Togami's breath froze in his lungs when he saw Naegi's podium begin to move, lowering itself into the floor. The creaks of grinding gears cut through even the empty white noise filling his head, vibrating painfully through the tender inner workings of his ears, but he didn't flinch away. His eyes never left the Naegi's place in the circle, scouring the area for some hint about what the mastermind was doing to the injured boy.
Finally, the top of the podium drew level with the floor — and he was able to catch his first glimpse of Naegi since the boy had collapsed. He lay on the ground, still, so very still, and at this distance Togami couldn't tell if any of the bloodstains on his clothes were fresh. With that podium in the way, he hadn't been able to tell what was happening to Naegi — his injuries could have gotten worse, and Togami wouldn't know. He —
He was breathing. Togami's eyes locked onto the other boy's shoulders, tracking the slight movements that could only be the result of functioning lungs. It wasn't smooth or steady, he could tell that even at this distance, but even so — he was breathing. At least one of the terrors screaming in his useless ears could be put to rest for now.
With his mind freed from the grip of terrified paralysis, Togami was able to realize what must have happened. Naegi couldn't stand on his own any longer, so of course the mastermind would have done whatever they could to force him to vote anyway. It was exactly the kind of vicious, unnecessary cruelty he'd come to expect from the person behind this game… but at least it meant that they believed Naegi was still physically capable of voting. He didn't think they would have gone through the trouble of rearranging the podiums if Naegi had been unconscious, or if his injuries had left him completely unable to move. There wasn't much comfort in the thought, but it was better than nothing.
Knowing Naegi was about as well as could be expected under the circumstances, Togami finally turned his attention to the buttons on the top of his own podium. He glared down at them as if they were directly responsible for the situation, instead of just another tool the mastermind could use to torment them. He shouldn't have to consider the cartoonish faces of the other students scribbled on the buttons, not at this point in the trial — but obviously the mastermind didn't care, since Monokuma had decreed it was time for the voting to begin.
But try as he might, Togami couldn't understand why. Ogami's explanation had been frustratingly vague on that point when he'd demanded that she inform him of whatever the bear had said that had triggered the emergence of the voting buttons. Or rather, the lack of clarity had been Monokuma's — Ogami seemed to have done her best to explain the bear's inane prattle, for all the good it had done. As far as Togami could tell, the mastermind had simply decided the trial was over because they'd gotten bored of listening to the arguments.
Except that it made no sense for them to have done so. The mastermind didn't act on whims, no matter how much Monokuma might project a facade of childlike impulsiveness. Whoever was orchestrating this game had carefully calculated every move to manipulate their victims. If they'd decided to stop the trial short mid-debate, there had to be a very good reason… and his teeth ground painfully together as he tried in vain to work out what it could be.
He would have liked to believe that the mastermind had been forced to call the trial to a halt because he'd nearly had their agent cornered… but he had to admit it hadn't really been the case. None of his evidence had been clear-cut enough to damn Kirigiri beyond a doubt, and for reasons that defied explanation, Jill seemed determined to cling to the idea of his guilt. Ogami had at least been willing to see reason on that score, but he couldn't be certain he had her convinced that Kirigiri had been behind the entire scheme. Nothing had been decided, not with enough certainty that the mastermind would have needed to act.
And it definitely didn't seem to merit that charade with the gun on the ceiling. Togami didn't need to look up to know it was still circling around at them, casting a whirl of shadows across the floor. He didn't believe for a second that Kirigiri had genuinely tried to reveal the mastermind to the rest of them, no matter what Ogami said. More likely it was a last ditch attempt at making her look innocent, with the side benefit of giving the mastermind an excuse to make the threat of the gun explicit.
Not they needed the reminder. Togami hadn't had much reason to be fond of Asahina, not after the part she'd played in separating him from Naegi and leaving the naive boy vulnerable to Kirigiri's manipulations… but even so, he couldn't erase the image of her lifeless body from his memory. If Enoshima's death by spears hadn't been enough to tell them what the mastermind could do, Asahina's execution had made it brutally clear what could happen if they were too defiant.
Maybe he was overthinking it. For all he knew, the mastermind just liked the aesthetic appeal of the dark gun reflected in their twisted funhouse mirrors. If this whole elaborate plot had proved anything, it was that the person behind this game put a very high value on how things looked…
How things looked to the outside world.
Togami went very still, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably as he suddenly felt the pressure of the cameras glaring down at him. The horrors of the data center had slipped to the back of his mind as he'd focused on his battle with Kirigiri, but that didn't erase them. The events of these trials didn't just matter to the handful of students trapped in the mastermind's clutches… if Monokuma was to be believed, this was being viewed by the entire world. Was it possible that the trial was being manipulated not because of what was happening here… but because of what was going on outside?
It was impossible to tell, of course — the only contact any of them had with the rest of the world was through Monokuma, and that information was suspect at best. But it did make a chilling sort of sense. The mastermind presumably wouldn't want their agent to look guilty to the viewers, especially not if the two of them were actual blood relations. And while they could control a class full of imprisoned students, surely not even the mastermind had the ability to manipulate the world at large. If things were going poorly, this could be an attempt at regrouping.
But even if that were the case… it didn't make a difference for this particular moment. Whatever might be happening outside the school walls, it didn't change the fact that right here, right now, he had to decide how he wanted to vote.
Not that there was much of a choice.
Togami glanced across the circle again, eying the silvery head bent studiously over her own podium, a thin frown creasing her face. Kirigiri had the gall to look as though she was actually thinking about it — like this decision was as hard for her as it was for the rest of them. Togami's lip curled up in a sneer, and without hesitation he jammed his finger onto the button bearing the detective's obnoxious face.
He'd thought he'd feel some measure of satisfaction at finally getting to declare once and for all what Kirigiri had done… but the only thing that filled his chest was a hollow sense of something disturbingly like regret. But that was absurd — he certainly didn't regret voting for her, no matter how much it would hurt Naegi. Not when he knew she had to be guilty.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? He knew she was guilty… but he didn't know who else believed it. They needed a majority of votes to select the correct culprit — and with five students alive to participate in this trial, that meant three people had to choose correctly. His vote would be one… but he'd need two more.
Kirigiri was out, obviously — she'd made it quite clear that she had no intention of confessing as the previous culprits had. And Jill had certainly made her opinion heard, stupid though it was. But Ogami… she'd been listening to him. He was pretty certain that when push came to shove, she'd select Kirigiri as the only possible choice. Which left only one vote.
Togami's eyes went back to Naegi. The boy had raised his head a fractional amount, just enough to look at the buttons on his podium… but he didn't seem to have chosen one yet. He wouldn't be able to put it off much longer, though, not with Monokuma's new attitude towards time limits. And when Naegi had to vote… then as much as he'd hate it, Togami knew the other boy would finally have to see the truth. Naegi might want to believe in his friends, but he had never let that blind him enough to be deceived in the face of their crimes. Togami had to believe that his kind, trusting boyfriend would be smart enough to figure this out, too. It was time for Naegi to face the reality of what Kirigiri had done.
