Chapter 12: Paracosm

They woke around the same time the next morning, earlier than what Hanako was used to. At least, that was what she figured, since no one had knocked on her door yet. She wanted to look at a clock and see if she'd actually gotten a decent night of sleep.

It always took her forever to fall asleep. Even after sex, she'd spend at least an hour staring into the dark, trying to get her brain to quiet down.

Last night had been different. Ibuki had cuddled up next to her after they were done, and Hanako must have drifted off shortly after.

She swallowed. Maybe it had been the sake.

Ibuki poked her side, bringing her back to the present. They'd spent the past half hour taking inventory of Hanako's tattoos, lounging in their underwear like they had nowhere else to be.

"Do you have a favorite?"

"Uh, kinda." She propped herself on one elbow so she could point to the prowling figure of a tiger on her right thigh. "This was the first one I did after I perfected shading, and I was really proud of how it came out. I would look at it a lot while I was waiting for it to heal."

Ibuki leaned closer and ran a finger over the wispy clouds wreathing the tiger's legs. "It's hella cool."

This close, there was no way Ibuki hadn't noticed the faded scars on her legs. She held her breath and waited for her to say something, but she only leaned back with a smile.

"Why isn't there anything here?" She reached over and traced the diagonal swath of blank skin on her stomach.

"I'm saving some space for a full body tattoo. I want to have a snake going around my leg and up over my shoulder." She indicated the path across her body. "I just never got around to it. Probably would take weeks, and I'd have to remove a few things too."

"You're a real artist, Yukimura." She propped her chin in her hand. "And you carry your canvas with you everywhere you go, right? Just like I've always got an instrument on hand."

Hanako narrowed her eyes. "As in…?"

"My voice, dummy!"

"Oh. I thought you meant a set of drums." She reached over and smacked her ass.

"Dirty!" Ibuki gasped in mock-horror, though she couldn't hide the blush on her cheeks. "You're a filthy woman."

"Sorry." Her lips twitched, but she still looked for a sign that she'd crossed some sort of line.

They held eye contact for a moment, then dissolved into giggles.

"When are you going to give me a tattoo?" Ibuki asked once they'd calmed down.

"Anytime." She met her gaze. "Seriously, just ask."

"I want a pink and blue butterfly on my back."

"Okay." She glanced down at the long stitch pattern on the outside of Ibuki's thigh. "When'd you get that one?"

"A couple years ago." She hooked her leg over Hanako's stomach so she could see it better. "Badass, right?"

She ran one thumb across the ink. I definitely could've done better.

"Does it mean anything?"

"It means healing doesn't make the pain disappear entirely. But it's still better than not healing at all."

Hanako's lips parted, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. She became aware of the real scars on her own legs, the pain she'd felt and how much distance she'd tried to put between it and herself.

Ibuki pinched her side. "Kidding! I just thought it looked cool."

"Bitch." Giggling, Hanako flipped her over so she was on top. "It's way to early for you to be getting all deep on me."

"Oh, you wanna get deep?" Ibuki squeezed one of her thighs with both of hers, and heat flooded her body.

The chime of the doorbell made her jump, and she scrambled to pull the sheets over both of them.

"Yo, Yukimura, are you coming to breakfast or what?" Akane called from outside.

"We'll be out in a minute!" Ibuki responded.

With a tiny groan, Hanako rolled onto her back and buried her face in her hands.

Thankfully, Akane didn't ask any more questions, and she heard the creak of the walkway as she left.

"Hey, are you embarrassed or something?" Ibuki asked. Despite her light tone, Hanako detected a hint of what might have been hurt in her voice.

She took her hands away from her face. "No. No, of course not. I don't care if people know about us. I just don't want anyone to make a big thing about it."

Ibuki tilted her face to the ceiling and thought for a moment. "We should switch outfits before we go to breakfast."

"Wouldn't that count as making a big thing about it?"

Her expression turned serious, and she pointed an imaginary microphone at Hanako's face. "Have you ever heard about taking control of the narrative?"

Despite herself, Hanako smiled. "Okay, fine. But I'm keeping my jeans."

