Major trigger warning for this chapter: suicide attempt by way of overdose, induced vomiting, and mentioned drug use. So, uh, enjoy.
Chapter 17: Her Voice Resides
Everyone stared when Hanako arrived at the sandy stretch in front of Monokuma Rock.
"Are you all right, Yukimura?" Sonia asked as she approached, then pressed her lips into a thin line, as if she realized what a stupid question it was.
"Never better," Hanako said flatly. She couldn't allow herself to be angry or sad right now, not when it was taking most of her effort to keep from exploding on the next person to look at her.
Sonia stepped closer and lowered her voice a fraction. "I want to extend my sincerest condolences about Mioda. She was a lively and generous friend. I cannot imagine how this must feel for you."
Hanako couldn't meet her eyes. She didn't want to start wondering if Sonia really meant her apology or not. "Let's save it for after the trial."
"Very well." She inclined her head and backed away.
"Let's get this shit over with," Fuyuhiko said, gesturing to the escalator that would take them to the trial grounds. Everyone turned away and filed towards the entrance. A dim, faraway part of her felt grateful for the diversion.
Hanako lingered near the back of the line, wanting every single one of her classmates in view as they ascended. She saw Mikan approach in her periphery.
"Yukimura?" Her body was drawn in on itself like she was fighting the urge to disappear entirely. Tears welled up in her eyes.
She turned her head a fraction and nodded for her to continue.
"I'm s-sorry I wasn't there. It's all my fault. If you w-want to blame me, I'll accept any punishment—"
"Tsumiki." Her voice came out in a rasp. "It wasn't your fault. It was the killer's fault. Okay?"
It nearly overwhelmed her, the bone-deep rage smoldering inside of her. She took a deep, calming breath. Not now. Not yet.
Mikan sniffled. "Still, it's o-okay if you want to hurt me."
"I don't…" The words died in her throat, because they were true and they weren't. She wanted to hurt the parts of herself that grieved and feared, the same weaknesses that Mikan wore like open wounds.
But she'd never acted on it. Whatever their shared shortcomings, Mikan didn't deserve to be beaten down by the world any more than she already had. Maybe in some ways she was stronger than Hanako.
"You're really good at taking care of other people," she said finally, "but you need to get better at taking care of yourself. And if that means getting mean, hurting people back, then you do it. I'm not always going to be around to stand up for you."
Mikan reached out a trembling hand. A tear wobbled at the corner of her lip. She grasped Hanako's bicep, her thumb over the bullseye tattoo. Her injection site.
Then she was gone, stumbling up the escalator to catch up with the others.
They took their usual spots in the trial grounds. Two more portraits had been added to the circle. Hanako could see Ibuki's from where she stood, could feel it burning into her periphery even when she tried to focus her gaze elsewhere.
"We should go over the events of this morning from the beginning," Chiaki said. "Hinata, you were the first witness, so why don't you start?"
Hajime swallowed and began his retelling. Mikan had come to his cottage early that morning to tell him that Nagito had recovered somewhat, and they'd gone to the hospital together.
"I saw the light on the monitor blinking, even though it was before our scheduled meeting time. I pressed the button and…" His eyes flickered towards Hanako for half a second. "I saw someone wearing a hospital gown with a hemp bag over their head. They climbed a step ladder and put their head through a noose."
"You saw a video?" Hanako didn't realize she'd spoken until everyone looked at her. "You saw a video of her?"
"As soon as I realized what was happening, I ran to the music venue," Hajime said, "but it was too late."
"Why didn't you try to get her down?" She hated the way her voice was already shaking.
"The body wasn't moving." He didn't meet her eyes. "I panicked. I ran to the motel to get help."
Hanako bit down on the inside of her cheek. It wasn't Hajime's fault. She just hated the fact that they'd been so close. If she hadn't dragged her feet getting up in the morning, hadn't gone to get medicine for Mikan, maybe she would have made it in time to save her.
"So, Mioda walked up the stepladder on her own, right?" Akane said. "Then she committed suicide."
"She didn't kill herself," Hanako snapped. "Ibuki wouldn't do something like that."
Akane regarded her with raised eyebrows, and she forced herself to take a breath.
"You were sick, too," she continued in a milder tone. "You didn't see her. She was having a hard time thinking for herself. Someone must have told her to…" The words wouldn't come. She gestured helplessly to her neck.
