A/N:

FlightfootKeyseeker: Yes, Chiaki will learn of her AI's existence, and she will react to her.

Fallenstreet01: That's spoiler territory~ I do have plans for them to meet, but I won't say anything beyond that~

Tatsu Fujiko: Hi! Welcome to the fic! Yes, I am still actively working on it, my usual update length is about two weeks. Barring a sudden and horrible accident, I fully intend to finish it.

Trigger warning: Vague hints of suicidal thoughts near the middle.

Being an intern in the Future Foundation meant a huge shortage of free time. If you weren't working, you were you were training. If you weren't training, you were studying for your license. They got exactly one day off a week, and that was all that kept Chiaki going sometimes; she was still an introvert at heart and desperately needed her alone time.

At first, she'd tried to use her evenings to recuperate, but after one too many nights of oversleeping because she'd stayed up 'til two in the morning playing video games, she'd been pulled aside and told, politely, to come in on time from now on. So she shifted things around until she only played for three or so hours in the evening, and all day on her day off and holidays, and that was just enough.

That said, while the bustle of her job was exhausting, there were things she loved about it. Helping people was an obvious one, but she also quite enjoyed getting to practice her marksmanship. There were two main places to train with a gun in the Future Foundation's seventh division. The first was the shooting range, which was an ordinary room with the usual cardboard cut-out targets. That was where the interns had first learned the basics of shooting and gun care.

Beyond the range, on the same floor, was the combat simulation room. It was large, hexagonal, and five of the walls were covered with screens for near 360 degrees. On the sole blank wall by the door, hanging from hooks, were virtual reality headsets, modified from the ones Gekkogahara-san had the interns use for therapy simulations; weapons hooked up to the simulation, so it could register when one was fired; and a small computer to turn the entire thing on.

Rather than burning time and resources on constantly building and rebuilding training drones, the Future Foundation had decided combat simulations were a better way to hone one's marksmanship. The ninth division's R&D department had pulled from similar, existing technology and collaborated with several talented programmers to make it happen. It was ultimately a success; the simulation was even equipped with pain settings to make the experience more authentic, if one wanted, although there were safety precautions in place to prevent the brain from thinking it was dying. Still, Chiaki never used them. There was such a thing as too realistic.

That said, the simulation did have its limitations. The screens could only be interacted with by guns and Hacking Guns, meaning those who preferred melee weapons or even other ranged ones had to train elsewhere. It also wasn't very good for actually testing weapons, seeing as everything, including the ammunition, was virtual. She'd heard that certain branches had access to actual robots, such as the ninth division, for trying out new weapons, and more combat-oriented divisions like the sixth. They also apparently had more elaborate combat training grounds, but she was just fine with this one. It already left her a bit awed as is.

"Watanabe!" was called, jolting her out of her thoughts. Right—they were in a training session. Stepping forth, Chiak took the headgear from Honda-kun and strapped it on. She knew, without looking at the monitor on the wall, that its screen was playing the options available. If she were on her own time, she could choose a number of waves to fight, she could set a timer and aim to 'survive' until it ran out, or she could even play out certain scenarios, like a hostage situation. But today, Hayami-sensei was controlling the program, and she wanted them to do waves. Five in total.

"It's a go," the scarred woman said, stepping away from the monitor. "Ten seconds, Watanabe."

Chiaki took position in the middle of the room, finger flexing around the trigger of the gun as she mentally counted down the seconds. Exactly as she reached ten, the screens all around her lit up, the background a ruined urban area. She turned, watching a Monokuma blink into existence on a screen only three meters away. It immediately fixed its attention on her and, wasting no time, lunged, her headset making its movements appear 3D. It would actually reach her if she let it. The wonders of technology…

The red eye. The red eye was a weak spot. Trial and error had taught her that. This entire set-up was so close to a video game she could fall into the calm, singularly focused mindset of a shooter. Everything else faded away as she zeroed in, raised the gun, pulled the trigger—

Bullseye. The Monokuma exploded. No time to celebrate, the next one was already rushing her, jaws gaping and claws extended. She turned twenty degrees, aimed, fired, and turned away as it exploded too.

Moving slowly around in a circle for as wide a field of vision as possible, Chiaki brought down Monokuma after Monokuma. There were ten per wave, at first just coming in twos or threes, but soon they'd start rushing all at once. Occasionally one or two slipped past her notice, and the headset would beep loudly to inform her she'd been 'hit', a small display popping in the corner of her vision with the location in question highlighted in white.

