Ding dong, bing bong.

"Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 a.m. and nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!"

A new day, huh?

I can't say I'm looking forward to it. There's a lot of bleakness in my world, lately. A lot of dark words, and dark thoughts.

I steel myself anyway. New days always come, whether I like it or not.

As I'm finishing breakfast, I hear a rhythmic clapping. I look—it's Akiko, this time.

"Okay, everyone!" Akiko announces. "We hit some rough waters yesterday, but we've got to remember our destination. Let our Captain's adorable face guide you forward!" She pinches Mizuki's cheek. "Just… look at it! Wouldn't you kill to see that face smile?"

"Um, yikes," says Rin.

"Akiko," Tsubasa mutters, "this isn't really, uh, the time or place for that kind of joke."

"Haha—sorry!" Akiko replies. "I'm just kidding, though! I mean, don't get me wrong—if the Captain ordered me to kill someone, I'd totally do it! I wouldn't even ask questions!" She pats Mizuki's head, winking. "But our Captain is as pure as they come, so you've got nothing to worry about!"

Naomi sighs. "You're really not helping your case," she mumbles.

"Um…" Mizuki says, blushing slightly, trying very hard to suppress a smile. "We… have not c-caught the thief yet, I'm afraid. However, we w-will continue investigating."

"Yep!" Akiko confirms. "In the meantime, we have some ideas to help strengthen the bonds between us! Which is pretty important right now."

"W-we believe," Mizuki says, "that the f-formation of school clubs… might improve m-morale."

"It's still a germ of an idea," Naomi adds. "However, it's clear that we have distrust issues—as proven by this incident with the thief. A better social dynamic would do well to lessen those issues. Encouraging people to join hobby-based clubs occurred to us as the most natural solution. This is a high school, after all."

"Details will come later," says Akiko. "In the meantime—that's all we have to say! So, unless someone else has an issue they'd like to bring up—"

"I've got an issue," Jun says, raising his hand. "Can someone please tell Emi to stay the fuck out of my office?"

"Oh, dear," Emi says in mock disappointment. "Is the Ultimate Hacker's Office a restricted area?"

"It isn't," Shingo says plainly. "Jun, you know we can't do that. The Ultimate Offices are open to everyone—you don't own yours, any more than you own the laundry room."

Jun looks disgruntled. "I really hate going through official channels," he grumbles. "But Emi's behavior yesterday was nothing short of harassment. There wasn't a single goddamn moment she wasn't looking over my shoulder. It's stalking—plain and simple."

"What an awful fate that's befallen you," Emi says, her smile eerily subtle, her eyes boring through Jun's soul like laser beams. "I did not realize that my company was such a horrific punishment. Especially for an innocent boy with nothing to hide, like yourself."

"Jun, Emi," Mizuki says, "p-please stay after breakfast, so that we can t-talk about this."

I close my eyes, suppressing a groan. Naomi's right—we have some major distrust issues. And I don't think they're going away anytime soon.

After breakfast, I return to my room for a bit.

What should I do now?

-FREE TIME-

I walk down the hall—and encounter Rin walking toward me. "Hi, Rin," I say. "Are you up to anything?"

"Just, like. Stretching my legs," Rin replies. "Want to, like. Join me?"

I end up walking around the dorm area in circles with Rin. For the first few minutes, we walk in silence. I'm not sure how to ask her about her life. She said some… pretty messed-up things the last time we talked. Somehow, though, her life turned around for the better. I wonder how?

"So, Rin," I say. "How did… someone like you… break into professional golf?"

Rin pauses for a moment before answering.

"It's all thanks to Suzuki-sensei," she says.

Again, Rin hesitates. Then she continues.

"After that incident, y'know… where I, like. Drove a tin can into that punk's head? I started to, like. Just practice on the street. I even stole a bunch of golf balls, so I could, like. Aim at stuff, and whack them with the club. I usually hit my target. I also, like. Broke a few windshields."

"…On purpose?" I ask.

"Sometimes," Rin says, shrugging.

"…Uh-huh…"

"One day, this old guy was walking by? And he muttered something about how, like, I shouldn't be hitting golf balls in a crowded city? And I told him to, like. Mind his fucking business, or I'd break his fucking bones. But he just kept watching me, y'know? I thought he might be, like. Some sort of pervert? But then he actually, like. Started giving me advice. Like, good advice. About, like. My stance, and different kinds of golf clubs, and shit. I asked him what his deal was? And he told me that, like. He'd never been so impressed with a kid my age. He offered to, like. Help me practice? At, like. A place for practicing golf?"