"Yay! Outfit swap!" Ibuki leapt out of bed, and Hanako suppressed a grumble at the rush of cold air on her skin.

She sat up and narrowly dodged the shirt that flew towards her face. "Slow down, geez. Did you secretly drink a cup of coffee while I was asleep?"

"Morning hype is even better than coffee." Ibuki held up her skirt and jumped into it in an admittedly impressive move. "Are you so sleepy that you need help? I can just do the reverse of what I did last night."

Hanako pulled the shirt over her head to hide the heat that flared onto her face. "I got it, thanks."

She pulled on her jeans and slid on Ibuki's proffered arm warmer. Ibuki pulled up her stockings and spun in a circle.

"Wow. I'm getting the sudden urge to draw on myself."

"Ha ha ha," Hanako said flatly, though it was hard to pull her eyes away. Her black shirt with the rest of Ibuki's outfit looked good. "You know, black really suits you."

Ibuki moved closer and adjusted the ascot around her neck. "Well, it was in my beta design."

"What?"

She reached up and buried her fingers in the hair above her ears. "Can I style your hair?"

"We're gonna be so late," Hanako said, but sat down anyway.

Ibuki made quick work of it, pulling part of her hair into its usual twin buns and leaving half of it to hang loose down her back.

"You should put more red in it," she said as she popped her scrunchie onto one of the buns.

"You think?"

"We can look for some hair dye in the supermarket." She began bouncing on her toes. "I'll give you the Ibuki Mioda Special Hair Treatment."

"Okay, but only if you make that a song title."

"Deal!"

They left the cottage and headed towards the hotel. Hanako wasn't sure who moved first, but when their hands brushed, they clasped together.

Neither of them let go as they ascended the stairs.


As expected, they were met with several questioning looks as they walked into the restaurant.

"Good nom-nom-nomming!" Ibuki sang, letting go of Hanako's hand so she could grab a plate and filling it with food.

Hanako glanced at Akane, but she was absorbed in her breakfast and barely acknowledged them.

"You two switched shirts," Kazuichi said. His jaw dropped. "Wait, did you guys…"

"Did you two have a sleepover?" Hiyoko pouted. "And you didn't invite anyone else?"

"You caught us." Hanako grabbed a piece of toast and flopped down in an empty chair. "It was kind of an impromptu thing, so…" She traded a sly glance with Ibuki.

"A sleepover sounds quite fun!" Sonia said as she passed their table with a cup of tea. "Perhaps all the girls could partake in one together."

Kazuichi scratched the back of his head. "I don't know if you'd want to go to that kind of sleepover, Miss Sonia."

"Yeah, you'd probably crash it anyway," Hanako said around a mouthful of toast.

"Hey!" Kazuichi protested, his face flushing. "I'm not that kind of guy."

"Uh, I got two words for you." Ibuki flashed two fingers towards him. "Diner and swimsuit. Wait, is swimsuit one word or two?"

"Well, I'm a changed man now." He adjusted the zipper of his jumpsuit and sent a conspicuous glance in Sonia's direction. She'd taken a seat at a separate table and was fully immersed in conversation with Gundham.

That's new. Hanako glanced at Ibuki, who was still counting words on her fingers. Or maybe I've just been distracted.

"Woah! What the heck are you doing here?" Kazuichi exclaimed.

Hanako followed his gaze to the restaurant entrance and her eyes widened. Fuyuhiko stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in his usual pinstripe suit. The injured side of his face had been covered with a black eyepatch.

"I have something I want to say."

Everyone stared at him in shock. After a couple seconds of silence, Fuyuhiko stepped into the room.

"My name is Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. I was scouted by Hope's Peak Academy as the Ultimate Yakuza, but there's still a lot I have to learn about my family's business. I hope from this point on we can work together and get along."

He finished his speech with a small frown, though it was nothing like the baleful scowl he'd worn before. His words sounded rehearsed, but not insincere. Hanako chewed on the inside of her cheek and studied his face. He was actually making an effort to look each of them in the eye.

