Hi again. I decided to go for another 2 parter here. Chiaki and Junko are both characters in need of some attention. Especially in terms of knowing their motivations and goals. Hopefully you enjoy it.
With Hiyoko sleeping soundly in the room she shared with her husband, Chiaki finally had time to herself. Luckily for her, no one else seemed to want the TV at the moment. It was very late, after all. She booted up the N64 to the left of the 50-inch screen. It was still warm to the touch; maybe Hiro had been playing Conker's Bad Fur Day again. He seemed to like the childish humour just a bit too much. Normally Ibuki would be up trying to beat the hardest songs on Guitar Hero about now, but she was apparently staying with Gundham for the night. Other than Kyoko sitting at the kitchen counter, she was alone. She glanced at the Detective.
''Mystery novel?'' Chiaki asked as she wandered over. Kyoko's head moved 90 degrees to face her. ''Yes, though I already have a good idea who the culprit is.'' Chiaki arched her back to get a good look at the book. She was only roughly 100 pages in and the book still had at least three quarters left to read. ''Already?'' The Gamer asked as she pulled out the stool next to her. The Detective nodded as she stirred the mug of coffee in front of her. ''Then why are you still reading? Doesn't it ruin the whole 'mystery' part?'' Kyoko took a long sip before allowing the book to close, leaving her thumb to keep her page for later. ''My logic could be flawed. It's been so long since I investigated a crime that wasn't related to my classmates.'' She tucked her lilac hair behind her ear and stared at Chiaki. It wasn't a hostile look, but she seemed to be studying her features. Purple orbs met pale pink as their eyes met. Kyoko squinted. She didn't lose eye contact, however.
''We're quite similar, aren't we?'' Chiaki asked as she broke the silence. ''Pale complexion, similar eye colours, light hair, often tired.'' Kyoko listed. ''I fail to see any other shared features.'' Chiaki pulled her hand out of her sleeve and grabbed Kyoko's wrist gently. ''One more.'' Kyoko remained stoic. ''We're both seeing boys with pointy hair.'' The older girl placed her free palm atop her head and raised a single finger to mimic their signature hairstyles. Kyoko smiled wide. Chiaki giggled as she withdrew her hand and placed it over her heart.
They sat together for 15 minutes in a happy quiet, which was occasionally broken by explosions from the game on Chiaki's handheld. ''Hey, Kyoko?'' The Sleuth hummed. ''Do you think that you and Makoto would still be as happy if you had a baby?'' Kyoko leaned back in surprise. ''Well that was very out of the blue.'' Though she couldn't blame the former Class Rep. Having a child likely changed her life in more ways that she had expected. ''I can't say that I ever paid it much thought. Other than how Makoto would react if I were to tell him.'' She admitted, much to Chiaki's disappointment. ''Where is this coming from?'' Kyoko closed her book and spun in her seat to give her upperclassman her full attention.
''Can I tell you a secret?'' Chiaki shook slightly. That was never a good sign. Kyoko craned her neck in hesitation. ''Of course.'' She held out an open hand, which Chiaki graciously accepted, squeezing tightly. ''If I told you Izuru's original plans for this place, would you judge Hajime for it?'' She couldn't bring herself to look at Kyoko's face, much less look her in the eye. ''They're different people, Chiaki. So, no.'' The Gamer gulped. ''Well, none of you are supposed to be here.'' Kyoko's eyes darted left to right. ''I thought that was obvious, this place was made for your class.'' Chiaki shook her head vehemently. ''No. No, that's not it…'' She was shaking harder now. ''No one is supposed to be here. Not even my class.''