"Whatever happened, that's not the main issue here," Fuyuhiko said. "Hinata saw Mioda's body, ran to get help, and when we all went back to the music venue, Saionji's body was there too. How long would you say that all took, Hinata?"
"No more than ten minutes," Hajime said.
"The door was locked from the inside, which means the killer stayed inside the building after killing Saionji. So we need to focus on the people who don't have an alibi for that time." His eye shifted to the side. "Sonia and Souda."
Kazuichi let out a strangled cry. "What, me?"
Sonia paled. "Please explain your reasoning further."
"Tsumiki, Hinata, Nanami, Yukimura and I were all together when we busted open the door." Fuyuhiko began listing on his fingers. "Owari and Komaeda were sick, and Tanaka was with Nanami when Hinata went to the motel. That leaves you two without an alibi."
Hanako tightened her grip on the wooden barrier in front of her, every nerve in her body turning razor-sharp. She felt like a shark scenting blood.
Hajime's voice cut through their protests. "The killer wasn't inside the building when we broke down the door. Nanami and I took a closer look, and we found traces of glue on the edges of the door. The killer was only trying to make us think it had been locked from the inside."
Fuyuhiko sighed. "So, back to square one, then."
Hanako grit her teeth. She couldn't make herself relax. She knew she needed to stay sharp, pay attention to every detail, but their voices began to blend together anyway.
"Saionji wasn't necessarily killed within that window of time. The killer only had to hide her body."
"The scrap of paper on the lighting rig—they used wallpaper to hide the body."
"And the blood on Mioda's slippers indicate she hadn't hanged herself yet when Saionji's blood was spilled."
"Before we continue, I'd like to clear something up with Monokuma. What do we do if the victim committed suicide?"
Hanako's head snapped up. Nagito, who had spoken, had his attention on Monokuma.
"Didn't we just go over this?" she hissed.
Nagito glanced at her. "Regardless of whether it was an act of free will, it would still make Mioda her own killer. Is that correct, Monokuma?"
The bear shrugged. "A kill is a kill. In that case, I wouldn't have a blackened to punish, but I guess I could always execute Monomi in a pinch."
Ignoring Monomi's protests, Nagito continued, "Then what if Mioda killed Saionji and then hanged herself?"
"No," Hanako said, and couldn't find the breath to elaborate. The mental image seized her—Ibuki, knife in hand, Hiyoko with blood spilling down her front. Ibuki would never kill someone else. Even with a disease-addled brain, she wouldn't.
"If that was true, then Mioda wouldn't have been able to rearrange the crime scene after her death," Chiaki said. "I think we're still looking for another person who was involved."
Nagito smiled at her. "I see. That makes sense."
"Do you have anything else you want to waste our time on?" Hanako ground out.
"Well, while I have the floor, I do want to bring up the video feed that Hinata saw." His gaze slid to Hajime. "When did you see Mioda hang herself, exactly?"
Hajime frowned at him, as if trying to parse the change in subject, then said, "Just before the morning announcement."
Mikan raised a timid hand. "So i-if someone was forcing her to do that, then we should determine where everyone was at that time, right?"
"Then we are back to determining alibis." Sonia straightened. "Who can confirm their position in the minutes before the morning announcement?"
There was a beat of silence. Mikan raised her hand again.
"Yes, Tsumiki?"
"I asked Yukimura to pick up some medicine from the pharmacy last night. And I saw her coming from the bridge this morning. Does that count as an alibi?"
Sonia gave her the smile a teacher would when a student gave an incorrect answer. "But was that during the morning announcement? And is there proof Yukimura was at the pharmacy?"
"Not like I have a receipt," Hanako muttered.
"No, I g-guess not." Mikan wilted. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful."
"Tsumiki actually does have an alibi for that time, though," Hajime said. "I was with her in the hospital just before I saw the video feed."
"So Tsumiki and Hinata have alibis for that time." Sonia looked around. "Anyone else?"
Another beat of silence.
"Is that really it?" Fuyuhiko grumbled.
Sonia's shoulders lowered a fraction. "It seems we need a new plan of attack."
"Well, since we're not much closer to identifying the culprit, how about we talk about the victims?" Nagito said.
Hajime narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"Well, Mioda would be the obvious choice for a murder victim. She was weak from the disease, and like Yukimura said, it would be easy to make her comply."
"Where are you going with this?" Hanako asked tightly.
Nagito met her eyes. "Why kill Saionji too?"
"That is a valid question," Chiaki said. "Saionji locked herself in her room when we got to the motel. It would have been difficult to convince her to come out."
