Togami stumbled across the garden, grimacing as the too-bright beams of the false sun lanced through eyes that had grown accustomed to the shed's dim shadows. Even the lighting in this room had been crafted to match the outdoors… which was yet more evidence of the mastermind's painstaking attention to detail. Nothing ever escaped their notice, did it? That might almost have been admirable… if they hadn't wasted the talent on a task so pointless as decorating a killing ground. What did it matter how believable the garden appeared, when the only people who would see it were the ones who'd been brought here to die?
It seemed to take him an eternity to reach the small wooden bench, and he sank down onto it as though it marked the end of a long, hard journey. In a way, perhaps it did. He looked down at the gardening shears in his hands, tracing one finger along the knife-sharp edge. Some far-off whisper of sensation might have been pain, but it was so insignificant as to be unrecognizable in comparison to all the rest of what he'd endured.
A thin line of red crossed his fingertip, bright enough to be a brand on his pale skin. Before Hope's Peak, he'd worked hard to avoid damaging his perfect skin with scars… but it had clearly been wasted effort. The cuts on his hands from trying to claw through the mirrors would certainly scar, and he still hadn't regained any hearing in his left ear. And those were only the start… the injuries he'd sustained since being imprisoned here had been too numerous to count, leaving indelible marks on his body to remind him of the many ways he'd failed.
He touched the blade again, more firmly than before, and was rewarded when a full bead of trembling red bloomed against his fingers. It dripped down onto the silver blades, tiny blotches that masked at least a little bit of the boy reflected back at him.
But not enough. He could still see empty blue eyes staring up at him, the eyes of the person who had so stupidly destroyed everything worthwhile he'd had… who hadn't even known he was a failure until it was too late to make any difference. Eyes like those had no right to look out at the world.
More red fell onto them, washing them from his sight… but still, still it wasn't enough. There had to be more, more red, more pain, until it was finally enough to carry him away from the world he hated. Maybe if it carried him far enough… he might even be able to see Naegi one more time. He didn't dare hope for such an undeserved gift… but even so, the thought of it made him smile.
And then a wave of force slammed into his back, knocking him roughly forward off the bench and sending the shears flying from his grip. He groped out towards them — but a hand shot out to pin his wrist to the ground.
"Sorry to break it to you, darling," Genocide Jill's voice rang out from above him, "but red is not your color."
When Naegi saw Byakuya take hold of the gardening shears, he'd feared that the empty-eyed young man had decided to try to go after Kyoko again. Jill's scissors had apparently failed him, so he'd gone in search of a new weapon. At the time, it had seemed like that was the worst case scenario.
And then Byakuya sat down on the bench and brought his own hand against the blades.
"No," Naegi breathed, eyes wide with horror at the sight of his boyfriend spilling his own blood. "No! Stop — Byakuya, please, you have to stop!"
But the young man on the screen couldn't hear the desperate words. He touched the blade again, and this time the wound was worse. What was he thinking? Surely this couldn't be what it looked like — not really, not Byakuya of all people, not the clever and determined man that Naegi knew so well. Not because of Naegi.
A shadow fell across Naegi's vision, and he realized that Junko had dropped down to sit on the floor beside him. She leaned back against the wall, chin propped on one hand as she peered curiously up at the screen.
"Do something!" Naegi pleaded, reaching out for the only possibility of help that he could see. "Please — you can't let him do this, you have to stop him! Please!"
Junko blinked, tilting her head so she was looking down at him instead of the monitors. "Huh? You want to stop him — right when he's about to win our little bet for me?" She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "I never took you for a cheater."
"Who cares about your stupid bet?" Tears burned Naegi's eyes as they forced their way out, blurring his vision and catching in his throat. "He's — he's hurting himself! If he keeps this up then he'll — he'll —"
"Die?" Junko had no problem nonchalantly speaking the word Naegi couldn't bring himself to utter.
"We can't just sit here and watch!"
"Sure we can!" Junko leaned close, as if confiding a great secret. "It's super easy!"
And she knew that because she'd done it before. Icy fingers curled tight around Naegi's heart as he realized exactly what she meant. She'd sat here in this very room and watched as their friends killed one another, without even lifting a finger to stop them… and now she intended to do the same for Byakuya.
"Don't," he whispered, eyes darting back to the screen where Byakuya still held the blade to his bloody wrist. "Don't do this, please." He didn't know if he meant the words for his boyfriend, or the girl beside him, or the whole world that had turned into a frozen blur around him — but it didn't matter. He'd ask whoever it took, beg as much as they demanded, if only this nightmare stopped. "Don't, please don't do this. Don't make me watch this. I'll do anything, please!"
"Oh? Well, if that's the offer on the table, what kind of friend would say no?"
Naegi hardly dared to hope it was possible — but when he tore his eyes away from the screens, he saw Junko pulling out a remote control and tapping away at the buttons. Maybe she'd finally had a change of heart — she'd realized she didn't have to do any of this, she'd decided to make it all stop, and —
And the monitors showing the fifth floor of the school went dark.
"There we go!" Junko tucked the remote back into her pocket and beamed at Naegi. "Now you don't have to watch!"