Kyoko straightened her back. ''M-My class were supposed to die that day. The day we were attacked, I mean.'' Tears were slowly trickling from her eyes as she spoke. ''How so?'' Kyoko hadn't much time before Chiaki became so upset she couldn't speak anymore. As much as she wanted to wrap her arms around her and comfort her, she had to prod further. ''He only wanted to save me. He didn't want a-any of the others…'' Chiaki raised her head, tears now changing course and trailing down to her chin. She pointed to the row of bedrooms on the opposite side of the room. ''Those rooms, they-'' Her head fell again. ''They what?'' Kyoko held the other girl's chin and raised her head; not forcefully but strong enough to stop it drooping down again. ''They-They're not for 'outsiders.' They're for mine and Izuru's children.''
Kyoko felt a chill run up her spine. He was simply planning on breeding her? She pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and offered it to the crying girl. She was unresponsive. Kyoko began to wipe her tears away on her behalf, as Chiaki scooted her stool closer and gripped the hem of Kyoko's skirt. ''He planned it all for me. The amount of rooms is *sniffle* based on how many babies he predicted I could have. All the clothes are in my size. All the shoes. All the games are for me.'' Kyoko began dabbing at Chiaki's eyes. ''And the worst part is…'' Kyoko perked up. ''The supplies were only made for him and I to live for a decade. Not 14 of us. Not even the original 7 before yo-you arrived.'' Her grip tightened on Kyoko's skirt. ''We're going to run out of food. Very soon. The farm isn't yielding enough.''
Kyoko's hands kept moving rhythmically across Chiaki's face, catching and drying tears before they could fall below her nose. However, her eyes stared vacantly at the older girl's hands desperately grabbing at her. She'd heard enough. She stood sharply. Chiaki began clawing for something material in front of her. Kyoko grabbed the back of her head and thrust her face into her chest. Kyoko wrapped her left arm around her back and rubbed circles into it in an attempt at reassurance. It was an awkward hug; Chiaki was still sitting and was wobbling back and forth. ''He- Izuru, he- he-'' ''Shhhhhhh…'' Kyoko quieted her. ''I know, I know. We'll make sure he can't ever do that again.'' Chiaki squealed in a mixture of rage and fear. The two stayed in a steadying, calming embrace for some time.
The grate above them opened with a loud metallic clanging. Hajime slid down, whistling. He planted his feet at the bottom and slowly looked around. He spotted them and his face warped in concern. ''Chiaki?'' He jogged to them. He hunched slightly and placed a hand on her shoulder. ''Chiaki?!'' His wife didn't respond. He kept his eyes trained on her. ''What happened?'' He asked Kyoko. The Detective considered her options. Tell him what you've learned and become an enemy to Izuru, or let it go and leave Chiaki to his care. She sighed. ''Hajime.'' The tall boy looked up. ''We need to talk.'' Hajime stood up straight. ''Oh, well-'' ''Not tonight.'' Kyoko interrupted. ''Tomorrow. And I want everyone here for it.'' Chiaki stood up on trembling legs. Kyoko slowly relinquished her grip on her and took a step back. ''Make sure she sleeps well. She's had a rough night.'' Hajime seemed to want to question them further. He chose not to and nodded before leading Chiaki away to their room. Kyoko stood motionless for a handful of seconds before returning to Makoto in their own room.
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She balled up another piece of paper. She never was a fantastic artist. It didn't help that trying to draw his face from memory wasn't easy, even with her near photographic memory. It was his eyes she struggled with most. Were they olive or just a light brown? She struggled to decide what would look nicer on paper. Even if she did draw him as perfectly as he deserved, would she even give the drawing to him? He would definitely think it was poisoned with ricin or something. That just made her want to poison it.
There was something about him that drew her in. Maybe it was because they were completely separate people. Opposites attract and all that lovey dovey, happy sappy shit. He was just so special.
Not that despair wasn't equally as special; if anything he and despair went hand-in-hand. She was Ultimate Despair and he was Ultimate Hope. One couldn't exist without the other. She wasn't sure about him, but she felt like she wouldn't bother existing if he weren't around.
She uncrossed her legs and paced in her room. It was nice to call it a room and not a cell, as it had been the few weeks she's been trapped so very close to Makoto, as if to entice her to break out. Her room was sparsely decorated; other than an extensive wardrobe she'd gained through theft of the other rooms, she didn't feel the need to personalise anything. Well, there was one thing.
