Scheduling Update: As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I will be making some drastic revisions to my writing schedule in the hopes that I will have more time to edit and keep the story moving forward steadily.
The new schedule will be only two posts per week, on Sunday and Thursday.
These chapters will cover the same amount of story I usually try to cover in a week, but in a more polished way. They will also be longer than my usual chapters, so you won't be missing out! But if this doesn't work the way I'm hoping for some reason, I'll revisit the schedule again in a couple weeks.
Naegi almost wished that he hadn't gone along with Togami's attempt to pretend that he'd just wanted to try the mystery key in the data center door. He'd known that arguing with Togami about his real reason for stopping in the middle of the fourth floor would only make the proud heir dig in his heels and insist that he wasn't exhausted in the least — but maybe it would have been worth the fight if he could have convinced Togami to sit down and rest. Even a few minutes could have helped with the way he swayed on his feet like a spindly tree tossed by the wind, or brought more focus to his scattered, fuzzy gaze.
But now, with the key sliding into the lock so perfectly, the situation had changed. Togami's hand had gone still, frozen around the key with so little movement that it almost seemed as though it hadn't fit the lock after all — but that only put off the inevitable. Putting off an investigation of the locked doors until they'd had a chance to rest was one thing… but turning aside from such an obvious clue, a genuine lead about the mastermind's secrets, was something else entirely. How could they justify walking away from this?
But even with all those thoughts running through his head, Naegi bumped his shoulder against Togami's arm to get the other boy's attention before he could finally turn the key. Togami blinked for just a heartbeat too long, looking down at Naegi as he returned from whatever whirl of thoughts had been occupying him. His expression seemed to have all its usual sharpness, but Naegi knew him well enough to see beyond the mask of strength. He knew Togami would despise the vulnerability lurking there… and that knowledge drew words from his lips that he hadn't meant to say.
"We can still leave. This doesn't have to change our plan — we can rest in the music room, go downstairs, and come back to open the door after we've had a chance to recover. We don't have to go in right now."
Naegi hated the words even as they poured from his mouth. He didn't want to be saying something like this, turning his back on their investigation and abandoning a brilliant clue — but he didn't want to stand by and watch a boy he cared so much about drive himself to collapse, either.
Togami stared at him with blank disbelief written plain across his face. "I don't think I read that clearly," he said at last. "Say it again."
Naegi opened his mouth — but now that he had to summon them deliberately, the shameful words clogged his throat like garbage shoved into a drain. How could he say something like that, when he knew deep in his soul that to stop moving forward would be the same as allowing the mastermind to destroy them? But… when he looked up at Togami, so drained that even walking made him tremble, how could he not repeat his plea to put their investigation on hold? Togami needed rest so very badly, and Naegi just wanted to help him…
But he wasn't the only one who needed help. Kirigiri had gone missing, supposedly trapped behind one of the school's locked doors — and now they had the opportunity to search one of those locked areas. If she wasn't lying cold and mutilated in the classroom upstairs — and she wasn't, he knew she wasn't, she couldn't be — then she could be here, mere feet away, separated from rescue only by the locked door. How could he walk away from this, knowing that he might have had a chance to help a friend in trouble?
The chance to help Kirigiri, or the chance to protect Togami… how could he choose between the two? Naegi shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze away from his boyfriend's. He couldn't make a choice like this.
But apparently the refusal to choose wasn't an option. Before he had a chance to decide what he wanted to do next, Naegi heard the telltale click of a lock. His head shot up again — and he saw that the key had been turned to a ninety-degree angle, the doorknob twisting along with it. Togami stared at his hand blankly, almost as though some other force than him was pushing at the door, opening it just a few inches. Of course, that was ridiculous — it wasn't as though there was any other way the door could have opened. Togami must have been even more tired than Naegi had realized, if he was acting without deliberately planning out his moves.
But now, whatever else the open door might mean about Togami's state of mind, they didn't have time to deal with it. If anyone really was sealed away in the data center, now they knew that someone outside had a key to their door. They'd lost the chance to walk away and pretend they had never tried the key at all.
Naegi tilted the music stand pole forward until the top rested against the door just above Togami's frozen hand, and he pushed. He couldn't muster much pressure, but that didn't matter. As soon as the door moved again, Togami's hand fell away, leaving the door to swing open under its own weight. Naegi hastily resettled the music stand pole, doing his best to brace himself for whatever lurked behind the door. He pressed a step closer to the other boy, not sure if he meant to protect or be protected, only knowing that he wanted the warm presence of his boyfriend at his side as they peered into the data center for the first time. He looked through the door…
And all of Hope's Peak Academy blazed back at him.
