His own behavior? Togami's eyes narrowed to sharp slits at Kirigiri's statement, his every instinct clamoring to refute the obvious insult. How dare she suggest that his actions might be influenced by a force outside of his control? He'd made mistakes recently, he'd admitted as much to himself during these last terrible days, but it was a far cry between an error and outright manipulation. Who could possibly have so much power over him —

The warm weight of Makoto's hand pressed against his fingers, and for the briefest moment, the rest of Togami's body went cold.

"You're the only one who would know for sure," Kirigiri said, her voice low and intense. "The rest of us only saw what it looked like from the outside, when you were with us. We don't know what happened behind closed doors — and even if we saw the security camera feeds of those moments, we can't know what was going on in your head. None of us know why you made your decisions. But we do know that you changed."

"That hardly begins to describe it." The dark rumble of Ogami's words picked up seamlessly from where Kirigiri left off. "During the first two trials, you made your position clear — you let everyone know that you intended to play the game and win. And then suddenly, without any warning, Monokuma revealed that you'd fallen for Naegi, and you took back all your earlier claims."

That was true — he could remember the moment he'd made the decision. After realizing how deeply entangled he'd become with Makoto, he'd utterly reversed course in regards to the game rather than act in a way that would cause Makoto's death. And relief had rushed through him when he'd decided it, knowing that he wouldn't have to harm the boy he loved.

Except he hadn't loved Makoto then. Or… was it that he couldn't remember it? Had some part of his consciousness loved Makoto all along, and just waited for the rest of him to catch up? He couldn't remember any longer — his emotions for his boyfriend bled backward through his memories, coloring the past until he couldn't sort out then from now. Was it possible that he'd acted on feelings he hadn't known were lurking in his heart?

"No. That can't be right."

He only realized that he'd spoken the denial aloud when he saw the answering flick of Kirigiri's eyebrow upward. But the skepticism in her eyes reminded him that he couldn't waste time arguing with himself — not with the three girls standing against him.

"It isn't right," he repeated, forcing a certainty he didn't feel into the words. "It wasn't as though I changed my mind out of the blue. This game is kill or be killed, murderer against the innocent — no one can play both sides. Of course I distanced myself from the rest of you when I was considering murder — if I'd gone through with it, winning would lead directly to all of your deaths as surely as if I'd slit your throats myself. And after I decided allowing everyone to die was no longer a viable option, I changed my behavior in accordance with my decision. It's not bizarre at all."

"Isn't it?" Kirigiri studied him, for all the world as if her question had been genuine. "Yes, it's true that the actions you just described make sense in terms of how you would react to changing priorities. But how did that come about? Regardless of what you think now, at the start of the game you were perfectly willing to sacrifice all of us to win. How did you decide, in a handful of days, that you cared enough about Naegi to gamble your life on him?"

Another memory flashed through his mind — tangled with Makoto in the other boy's bed, urge to survive the killing game snarling against his strange new feelings. He'd approached Makoto with every intention of ending their fledgling relationship — and the memory of his own whispered threat of murder crawled like filth on his skin. Had he really said such cold, vicious words, a cruel and unwarranted attack on an innocent boy who'd opened his heart without hesitation?

Except that the attack hadn't landed. Makoto hadn't even taken the threat seriously, looking back at him with unflinching confidence that it had been a bluff. In that moment, he'd seen straight through all the lies that Togami had told, even the ones he himself had believed… and known that there was no way Togami was going to kill him.

What had he seen to make him so sure? Togami had no idea… and now, the question wouldn't stop whispering through the back of his mind.

"It doesn't matter." He shook his head, trying to silence the inner voice as well as the girls around him. "The reason I started caring for him in the first place doesn't change anything. It happened, and I responded."

"It just happened?" Jill pounced on the word, eyes narrowing in an expression that looked more like Fukawa's than her own. "That sounds like you didn't get a say in it."

"It was hardly a conscious decision!" He sent her a brief glare, not letting his gaze linger long enough to be unsettled by the way she was watching him. It was almost enough to make him miss the leering. "I didn't realize what was changing. If I'd seen it in time, I —" He stopped short.

"You would have stopped it." Kirigiri nodded, as though he'd confirmed something for her. She didn't look away, but he could see the emotions shifting behind her eyes from ferocity… to something much sadder. "But in those days when you could have prevented it, you didn't know what to look for. You didn't know what was happening, because he managed to say and do all the right things to get you to care."

All the right things — well, that was true enough. Makoto always knew just what to say, that was one of the first things about him that had caught Togami's attention. He'd said the right words in the trials, in the library, and in the bedroom…

"You trust me."

Makoto had been right… but how had he known?

Limp fingers slipped from Togami's nerveless grip, and his hand fell back to his side. He stared at Makoto's pale wrist against the black and white wheelchair, and didn't reach for him again.