At the end of each wave was a generic Remnant of Despair, eyes glowing red as it raised a gun. Those were the hardest for Chiaki to shoot, too human, too close to shooting her friends. But all she had to do was plaster Enoshima's face over the Remnant's, and the trigger would suddenly be much easier to pull.

When the last wave was through, she lowered the weapon and watched the results roll across the screen. Her accuracy rate was getting pretty close to ninety percent now, she noted with satisfaction. Briefly placing the gun down, she flexed her fingers once, twice, working out the stiffness.

"With scores like that, you should be in a combat division," Hayami-sensei said pointedly as Chiaki stepped away. The older woman was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, salt-and-pepper hair pulled in its usual tight braid.

This was an old argument—the grizzled combat instructor would nag at her to put her sharpshooting skills to better use, and Chiaki would politely refuse. The odds of encountering them were slim, tiny, almost non-existent…but the thought of running into her friends or Kamukura-kun, and being ordered to fight them, was too unbearable.

She pulled the headset off, careful not to catch it on her wig. "I don't have the aptitude for it."

"You can be overly emotional," Hayami-sensei acknowledged. "But that can be trained out."

"No thank you. Besides, I like giving therapy." She thought of Nakajima-san, the subtle signs of improvement in the few weeks since their agreement. "It's fulfilling work."

A reluctant grunt. "Suppose I can't argue with that. I've seen too many ghosts, and seen too many friends with their own, to not respect the work you therapists do." Hayami-sensei, from her understanding, used to be a member of Japan's military before the Tragedy. A head injury had left her blinded in her left eye, so she'd been pulled off the front lines and reassigned to teaching. And that was where she'd stayed, even once she joined the Future Foundation.

Chiaki handed the equipment to the next intern and took her place along the back wall. Hayami-sensei moved over and asked, in a lower tone to keep the conversation private, "So, if you aren't gunning to move to a combat division, why do you train so hard? I've seen you put more effort into these sessions than almost everyone else here."

She watched the intern—Matsumoto-san, she thought her name was—go through the motions of the virtual combat. "Even if I don't want to be a soldier, I still want to be able to protect the people who matter to me." Then, quieter: "And I won't be helpless again."

Maybe I can't do anything for my friends now…but I'll prepare. So if the day comes where they do need me to protect them, I can.

And just maybe, if she trained hard enough and got strong enough, she could stop seeing that maze and hearing Enoshima's taunts when she slept.

After more consulting with Ueno-sensei, Chiaki had decided that her primary focus would be helping Nakajima-san through her grief. Whatever other issues the girl had, this was something she felt confident tackling. Ever since Nakajima-san had confirmed she'd confided in Hagakure-san—Hagakure-kun being ruled "too lame" to share her pain with—she'd seemed a little lighter. And though that fear kept briefly seizing her whenever she saw the makeup, Enoshima's grin dancing before her eyes, Chiaki was doing much better at not letting it affect her.

"…Mom's eyes popped when she saw the price tag, but Daddy was all 'honey, it's nothing if it makes our princess happy'. God, she was always so wack about stuff like that. Always went 'but we need to save it just in case' even though we had, like, more yen than I could count."

It was a crisp, late January morning. Though a chill wind blew through the streets outside, Nakajima-san was wearing a short skirt and halter top under her winter coat. She was certainly determined to keep to what was fashionable, even if not exactly warm. "Hm, so you were closer to you dad than your mom?"

"Well yeah, but it's not as if we hated each other or anything. My first attempt at makeup? I thought it was super hot at the time, but it was really soooooooo awful. Mom's the one who taught me to do it properly." Nakajima-san stopped, breath hitching.

Chiaki nudged the box of tissues closer. She was sitting on the couch with Nakajima-san today, at a respectful distance. The younger girl waved the tissue away, staring very firmly at the floor, hands fisting around her skirt. She'd been a bit more receptive to talking about her parents; Chiaki hoped that by encouraging her to share stories about her family, she could maintain a healthy connection to them while dealing with her grief.

Deciding it was time for a change in subject, she brought up her client's wardrobe. "Well, I admire your dedication. Fashion must mean a lot to you if you're willing to wear those heels every day."