"A place for practicing golf…" I repeat, thinking. "You mean a driving range?"

"Yeah, totally."

"So, did you go with him?"

"I decided, like. Why not, y'know? To be honest. I was still, like. Thinking of robbing him. Plus, like. Since I was a minor? I thought I might seduce him into touching me, and then, like, threaten to tell the police, and blackmail him for all his shit. Not that I've ever, like. Done that before? I just figured it was a possibility."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut. Rin says the most outrageous things like they're nothing at all. Her causal tone is so jarring, compared to her appalling words.

"But then, like. I actually had a good time? Suzuki-sensei was totally helpful. Plus, he turned out to be, like. A way better golfer than me. He was actually, like. A retired professional?"

"Oh, wow."

"I started to, like, actually feel good about myself whenever he praised me. Which was, like. A totally weird feeling to me. When it was time to leave, I, like. Asked if we could do it again? And he offered to, like. Keep giving me lessons, and even take me to a real golf course. But only if I met his conditions. I felt like an idiot when he said that. I figured he'd, like, ask me to do something fucked up or pervy? And I'd fallen into his trap.

"But, like. His conditions were that I stay in school, and get good grades, and stay out of trouble. He wouldn't even bring me to a golf course until my next report card, if I showed him that I was doing well."

"Did you… go through with it?"

"I thought about, like, faking my grades, or whatever? But I couldn't bring myself to lie to him. Which was totally weird. Back then, I was always looking for ways to use people. I didn't get why I couldn't just, like, rip him off.

"I started going to class again, and shit. I did my homework, and stayed out of trouble, like Suzuki-sensei asked. And he followed through on his end of the bargain. Even then, I, like, tried to tell myself that I was just using him. But I knew that was bullshit." Rin pauses. "The truth is, Suzuki-sensei was the first person I ever wanted to impress."

Like a normal parent, I want to say. But I keep that thought to myself.

Rin had been going down a bad path—but only because no one in her life was trying to correct it. In the end, all it took was one good man taking notice. Just one little push in the right direction. It's amazing how much difference a single person can make, in the right place at the right time.

I feel like I got a little closer to Rin today.

I'm about to finish lunch when Yuna sneaks up behind me, leans down, and whispers into my ear: "Meet me in the classroom after lunch."

Before I can ask her anything, she's already walking away.

Just as Yuna said, I go upstairs when I'm done with lunch, and walk to classroom 2-A.

I open the door—and find three people waiting inside. Yuna, Momoka, and Naomi. They're gathered near the back-left corner, with Momoka sitting at the corner desk.

"Yay!" Yuna cheers. "Koi came! That means all four members are here!"

Members?

I greet everyone, and take a seat. I was expecting the worst when Yuna invited me—but the tiny girl is putting on cheerful airs, for some reason.

"Now, then," Yuna says, sounding authoritative. "Let the first meeting of the Manga Club commence!"

"Manga Club?" I repeat.

"I figured it'd be something like this," Naomi says, resignation in her voice. She gestures toward her backpack, laying on an adjacent desk. "Yuna told me to gather the best introductory manga volumes I could find."

"Oh—did you bring Butler-chan?" I ask.

"Of course I did," Naomi replies, shooting me a knowing smile.

"Yes!" I cheer. "I knew it! Butler-chan has such a big influence on your work—and it's totally obvious why! I mean, the characters…"

Once I start talking about manga, it's hard for me to stop.

"…And that's what makes it the best series ever!" I finish a minute later.

"I agree," Naomi says, still smiling. "But perhaps we should give the others a chance to read it before having an in-depth discussion."

"Oh… right," I say, embarrassed. "Haha… sorry."

"Enough manga talk," says Yuna. "Let's get down to business!"

"But… there will be manga talk later, right?" I ask. "Since this is a manga club, and all."

"Sure, fine, whatever. Now—let's get down to business!"

"Hmm," Momoka drawls. "I don't know why… you made me come. I'm not really a manga person… Koi let me borrow some… but that's about it…"

"Who cares if you're a beginner?" Yuna shoots back. "You enjoyed the manga Koi gave you, right?"