Naegi's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the walls of monitors lining the room, showing different views of every room in the school. He could see the tidy piles of food stored in the kitchen, the rippling water of the swimming pool, the half-played game of billiards abandoned in the game room. And the angles of the views — after weeks of being all too aware of how closely they'd been observed, he recognized those angles.
"I think we've just found out how the mastermind is keeping track of us," Togami said softly.
The sound of the other boy's voice tore Naegi's eyes away from the room, and he twisted as much as he could to look up at the boy beside him. Togami's voice had been sharper than it had been since this explosion, with less slurring and a great deal more interest, but Naegi wasn't at all sure that he could trust the change. It wasn't as though Togami had suddenly realized he was more rested than he had been a few minutes ago — he'd just gotten a burst of adrenaline that was letting him fake it. And Naegi had a terrible suspicion that it would run out sooner rather than later.
But when Togami glanced down at Naegi to see his response, Naegi couldn't quite bring himself to say so. Drawing attention to the illusion might shatter it, and even false energy was better than none at all. Instead, he nodded at Togami's conclusion about the screens.
"This must've been how Ikusaba stayed out of our way for so long," Naegi said, glancing back into the room without turning his head away from Togami's gaze. "She could have stayed locked in here watching us the whole time." His gaze skittered away from the rows on rows of monitors, taking in the large chair sitting empty in the center of the room. "But she isn't here now."
"So we should take advantage of her absence," Togami declared, striding forward into the room with so much confidence that it almost masked the way he swayed with every step.
Naegi followed after him, wishing that he could come up with a good reason that they didn't have to do so. Something about this room felt wrong, out of place, and he didn't think that it was just the blatant reminder of how very empty the school had become. As he looked around the room, studying the way the desk was set up to observe the screens and the arrangement of the screens to show the entire building, he couldn't help but think that this room didn't look the way that it should.
Which was a weird thing to think, of course. He'd been vaguely aware that the mastermind had to have a room like this, showing all the camera feeds, since they were keeping pretty close watch on all the students. He hadn't thought that he'd developed such clear expectations of the room that he could look at it and feel as though it didn't match what he thought he knew. But even so, he couldn't shake the feeling that this room ought to be different.
He was probably just imagining things, Naegi decided. He'd had lots of shocks, and even if he was sure he couldn't be as exhausted as Togami, he knew he was still pretty tired, too. He did his best to push the unfounded worries out of his mind and tried to turn his attention to investigating the mastermind's apparently unguarded stronghold.
Naegi looked across the room to where Togami had gone — and alarm jolted through him as a familiar black and white face grinned back at him. Naegi took a stumbling step backward before he realized that no, it wasn't Monokuma himself — it was just a strangely painted door. Togami stood in front of it with the key they'd found, but it looked as though the door to the data center's inner sanctum didn't share a lock with its outer door. Naegi couldn't quite suppress a fond smile at the glare of pure outrage Togami wore when it was clear the door was refusing to open for him.
Naegi left him to it, looking back up at the rows of screens. As long as they were here, able the view the entire school at once… there was something he had to do. Slowly, one monitor at a time, he searched every room for any trace of Kirigiri, Jill, or an unidentified girl who might be Mukuro Ikusaba. With the school sealed off from the outside world, they had to be on one of the screens. They couldn't have simply disappeared.
Except that as far as he could tell, that was exactly what they'd done. The only signs of other humans in the school that showed on any of the screens were Ogami, still slumped in her chair in Togami's dorm room, and the dead body lying in the fifth floor classroom. Regardless of which girl that body belonged to, two students were still missing.
Naegi's shoulders slumped as he reached the end of the row of monitors, the final screen confirming that the school's front entrance remained as tightly closed as ever. Nothing. Kirigiri hadn't shown up on a single screen. It had been one thing when he'd been unable to locate her on the map in his upgraded e-handbook no matter how many times he'd checked it — but that was just a basic picture of locations. These screens showed actual images of the different areas of the school. If he couldn't find Kirigiri on any of them… then where was she?
Before Naegi could consider this question any further, a clatter from the other side of the room drew his attention. He turned, only to see Togami bending over yet another monitor, just like the others — except that this one wasn't on. And it seemed to have some kind of antenna on it, that Togami seemed to be trying to adjust.
That wasn't another camera monitor, Naegi realized, crossing the room towards it as quickly as he could. That was a television.
Scheduling note: Again, the next chapter will be posted on Thursday, 9/8. See you all then.
