The deep whirring of the gun spinning above the circle vibrated through Naegi's ears, a low trembling that shook all the way up through his aching skull. He could feel its presence looming there on the ceiling even if he couldn't lift his head to see it, a dark reminder that Monokuma's orders couldn't be ignored. The sharp, cold threat still hung in the air of the trial room, so uncharacteristically empty of any trace of humor. Of course Monokuma's laughter was bad, wrong, frightening in a way that he couldn't bring himself to understand… but not hearing it was hardly more reassuring. It meant something, something important… but he didn't know what. All he knew was that their opportunity to discuss the murder had been snatched away before they'd reached a conclusion.
But even so, Kirigiri would know what to do. She would, she had to, she always did. Any moment now her voice would ring out through the madness, calm and collected and knowing exactly how to point them in the right direction. Except… it didn't.
No, that wasn't right… she'd already spoken, hadn't she? That was right, he'd heard her voice… but it hadn't matched the one in his head. Her exact words had slipped away before he could grasp their meaning, but he'd still heard the outrage that left her terrifyingly off balance… and he'd heard the moment it turned to bitter defeat.
She'd had a plan to fight the mastermind. Naegi couldn't be certain of much now, not with the thorny tangle of his memories still turning careless thoughts into agony… but the promise of that plan lingered. Her voice whispered through his head, asking for his help, asking him to trust her. And he did, of course he did… but he wasn't sure any longer what it ought to mean.
He knew, he thought he knew, that Kirigiri had meant to take down the mastermind… but he couldn't remember how. The details had slipped too far out of reach… or maybe he'd never known them at all. But even so, any plan of Kirigiri's would involve far more than simply blurting out a name a few seconds before the voting began. This wasn't what she'd wanted. Something had gone wrong during the course of the trial, and she hadn't been able to put her plan properly into motion…
Or the mastermind had stopped her before she could.
Was that the real reason that Monokuma had suddenly announced a time limit for the trial — to prevent Kirigiri from succeeding in her plan? Then… that had to mean that whatever she'd uncovered was true… and the mastermind would kill all of them rather than let her share it. But that didn't make sense, did it? Killing all the players would end the game early, before the mastermind had accomplished whatever her real goal was. Could anything make such a drastic step necessary?
The questions kept bubbling through his mind, drifting up into his awareness without conscious thought propelling them. Even when he thought he had an answer, another dozen sprang out of nothingness to take its place, weighing down his head like iron bars. Even resting his forehead against the cold ground couldn't relieve the relentless pain in his head — it only let the chill seep into his bones, leaching away any trace of warmth. His torn, bloodstained jacket did nothing to protect him from this cold.
A sudden, fierce desire gripped him — to go back to bed, to curl up in a nest of clean blankets and soft pillows, to close his eyes and sleep until the world made sense again. He'd wake up with Togami's arms around him, in a place where they could both be safe and warm. Nothing would hurt, not his head or his arm or anything else, and when he whispered good morning, Togami would understand without needing to read the word from his lips.
The dream of that nonexistent morning was almost too beautiful to bear. It didn't belong here, in this dingy room of bitter accusations and tangled half-truths. He couldn't let himself dwell on it now, not without sullying the dream with the cruelty of reality. There was no room for wishing in one of the mastermind's trials — the only thing he could do was keep moving forward in whatever way he could find. No matter how lost and confused he might be, he still knew what he had to do — he had to figure out some way to vote.
And it wasn't just a mental dilemma, either. Naegi looked up, all the way to the top of the impossibly high podium where he knew the voting buttons would be. He'd have to stand in order to press one of them… and there was no way he could, not when his strength dwindled further away with every passing second. It just wasn't an option.
But then… did that mean he didn't have to make the horrible choice after all? If he couldn't cast his vote, then it didn't matter what he would have picked. He wouldn't have to decide, just this once he wouldn't have to feel a piece of his soul shrivel into ashes, he wouldn't —
A loud creaking filled the room, the groaning protests of gears forced back into labor after too long standing idle. Naegi gasped, doing what little he could to brace himself as the floor beneath him trembled and shook, jolting through his aching body to turn the almost familiar pain into fresh waves of agony. And his arm — oh god, his arm —
And then it stopped, as unexpectedly as it had begun, and the only sounds left in the ringing silence were his own hissing gasps. At least he hadn't screamed this time — or he didn't think he had. His throat didn't burn as he tried to fill his lungs with air, anyway. That had to be a good sign, didn't it? It had to mean he was getting better. He couldn't let himself think any other way.