"So that's it?" Hiyoko's chair scraped against the floor as she stood up. "You think you can just give some half-assed introduction and we'll all just forget what you did? Mahiru and Pekoyama are both dead because of you."

"I know," Fuyuhiko said quietly.

"Saionji, please," Mikan said, her chin wobbling. "W-We just got everyone back together, and—"

"And now we're all one big happy family?" Hiyoko rounded on her with a scowl, and Mikan flinched. "Don't make me laugh. That's not how friendship works." She jabbed a finger in Fuyuhiko's direction. "I would never, ever be friends with a murderer like you."

"You're right," Fuyuhiko said. "It's my fault that both of them are dead."

Hiyoko faltered for a split second, then said, "I don't want to hear whatever pathetic excuses you're going to come up with."

"I won't," he replied, then dropped to his knees.

Several people gasped. Hanako stood up so she could see him better. He was bent low, his forehead nearly touching the ground.

Hiyoko marched forward, fists clenched. "What are you doing? Do you think getting on the ground and crying is gonna make us change our minds?"

"No. I don't think that at all."

Fuyuhiko reached into his pocket. His hand moved. His elbow jerked.

A familiar, coppery scent stung Hanako's nose. She didn't want to believe it, even when dark liquid spilled over his knees and onto the floor.

"Oh, god." Ibuki swayed on her feet and clutched Hanako's arm with both hands. "Oh my god, he's bleeding!"

Hanako disentangled herself from Ibuki's grip and snatched a cloth napkin from one of the tables. She rushed over to Fuyuhiko, who was struggling to his feet, and pressed the napkin to his wound, causing him to let out a grunt of pain. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

Mikan was at her side a moment later with another napkin, hers neatly folded into a compress unlike the one balled up in Hanako's fist. "W-We need to get you to the hospital right away!"

Hiyoko was staring at Fuyuhiko in slack-jawed shock. "What are you doing? W-Why did you…?"

"I couldn't settle just for some half-assed apology." He was nearly doubled over, sweat already beading on his brow. Hanako had to wonder at his pain tolerance. "Things wouldn't be settled for me if I didn't do this."

"That doesn't matter right now!" Mikan said, her voice unusually loud. "We need to stitch up your wound right away!"

"Right, then." Nekomaru stepped forward. "I'll carry you to the hospital in record time!"

"No." Fuyuhiko tried to straighten up with a wince. "I can walk there myself."

"Shut up." Hanako let Mikan handle compressing the wound and moved out of Nekomaru's way. "You'll bleed out before we get there. Stop with the martyr bullshit."

Nekomaru lifted Fuyuhiko as if he weighed no more than one of the wooden chairs, and Fuyuhiko hissed through his teeth.

"Careful!" Mikan said.

Hanako grabbed a few more napkins and followed them down the stairs. Her pulse thundered in her throat.

Once they were outside, she folded another napkin into a messy rectangle and handed it to Mikan. "Here."

She took it and pressed it against Fuyuhiko's stomach, nearly tripping over her own feet as she tried to reach over Nekomaru's arm while they both hurried across the pavement.

"I got it." Fuyuhiko took the compress and pressed down, allowing Mikan to remove her hand.

"We should hurry," she said. "The bleeding looks very serious."

They were leaving thick droplets of it on the bricks beside the pool. Nekomaru's sneakers were splattered with blood.

"If I go any faster, it'll probably cause him more pain," Nekomaru said with gritted teeth.

"I don't know if more pain will make a difference at this point," Fuyuhiko grunted.

"Can't we get that stupid ambulance to come back?" Hanako spotted Monokuma standing near the hotel gate and glared at him. "Hello? Are you going to help us or what?"

"No can do." He put his paws on his hips. "I made an exception after the trial. I don't have any sympathy for self-inflicted wounds. Talk about ungrateful."

Hanako resisted the urge to spit on him as they passed.

"Kuzuryu, you need to remain conscious," Mikan said, trotting to keep up with Nekomaru's long strides. "Going into shock would put you in more danger than you're in already."

"Yeah, say something so we know you're still with us," Nekomaru said.

Hanako fell into step next to Mikan. "Maybe you can start with why you fucking did that back there."