"Hmm… yeah…"

"Then that means you'll enjoy other manga, too!"

"Yeah," I say, "I can already think of other recommendations, if you liked that series."

"I can, too," says Naomi. "Manga is a wide, varied medium. Everyone can find at least one series that speaks to them, if they look hard enough. Hopefully, Koi and I can make your search easier."

"But first—let's get down to business!" Yuna says yet again. "Before we can even think about manga, we need to pick a Club President!"

"Haha—too late for that," I quip. "All I ever think about is manga."

"Naomi Shimizu!" Yuna says, pointing. "As the Ultimate Mangaka, you're the only logical choice for Club President!"

"Actually," says Naomi, "that's exactly why I shouldn't take the role. Unlike everyone else here, I'll be looking at manga as a creator—not merely as a fan."

"Fine, whatever." Yuna points at me. "Koi Amaki! As the Ultimate Fangirl, you're the only logical choice for Club President!"

"Well… okay," I say. "But—Yuna, you thought this whole thing up, and recruited everyone. Shouldn't you be Club President?"

"No way!" says Yuna. "I don't know a single thing about manga!"

I blink. "You… don't?"

"Nope. I've never read any manga before. But everyone has to start somewhere!"

I'm stumped for a moment. Then I remember our conversation yesterday. About Momoka, and how worried Yuna is. We talked about the manga I lent to Momoka, and how much that meant to her. I think I see what's going on, now.

This is all for Momoka's sake, isn't it?

"Okay!" I say, mustering up my enthusiasm. "I accept!"

"Then I'll be your Vice President!" says Yuna.

"Well…" I say. "…It doesn't matter that much, though, since there's only four of us."

Yuna nods. "As President," she says, "I'll leave the recruitment up to you. I gathered everyone I could think of, but you probably know who'd fit in with this club better than I do."

"Another member, huh?" I say. "Let me think… Hmmmm…"

Suddenly, the door opens—and Kenji steps inside. He's carrying some books. Then he sees us—and his eyes widen. "Oh—sorry!" he stammers. "I—I didn't know this room was taken. I'll just, um—"

"Kenji!" I shout, jumping to my feet, running toward him. I nearly collide with him—he gasps, and steps back. "You like reading, right?" I ask, beaming at him.

"Um… yeah…" he mutters, unsure of how to deal with my body being so close to his.

"Great!" I reply. "Then you'll love the Manga Club! It's all about reading!"

"Oh… um…" Kenji mutters, his eyes darting between me and the other girls. "I've—I've never really been into manga…"

"That's no problem!" Yuna replies. "Everyone can find at least one series that speaks to them, if they look hard enough. That's what I've always said!"

"Hmm," Momoka drawls. "Naomi's the one who said it, though…"

"Um," says Kenji, "to be honest, I… was only coming in here so I could try to translate this…" He holds up his two books—they're the ones he got from Monokuma as presents. "Mizuki let me borrow them from her room, so, um…"

"Aw, you can do that later," I say. "C'mon—join us for a bit! Manga is a type of literature, so this is basically a Literature Club. Why wouldn't you want to join four girls in a Literature Club?"

"Um…"

"Plus," I add, "you'd be the only male member, so we'd basically be your harem!"

"My—what?" Kenji stutters, his blush deepening.

"I don't recall agreeing to this," says Naomi.

"Okay," Yuna says, nodding thoughtfully, "I'll join Kenji's harem. But only if I can join other harems, too! I'm a modern woman, after all."

"Hmm," Momoka mutters. "Polygamy isn't very modern, though…"

"S-sorry," Kenji mumbles, stepping backward. "I—I should go…"

"C'moooooon Kenjiiiiiii," I plea, leaning toward him, pouting. "I'll make it wooooorth yooooour whiiiiile."

"I'll see you later bye!" Kenji yelps, turning around and fleeing. There's practically smoke coming out of his ears.

I sigh, close the door, and return to my seat. "Did I come on too strongly?"

Naomi rolls her eyes. "Koi," she says, "you have never, even once in your life, come on too weakly."

"Haha, yeah—I guess you, of all people, would know that…"

Suddenly, the door opens—and Tsubasa steps inside, holding a portable game console. He sees us. "Whoops," he says. "Never mind. Guess I'll game somewhere else."

"Tsubasa!" I call out. "You're an otaku, right?"

"Guilty as charged!"