But what had happened in the rest of the room? What had caused the strange sounds and made the floor shake? A terrible suspicion grew, a cold lump in the back of his throat, as he dredged up the strength to lift his head a long inch off the ground and look around him.
He'd expected what he found… but even so, it was a shock to come face to face with one of the sights he'd seen in nightmares ever since the first of the mastermind's trials. The voting buttons, the tools he'd had to use to condemn his friends to death over and over again, gleamed only a few inches in front of him. Naegi was unable to stand… so the podium had sunk down into the floor, bringing the buttons to a level he could reach.
Of course the mastermind would do this — Naegi should have realized the instant it had looked like he might be able to escape voting. She would never let any of the students avoid a chance to sink into despair. With the buttons close at hand, he had no excuses… he had to choose a culprit.
But… how was he supposed to do that? Naegi's eyes drifted over the buttons, flat caricatures of his dead friends staring back at him, reminders of the painful choices he'd already made. But even though the earlier trials had been hard, at least he'd known what he had to do. They'd all managed to uncover the truth, no matter how much it had hurt. This time… they hadn't. None of the evidence was definitive, none of the theories addressed all the questions, and no one had broken down and admitted their guilt. Those earlier trials seemed almost easy by comparison, when he'd been able to confront a culprit with their crimes and hear them confess in reply.
No. Not easy. There had been nothing easy about watching his friends lose their last shreds of hope for survival.
Naegi forced his eyes away from the accusing faces of the dead, looking instead at the images of the survivors. There were so few of them left now, barely a handful of the students who'd been sealed away at the start… and the actual options were even fewer. Ogami and Jill had both been incapacitated during the course of the murder, so neither of them could have done it. The only options were Togami and Kirigiri… the two people in the school he'd never wanted to choose between.
Because Togami hadn't done this — Naegi knew that with every fiber of his being, certain as the steady beat of his heart. He couldn't believe that Togami could have been so caring and kind to him during their investigation if it had all been a ruse to escape. And he'd gone right on protecting Naegi during the trial, even telling a blatant lie so the girls wouldn't suspect him. The real culprit would have no reason to make himself look guilty like that.
But that left him with Kirigiri… and believing she'd done this was equally impossible. From the start, she'd been more interested in solving the school's mysteries than playing the killing game — which made sense, now that he knew the truth about her talent. And as the Ultimate Detective, wouldn't she be smarter about a murder if she really did kill someone? Why would she use parts of a plan that she'd already told two of the other students about, things that could be easily identifiable as hers?
I can see the trap being set in this trial.
Kirigiri's words echoed through his mind, as though he were hearing them anew instead of just remembering them. That was right… she'd thought the mastermind would attack her during the trial. That was why she'd come up with her own plan to go on the offensive, trying to reveal the mastermind's identity first. But she hadn't had a chance to put it into motion.
But if this was the mastermind's trap, Naegi couldn't understand what it had been meant to do. Things might not look very good for Kirigiri, but it wasn't as though everyone was against her, either. From the bits and pieces he'd managed to hear of the argument, the remaining students had split nearly evenly, two against two.
Could that have been the trap Kirigiri had meant? Had the mastermind intended to divide them so they'd be unable to reach the true solution? If so… that meant his own vote would be all the more critical. He was going to be the tiebreaker, wasn't he… the one who chose between the two impossibilities of who could have been behind this murder.
Naegi looked away from the buttons, unable to meet even the two-dimensional eyes of his friends as he considered voting for them… and instead, his eyes fell back on the strange paper bearing Mukuro Ikusaba's name. It was yet another question about this murder that would remain unsolved due to Monokuma's new time limit — what was that paper, and how had it ended up in his pocket? He'd never seen it before, he was sure of that… except that it looked familiar, for some reason. He hadn't seen the paper itself… but he'd seen something like it. But… where? He narrowed his eyes at the paper, trying to force the shaky black lines to hold still and turn into legible writing.
They didn't, not with his eyes bleary and dry from exhaustion. All he could see was the outline of the writing, the pattern of words filling the paper… almost like it was following a set pattern. It could be a form of some kind…
Or a profile.