"Actually, not really." That sent Chiaki's eyebrows rising, and Nakajima-san elaborated, "Believe it or not, but I used to be one of those totally frumpy types. Couldn't tell Egoist from EMODA."

Chiaki decided not to mention she didn't even know what those were. "Oh really? I never would have guessed! What made you want to dress up?"

"Leon-oniichan," Nakajima-san answered with a sigh, a dreamy smile spreading. "He thought this type of girl was cute. And he was my most important person, so it was no oblem-pray switching up my attire for him."

"I…see." Chiaki frowned, a concerning thought occurring to her. "Did he ask you to do that? Pressure you somehow?"

"I wish," she said mournfully. "But nothing I've ever done got him to look at me like that. All I could ever do was follow him and become his team manager and confess."

"It sounds like he didn't accept."

"Nope," Nakajima-san sighed, popping the 'p'. "Never once."

She blinked in surprised. "You confessed more than once?"

"Well duh. I wasn't going to let a little rejection stop me."

That little bit of concern grew exponentially. Sure, she'd heard Nakajima-san's thoughts on Kuwata-kun before, and she'd guessed her feelings for him by now. And she was hardly going to judge, she was sure people would regard her feelings for someone they thought was a terrorist unnatural, but…listening to how much Nakajima-san's life was influenced by her cousin, how persistentshe was about him…

It wasn't…it wasn't healthy, to revolve around a single person that much, was it?

Nakajima-san must have read some of her thoughts in her face, because her expression became defensive. "Hey, don't give me that ook-lay! It's natural to want to be around the one you love, isn't it?!"

Chiaki started, pen drawing a sharp black line across her paper. "Well, yes, but not all the time. I mean, you should make some time for yourself, too."

A snort. "Oh, trust me, I have nothing but that now."

"That's not what I meant… I meant you shouldn't define yourself entirely by your relationship with one person."

"Why not?" Nakajima-san asked plaintively. "We're defined by our relationships and our emotions anyway, right? What does it matter if it's just with one erson-pay instead of a group?"

"Because—what's left for you, if something happens to that one person?"

Nakajima-san's eyes darkened. "Something already has. And I'm fine, aren't I?" There was an edge to her tone, and, sensing danger, Chiaki bowed away. Changed the subject to something harmless, an inane question about how Nakajima-san's attempts to go back to school were.

But on her clipboard, out of Nakajima-san's sight, she hesitantly wrote and underlined, romantic feelings border on obsession? May eclipse sense of personal identity?

A bit of anxiety gnawed at Chiaki when Nakajima-san didn't show up for the next session, but she forced it down. She was going to trust the younger girl wasn't skipping. She might have just gotten sick and forgotten to call. Smartness might be one of Nakajima-san's strengths, but common sense was not.

When the second week came and she still didn't show, Chiaki decided to try calling her. Her worry grew when Nakajima-san didn't pick up. Emails went unanswered, and all other calls went to unanswered voicemails.

As the third session approached, she finally changed tactics and emailed the only person she knew Nakajima-san was in contact with—Hagakure-kun. And from him, she learned Nakajima-san had told him and his mother her therapist had released her from the sessions. Chiaki couldn't exactly describe the feeling that settled over her then. Shock, first. Then hurt because she'd honestly thought they had agreed to move past this, and hadn't things been better for the past month? Then anger.

Once she cleared it up, Hagakure-kun had reassured her he'd get Nakajima-san in for her next session, but still, Chiaki was skeptical. He didn't exactly seem the reliable type. But he came through, because next week the teenager was back in her office, her arms crossed and her face a sharply drawn portrait of hard lines.

Deciding it best not to start on a sour note, Chiaki smiled, but didn't let it reach her eyes. "It's good to see you again. But we need to talk."

The girl shifted and did not respond.

"Hagakure-kun said you told him and his mother I'd released you from the sessions. Why did you lie?"

"I want to quit."

Though Chiaki had guessed that, it was still unpleasant to hear it in such a blunt manner. "Why's that?"

"'Cause I do."

Just like they'd stepped back in time. Chiaki fought the sudden surge of irritation at her client's childishness—she thought they'd been doing better. "Nakajima-san, if you think you've met your goal, we need to talk about that to make sure. And then I need to prepare you for the post-treatment experi—"

"It's got nothing to do with that," the girl bit out. "I want to quit because you want me to forget Leon-oniichan!"

