Kirigiri had thought… that Naegi could be the mastermind? Even after hearing her say the words, Togami couldn't comprehend what she meant. How could anyone who'd spent more than a few seconds with Naegi seriously consider the possibility that he could be the one behind this nightmare? Suspecting Togami himself was bad enough — but at least he'd begun the killing game by behaving in a way that would draw such speculation. But Naegi had been kind and honest and friendly, right from the start. He'd been good, in ways that Togami hadn't even known a person could be. Who could look at a boy like Naegi and see the mastermind?
There was an answer lurking somewhere in the darkest parts of his mind, but he knew, he knew that it was an answer that he didn't want to see. She was lying, that was all he had to remember. No matter what other dizzying thoughts muddied his head, they didn't matter. He didn't have to think about her words, because they were nothing more than an attempt to erase her crimes. She wanted to hide what she'd done by blackening the name of an innocent boy, a boy who'd died because of her.
She was talking again, watching him through narrowed eyes, but her words were too far away to hear. He didn't want to hear them, not when they were only going to pour another dose of lies and slander into his ear. He just wanted her to stop talking… and there was only one way to be sure she'd stop forever.
The hard edge of Jill's scissors pressed into his side, the only steady thing in a world that spun wildly off-balance all around him. The weapon was certainty given form, dependable and unyielding as no living thing could be. However dangerous they might be, the simple metal blades couldn't twist themselves into a new and unexpected threat. He knew how to wield them to meet his own ends… and if he ever wanted to silence the screams echoing in his head, that was exactly what he had to do.
Her words were flying at him faster now, hurtling against his only functioning ear with the force of physical attacks… but no, no, he refused to accept anything that came from her. He shook his head to tell her as much, but it felt as though he were forcing his way against a powerful current with every slow, labored motion. It dragged at his body, a weight that sent trembling shudders through his limbs as he struggled to bear it.
It was too much, all of it, the words and the screaming and the weight… but he couldn't let it end yet. He couldn't let her win… not now, not like this. He could see her stirring from where she sat across from him, no matter how the dark splotches blurring his vision tried to obscure her. Whatever she was trying to do, whatever twisted new plan she wanted to put in motion, he had to stop her. If he could just make her stop… then somehow, somehow that would make the world easier to live in.
She leaned forward and reached towards him — and he couldn't let her finish the motion. As a trio of wavering gloved hands reached through the air, he leapt to his feet —
Or he meant to. But in the moment when he tried to shove himself upward, several days' worth of exhaustion, grief, and lack of food sent the world tilting madly around him. Darkness wrapped him in its clutches, and he lost consciousness before he even had a chance to decide whether he'd intended to reach for the scissors.
Naegi stared up at the monitor showing the bathhouse door, waiting for some flicker of motion to hint at signs of life within. When Byakuya and Kyoko had disappeared through that door, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't look away until he saw one of them open it again… but he hadn't expected them to stay hidden away for quite so long. He was sure that nearly an hour must have passed, if not longer… and yet the door remained stubbornly closed.
He wanted to believe that they'd genuinely decided to join forces, that they were staying away from the cameras so that they could plan a strategy to beat Junko's game once and for all. He could almost convince himself of it… but every time he thought that he had, the image of Byakuya seizing those scissors rose from the back of his mind again.
"Man, how long is this whole 'murdering Kirigiri' thing gonna take?"
Junko's words trailed off in a frustrated groan, and she flopped back in her swivel chair with enough force to send it spinning into the center of the room. It ended up facing the opposite direction, but she tilted the seat backwards until Naegi could see her upside-down eyes.
"I mean, seriously," she went on, as if it were a perfectly ordinary conversation, "I know I'm the one who said I'd give him a whole day, but it's not like I thought he'd last long once he had her alone. Sure, he talks big, but I figured he'd be the kind of guy who'd stick it right in first chance he got!"
Naegi knew she was just trying to make him react with such a creepy description, and he tried his best to keep a grimace of revulsion off his face… but her gleeful giggles told him he hadn't succeeded.
"Aww, guess that was pretty tactless of me, huh, sweetie?" she said between giggles. "I mean, who'd want to think too hard about their boytoy giving it up for someone else? Well, not unless you're into that kinda thing!" She waggled her eyebrows, face contorting through cartoonish expressions that looked all the more surreal from upside down.
Aside from the topic, it could have been any chat between friends from their days at Hope's Peak… and the poisonous thought curdled through his stomach until he feared he might start retching again. Why did she have to keep acting like nothing had changed when they both knew everything was different?
"Stop." He forced the word out, desperate to say it even if she wouldn't listen. "Just… stop."
"Huh? Stop what?" She tilted her head this way and that, pigtails spilling over the edge of the chair to brush against the floor. "Do you mean that you just can't stand to see my adorable face from such a weird angle? Wow, I had no idea you were so into aesthetics!" She rolled over to lie on her stomach, propping her chin on her hands as she grinned down at him. "Does that mean I've done some rubbing off?"
That was an even more horrifying thought that the first one, woven round with too many thorns to let him think about it without pain. The classmate who had been his friend had certainly influenced him… but how much of that had come after she'd lost herself in despair? Would he ever be able to find an answer? Did he even want to know what he'd uncover if he could?
"Seriously though, what do you think is taking him so freaking long?" Junko glanced up at the monitor showing the bathhouse door again, making a face at it when it remained stubbornly blank. "Ooh, think he's chopping the body up so he can hide the evidence? That'd sure take a while with just those dinky little scissors to use!" She tapped a finger against her lips. "Maybe I should've made axes and chainsaws a little more readily available…"
Naegi wished he could cover his ears, make some kind of noise, do anything to stop himself from having to hear Junko's words. He didn't want to know the thought processes the mastermind had put into creating this terrible game.
"But if I'd done that, then everyone could've used them from the start — and where's the fun in finding your friends' dead bodies if you can't even recognize them?" Junko heaved a put-upon sigh. "Nope, it just wouldn't have worked out at all to arrange the game that way. I guess your poor bloodthirsty darling will just have to make do with what he's got on hand. At least he's got plenty of time till morning to get her sliced into nice bite-sized chunks!"
The words scorched an image across the inside of Naegi's head, one too horrifying to bear… and when it made him shudder, Junko only laughed again. "What's the matter now, sweetie? Don't tell me that you're gonna be a sore loser about it!"
He glared back, refusing to let her claim that she'd already won. "I haven't lost… yet. We still… don't know… what happened."
"You think so?" Junko started to grin, then paused and leaned even further forward to stare hard at his face. "Oh my — you really do think so." She clucked her tongue sympathetically. "I don't know where you get all this blind faith, I really don't. I mean, I lived through the same time with all our classmates that you did, and I didn't see a single thing you could have remembered that would make you think this way."
Naegi blinked, startled at the claim. Even if despair had consumed her now… how could she say that? Now that his memories were back, he could recall plenty of reasons to believe in his friends. It might be hard to keep them in mind when faced with so much horror and despair… but that didn't mean they didn't exist.
"Hmm? You don't agree?" Junko tilted her head quizzically. "You think there's something in our memories that can give you strength?"
There was only one answer to a question like that. "Of course."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure there is. Fine, then, if you're so convinced — prove it." She flicked one red-tipped finger in his direction. "Tell me about the memories that give you hope."