"I already said." Fuyuhiko grimaced, one fist clenched over the blood-soaked napkin. "I was trying to settle things."

"You realize it doesn't help us if you try to kill yourself."

Mikan patted her arm, her hand fluttering like an anxious bird, and Hanako realized she'd raised her voice. "Please don't argue right now. It might raise Kuzuryu's blood pressure."

"The fuck does that mean?" Fuyuhiko asked, and Hanako clamped her lips shut before she could lose her temper again.

They were all sweaty and out of breath by the time they reached the hospital. Mikan whisked through the door first, and Hanako held it open for Nekomaru to pass through. She led the way to the hospital room where they'd first found Fuyuhiko while Mikan rifled through the supply closet.

Nekomaru set Fuyuhiko on the bed and backed away. "Hey, where the hell is the bathroom?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Hanako glanced at him and noticed for the first time how pale he was. "Are you okay?"

He swallowed visibly. "It doesn't bother me to take a shit, but I think it's coming out the other end this time."

"Gross! Get out of here!"

She shooed him away, and he fled the room, nearly bowling Mikan over as she entered with an armful of supplies. She set them down on a tray near the bed and began carefully peeling back the fabric over Fuyuhiko's wound. His jacket was soaked with blood, and the shirt beneath had been slashed so thoroughly it seemed the only thing holding the front together was the blood sticking it to his skin. It reminded Hanako of the way he'd looked after Peko's execution, and she resisted the urge to follow Nekomaru out of the room.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked hoarsely.

"Put pressure on the wound." Mikan handed her a thick sheet of gauze, then moved to the blood pressure cuff on the wall.

Hanako did as she was asked. Fuyuhiko let out a small grunt of pain as she pressed down, and she glanced at him. "Hanging in there?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Don't worry about me."

"Shut up," she said. "This is the second time this week I've been fucking elbow deep in your blood. Don't tell me not to worry."

"Please don't raise your voice," Mikan said, letting the cuff hang against the wall. "Your blood pressure is low, Kuzuryu, but I don't think you'll need a transfusion." She motioned for Hanako to take away her hands, then cleaned the skin around Fuyuhiko's wound and grabbed a needle and sutures from the tray. "Yukimura, I need you to hold the skin together while I suture the wound."

"Okay." Hanako forced herself to swallow and moved her hands back to Fuyuhiko's stomach. She wasn't afraid of blood. She'd seen it welling up on her own skin. It was a normal part of a tattoo artist's life. She'd just never had someone's life on the line before.

Ironically, Mikan was something of a calming presence as she began applying the stitches. Her hands were steady, working in a nearly hypnotizing rhythm—down, through, out, repeat. She hadn't stuttered once since they'd entered the hospital, and her expression was one of neutral focus as she worked.

So you can get your shit together, Hanako mused, watching her face.

When she was done, Mikan cleaned off the remaining blood and placed a bandage over the wound.

"I'll find some pain relievers for you and check your blood pressure in an hour. In the meantime, I recommend you rest."

"I can do that." Fuyuhiko gingerly shifted into a more comfortable position. "Thank you, Tsumiki."

Like ceramic cracking, a nervous smile spread over Mikan's face. "You're very welcome. I'll do my very best to help you get better."

She flitted out of the room, leaving Hanako standing by the bed.

"Hey." Fuyuhiko waited until she looked at him. "Why are you helping me, anyway?"

"I was helping Tsumiki," she said, but she could taste the lie on her tongue. She'd been the first one to move after he'd slit his stomach. "Look, I don't know if you were conscious for it, but we were all panicking trying to keep you alive the first time you got sliced up. Even after the shit you did, there are people who don't really want you dead. And…" She sucked in a sharp breath. "I get it, if you just want out of the game. But it was fucked up for you to do that in front of everyone."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and left the room. She only just stopped herself from slamming the door when she spotted Mikan coming down the hall.

Her fingers were sticking together slightly. Hanako looked down and sighed at the blood drying on her hands. At some point it had smeared on her front, too.

"Shit. I got blood on Mioda's shirt."