Of all the things Chiaki had been expecting, that wasn't it. Startled, flustered, she asked, "What—"

Nakajima-san leapt to her feet, stabbing a finger accusingly. "I figured it out last time I was here! All those questions, that discouraging, you were trying to make me forget Leon-oniichan! Don't try to deny that!"

"I haven't, I promise! I was just concerned about how devoted to him you are!"

The younger girl wasn't listening, or maybe she was just ignoring her. "It's bad enough you Future Foundation posers failed to save him, but to try and make me forget my feelings? To try and make him less important? That's unforgivable! How dare you?!"

Clarity struck Chiaki right then. "Is that why you hate the Future Foundation? You blame us for Kuwata-kun's death?"

"Of course that's why!" Nakajima-san spat. "You paraded yourselves as 'saviors', and then when the time came you couldn't even rescue a group of high school students!"

"Nakajima-san, the Foundation tried its hardest to save Class 78. Enoshima's defenses were just too much."

"Bullshit! You could have tried harder, or been faster, or smarter, or…or something! You could have done something differently!"

"Nakajima-san—"

"And after you let them sacrifice and kill each other, you welcomed the murderers into your ranks with open arms! You're all a damn bunch of hypocrites, liars and failures!"

"None of them wanted to kill each other—"

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

She finally got a word in edgewise. "Why are you so intent on hating the Foundation?"

"Because if I don't, I won't have anything left!" Nakajima-san shrieked. "Leon-oniichan died because of the Future Foundation, a-and he was my entire world, and now I don't have anything! Not Mom and Daddy, no friends, nothing!"

"What about Hagaku—"

Nakajima-san stormed over, grabbed her by the lapels of her blazer, and screamed in her face, "I tried to murder him! Do you understand, you stupid therapist? I tried to murder him! There's no way he'd consider me a friend after that!"

Silence. Her heart was racing in her chest, the forgotten fear of her client resurging. Without realizing it, her hands had already come up, one reaching over to grab Nakajima-san's far wrist, the other raised to bring the elbow down onto her arms and break the grip. She didn't even have to think about it. Just: danger, defend. It should probably be comforting that she knew these maneuvers well enough to do them instinctively, but instead Chiaki's mind was churning over what her client had inadvertently confessed.

Nakajima-san…tried to murder someone?

How did you respond to that?

The girl before her had tried to kill someone in cold blood.

If she'd tried to kill a Future Foundation employee, wasn't that grounds for arrest? No, forget that, trying to kill anyone was a crime.

What was she supposed to do? Turn her in? But that would break her confidentiality, wouldn't it?

What do I do?

As her silence dragged on, the younger girl's gaze dropped, running over her defensive posture. Surprise crossed her face, as if she hadn't even realized she'd grabbed her. Her grip loosened and her head bowed. Nakajima-san's voice shook as she croaked, "I tried to murder him because he's Future Foundation. A-And instead of getting mad like a normal person, he had to be some lame weirdo and s-save my life, a-and his mom's so nice, and so are all the other refugees...a-and even you lot! You Future Foundation lame-os a-aren't so lame after all, and do you know how wack th-that is? Because…because…"

Chiaki stayed very still, something deep inside her whispering not to interrupt. Slowly, Nakajima-san released her completely and stepped back, one hand rising to clutch the pale flesh of her other arm. She seemed like a deflated balloon, shrunk up and small.

"…Because if I'm wrong…" she whispered, "i-if the Future Foundation isn't responsible for Leon-oniichan's death… I'll have nothing. My r-revenge…the only reason I could keep going…will be…no…thing…"

A choked noise escaped her throat, and she turned her head away, sinking down against the couch and wrapping her arms around her knees. Guilt, Chiaki realized, watching her shoulder shake with silent sobs, she's being eaten alive by guilt. Guilt for attempting to kill Hagakure-kun, and guilt for beginning to heal from her grief, and just maybe guilt for knowing, deep down, she was wrong to want revenge.

She didn't know whether the right thing was turning her client in. She didn't know if Nakajima-san was all that stable right now, or if it was safe to approach her. But she did know she wanted to help. Quietly, Chiaki asked, "Is it okay if I hug you, Nakajima-san?"

She was crying too hard to respond. So, swallowing down her fear, Chiaki went over and wrapped her arms around the younger girl. "You wouldn't have nothing, Nakajima-san. You have people who care about you. Remember when I asked you to confide in someone you know? They supported you, didn't they?"