"I believe I know why she would leave the motel," Sonia said. Her voice was softer now, less sure. "I saw her a couple days ago. She was having trouble putting on her kimono, but she refused help. I told her there was a full-length mirror in the music venue, and that it might make dressing herself easier."
"So she went to the music venue of her own free will. She wasn't lured there," Chiaki said. "That probably means she wasn't part of the culprit's original plan. She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."
Hanako pressed her lips together. Hiyoko had been killed just because she'd been a witness. She'd had her throat cut. One of the people in this room had done that.
"Even if Saionji was killed first, I still don't think Mioda could be the killer," Nagito was saying. "There was blood on the bottom of her slippers, right? If she'd tampered with the crime scene, she would've left bloody footprints all over the stage."
She blinked at him in disbelief. "Why are you still talking about that?"
"Yeah, we covered the murder-suicide thing already," Fuyuhiko said with a scowl. "Did you forget already?"
"I must have." Nagito laughed awkwardly. "Forgive the interruption."
Kazuichi let out a groan of exasperation, and Hanako closed her eyes and prayed for patience.
"So, any other ideas?" Akane asked.
"Maybe we should go back to the bloody footprints," Hajime said. "Or rather, the fact that there weren't any on the step-stool."
Nagito beamed at him. "I'm impressed that you would notice that. As expected from an Ultimate."
Hajime frowned, searching his face for a moment, then turned back to the others. "If Mioda had walked up the stepladder, there would have been blood on the steps." He shut his eyes. "And now that I think about it, there was blood splattered on the side of the stepladder. But I didn't see any on the stepladder in the video feed."
"So what does that mean?" Kazuichi asked.
Hanako felt a headache begin to throb between her eyes as the others bounced around theories about stepladders and cameras and curtains. She didn't care about the details to this unnecessarily convoluted plan. She just wanted to know who had done it.
"Yukimura, are you listening?"
She turned to Hajime, feeling like she'd been called out for slacking off in class. "What?"
"The video I saw was a lie. The killer made the conference room in the hospital look like the music venue and filmed it there."
She blinked. "But you said you saw Ibuki…"
"I saw someone in a hospital gown with a bag over their head. The killer dressed themselves as her."
"Why?"
Hajime didn't respond. He glanced down at the floor in the middle of their circle, and when he looked back at her, his expression was marred with hesitation. Like he was asking for her permission.
"You know who the culprit is," Gundham said lowly.
Hanako felt her stomach drop. Her skin went cold. This was the moment of truth, and all she felt was sick.
"Who?" she asked when Hajime didn't answer. "Hinata, who is it?"
Hajime took a single, deliberate breath and raised his eyes. "Tsumiki, you're the only one who could have filmed that video."
Mikan jumped as if she'd been pinched. "H-Huh?"
The others burst into confused protests as well.
"Wait, her? Seriously?"
"It does not seem believable for these actions to have been committed by such a slow-witted woman."
"There's no way she could do something like that."
The ringing in Hanako's ears began to drown out their voices. She stared at Mikan, who looked at all of them in turn with wide, teary eyes.
Mikan, who had cried with every classmate they'd lost.
Mikan, who had put every ounce of strength she had into saving Fuyuhiko from his wounds.
Mikan, who had gone days without sleep keeping her friends from succumbing to the Despair Disease.
"W-Why would you say that to me, Hinata?" Mikan sniffled and wiped her eyes.
"I watched you walk up to the second floor this morning," Hajime said. "Komaeda and Owari were both sick. You were the only one who would've had access to the conference room at the time I saw the video."
"But I c-could never kill someone. I spent days making sure Komaeda and Owari wouldn't die from the Despair Disease," Mikan sobbed. "Mioda was my friend. H-How could I hurt anyone?"
Sonia's hands were clasped tight against her stomach. "Hinata, are you sure you are not mistaken?"
"Yeah." Akane turned to him with a growl. "It kinda feels like you're picking on her."
"Yukimura." Mikan looked at her, her lower lip trembling. "We're friends, a-aren't we? You know I wouldn't do something like that, right?"
Mikan, who had rubbed her back after she'd caught her crying in the bathroom. Who had promised to get drunk with her on the beach.
Who had blamed herself as soon as they found Ibuki's body.
Hanako wasn't sure how she was still standing. She felt like she'd been submerged in water, her limbs going numb as she sank deeper, deeper. Somehow, she managed to swivel her head to face Hajime. She waited until his face came into focus, and the uncertainty she saw there made her stomach turn.