"Why don't you join our Manga Club?"

"Oh—I'm not that kind of otaku," Tsubasa says, touching his hair. "Sorry, but video games are my one and only true love."

"Aw, c'mon," I plead. "I think you'd enjoy it!"

"Nah—it's just not my thing. If you ever wanna play Clash Bros, though, I'm all yours!"

He leaves, closing the door behind him.

"Another bust," I sigh.

"Indeed," Naomi says, smiling coyly. "Though, I must say—you seemed far more eager to recruit Kenji."

I blink. "Huh?" I say. "Eager? I don't know what you mean by—"

Suddenly, the door opens—and Takeru steps inside.

"Takeru!" I call out. "You like manga, right?"

"I shall not deny it," Takeru answers. "As it happens, I entered this chamber so that I may study one such tome of shinobi lore." He holds up a copy of Two Pieces, an action manga.

"Perfect!" I say. "You should join our Manga Club!"

"I must warn you, though," Naomi says, "the manga we're going to read is much more girly than what you're probably used to."

"Yeah," I admit, "but I still think you'd like it! We're about to read Butler-chan; it's about a girl with a secret identity."

"A tale of espionage?" says Takeru. "Intriguing."

"Well—her secret identity is that she's a butler," I explain. "She's embarrassed about it, so she doesn't want her classmates to know. Also, there are a bunch of guys who are in love with her, and some of them know, but no one else does."

"I see," Takeru says contemplatively. "Then it's a tale of courtship, distrust, and deception. There is much I can learn from this document."

"So—you're in?"

"Indeed." Takeru closes the door, walks over, and sits down beside us. "I shall depart from my typical readings, and study the lore of the fairer sex. Perhaps I might gain some insight into their ways and customs."

In the end, everyone really enjoys Butler-chan. Even Momoka and Yuna. And Takeru, for that matter.

"Such a tragic tale of woe," Takeru says, wiping away a tear. "Natsuko-chan cares so much for others, yet she fails to believe in herself."

"Hmm," says Momoka. "Shiro is kind of a jerk, so… I hope Taro wins in the end…"

Naomi and I shoot each other meaningful looks. It's been really hard for the two of us to not gush about spoilery things—but we've held it in somehow. Honesty, though, it feels really refreshing to be on the same level as her. For once, we're both starry-eyed fans.

In the end, I have to hand it to Yuna; the Manga Club was a big success. I'm already looking forward to our next meeting. I'm sure Momoka is, too.

It's almost 9 p.m., and I'm alone in my room.

Someone knocks on my door.

I open it—and see Akiko and Naomi standing outside.

"Hi, Koi!" says Akiko. "So, um, the thing is…"

"You've been invited," Naomi finishes, "to attend tonight's Drama Club recital."

"Drama Club?" I repeat.

"Yep!" says Akiko. "That's what we're calling the Captain's speech lessons now."

"We were going to call it Kabuki Club," adds Naomi, "but Jeff insisted that it's not kabuki at all. Correctly, I must admit."

"But, um," Akiko says, touching her fingers together, "the Captain's been having some… performance issues, ever since you walked in on her."

"We chose the Ultimate Attorney's Office because we didn't think anyone would try to enter it at night. Mizuki can get rather self-conscious—and that's only become worse, now that she's worried about your judgment."

"So, we figured we'd help her face those fears head-on!"

"It's up to you, of course. However, we're not asking much; it's only for one night, and it'll be a short performance."

"Hey—no need to persuade me," I say, gesturing. "Of course I'll go!"

I feel a bit awkward as I enter the Ultimate Attorney's Office, where I greet a red-faced Mizuki and a cheerful Jeff. Two leather chairs have been pushed against the wall; I end up sitting in one, alongside Naomi. Akiko grabs the desk chair, and takes a seat next to us.

Jeff and Mizuki put on the masks.

"Now, then!" Jeff bellows, striking a dramatic pose. "Shall we pick up where we left off, tortoise scum?"

"Um…" Mizuki mutters, striking an awkward, uncertain pose. "I will s-save May McNell from you, Slicer."

"What did you say?"

"I… I will save McNell from you, Slicer."

"Speak up, tortoise!"

"I will save McNell from you, Slicer."

"Louder!"

"I will save McNell from you, Slicer!"

"Ha! That is what you think!"