Nakajima-san glanced up at that. Her mascara was running, leaving black watercolor streaks across her cheeks. Shaking her head, she insisted, "It's…just because of my money…"

"Are you so sure, Nakajima-san? Have any of them asked for money, or expensive gifts, or tried to coax a reward out of you?" God, she hoped none of them had. Messing up here would probably leave Nakajima-san even worse than before. Sweat broke out on her forehead at that realization, but she managed to keep her voice gentle and steady.

The younger girl slowly shook her head again, and inwardly Chiaki sighed in relief. "See? People help you because they care about you. Hagakure-kun isn't mad because he's probably forgiven you. Past mistakes don't define our futures."

"Are you gonna tell the Future Foundation? About me trying to kill him?"

Damn, she was hoping for more time to figure that out herself. "…I won't tell them what you've confided in me. But if you're still going to try revenge, I think I'll probably have to. I can't let other people get hurt."

Her client was disturbingly quiet. Chiaki pleaded, "Please don't keep going down this path."

In a small voice, she protested, "But if I don't try to take revenge, a-and if I try to move on, it's dishonoring Leon-oniichan and my parents!"

"Why do you think that?"

"B-Because I'm not as sad anymore, when I think about them! That's wrong of me!"

"No, Nakajima-san, it's not. That's just a part of the healing process. You never stop missing them, but the pain goes away."

Releasing her, Chiaki smiled and passed her a tissue. Nakajima-san stared at it as if it held all the answers to the universe. "You can move on without forgetting your loved ones, Nakajima-san. It's not a dishonor to them. I'm sure they'd want you to be happy."

The younger girl just blew her nose. "But I don't…"

"You don't what?"

"I don't know how, okay? I don't know how, without Leon-oniichan."

"And that's what I'm here for. To help you learn how." Chiaki smiled, best she could. "I can help you decide for yourself what to live for. Find things other than revenge and game overs."

When her silence continued to drag out, Chiaki encouraged, "How about for next week, you come up with two lists? On one, I want you to write down things you enjoy in your life. It can be anything from people to hobbies to even something like your slang." Nakajima-san let out a choked, gurgling laugh. "On the other, I want you to write down any ideas you have about what to do. You were a baseball team manager before the Tragedy, so—"

"No." Nakajima-san shook her head. "No, I—it was only because of Leon-oniichan…I can't go back to that when he's—gone. It'd…it'd just remind me of him too much."

"Alright. That's okay. But anything you think you'd like to do. Skills you want to learn. Places you want to go. Even if you think it's silly or impossible, write it down anyway. Because if you just do it, things will just work out somehow."

"Oh my gawd," the teenager sniffled, "that's so cheesy it's wack."

Chiaki grinned—Nakajima-san must be starting to feel better if her snippiness was coming back. "Hm, maybe. But I feel there's a grain of truth in it. You can always pick yourself up and start again if you're alive.

"So, will you do the lists?" At the shaky nod she continued, "Then next week we'll look them over and talk about them. Okay?"

Another nod.

"Please don't go through with revenge, or…anything else. I want to see you here next week, healthy and not in jail or a hospital. Okay?"

"…Okay."

It'd be okay. Somehow, in the end, it'd be okay.

"…But I think this obsession is the root of all her problems," she surmised, and waited for Ueno-sensei's answer. After sitting with Nakajima-san and comforting her for the rest of the session, she'd immediately sought her supervisor's advice. Client details were shared, it was a requirement, but he also had a confidentiality contract and lacked full details on Nakajima-san's personal information. It protected her privacy as best as it could while giving him enough to help Chiaki.

Ueno-sensei nodded from his position by the open office window, rolling a cigarette in his fingers. He took a long drag, looking down at the streets below. "So, what do you think you should do about it?"

She sighed, twisting the straps of her purse around in her hands. "I…honestly don't know. I don't even know where to begin tackling something like that."

Her supervisor took another drag from the cigarette. From what Chiaki could see of his face, it seemed pondering. "In my opinion, it sounds like it's time to refer her to someone else."

"Ueno-sensei!" Chiaki protested. He shot her his 'be quiet and listen' glare, stepping back and tossing the cigarette in the ashtray on his desk.