"Hinata." She waited until he met her eyes. "I said I trusted you. I asked you to be one hundred percent certain. You have to give me more than some fucking video."
"I know," he said softly. "There has to be more, I just…"
"Should we talk about the murder weapon?" Nagito said.
"What weapon?" Gundham asked. "Are you referring to the rope with which Mioda hanged herself?"
"Yep, that's the one." He bent to retrieve something at his feet and held up a length of rope.
"Why the fuck do you have that?" Hanako rasped.
Nagito shrugged. "I thought it might be better to bring it. I wouldn't want to inconvenience everyone by coming unprepared."
"But why are you calling it a murder weapon?" Fuyuhiko asked.
"Well, there were no ropes available in the music venue, correct? So it's safe to assume this came from the supermarket, and therefore was a brand new object." He held up the middle of the rope with both hands. "But it's frayed right here."
The falling sensation returned, worse this time.
"One end of the rope was used to tie the noose, and the other was tied to the lighting rig. So why would there be damage in the middle?" Nagito twisted the rope into a loop, so that the frayed segments lined up. "I think the killer put the rope like this around Mioda's neck and strangled her." He pulled, and the loop snapped back into a line. Hanako flinched.
"Okay, but what does that have to do with anything?" Kazuichi asked. "So what if she was strangled?"
Nagito turned to Mikan. "Do you remember what you said to me after you performed the autopsy?"
Mikan cowered under his stare. "W-What do you mean?"
"I asked you if you were sure that Mioda died from hanging herself," he said, dragging out the words as if he were talking to a small child. "And you said you were certain."
Hanako couldn't breathe.
"Isn't that kind of a minor mistake?" Akane asked with a frown. "I mean, hanging and strangling are basically the same thing, right?"
"She's right." Mikan hiccuped. "It was just a t-tiny mistake. I've been pulling eighteen-hour days since the Despair Disease started. I was so tired I could barely think straight!"
"But you are the Ultimate Nurse," Nagito said. "What does your talent even mean if you make mistakes as obvious as confusing hanging and strangling? Especially when it comes to the death of one of your so-called friends?"
"Why are you being so mean to me?" She turned to Hanako, tears dripping from her chin. "Yukimura, s-say something, please! You promised to stick up for me, didn't you?"
"Prove it," Hanako said, so quietly her words didn't even reach her own ears.
"W-What?"
"If you didn't kill Ibuki, then fucking prove it!" She slammed her hands onto the wooden barrier, making several people jump. "Stand up for your goddamn self for once and prove you didn't do it."
Mikan buried her face in her hands, shoulders trembling.
"Perhaps we should take a moment," Sonia said, her voice unusually unsteady. "We will not make any progress if we are hostile to one another."
"I'm sorry, Sonia, but we can't stop here," Hajime said. His hair was limp against his forehead, his eyes shadowed. He looked exhausted. "We need to keep going."
"Hinata's right," Chiaki said. "We owe it to everyone, Tsumiki included, to see this through to the end."
Mikan lifted her head. "Is that what you owe?"
Her voice was unnervingly quiet, her expression still and cold. Something about it made Hanako want to run from the room.
"Is that really the best thing for the group? Survival of the fittest? Putting down the weakest one?" Mikan bared her teeth, angry tears welling in her eyes. "I'm used to being a target. I thought you all would be different, but I guess I'm just as stupid as you say I am. It's never going to be different. No one's ever going to take care of me. And I am done!"
Nagito's lip curled. "So now you've resorted to acting like a child."
"If you're going to accuse me, you have to have proof," Mikan continued, hands fisted in the ends of her hair. "But you don't have any, do you? You just assumed I was the one who made it because you assumed it was in the conference room. Where's. Your. Proof?"
"Hinata, you were the only one who saw the video," Chiaki said, her voice soft and deliberate. "Is there any proof?"
Hajime shared a long, meaningful look with her, then said quietly, "Yeah, there is."
Mikan hissed through her teeth, and Hanako was reminded of a cat she'd found in the alleyway outside her apartment building back home. It had been half-buried in trash bags, pus oozing from its wounds, half-blinded with fever and pain. It had still clawed at her hands until she'd left it to die.
"Then what exactly do you think you have on me?" Mikan spat. "Was it the hemp bag? The hospital gown? The slippers?"
"Mioda and Tsumiki have different hair colors," Kazuichi suggested.
