Naegi knew he must have misunderstood what Kyoko had just said to him. There had to be some foundational link of logic he hadn't followed, some key question that he hadn't asked, some critical clue to the mysteries that he'd overlooked that would fit her words into a world that made sense. Because it sounded like she'd just told the whole room that he could be the mastermind… and that couldn't be what she'd meant.
Except that he couldn't see any hint that she'd been anything other than serious. The steely glint of her eyes kept all emotion locked away, and the thin line of her mouth gave away nothing. She stood ramrod-straight, facing him head-on without flinching… the way she would face any other culprit she accused.
Wind roared through his ears as the room tilted, shaking until he couldn't remember which way was up. If it hadn't been for the back of the wheelchair holding him upward, his body would have collapsed to the floor. The only thing he could see were iron-cold eyes, strange and unfamiliar in a face he'd thought he knew.
And then warmth shot through his fingers, sharp and anchoring. Byakuya's hand gripped his, tight and fierce to the point of pain, fingers entangled as if he never planned to let go again.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Byakuya's voice was low and even, not showing any of the fury that Naegi knew would be raging through his veins. "What are you trying to do?"
"I'm taking part in the class trial." Kyoko's eyes never so much as flickered even while she addressed Byakuya, holding Naegi firmly in her sights. "He made a flawed argument, and I pointed out a hole in it that he'd overlooked."
Her stare bored into Naegi's, empty of anything but ice, freezing him until he couldn't bear another moment. He had to look away, even as the knots twisting through his stomach whispered that it was a mistake.
And Byakuya saw it all on his face, the tension in his fingers made that clear. "Oh? And what is this supposed flaw in his argument that convinced you to accuse him of atrocities?"
"Man, maybe we need to stop the trial for a nap break!" Specks of light skittered around the room as Jill spun her scissors through her podium's illumination, scattering it like a splattering of blood. "You must be pretty tired if you can't even do math in your head, darling!"
"Excuse me?" The implied insult grabbed Byakuya's attention like nothing else could have, all the more for being so unexpected from his one-woman fan club.
"Well, you've gotta admit it adds up!" Jill's teeth flashed in a momentary grin at her own pun. "Sixteen started the game, ten are out of action, so the head honcho's gotta be one of the other six! That's some first-grade subtraction, darling, so you've gotta be out of it if —"
"Shut up." Byakuya didn't even bother to raise his voice — Jill's mouth snapped closed the moment he spoke. "Are you seriously agreeing with her accusation?"
"What — that sweet little Makhyutie has been the big bad boogieman behind the scenes?" Jill's snort of disdain sounded too loud for the room. "Come on, darling, give me credit for not being a complete idiot! Sure, Nancy Drew went for the big flashy example to point out that anyone still alive could be running the show just as easy as Double-Bubblegum up there — but no one seriously thinks your adorable little boyfriend is the one!"
She burst into laughter at the idea — but the tension quivering through the room only increased. Naegi would have loved to believe that she was right, that he'd misunderstood, that Kyoko had only meant to correct his logic rather than hurling accusations… but he couldn't let himself slip into a comforting fantasy while his friends were in danger. Kyoko had taught him better than that.
Jill didn't seem to notice that no one shared her amusement, though of course she'd never had a problem with being the only one laughing. Byakuya's fingers gripped his own to the point of pain, and Naegi knew the inappropriate laughter would be like nails grating down the chalkboard of his boyfriend's nerves.
Byakuya ought to be shushing her again right now, demanding her silence so he could dedicate his full attention to seething at Kyoko… and yet he didn't move a muscle even in the face of so much provocation. His eyes had gone back to Kyoko, narrowing in on her as if no one else was in the room… and the look on his face turned Naegi's blood to ice. He was going to say something — something inflammatory, something they'd all regret, something there would be no going back from — and Naegi didn't know how to stop him —
"Wait — wait a moment." Sakura's voice cut through the tension of the room — not easing it, but not making it worse, either. Naegi's eyes flew to her, and from the way she glanced round the circle, brows knit together in an anxious line, he knew she'd seen it, too. "Jill — I am not sure this is a laughing matter."
"Yeah, cause you're a boring stick-in-the-mud!" Jill huffed and tossed her braids. "If you can't laugh at the idea of the fluffy puppydog of the Ultimates finding the balls to commit mass murder, you've got no sense of humor!"
"Naegi reminds you of a puppy?" Kyoko smiled ever so slightly, sharp as a dagger against his throat. "Full of more enthusiasm than ability, convinced every new acquaintance is his friend, so naive and trusting that you want to bundle him away from any danger — yes, I can see how you might draw that comparison, considering the way he acts."
"Right?" Jill rolled her eyes, planting one hand on her hip. "See, even Encyclopedia-Giri gets that Big Mac wouldn't —"
"She didn't say that." Byakuya's stony face barely even shifted as he interrupted, voice a low rumble in his throat — but his fingers clutched at Naegi's hand like he was afraid to let go. "She didn't say anything about what he would or wouldn't do. All she described is how he acts — or maybe I should call it the act she thinks he's putting on."
Breath hissed through Naegi's teeth as if the words had slammed like a fist into his stomach. He'd caught the hidden message in Kyoko's words, yes, but to hear it spelled out so plainly sent hot dampness pressing against the back of his eyes. He pressed his lips together, teeth biting deep into his cheek — but in spite of his best efforts, one tear broke free to trace a slow path down his cheek.
"It'd have to be a hell of an act," Jill said at last, her skepticism plain. "It was tough enough when I had to fake Gloomy's whole depressing schtick, and I never did that more than a day at a go! You're saying he could he could fake you all out twenty-four-seven, and no one would even guess?"
"Oh, I'm in full agreement that it's a stupid idea," Byakuya said grimly. "But apparently, Kirigiri is convinced otherwise. After all, this is the second time she's brought up this accusation."
Schedule note: I will be traveling soon, so I won't have time to write or post for a couple weeks. The next chapter should be up on August 25. See you then!