"I'm not saying do it right away. What you're doing? Helping her find reasons to live? Helping her through her grief? That's excellent work, and that's work that will still take more time." He sat down, clasping his hands together. "But you've admitted you don't feel ready to handle a deeper issue like an obsession. The best thing to do, for your patient, is to refer her to someone who can once you're done with this."

She bit her lip. "…It feels like that would be abandoning her."

His face softened. "You are not, I promise. You're helping her get the help she needs. That just happens not to lie with you. You're still starting out—there's no shame in accepting your limitations."

And not accepting them might lead to harm, she thought, involuntarily flashing back to that miserable rescue mission. And that was the last thing she wanted.

She sighed. "It's hard, finding a balance. I want to help, but…"

"Who said you haven't?" Chiaki looked up, surprised. Ueno-sensei was considering her, a slightly impatient look in his eyes. "You've gotten her to open up and trust the Future Foundation more, and put her on the path to recovery. Without that, the chance to help her further might never have opened up."

She ducked her head, cheeks coloring under the praise as her supervisor finished, "Honestly? For your first case? I think you've done a good job, Watanabe-san."

Touched, she started to smile. "Thank you—"

"But you still have a ways to go, so don't rest on your laurels just yet." He waved a hand dismissively. "Now get out of here."

The following weeks and months were a different type of difficult. Her birthday came and went, and was celebrated alone, in her apartment, with Yumigami and video games and a photo. Chiaki broke down and cried then because she just missed everyone so much.

She continued her work with Nakajima-san, but the limits of her abilities were becoming apparent. She was afraid what Nakajima-san would say when she told her, but the girl didn't get angry. Just mulled it over for a bit and then agreed, saying she trusted her judgment. And so, on a sunny April day, they held their last session.

"Hey, Watanabe-san," Nakajima-san said when it was done, using her supposed name for the first time. She still had a long way to go before she would be perfectly okay, but looking at her now, Chiaki could see how her yellow eyes were less despairing. She could feel proud of what she'd done to help. "I know I've been ifficult-day, so…thank you."

Ultimately, after looking over and discussing every option Nakajima-san had liked, she'd decided she wanted to be a soldier. Chiaki had been alarmed at first, wondering if it was an elaborate attempt at suicide, but Nakajima-san's reasons had been simple: she liked destroying Monokumas, she was good at it, and it seemed like a job that both she and her deceased family could be proud of.

Chiaki smiled and shook her client's hand, feeling the rough calluses against her own. "Take care, Nakajima-san."

After Nakajima-san, she had other patients. Her second quit after just two months, her third also needed to be referred to someone else eventually, but her fourth was the first time Chiaki succeeded on her own. Ueno-sensei surprised her by treating her to a nice lunch to celebrate, but her heart ached throughout, wishing sorely Kamukura-kun and Yukizome-sensei and everyone else were there to celebrate instead.

Throughout it all, Chiaki resolutely threw herself into her work, her studying, her training, but always kept an ear out for news of her friends or the Neo World Program. The New Year came again, and so did her birthday.

Her worry and fear had started to resurge, a black wave ready to swallow her whole, when finally, a year and a half after Kamukura-kun left, a smiling Gekkogahara-san gathered her branch together and announced that the Neo World Program had been completed.

And on the exact same day, Naegi Makoto received a call from an unknown number, the soft, flat voice on the other end calling himself Hinata Hajime and claiming he and his classmates needed rescue.

A/N: Future Foundation must have some rad training programs if Byakuya Togami is running into buildings, Hacking Gun blazing, just six months after DR1.

I like the thought of Hiroko just adopting all the Captives, but especially Kanon. I think she might be able to relate to being a broken, troubled teenage girl, and (as far as she knows) Kanon only ever protected her baby boy in Towa City.

Soooo the timespan between DRAE and SDR2 is really, really vague. Killer Killer takes place before SDR2 and starts a full year after DR1, so that's at least six months, but beyond that? Nothing. No details, except for Episode 8 in Side:Future mentioning DR1 occurred "years ago". Seeing as no one looks that much older, I decided to choose a year and a half gap between DRAE and SDR2, bringing the total time since the first game to two years.

Initially I was just going to timeskip after Izuru left, but I decided I wanted to explore Chiaki's first counseling session and Kanon more. I do think there are limits to what Chiaki could do for her first ever client, and that it'd take people more experienced than her to truly help someone with Kanon's scale of issues. But it was still important for them both, and once it was over? Timeskip away.