Hajime shook his head, his eyes still locked on Mikan. "I couldn't see the person's hair in the video."
"Yet even without such an identifying characteristic, their builds are different enough to be distinguishable from one another," Gundham said.
"And you could see that, could you?" Mikan seethed. "With that camera angle? With that dim candlelight?"
"I never said anything about the camera angle when I described the video," Hajime said quietly, and Mikan froze. "Why did you bring that up?"
Nagito crossed his arms. "The only other person who would have been aware of the camera angle is the person who filmed the video."
"Oh my god," Hanako whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. "You really did kill them."
Mikan looked at her with her wide, watery eyes. She blinked once, letting the last of her tears spill onto her cheeks.
And then she started to laugh.
It came out in a shrill giggle that split the air. She braced her hands on the wooden barrier and laughed harder.
"Tsumiki?" Sonia whispered. "What has gotten into you?"
"Oh, I missed this feeling." She straightened and dried her cheeks with a dainty movement. "The sensation of falling with no end in sight, the weight of the world on your shoulders… This beautiful, soul-crushing despair."
"Alright, alright," Monokuma said. "Save the monologue for after the vote. This trial is really starting to drag, so I'm giving you all a minute to decide."
Hanako dropped her gaze to the lever in front of her and realized her cheeks were wet. She really did feel like she was falling. She wanted it to be a lie. She wanted to look up and see Mikan's usual doe-eyed stare and pursed lips.
She couldn't bring herself to look. She turned to Hajime instead.
He met her eyes, and despite the pain in his gaze, his message was clear. It's okay.
Hanako shut her eyes and pulled the lever.
A tinny bell chime rang through the room, and Mikan began to laugh again.
"Well, that's three for three, you guys," Monokuma said. "The killer was, in fact, Mikan Tsumiki."
Hanako's breath left her in one brutal exhale. The only sound in the room was Mikan's laughter, a noise that had grated on her nerves once, that she'd thought she might have grown to like, that was currently dragging itself down her spine like the tip of a knife.
"How long have you been lying to us?" She hated how broken her voice sounded, but she had to speak. Anything to stop the laughter.
It was Nagito who answered, staring at Mikan like she was a particularly repulsive bug. "I don't think she's been like this for very long. My guess is that she caught the Despair Disease, too."
Sonia let out a small gasp. "Tsumiki is sick, too?"
He was right, Hanako realized. Mikan had been feverish for days. Every time they'd come into contact, her skin had been warm, and she hadn't thought anything of it.
Her nails dug into her palms. You fucking idiot.
"Why isn't she better?" Hanako swallowed and tried to steady her voice. "Komaeda, Owari, you were both cured after…after the murders. Why is she still like this?"
"Because I know, now." Mikan had stopped laughing. Her voice was soft and steady. "I remembered everything—our time at Hope's Peak, and…" A shudder ran through her. "I remembered everything that made me who I am."
"What about the person you were before?" Hajime asked, desperation threaded through his voice. "You were so kind when we first met. You always tried to help other people. Was that all just a lie?"
"It's more accurate to say that was a fiction. A ghost of the past." Mikan twisted a lock of hair around her finger, looking almost bored. "It's a pity you all accepted that person. And now you can't forgive the real me."
"Of course we won't." Nagito glared at her. "Killing for the sake of hope is one thing, but killing for the sake of despair—"
"Despair?" Her gaze snapped towards him in an almost reptilian movement. "No. These murders were for the sake of love." A smile spread across her face, pink coloring her cheeks. "For my beloved Junko, who always forgives me."
"Who the hell is that?" Fuyuhiko asked.
"She is the only one who sees me for who I truly am, who accepts every part of me." Her hands clasped against her chest.
"Who the fuck could love someone like you?" Hanako surprised herself with the venom in her tone, but she didn't regret it. As soon as the words left her mouth, she became aware of the adrenaline rushing through her limbs like fire. She could feel her muscles tense, hungry for violence.
Mikan had killed Ibuki and Hiyoko. She'd lied to all of them for days. And now she had the fucking nerve to gloat about it.
"Oh, don't be jealous, Yukimura." Mikan smiled at her, brows upturned in a chilling version of pity. "You also had love in your life, didn't you? Did you know Mioda asked for you before she died? Did you know she wanted you to come save her?"
Hanako didn't remember climbing over the wooden barrier, didn't remember crossing the space between her and Mikan. The next thing she knew, she had both hands wrapped around Mikan's neck, filled with a rage so violent she thought she might burst apart at the seams.
