Walking out of that dorm room was one of the most difficult things Togami had ever forced himself to do. Naegi had looked so much better than he could have expected when he'd come back down to check — but he still wasn't well, not by any means. He'd looked fragile lying in Togami's bed, every cut and scratch showing starkly against his too-pale skin and his eyes lined with aching red — and Togami knew all too well just how easy it could be to destroy something already half-broken. He'd had to learn to defend anything he truly valued, and those instincts screamed to stay at Naegi's side and keep him safe from outside dangers.

But staying with Naegi now would give him nothing more than an illusion of safety — that was what Togami had to remind himself as he walked down the hall towards the stairs back to the second floor. Now that he'd been able to confirm with his own eyes that Naegi really had survived, avoiding the worst potential consequences of Jill's attack, he could do little more than offer comfort to the injured boy. If he wanted to help in any meaningful way, his best option was to continue his investigation of Monokuma's disappearance.

And if what Naegi had told him about Mukuro Ikusaba was true, this investigation could be more critical than he'd realized. When Ogami had tried to claim that some mysterious sixteenth student had been lurking around the school from day one, he'd dismissed the idea as the nonsensical ramblings of a traitor — but he couldn't ignore Kirigiri so easily, not when she'd actually met the sixteenth student herself. As obnoxious as he might find the girl on a personal level, he had to admit that she was no fool. Even with a mask involved, she would have been able to tell immediately if she'd been speaking with either the hulking Sakura Ogami or the half-crazed Genocide Jill. Whatever else might be happening, the reality of a sixteenth person's presence in the school was undeniable.

But as for the rest of it… Togami didn't know how much of it to believe. The story of a brainwashed girl breaking free of her forced loyalties sounded far too perfect to be true, though he supposed he could see why Naegi might be more susceptible to believing it, with his ridiculously optimistic faith in human nature. But Kirigiri had always struck him as far more pragmatic. She should have spotted the holes in Ikusaba's story immediately — and instead she'd decided to throw her life into her new acquaintance's hands.

Had Ikusaba simply been extraordinarily convincing? Togami had met plenty of charmers during his fight to become his family's heir, people so skilled in the art of persuasion that they could make a listener ignore their flawed logic. It seemed unlikely that Ikusaba could have managed such a feat from behind a face-concealing mask… but since he hadn't heard the story in person, he couldn't really judge how good Ikusaba might have been able to make it sound. Or maybe it hadn't been an issue of persuasive skill. After all, Togami knew he'd only gotten a third-hand account of the conversation, and Naegi had focused on summarizing the major points rather than recreating the interaction. Any details and nuances that might have filled in the gaps of logic would have been lost along the way. The story that Kirigiri had heard might have been a better one than the tale that had eventually reached Togami.

Or maybe she'd been more clever than he was giving her credit for. Maybe she hadn't been fooled by Ikusaba's story at all. If Kirigiri had seen through whatever lies Ikusaba had told her, it was just barely possible that she might have willingly decided to go along with them in the hopes of learning more. That would have been a risky plan — she would have had to walk a very fine line of appearing to fall into the mastermind's trap while still retaining enough control of the situation to get something useful from it. Kirigiri had always seemed to prefer caution — it was difficult to envision her choosing to put herself in that much danger. But then again, if she'd given herself away to the mastermind by avoiding the trap entirely, she might have ended up in just as much trouble.

But in the end, it hardly mattered why Kirigiri had decided to go along with Ikusaba's claims. She had done it, that was the important point — and Monokuma had gone silent less than a day afterward. Togami couldn't conceive of any way those two events happening so close together could be a coincidence. Kirigiri might have been the one to deactivate Monokuma, through some unexpected act of sabotage — but if she'd done so, why hadn't she returned afterward? And if this story had been meant to trap Kirigiri, Togami doubted Ikusaba would have let her anywhere near something she could actually damage.