She walked to her desk. In the right desk drawer, was a monocoin. Not just any monocoin; this was the very first monocoin Makoto had used in the School Store on his first day. She pulled the drawer open and unwrapped the cloth around the coin that protected it from gathering dust. Whenever she held the small gold coin, she found it helped her to visualise his face more clearly for her musings. For her fantasies. Unfortunately for her, this was the only thing she owned that Makoto had touched or held. She wasn't one to pick up strands of hair or dirty tissues; she was a creepy psycho, and she knew that, but she wasn't that much of a creepy psycho. Momentos were something you could look at and think of something pleasant, in her opinion. The particular moment she was thinking of when she held the coin was the very second his cute little face lifted off the table in that classroom. When he just thought he'd passed out on his first day of school. When he was so blissfully unaware that he'd be forced to watch his friends murder each other due to a lack of the very hope he embodied. Ahhhh, good times.
She covered up the coin and placed it gently back in the drawer. She had to get some inspiration for her next drawing. She hopped on the balls of her feet. Would it have killed them to give her a carpet? The stone floor was freezing! Maybe that should be her next change to her room. A nice, flashy carpet to take the attention away from all the stolen clothes. She was distracting herself too easily now. Not that the crying outside wasn't already distracting enough. Wait. Crying?
Junko placed her eye in the crack in the door. That dumbass Kamakura had tried his hardest to make them soundproof for privacy reasons. Leaving the door open means that doesn't work, moron. That's why she always left her door ajar. Even the Detective slut worked that out before. Speaking of, Junko could see Kyoko (the whore who stole her man) and the gamer bitch. The gamer was crying and whining about some bullshit. Probably not important. Then again, she had nothing better to do. She sat, back against the wall, with an ear directly facing out the door.
'Mine and Izuru's children?' Not Haribo or Jalapeno or whatever his name was? She thought she was the only one who referred to him by alter ego's name. And they were running out of food? Oh Kamakura, you stupid piece of shit. This wouldn't have happened if you'd just stopped the other guy's emotions getting to you. You could've had all those little sprogs to run around here for a few years and then just set sail for greener pastures when the world starts to recover. But no. You let... Hajime? Yeah that was his name! You let Hajime use his compassion to make you feel sorry for the kids who were getting brutally murdered on her command. Oh, boo hoo, Mr Red Eye. Did someone feel bad for the kids being surrounded by an angry mob? Fucking baby.
'No. I shouldn't think that way anymore. Despair isn't all I know now. Makoto wouldn't approve of me thinking like this.'
Oh, now this was an interesting development. A husband, weak and weary from a long day's work, comes home to find his sobbing wife in the embrace of another woman. How will he react? Oh, not in a very entertaining way, apparently. He just took her back to their room without a word. Maybe the slutty sleuth is more of a dominating figure than a submissive. She wasn't sure whether to envy her or Makoto in that regard. Then again, he hadn't seemed to like it when he was tied up for his execution before.
She was getting off topic again. She'd just learned some juicy stuff, whether they wanted her to or not. She slowly pulled her door open and peered into the massive living space. No one in sight. Perfect. This would make it a lot easier to enact her new plan. It was so new, in fact, that she was still thinking of a way to make everyone see it when they woke up. The pool table was a good choice, though you'd need a good angle to see. The entirely blank wall that stretched end to end opposite the wall with the TV and consoles? Yeah. That'd work. Now she just needed some paint.
Hey hey people. You'll see Junko's plan come into fruition next chapter; I think Junko having a good memory would definitely come under her true talent as Ultimate Analyst, no? Next chapter will hopefully take the same short amount of time to write that this one took. I've recently found a random surge of motivation to write so I'm definitely going to keep them coming. Thank you for the new reviews and follows; it really does mean so much to me that people care enough about this to remember it for more than 5 minutes. Bye bye!