"You fucking bitch!" she screamed. "She trusted you! She trusted you and you fucking killed her!"
Mikan's eyes were wide as she choked. Hanako tightened her grip until her fingers ached, her nails leaving red welts on Mikan's skin. She could feel tears on her cheeks, and she squeezed harder.
"Yukimura! Stop!"
Hajime was there, grabbing her right arm, and a moment later Kazuichi took hold of her left shoulder. The others were shouting at her, their voices lost in the roar of blood in her ears. She ignored them, watching Mikan's eyes unfocus, clenching her jaw so hard her teeth groaned.
A pair of arms looped under her shoulders and yanked her backwards. Mikan doubled over, shoulders heaving as she coughed.
"Get the fuck off me!" Hanako thrashed in the grip pulling her backwards.
"Not until you calm down." That was Akane's voice.
"Hey, hey!" Monokuma shouted. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but slow your roll with the killing! The execution is my bit of fun, and I'm not sharing it with anyone else. I'm gonna get upset if you steal my thunder, Yukimura."
"No, wait, she didn't mean it—" Kazuichi began.
"Yes I fucking did!" Hanako screamed, still struggling. "If you wanna punish me for killing her, let me kill her first!"
Mikan lifted her head with a gasp and let out a wheezy laugh. She touched the welts on her neck like they were love bites. "I really did miss this. I wish you could remember all the fun we had, Hanako."
"What are you talking about, you sick fuck?"
"Hey," Fuyuhiko said. "If you remember everything before we came to the island, then you know who the traitor is, right?"
"Of course I do. But you all don't really care about that, do you?" She turned to Monokuma with a lazy tilt of the head. "I'm ready for my punishment now. I'm ready to see my beloved again."
"Punishment time!" Monokuma crowed like they were at a sports game, and slammed his gavel onto the button beside his chair.
The wide double doors at one end of the room swung open. Hanako let out a broken wail as Mikan walked through the doors, hands clasped primly in front of her. How was she able to leave when it suited her? How was it fair at all that Mikan was getting what she wanted?
The giant monitor on the wall flared to life. They watched Mikan enter a bleached white hospital room and climb into the bed in the center. She lay down and pulled the covers over her waist. Monokuma entered, dressed in a ridiculous-looking nurse's outfit, and pushed a syringe filled with green liquid into her arm. Mikan shuddered, her eyes going wide, then sagged into the sheets, lips slack.
The screen went dark.
Hanako felt her legs give out, and Akane lowered her gently. She sank to her knees, the floor rocking beneath her.
"That's it?" The words sounded childish coming out of her mouth. "After everything she did, she just gets to fall asleep?"
"Hey, I put a lot of work into that one," Monokuma said. "I'd like to see you design an execution."
His words faded into a faint buzz before he'd finished his sentence. Hanako braced her hands against the floor.
She wanted Ibuki. She wanted her to take her hand and smile like things were okay. She wanted Ibuki to hold her face in her hands and tell her again, There's no way you can mess this up.
It was too late. She'd already fucked things up and Ibuki was dead and Mikan was gone and she was paying for every single part of it.
A hand on her shoulder startled her. Sonia knelt beside her, her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm so sorry, Yukimura. Is there anything we can do for you?"
When she blinked, she felt Mikan's hand against her back, saw those gray, watery eyes hiding an unbelievable malice.
"Don't touch me," Hanako rasped, and stood up.
The others were watching her, Hajime and Kazuichi both hovering nearby. Akane shifted her weight like she wanted to start pacing. Fuyuhiko opened his mouth to speak, but she tore herself away from the group before he could.
She ran to the elevator, slammed the door closed, and beat her fist against the button until it took her to the surface.
Hanako ran until her lungs were on fire, until she didn't have enough breath to cry anymore.
Her skin was sheened with sweat by the time she reached the music venue. It was nighttime now, and cool enough to leave a chill on her skin. She didn't stop, just braced both hands against the doors and pushed her way inside.
The stage was empty.
Ibuki's body was gone. So was Hiyoko's. The rope, the duct tape, the smeared blood on the floor—all of it had disappeared.
As if none of it had ever fucking existed.
"No," Hanako whimpered. She climbed onto the stage and searched behind the pillars and the curtain. It was all gone. She wasn't sure why she'd thought otherwise. Monokuma had never left them anything to bury.