The performance goes on, without any more interruptions like that—Mizuki has found her stride. She's speaking louder and clearer now, and putting more energy into her poses.

Jeff, meanwhile, is striking some absolutely spectacular poses, and all of his movements are beautifully deliberate. His voice fills the room, warbling in an almost rhythmic way. Honestly, Jeff is stealing the show. He has a charisma that creates an unreal reality around him—and Mizuki is just along for the ride. But I think that's part of the appeal for her. Jeff is totally carrying this performance—so it doesn't matter if Mizuki stutters or stumbles a little. There's no pressure on her at all. Jeff lets her go at her own pace, and he doesn't miss a single beat.

Finally, the play ends, and the actors bow. I applaud, along with Akiko and Naomi.

"Great job, you two!" I cheer.

"You were amazing, Captain!" Akiko gushes. "Plus, your face was adorable behind that mask! I mean, I couldn't see it—but I imagined it. And the face I imagined was adorable!"

"Th-thank you," Mizuki mutters, blushing. Now that the mask is off, she's back to her quiet, demure self.

We put the chairs back where they belong. Before long, Mizuki, Akiko, and Naomi have all left, taking the masks back to Mizuki's room. But Jeff and I take a more leisurely pace. We're deep in conversation—about kabuki, and acting, and the whole philosophy behind this so-called Drama Club.

"No one likes putting their real face in front of people," Jeff says as we leave the office, heading toward the stairs. "The fear of judgment can make anyone nervous. But it's different when you wear a mask. When you're a fictional character, nothing from the real world matters."

"Yeah," I say, "I saw the effect it had on Mizuki—she was way more confident with the mask on."

We reach the stairs, and start climbing down. "Japanese isn't my native language," Jeff says, "so I used to feel nervous about speaking it in public. But that all changed during kabuki plays. My characters are so over-the-top that it's almost like they're speaking their own language—so it doesn't matter what my native language is!"

The staircase ends; we walk through the hallway. "Well," I say, "I think your Japanese is really great for a foreigner. You know—nihongo jouzu, as they say."

"Maybe it is now," Jeff says, scratching the back of his head, "but it didn't used to be! I think kabuki gave me the confidence I needed to improve."

"Oh, I see—and that's why you're doing these plays with Mizuki."

"Yes, that's it. When you think about it, it's kind of funny that she's taking speech lessons from a non-native speaker!"

We arrive at my room. "I'll see you tomorrow," I say.

"Good night!" Jeff says.

He turns around, and starts walking the way we came.

"Hey—wait a moment," I call out. "You aren't going to your room? You know that the 10:00 announcement is coming soon, right?"

"What?" Jeff says, turning to face me. "Oh—don't worry about it. I just, um… have to do some errands."

"Oh," I reply. "Well—good luck with that."

"Thank you!"

I enter my room, and close the door. I wonder what Jeff has to do at this time of night? Oh well—that's none of my business.

As I get ready for bed, I reflect on today's events, and find myself smiling. There's still plenty of reasons to hate this situation. Plenty of reasons to despair. But, on the whole, things seem to have reached a sort of stable equilibrium. And it's one I can live with, for now.

There's nothing wrong with clinging to whatever bits of hope I can find. Right?

Ding dong, bing bong.

"Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 a.m. and nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!"

After waking up, I go through my usual morning routine. Brushing my teeth, tidying up, getting dressed… same old, same old.

Then—to my surprise—Monokuma reappears on the monitor, and makes another announcement.

"Jeez… you people really like to take your time, huh? I'm getting impatient! I probably shouldn't be saying this, but… well, you'd find out eventually. I've waited long enough!

"The thing is… hmm, how do I put this? Let's just say that something happened to one of your classmates last night. Now there's a little surprise waiting for you somewhere in the school. I won't say what, and I won't say where… that's up to you to find out! Puhuhuhuhu!"

I freeze. Everything freezes. I feel the world turn to ice.

He couldn't mean….?

Surely…?

My mind flashes to the second murder of the first Danganronpa. Something similar happened then. Monokuma visited everyone's rooms, and hinted that an incident had occurred. In that case, Chihiro's body was waiting in…

"The locker room," I mutter.

I bolt out of my room.

I run. The world around me is a blur.

Now I'm on the second floor, running toward the door with the anchor decoration. I burst through it, into the room beyond. The locker room doors are ahead.

I rush into the girls' locker room.