No, to his mind, the far more likely possibility was that this trap had worked exactly as the mastermind had intended. And if that was the case, then Monokuma's lack of response had to be because Ikusaba was busy dealing with Kirigiri — and that didn't bode well for the interfering girl. Togami couldn't be sure exactly what she'd done to drive the mastermind to target her, but with all her snooping, it wasn't exactly a surprise that she'd finally gone a step too far. And now that they'd actually set a trap specifically aimed at her… well, Togami couldn't envision any scenario where she emerged unscathed, no matter how much Naegi might insist otherwise.

Despite his best efforts not to dwell on it, Togami found his mind drawn inexorably back to that awful moment when Naegi had started to realize exactly what this might mean for his friend. He'd cried for her, in a way that he hadn't for his own injuries — and Togami had felt every tear burn through his heart like drops of acid. Naegi had no business crying about anything, not when he ought to be devoting all his energy to healing. After all, it wasn't as though he'd wasted tears on any of the other dead students —

Had he? Togami frowned, thinking back to the aftermath of the other trials. He didn't recall seeing Naegi cry then… but it wasn't as though he'd paid much attention to Naegi early on. And after the third trial, they'd spent so much time separated that it would have been all too easy for Naegi to hide his tears if he'd wanted to.

And that was utterly unacceptable. The only thing worse than the thought of Naegi crying in front of him was the idea that Naegi might hide himself away to grieve alone, with only the mastermind's cameras to witness his unhappiness. At least Togami could be fairly confident that he'd put a stop to that nonsense. Naegi had even managed to smile one more time just before Togami had left, open and kind and caring — a smile that Togami had feared he'd never see directed at himself again.

The memory filled his chest with a fierce heat, expanding outward until he could hardly contain it, taking almost all his effort to stop himself from grinning in the middle of the empty stairwell like a madman. And try as he might, Togami couldn't force the hint of a smile off his face entirely, not when Naegi could still look at him that way. Not when Naegi had asked to be his boyfriend.

The thought of naming their relationship wouldn't have occurred to Togami unprompted — but as soon as Naegi had said the word, it had felt right. Of course that was what the two of them were to one another, the way they fit into each other's lives. The label imposed some order on the confusion Naegi had thrown into his world, explaining everything about how it needed to realign.

Or… nearly everything. Even in his injured state, Naegi had been sharp enough to catch that Togami had still been holding something back — but at least he'd agreed not to press the issue until a later date. That would give Togami some breathing room to figure out just what he wanted to tell the other boy — and to decide whether he wanted to confess his love.

He'd almost said it, during those moments of dizzy euphoria when he'd realized that not only was Naegi still alive, he still cared about Togami as much as before. The words had been there, poised on his lips as he looked down at the wonderfully alive boy in front of him, and he'd just barely managed to swallow them back.

Because that had been the key point — Naegi cared as much as before. Togami still couldn't judge how much that might be… and the last time he'd come close to admitting the depth of his feelings, Naegi hadn't responded well. How could he tell Naegi he loved him if he suspected Naegi didn't feel the same way?

He couldn't. Of course he couldn't. He might be willing to bare his emotions when he knew Naegi matched them, but being told that he was the only one who felt that deep a vulnerability would be too much humiliation to endure.

But even knowing that, Togami wasn't sure how long he could prevent himself from saying it. The words had so nearly slipped out a few moments ago, just because Naegi had innocently asked him a question. He wasn't sure how long he could last without betraying himself, but it couldn't possibly be long enough. Surely it would be better to tell Naegi on his own terms than to have the truth ripped unwillingly from his heart.

Togami gave his head a sharp shake as he approached the library doors again. He couldn't let himself dwell on those questions much longer, not while he was investigating Monokuma. He couldn't afford even the slightest distraction while disassembling the bear if he wanted to avoid breaking the rule about harming the headmaster — and nothing was more thoroughly distracting than his feelings for Naegi. He took a deep breath, resolving to put them out of his mind as soon as he stepped through the open library doors —

And then he paused, frowning. Hadn't he closed those doors when he left?


Author's Note: I think that this week's schedule worked pretty well, so I'll tentatively say that next week will be the same. There will definitely be a new chapter on Sunday.