Her vision blurred. Her limbs began to shake, and when the sobs came up her throat, they were jagged and half-hysterical. She dropped to her knees and screamed.
She needed it out. Whatever sensation was writhing beneath her skin was unbearable. She wanted it all gone.
When she remembered the sake stowed beneath the bar, she fell off the stage in her haste to reach it. Her knee throbbed where it hit the floor, and she limped over behind the bar. She cut her finger on the plastic seal, her breaths coming short and fast, then sat on the floor and lifted the bottle to her lips.
She held her breath and drank. A strange thought floated to the front of her mind—was this what it felt like for a hungry baby to nurse? To be fed, to be held at the same time? She didn't remember any time her own mother had ever held her.
And there was no one here, now.
She wrapped her free arm around her middle, sat back against the wall, and drank.
It didn't take long for a drunken sluggishness to fall over her limbs. She hadn't eaten anything today except the cup of coffee she'd downed that morning.
Tears filled her eyes even while she kept her lips stubbornly pressed to the mouth of the bottle. She'd been anxious that morning, but she'd still believed Ibuki was alive. How many hours had she been dead for while Hanako had gone on her wild goose chase to the pharmacy?
If she'd just realized that Mikan wasn't right, if she'd insisted on staying the night, if she'd just gone through with her plan a day earlier…
As soon as she lowered the bottle, she began to cry. There wasn't enough air in the room. She stood up, swaying drunkenly, and began searching the bar with her free hand. She searched for a knife, a corkscrew, anything, but the place was empty of sharp objects.
What had Mikan used to cut Hiyoko's throat? A scalpel, probably, wielded with a practiced hand. There were still dozens in the hospital supply closet. Hanako took another gulp of sake and started towards the door.
Her eyes found the white plastic bag sitting on the floor near the entrance. She'd completely forgotten it in the chaos of the morning.
She knelt and dug through its contents. Fever reducers, painkillers…she picked the one Mikan had prescribed to Fuyuhiko and wrapped her fist around it. The label stuck to her sweaty palm. The shape of it was comforting, and her footsteps were a little more purposeful as she took the sake and the pills to the storage closet. She set both bottles on a shelf and began digging through the box of CDs in the back. On her worst nights, music had always helped her drift off.
She wanted things to be easy tonight.
By some stroke of luck, she found a metal album near the bottom of the box. She slid the CD into the control panel and turned up the volume as loud as it would go. Drums and screaming vocals flooded the room, shook the floor beneath her feet. It hurt her ears. She let the sound press against the sides of her head, hoping it would be enough to drown out the sound of her own thoughts.
She grabbed her bottles and sat cross-legged in the middle of the stage.
Was this the spot where Ibuki died? Was she thinking of me? Did she wonder why I didn't stop Mikan?
A sob escaped her lips, silent in the storm of music, and she grabbed the painkillers.
She took the pills one small handful at a time, in between drinks, until the little plastic bottle was empty. She washed down the bitter taste with more sake.
By the end of the album, I'll be gone, she hoped. The thought was freeing. For the first time since the concert, she felt like she could breathe easy.
When the next song came on, she wobbled to her feet and belted out the lyrics. The music was too loud for her to hear herself, but she could feel her screams inside her throat. She drank between songs and sang and danced until she was too drunk to stand. Until she was too nauseous to sit upright.
She sprawled on the stage and watched the lights spin above her. Hopefully the nausea wouldn't keep her awake much longer. She felt exhausted. She felt ready. She closed her eyes.
Someone grabbed her shoulders, startling her out of her daze. Clumsily, Hanako shoved their hands away. How long had she been asleep? It took a moment for her vision to stop swimming, but she recognized Hajime's panicked face leaning over her, his lips moving rapidly. The music was too loud for her to hear what he was saying.
When the music shut off a second later, it took a moment for the ringing in her ears to fade.
"…you hear me? Say something!" Hajime gripped her shoulders again.
Hanako sat up, which immediately lurched her back into the nauseous stage of drunkenness. She glanced up to see Chiaki climb onto the stage.
The absence of the music was unbearable.
"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" she forced out.
Hajime's brow wrinkled. "Are you drunk?"
In the corner of her hazy vision, Hanako saw Chiaki bend down and pick something up. Something orange with a white cap.
She closed her eyes. Fucking fuck.
"Yukimura, what is this?" Chiaki asked, a tiny tremor in her voice.
"Nothing. It's nothing. Can you guys please leave me alone?"