I look around.

Nothing.

Should I try the boys' locker room? No—it'd be locked. Monokuma didn't say anything about unlocking doors. So, maybe I should—

A tiny girl zooms by me.

"Mizuki?" I say, startled. But she's already run into the pool area.

I follow.

Mizuki zips to the pool's edge, and—

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The scream sounds nothing like Mizuki. It barely sounds human. It's something primal, something ancient and horrible that should have remained sealed away forever. A massive, hideous beast of a sound that has somehow escaped through Mizuki's throat. A shriek that could shatter glass. A shriek that could shatter souls. It echoes across the pool area.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I reach the pool's edge, beside Mizuki, paying no attention to the throbbing pain she's causing to my right ear. In the corner of my eye, I see something—at the bottom of the pool.

I don't want to look.

I don't want to look.

My hesitation lasts a fraction of a fraction of a second, which feels like eternity. Then my eyes move. Because of course they do. There's no decision. I'm going to see this. I have to see it.

I look.

I see it. A human body, wearing a blue bathing suit.

Snow-white skin.

Snow-white hair.

"AAAKIIIIKOOOOOO!"

My eyes shift to Mizuki, who's wearing the most frantic expression I've ever seen. She positions herself like she's about to jump into the pool.

"Mizuki, wait!" I yell, jumping and grabbing hold of her from behind. "You can't swim!"

"AAAAAKIIIIIIKOOOOOOO!"

"Mizuki!" shouts Naomi. Suddenly, she's at our side. "You were so fast, I—"

"DO SOMETHING!"

Naomi looks toward the pool—and sees the body. She gasps, eyes widening.

In a flash, she takes off her shoes—and jumps into the pool, business suit and all.

"AKIKO! AKIIKOOO!" Mizuki's still screaming, gesticulating wildly in my arm as I hold her back from the pool's edge.

Another sound plays over her screams.

Ding dong, ding dong.

"NO! SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

Monokuma's voice fills the pool room: "A body has been discovered!"

"SHE'S NOT DEAD! SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

"After a certain amount of time—"

"STOP IT! SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

"—which you may use however you like—"

"MAKE HIM STOP! MAKE HIM STOP!"

"—the class trial will begin!"

"SHE'S NOT DEAD! MAKE HIM STOP!"

Naomi is swimming toward the surface. There's a human-sized, blue-and-white object in her arm. Milliseconds tick by, one after the other.

Naomi pops up in front of us. So does Akiko's white hair, and Akiko's white head.

"AKIKO!"

With a startling burst of strength, Mizuki grabs the body from under its shoulders, and drags it out of the pool while Naomi pushes from below. I step back, giving Mizuki space to lay out Akiko's body on the hard, white, tiled floor. There are wounds on Akiko's arms, and part of her scalp looks dented. Her eyes are closed. Her body is stiff. Patches of skin look discolored.

"WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

Mizuki is kneeling by Akiko's body, frantically shaking it, shrieking and shrieking. Meanwhile, Naomi leaps out of the water, and—soaking wet—rushes to Akiko's body, sliding down to kneel by Akiko's head. She touches Akiko's neck, feeling for a pulse.

"WAKE UP! AKIKO!"

Naomi closes her eyes, and shakes her head. "Mizuki…"

"NO! SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

Mizuki slides over, grabs Akiko's chin, pinches her nose—and puts her own lips over Akiko's slightly-agape mouth. She breathes out.

Then she puts her hands over Akiko's chest, and starts doing compressions; her movements are harsh, and erratic, and desperate.

"Mizuki…"

"SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

The cycle repeats. Mouth-to-mouth. Compressions. I watch helplessly from above as Mizuki performs CPR on a corpse.

Naomi is crying. "Mizuki…"

"SHE CAN'T BE DEAD! WE CAN'T LET HER BE DEAD!"

Naomi puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Mizuki."

"WE CAN'T LET HER!"

Mizuki collapses, and sobs into Naomi's neck, accepting Naomi's embrace.

"We… we can't let her…!"

"I know. I know."

They hold each other, and cry.

I don't know if I'm crying. I don't know if I'm real. If any of this is real.

It's impossible to believe. Impossible to accept.

Impossible to deny.

This is reality. The truth is in right front of my eyes, lying motionless on the tile floor.

Akiko Narumi, the Ultimate Sailor, is dead.