, that picture gave him a bad feeling. Every minute they spent on this floor only made him more nervous about what else they might find here.

After leaving the classrooms, Kirigiri turned left down the hall, passing a few central displays of greenery. None of the other floors had had any kind of decoration, let alone something that would take as much attention as actual plants. Naegi gave those areas a wide berth as he trailed after Kirigiri.

When the hall split again, she took another left, towards a set of large sliding doors. Naegi glanced up at the sign above them, labeling the room a dojo, just before Kirigiri opened the doors and headed inside.

Naegi stopped short when he entered, staring around in shock at the graceful trees, the pink cherry blossom petals drifting in the wind, and the facsimile of a night sky arcing above them. With the lingering sense of dread he'd gotten as he'd walked through the halls, he certainly hadn't expected to come across a room like this. The peaceful loveliness of the space felt wrong when held up against the atmosphere outside the doors, like seeing a rainbow arc across the sky above a fatal car wreck.

He wouldn't have minded closing the door and leaving this unsettling room behind the way they'd moved swiftly past the others – but apparently Kirigiri felt that the dojo merited a more thorough investigation than the classrooms had. She walked inside and leaned over the display of armor on the left, inspecting it closely.

Naegi left her to it, heading out to give the trees a closer look. Were they actually real? He didn't see how they could be, indoors with no access to the sun – but as he stood under the blooming branches, the delicate scent of cherry blossoms surrounded him. He reached out and ran a hand along a tree trunk, the bark realistically rough under his fingers. The trees didn't seem artificial – but on the other hand, real cherry blossom trees wouldn't be blooming at this time of year, would they?

The clunk of a closing door drew Naegi's attention back to where Kirigiri was investigating. She'd moved across to the other side of the room and was now moving along the line of wooden lockers, opening each of them to glance quickly inside.

"Is there anything interesting in there?" Naegi asked, moving back towards her.

She closed the final locker in the row and shrugged. "Not much." She turned away, looking around the room. "This room is quite elegant, isn't it?"

Naegi blinked, looking from the weird cherry trees to the wall of archery targets to the row of lockers. "This is what you consider elegant…?"

Kirigiri looked away, appearing to be a little embarrassed. "I lived overseas for a long time, so this kind of Japanese-style scenery is refreshing."

Naegi would have called it out of place, himself – but if Kirigiri found it pleasant, he didn't see a point to arguing with her about it. "Do you want to stay here a while?"

She shook her head. "No. There are still other places to examine."

This time, Kirigiri headed to the doors on the other side of the hall. As she pulled them open, a blast of wet heat hit Naegi in the face, entirely different from the chill of the rest of the floor. And as soon as he caught a glimpse of the room, he understood why. It wasn't a room at all – it was a garden, full of lush green plants and bright tropical flowers.

And standing right in the middle of the room, staring up at a huge orange flower that towered in the middle of the garden, stood Genocide Jill, clutching a pair of bloody scissors in each hand.