Hajime spun around and grabbed the bottle. He scanned the label and shook it, but there was no sound. "Did you take all of these?"
Hanako tried to snatch the bottle away, but her movements were so clumsy her fingers didn't even brush the plastic. Her breathing quickened. They weren't supposed to be here. Neither was she.
"Just leave me alone." She tried to push herself to her feet. Her arms didn't get her very far. Wasn't she supposed to move her legs, too? She had to bend them somehow, get them under her.
"What do we do?" Hajime was talking to Chiaki, and the panic in his voice cut right through her drunken stupor. "Do we take her to the hospital?"
"I'm not going back to the fucking hospital." Hanako turned away. She couldn't bear to look at his face. She tried propping herself on her hands and knees. The movement made her stomach lurch, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Hey, hey." Chiaki knelt beside her and coaxed her back into a sitting position. "It's okay. Just take a deep breath, alright?"
"I don't want you guys to be here for this." Against her will, tears pricked her eyes. She just wanted the pills to work already.
"It's going to be okay." Chiaki rubbed her shoulder with slow, comforting movements. For a moment, Hanako almost believed her. "I'm really sorry about this, Yukimura."
Hanako opened her mouth to respond, and as soon as she did, Chiaki jammed a finger down her throat.
She jerked backwards, spluttering curses, but it was too late. She gagged, retched, then turned to the side and vomited. Sake and bile splattered on the floor. She spat out a white clump of half-dissolved pills. Breathing hard, she stared at the mess. The haze of drunkenness ebbed, and grief flooded the empty space.
Chiaki reached out for her again, and Hanako slapped her hand away. She pushed herself up and made it all of two steps before she fell on her ass.
"What the fuck?" she spat. "Why the fuck would you do that? What the fuck is your problem?"
"Why did you take those pills?" Hajime stepped forward, fists clenched, and she still couldn't look him in the eye. "Why would you do something like that?"
"Because it was supposed to be me," she said, and burst into tears. "It was supposed to be me, not her. I should've died, not her. Why won't you let me do that?"
Hanako buried her face in her hands and wailed. It felt like spitting up glass, and she trembled at the pain of it. She wanted more sake. She wanted to be gone already.
"Come on." Chiaki took her by the arm, and Hajime knelt to grab her other.
"No," she sobbed as they lifted her off the ground. "Just leave me here. Just leave me alone. I can't—"
It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me—
She cried as they half-carried her off the stage, and when they stepped outside she cried harder. She couldn't say why for sure, but it felt like leaving Ibuki behind for good.
By the time they reached the hospital and made it to one of the empty rooms, she didn't have any energy left to fight them. She let Chiaki sit her on the bed and clean the snot and tears off her face. Hajime brought her a cup of water, which she drank in small sips that still made her stomach turn.
She wasn't sure who made her lie down. Maybe she was too exhausted to stay upright. She faced the wall and curled up, shivering even when someone pulled a blanket over her shoulders.
When exhaustion finally claimed her, there was no relief in unconsciousness.
She dreamed of a wide, dimly lit room with a concrete ceiling. She was lying on her back. Mikan straddled her thigh, lips parted, quivering from something that could have been fear or excitement.
In her dream, Mikan tied a piece of elastic around her bicep, pulled the end of it playfully until it gave with a snap. She pushed a needle into Hanako's arm. She could barely feel it, but she watched the silver tip slide in, the tiny ridge it left beneath her skin.
A warm, blissful sensation spread through her limbs. Mikan leaned forward and whispered something she didn't catch.
The rest of her dreams were dark and incoherent.
This chapter's title is from Her Voice Resides by Bullet for My Valentine (an actual metal song for once), which perfectly captures the angst and desperation in this chapter. I also think of it as the song Hanako is listening to in the music venue in the last scene.
I've been avoiding writing the trials themselves because it doesn't make sense to just regurgitate all the information, but I wanted to include trial 3 because of how close it is to Hanako emotionally. I tried my best to condense the important details, so I really hope it wasn't boring. I also remembered just how much trial 3 sucks lmao, I didn't mention the Wizard of Monomi movie at all because it literally doesn't matter. The execution is also probably the worst in the series, so my interpretation in this chapter is that the whole rocket hand thing was Mikan's hallucination after the injection. I feel like it's sort of fitting, in a darkly ironic way, that Mikan gets a relatively painless execution.
Anyway, next chapter will deal with the fallout of everything. Maybe everyone will get a break in some sort of entertainment-oriented building. A Funhouse, if you will.