"Um…" Mikan fidgeted. Her hands were an even worse state, and she'd left little red fingerprints on the paper cup of pills she was holding. "I think there's a sink upstairs."

"Okay."

"And there are a number of ways to get blood out of clothing. Hydrogen peroxide would work, or even bleach because the fabric is white. In a pinch you can also use saliva to get rid of bloodstains, though it has to be saliva from the owner of the blood."

Hanako decided not to point out she had plenty of experience getting blood out of clothing. "Thanks. I'll see you upstairs."

She kicked on the bathroom door instead of knocking, but there was no response. She guessed Nekomaru had already left the hospital and elbowed the door open. It was empty inside, so she went to the sink and began scrubbing her skin clean, from the tips of her fingers to her elbows. After a few minutes, Mikan joined her.

"I really hope this doesn't become a regular thing," she muttered, shifting to the side to give Mikan room.

"What do you mean?"

"Us washing off Kuzuryu's blood together. Or anyone's blood, for that matter."

"It would be detrimental to Kuzuryu's health if he lost any more blood," Mikan replied, scrubbing at the skin between her fingers. "Not to mention it will take quite a while for his wound to fully heal."

Hanako sighed. "I actually don't know what we would do without you."

Mikan stiffened. "Huh?"

"I mean, you took care of Kuzuryu. And you've had to autopsy two dead bodies, which…" She suppressed a shudder. "I don't know. That can't be easy."

She let out a weird noise halfway between a giggle and a sob. "I'm just glad I can be useful to everyone."

Frowning, Hanako moved away from the sink and grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser. "It's not just about the being useful, though. It's seeing the stuff other people don't have to."

Mikan shut off the water. "Have you s-seen a dead body before all of this?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She focused on scraping the blood out from beneath her fingernails. "I grew up in a pretty bad neighborhood. You learn not to look too closely at things." Her eyes flickered up to meet Mikan's. "I guess if what that game said is true, we've both seen bodies before and we just don't remember it."

"Poor Sato." She took a paper towel and twisted it between her fingers. "I feel so terrible for her. She was our friend, right? Even if we don't remember it?"

"I guess," Hanako murmured. "It just…fuck. How can I be angry about something I don't remember? How are we supposed to just let people like Kuzuryu and Komaeda walk around knowing what they tried to do?"

"Well, Kuzuryu a-apologized, at least."

"Do you believe him?"

Mikan cringed at the sharpness of her tone. "I just want everyone to get along," she whispered to the crumpled paper towel in her hands.

Does she actually think that's a possibility? Or is she just too spineless to take sides?

Hanako sighed and tossed her paper towel into the garbage. "I want to at least try. I want to count on the people I know I can count on. And…" She measured her next words carefully. "I hope you know you can trust me to look out for you."

Mikan's eyes snapped up to meet hers. "You're way too nice, Yukimura."

"I'm really not."

"Then…" She straightened, hands clasped at her waist. "You can trust me, too. I promise I'll take care of you if you're ever sick or injured."

"Okay." She tried for a smile, failed, and looked away. "Well, I'm gonna get out of here. I need to change and wash this shirt."

They left the bathroom together and took the stairs down to the first floor. The fluorescent lights washed everything in an over-sanitized brightness, and she hurried for the lobby, eager to face the sun again.

"Um," Mikan said.

Hanako had heard that particular lilt enough times to know it meant she needed encouragement to keep speaking. She stopped and turned around. "What's up?"

Mikan lingered just outside Fuyuhiko's door. "A-Are you and Mioda together?"

She tried not to let her trepidation show on her face. "Yeah. Kind of. Why?"

Mikan let out a little squeak. "It's none of my business. I'm sorry for being so nosy."

"Okay." She didn't have the energy to follow up on that. "See you back at the hotel."

Ignoring the feeling of Mikan's eyes on her back, she turned and trudged out of the hospital.

This chapter title comes from Paracosm by Bassnectar & The Glitch Mob.

If you've read any of my other fics, you will know I have a weird penchant for wound care scenes. This will be the only one in this story, though. Thanks for reading!